#someone please write this i have so much to do

[magiclyney]

Listen- I can withstand bad grammar, I was at that point once too.

Especially if you’re writing in your second language, just please put a notice at the start of the fic <3

It’s okay to have poor writing, that part of learning.

BUT GOD PLEASE KEEP IT OFF THE INTERNET UNTIL YOU GET BETTER YOU WILL REGRET EVER POSTING THAT SHIT- 😭😭😭

When you have more practice in writing and you’re better at it you will look back and have a heart attack just thinking about how there’s a possibility or fact that someone actually read that. Always leave your works to sit for a bit in a google doc and read a book, story the things you like about how the author wrote the book and after a while go back to your google doc and make comments on where you should improve. Share the doc with close friends (and by close I mean those you would literally trust with your life) and have them also leave comments.

I am so glad that I didn’t have wattpad and Ao3 when I was in the third grade writing cringy Pokémon fanfic and that my Gacha life stories barely got any views because they were BAD, but they were also valuable experiences.

In a world where being cringe is punishable by death (apparently) sometimes it’s worth it to just keep your stories offline because it will save you from so much bullying and heartbreak especially if you’re a beginner. But at the same time, that doesn’t mean you can’t share them at all. Find friends in the same fandom spaces as you and share it with them. Join a writing group at school or online and share it with other writers for critique.

You don’t have to post everything you write and it’s okay to be bad at something, as long as you enjoy doing it.

you ever just click on a fanfic and read the first word and go “shut up” and exit

[rosenclaws]

Can you write about flat!reader x any Logan, where she is insecure of basically having no tits (like me) so she wants to keep a shirt on during sex and stuff and Logan notices and stuff lol

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, dirty talk, mirror sex, doggy style, creampie, insecurity, the reader says self deprecating things about themselves, light choking, breast play

a/n: YES YES, I'm flat as fuck and I am super self conscious about them. These mfs look like mosquito bites on god. (I hate them so much bro just let me get some work done PLZ) Anyways Im doing this with Worst Logan bc I love him. Anyways.

Sometimes it was hard dating a man like Logan. It wasn't hard to love him, no not at all. Even with the baggage he claimed to have come with, it wasn't hard to deal with the nightmares or the moments of deep loathing and insecurity. You loved him and because of that being able to help him through it all was easy.

What was hard was dating a man who was over 200 years old and looked like a Greek fucking god.

The first time you ever saw Logan without his shirt was when you were visiting Wade. Logan walked out in nothing but pajama pants. You shamelessly eye-fucked the man before you. He was ripped. Strong arms, a six pack, big thighs, and a handsome face. Even after you started dating and managed to get him on a diet that was more than whiskey and cigars he was still unbelievably hot. You should feel lucky to have a man like that worship you and you love and appreciate him to death. The problem is that you felt like you couldn't compare.

Logan loves you and you know he does but when you're looking in the mirror you can't help but notice you're lacking in one specific area. Your boobs. You were flat and the world seemed to never let you forget it.

Cute tops you could never wear because your chest couldn't keep them up. Jokes about being flat as a board. You couldn't even hold them in your hands. You hated them. Logan never said anything about them but you were always too afraid to bring it up.

So you sat in this limbo of deep insecurity.

"Sweetheart? You still in there?" Logans muffled voice comes from behind the bathroom door.

Shit you didn't mean to be here for so long. A shower had turned into staring at the mirror. You covered them in your hands, pushing them together and huffing when they just looked sad. The events from earlier in the night replaying over in your head.

Ever since Logan showed up in the universe he had garnered some attention. The Wolverine was hard to hide. People would point and whisper whenever they saw him. Gossip about who he was and why he was here. It was all pointless to Logan. Still in the bathroom of the bar you managed to catch a conversation.

Two beautiful women talking about your boyfriend and how badly they wanted him. Talking about flirting with him and taking him home. It just hurt a little. Sure Logan could care less about anyone's advances but yours but they had truly gotten into your head.

Would Logan want someone who had...better assets?

Would he want a woman who's breasts he could hold, squeeze, rest his head on? It was silly but they were the one thing that you honestly just didn't like about yourself so it was hard to think logically about it.

"I'm coming in." Logan's voice calls again. You curse quietly as you scramble to get a shirt on. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this. Logan's eyes shamelessly look you up and down as he enters the bathroom. A small smirk growing on his lips as he leans against the door. You bite your lip as you look down towards the counter.

"Sorry, I just wanted to take an extra long shower." You lie, smiling at Logan.

He hums and pushes off the door. He comes to stand behind you, his arms snaking around your waist. You were dressed in nothing but a shirt and underwear and Logan liked it. A lot.

"Should've joined you. Could have helped get your back." Logan purrs, his growing bulge pressing against your back.

“Oh please we’d still be in the shower if you had joined me.” You tease, slipping out of his grip. Logan furrows his brows as he follows you like a puppy to bed.

"You say that like it's a bad thing sweetheart."

As you lay on the bed Logan crawls in-between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. He purrs as you reach and run your fingers through his hair, scratching his head in all the spots you know he loves.

"Not a bad thing honey, but our water bill isn't a fan." Logan gets up on his knees, a devilish smirk appearing on his lips as his hands snake up your legs.

"Fuck the water bill, If I want to fuck my gorgeous girlfriend I will." You giggle as he dips his head down. The scruff of his beard tickles your skin as he nibbles on your thighs.

"Fuck baby, I can't get enough of you." He kneels between your legs and his hands slip up your body. The moment his hands go under your shirt you flinch. You didn't mean to flinch but you did. It was a small movement but it was there and Logan felt it immediately.

"What's wrong?" He asks as he takes his hands away.

"Nothing." You smile and reach up to pull him closer but he doesn't budge. Curse his super strength. He gives you a look and you sigh.

"It's nothing Logan, it's stupid and small."

"Sweetheart you gotta talk to me," Logan huffs. He's been working on this whole, communication thing and while he's not known for his empathy he can clearly see there's something bothering you.

"I just..." He looks at you again and you fall back into the pillows.

"Its these!" You say pointing to your chest.

"Huh?" "They're small and stupid and I hate them!" You lift your shirt up and huff in frustration. Logan's eyes widen as he stares at your bare chest. A stupid smile forming on his lips.

"I'm not seeing the problem." You put your shirt down and he pouts.

"I'm serious Logan. They're small and flat and...and..." You struggle to find the words as Logan just chuckles.

"So what?"

"It's not funny!" You snap and Logan's face morphs into concern.

"I just, I wish they were bigger is all. I mean sometimes I see other women and...It's hard sometimes." You curl into yourself, your arms covering your chest protectively. It felt silly to bring up right now but the thoughts wouldn't go away.

"Hey, look at me sweetheart." Logan coos. He lays next to you. Gently snaking his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

"Please?" Reluctantly you turn your body to face his.

"There's my pretty girl." He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

"Look I'm not the best at this but I can tell you one thing. You're fucking perfect." He leans in and kisses your neck gently. Your eyes flutter close as he gently rolls on top of you.

"You are beautiful, gorgeous, hot. I could go on and on sweetheart." His hand slips up your shirt and you let him slowly peel it off you. He grins as his lips move down to your chest. His thumb comes to play with one of your breasts while he latches onto the other.

"Logan..." You moan as he teases you like he loves to do.

"I know you hate them but I fucking love them. I could spend hours playing with them, looking at them, sucking on them if you let me." You bite your lip at his dirty words. The insecurities being pushed out Logan's hands.

"I don't care how big they are, what the look like. Because they're attached to my girl and I love my girl." Logan reaches down and rips your panties off of your body. You gasp in surprise as he takes your legs and spreads them.

"Feel how fucking hard you make me." He groans as he grinds his cock against your body.

"Get on your knees baby." You don't hesitate to listen. You get on your knees and face the headboard but Logan has other plans.

"No, I want you to watch your pretty tits as I fuck you." He growls in your ear as he moves you to face the mirror on the wall.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his gruff voice. Fuck he's hot. You're practically dripping onto the sheets already and Logan plans on taking full advantage of that. Slowly he slides his cock into your cunt, taking his sweet time as he stretches you out.

"So good, taking me raw." He says with a smirk. He wraps his hand around your neck to help support you as your legs shake at the feeling.

"I know baby, almost there just a little bit more." He praises.

You nod furiously, wanting to take all of him no matter what. When he fully bottoms out you let out a small cry. He shushes you softly, pressing kisses to your cheek as you get used to the stretch.

"Feel alright sweetheart?" Logan asks and you nod. Slowly he moves his hips, soaking up every whine that falls from your lips.

"Fuck, you're just made for me aren't you pretty girl." You can't take your eyes off of the mirror.

It's pure and utter filth. You're disheveled, tears pooling in your eyes, Logan's hand is still wrapped around your neck. You look fucking hot. You can see his muscles flexing with each devastating thrust. The look of pure desire on his face as he fucks you.

"Logan please I'm gonna come." Your hips start to move to meet his thrusts.

Logan growls as he grabs onto your hips and pushes you into the mattress. All you can do is watch yourself take it as he fucks the life out of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Logan breaks you apart. Your body feels fuzzy as your orgasm washes over you. Logan lets out a loud groan as his hips slam into you and stay there as he comes.

"Fuck...Look at you." Logan sits back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up. You hum as your head falls onto his chest. A tired smile on your face.

"So fucking perfect." Logan hums.

"Right sweetheart?" You mumble something unintelligible and Logan taps your face.

"I want to hear it." You shiver at the intensity of his voice.

"I'm perfect." Logan tilts your head up.

"All of you?" He asks.

"All of me." You repeat after him.

"Good," He kisses your temple.

You sigh as Logan starts to massage your shoulders. The insecurities have been washed away, only bliss left in its wake. Logan couldn't comprehend your dislike for your body, he saw you and only saw the best.

But if you needed a reminder every now and then, he would be happy to give it to you.

[sc0tters]

A Helping Hand | Jack Hughes & Trevor Zegras

summary: when the boys learn that you've never finished, it's only right that they change that for you.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, threesome, oral (f & m receiving!), unprotected sex, fingering, swearing, mentions of drinking.

word count: 7.02k

authors note: is it really a trevor and jack threesome from me, without @sweetestdesire's help? no, no it is not... all jokes aside though this may be the dirtiest piece that I have ever written? like i embraced my inner slut, whore and everything inbetween while writing this so I do hope that you enjoy it! I know I did so we may end up with the first series of the year with this one!

Nobody truly remembered how you all got there.

Sat around the camp fire with a blanket thrown over your legs and a beer in your hand. 

It was these little moments at the lake house that you adored so much. Luke was in the chair next to you, allowing you to send him the occasional whisper after the boys did something stupid. 

Tonight was one of those nights as Cole managed to convince the group to play never have I ever, after Quinn’s suggestion of truth or dare was quickly shot down by Jack reminder of how he had to go skinny dipping in the lake. When the boys stole his clothes and locked him outside, it was the first and last time truth or dare made an appearance at the lake house.

You sighed thinking to yourself of a question“never have I ever done the walk of shame.” It was a good one to get most of the guys to drop a finger as Luke had told you about many of their escapades throughout their careers. 

A while left Trevor’s lips “that one isn’t fair!” He grumbled dropping another finger leaving him with only two up.

Alex looked at the group of girls that had joined you guys as he had found one he wanted to make a move on “never have I ever faked an orgasm.” The boy swore he was going to do a dance of happiness when he saw the blonde one he had been talking to, keep her finger up whilst the first around her thought about their answers.

Your finger went down hoping that someone else would have a much more interesting story to share than you “are you seriously telling me that your little football player boyfriend was shit in bed?” Trevor asked as he let out a laugh seeing your cheeks turn a shade of red. 

Jack turned to you, matching his friend’s curious expression “who is to say it was even with him?” It was something he had never even wondered about before, but now everyone’s eyes were on you as most of the people around that fire knew of your entire love life “she does not need to answer if she doesn’t want to.” Quinn sent you a friendly smile, Luke nodded in agreement with this being something that he didn’t even know about. 

You let out a sigh of relief “yeah why don’t we move on?” There was a pleading sense in your voice that made everyone accept your request. 

Well almost everyone, as the night went on and people went home or to bed. You were left with Trevor, Jack and Luke “you want another beer?” Luke asked as he got up with his empty beer bottle “please.” You nodded, the older two boys giving the same response. 

This was the first opportunity that they got to truthfully ask the question that plagued their minds all night “so was it Jake?” Trevor blurted out as he turned his attention to you “what about the theatre kid before him?” Jack truthfully never liked that one, thankfully he only lasted one summer. 

You toyed with your bracelet “if I tell you do you promise to keep it to yourselves?” If it got out you knew half of the people there would never look at you the same. 

Hell you weren’t even sure if Trevor and Jack would see you the same way again “we will not tell a soul.” They both nodded at the same time, practically sat on the edges of their seats. 

You let out a sigh, rubbing your lips together “it was all of them.” Those words made them freeze “you faked it with every single guy you’ve been with?” Jack let out a shocked laugh when you nodded. 

Trevor felt confused “I didn’t realise you were with such shit guys.” Some of the guys had notable reputations too “it wasn’t their faults-” you tried to give them some grace within the situation. 

But Jack was having none of it “if you have to fake it then it is on him.” Of course that’s what he’d say, the man prided himself on how good he was in bed after all. You had been privy to hearing the mutters through the wall when you stayed over to see Luke. 

The Ducks player nodded in agreement “we won’t tell them if you think they were shit.” He added wanting so desperately to hear more of this “it’s me okay!” Your words suddenly made them both go quiet. 

Their eyes went wide “I can’t cum so when I have sex I have to fake it.” Your voice was quieter as you didn’t know where Luke was “and before you ask yes I know my body is clearly broken-” you were cut off by the sound of the sliding door opening from the house. 

Luke walked out with the four beers in his hands “what is broken?” The three of you looked like kids caught with your hands in the cookie jar in that very moment “oh just the door of my closet in the apartment.” You quickly recovered, it wasn’t a lie. In fact, it was actually something you needed to fix.

He stared at you for a moment before he nodded “wait until I visit and I can help you.” Luke offered making you nod “sounds like a plan.” You sent him a smile, ignoring the conversation that you had just had with the boys. 

It seemed that even if you were able to sleep soundly amongst all of Luke’s snoring, Jack and Trevor were plagued with thoughts. Neither one could fall asleep as they sat there thinking about what you had said. 

How was it that a girl like you could have a problem that seemed so unbreakable? 

“Just so we’re both on the same page, she clearly has a shit taste in guys right?” Trevor blurted out as he stared at the ceiling “I mean it has to be that right?” He added not even sure if Jack was listening. 

Jack let out a harsh sigh “but how is she going got accept that?” He rolled over knowing that he shared the same thoughts “well I mean there is one way we could do it.” Trevor trailed off figuring, that it was the should have been obvious. 

The Hughes boy let out a laugh “yeah like she’s ever gonna go for that.” He shook his head rolling over to look out the window as he tried to force himself to go to sleep.

A party echoed out in the yard, music blared through the speakers as you made your way upstairs “I’m telling you that she’s not going to go for it.” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose as he chugged back the remainder of his beer “why not?” Trevor whined crossing his arms. 

He took in a large amount of air in when he sighed “it’s not like she exactly has any other better options than sticking to never coming.” Those words made you freeze in front of their door. Why were they talking about you, and what was their potential option to help you? 

Your cheeks grew warm when your mind began to travel “because you think little miss perfect is gonna fuck the two of us to prove that she just has a shit taste in boys?” Those words made you scoff, it was a response that was a little louder than you had hoped when the boys went quiet “shit.” Jack was quick to open the door. 

Both of them were visibly relieved to see it was just you “care to join us?” Jack smirked at the sight of the irritated expression on your face “I am not little Miss Perfect.” You announced sticking your finger in his face. 

It was the response he wanted, knowing you had taken the bait “so why don’t you give us a chance then?” Trevor spoke up from behind the younger boy who nodded in agreement. 

Your fists clenched into balls “over my dead body.” You were embarrassed as you stormed off in the direction of your room “on a scale of one to ten how badly do you think we fucked up?” Trevor asked hearing the door slam behind you. 

Jack sucked at his teeth “I would lean closer to ten.” He nodded thinking about what would happen if Luke were to find out about what was said. 

The night had grown dark as you tried to push the boys comments back to the bottom of your mind. It was something that so negatively failed, especially when you began to picture those two. 

You had ended up in the bathroom having a shower trying to calm yourself down at first “fuck!” You grumbled letting your fingers thrust into your cunt as the steam stuck to your skin. 

Your body had started to shrivel like a prune due to how long you had been in there. Your body was hot as the image of Jack and Trevor lingered on your mind, picturing how they’d kiss you and morph your body in the ways they wanted to use you. You weren’t an idiot, if they were talking about you then it was clearly a competition in their minds. 

The peaks of your nipples throbbed as this clearly wasn’t working. Defeat wasn’t something that you accept gracefully, and that’s why you muttered to yourself as you grabbed one of Luke’s shirts and threw it on. Bringing your panties up your legs as you sent Luke one last look, as if you were checking that he was indeed asleep. 

You had to try to be quiet as you knew that everyone else was in there room, and with the minimal amounts of chatter that came from Quinn’s room when he spoke to his girlfriend on the phone. It was the timezones that caused him to be awake, but you knew you couldn’t be certain about the other rooms “shit.” You grumbled landing at Trevor and Jacks door to see that there room was empty. Their beds were made with their sandals missing, which only meant that they were downstairs. 

It was a lightbulb moment as you practically raced down using the banister as support. Chatter could be heard from outside and that’s where they were “pass me the blunt.” Jack’s voice was soft, muffled by the glass. 

Your feet brought you up to the door as you sighed knowing that beyond this moment if you wanted to turn back, you wouldn’t be able to “do my eyes deceive me or is little Miss Perfect stood in front of me?” Trevor teased, using the nickname that Jack had as his eyes drank in the sight of you. 

Jack could sense you were nervous “why don’t you come take a hit?” He offered holding the blunt in your direction “don’t know how.” You shook your head, making him smirk. 

Of course, weed was something you hadn’t dabbled in, how were they not surprised “I’ll teach ya.” Jack patted his thigh as he spread his legs open for you to sit there. 

He held the joint between his ring and pointer fingers when you sat down “just suck the air in but don’t inhale it.” The middle Hughes boy knew that you weren’t exactly some chain smoker so he had to help you. 

You nodded as you followed his instructions when he brought the blunt to your lips. Both boys watched on when Jack let his hand travel up the inside of her thigh “there we go.” He cooed until you let out a cough. 

It made them softly laugh when you shook your head “never doing that again.” You announced assuming that it would have done something to calm the nerves that ran through your veins.

Jack brought the blunt to his lips “what brought you down here?” He asked looking at his watch, you were usually fast asleep “I couldn’t sleep.” You confessed wanting sigh when you felt the breeze brush past you. 

Trevor smiled at your words “anything particular that brought the late shower on?” It was clear that your hair was still wet as it drenched the back of the shirt that you made into a dress “do you think you guys can really fix me?” The words made the two boys freeze. 

It wasn’t something that they thought you would come around to “because if I have to spend another fucking unsatisfactory night with fingers between my thighs I’m going to shoot someone.” Jack let out a soft laugh hearing your confession. 

He smiled bringing his lips to your cheek to kiss “you gonna be a good girl for us?” He quizzed you, circling his thumb on the inside of your thigh “let us break you?” He added which made you whimper in response.

Trevor almost felt jealous at how far away he was from you “why don’t we move this inside?” His proposal made your head snap in his direction. You seemed to sense where the boy came from “c’mon pretty girl.” Jack patted your thigh signalling to you to get up. 

Jack had never been more grateful for the fact that he picked a room downstairs, which you at the moment seemed to so happily run into “c’mere.” Trevor shut the door behind him. 

He brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. A grin plastered on his face as your head tilted in his direction so that he could kiss you. There present taste of beer mixed with the weed on his tongue that he dragged over your lower lip. A moan escaped your lips as Jack placed his hands on your hips “didn’t forget about you too.” you confessed, turning your head so that you could kiss him too. 

It was rougher when Trevor turned his attention to your neck. His kisses were hungry as he sucked at the skin “n-no marks.” You gasped not wanting to worry about covering more than your bikinis already did. 

Jack finally took a step back as he looked at you “why don’t you show us how you normally try to get off?” Jack’s fingers danced over the hem of Luke’s shirt that hung over your knee. 

Trevor nodded in agreement “doll, it ain’t like we don’t see those pathetic bikinis you wear.” His words were sharp, making you listen as you took a step back, “like you want us to know what is under ‘em.” He added, allowing his eyes to burn your skin.

The boys watched in awe as your fingers gripped at the ends of the shirt, you took in a deep breath in like it was meant to give you some newfound confidence. The room grew warmed as you pulled the white t-shirt off of your body, letting it fall onto the floor when you now stood in just a white thong. They both stood in silence, causing you to bite at your lip with your confidence immediately wavering.

You were quick to reach down wanting to grab the shirt, assuming that the boys thought this was a mistake or that you weren’t as pretty as they thought you’d be “let us get a good look at ya.” Trevor’s hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from leaning over any further. 

 A whistle left his lips when you stood up straight “never thought these tits could ever have looked better than when they were in those bikinis.” His voice was a low growl, letting his fingers cup at your breasts before he gave them a squeeze. 

The feeling made a moan get caught in your throat “god imagine what she’s hiding under those panties?” Trevor turned to Jack, not letting his hands move from your boobs that his thumbs began to massage. 

Possibilities felt endless “you wanna let us see?” Jack asked making you nod. Trevor kissed at your neck whilst you locked your fingers into the sides of your panties. 

The fabric brushed against your skin when Trevor looked down to see your bare mound “don’t know how any of those boyfriends of yours used to let you leave them.” He sighed pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

Jack nodded in agreement “if we had a say you’d always be around ready for us.” Those words made you squirm and force your thighs together. 

Neither one of them were an idiot, easily sensing the effect they had on you “can you sit on the bed for me sweet girl?” Jack cooed tilting your jaw up to him so that he could kiss you. 

That kiss helped settle some of your nerves as you nodded. You sat on the edge of Jacks bed “higher.” Trevor motioned to you to move higher up the bed. 

You drove your hips up until you got sat in the middle of his bed “now why don’t you show us how you get off?” After all that was the entire reason that you were there so it made sense they watched you first.

When you lay down on the bed the boys looked at you like you were the sight for sore eyes “c’mon you can show us.” Trevor’s voice oozed this sense of cockiness as he motioned to you to start, brushing those waves of uncertainty aside.

Your heels pushed up to your ass as you spread your lefs open, seeing the boys stare back at you “need to make it wet.” You whimpered feeling Jack kneel into the bed. 

He took two of his fingers to spread your folds open, saliva pooled in his mouth before he let his spit fall onto your cunt. It ran down your clit making you squirm “that enough?” Jack asked standing back up straight as you nodded. 

You brought your fingers down your stomach and to your slit. The two fingers rubbed over your sensitive nub making the boy’s pants grow tight, your fingers travelled to your cunt as you let them thrust into the hole. The pace you used seemed to be a happy medium using Jack’s spit as some kind of lube that let your fingers create a squelching sound. 

Jack felt his throat grow tight “you think that you add another finger?” He could see how your eyes stuck on his now-formed boner “you want some encouragement?” The boy smirked when you nodded. 

Neither one hesitated to drop their pants as they pulled their cocks out of their boxers “can’t fit.” You shook your head watching as your mouth watered seeing them palm their members. 

Trevor sucked at his teeth “know you can do it.” He encouraged but still that didn’t seem to be enough. 

Your free hand went up to cup your boob, going tease your nipple that had been throbbing since it felt the cool air of Jack’s room “need help.” You pleaded, only ever having two fingers in your hole. Even the guys you dated seemed to stop at two, thinking that it was the perfect number. 

Jack took his precum over the head of his cock as he rubbed it down his length “why don’t you pick who.” If he had it his way he wouldn’t have even given Trevor a chance to get you first. 

When your eyes didn’t leave the Devils players it seemed your answer was written on the walls “no hard feels right?” He smirked tucking his cock back into boxers before he joined you on the bed. 

You sat up letting your back rest against his headboard “gonna relax f’me okay?” Jack asked watching you pull your own fingers from your cunt “okay.” You nodded letting your eyes shut when his thumb circled your clit. 

In the beginning he opted to start easy, with two fingers it was only slightly bigger than what you could fit in yourself “shit.” You whimpered letting your teeth sink into your bottom lip. 

His fingers grazed the spongey area of your cunt “uh huh baby want to hear you.” Jack kissed at your neck wanting to hear you scream “feels good.” You confessed making him nod. 

Jack pressed these opened-mouthed kisses on your jaw as he felt you clench around him “you see how hard you make him?” The Hughes boy turned his eyes to Trevor who palmed his cock at an even quicker pace “feel how hard you make me?” Jack brought your hand with his free one over his boxers. 

You took the time to feel his hard appendage and with that, Jack slid a third finger into your cunt “fuck!” Your toes curled at the new sensation. 

Jack lowered his head to your boob letting his lips wrap around your nipple “right there.” Your head rested against the cool wood behind you. 

His fingers felt every inch of you, the way your cunt clenched around his digits that attacked your needy hole “think you should get her clit Z.” Jack’s words made you whimper as you saw the boy’s swollen red tip look desperate for more of your attention “such a pretty girl ain’t she?” Trevor nodded, joining you on the other side of the bed. 

But he didn’t take the liberty of tucking himself away as he let his fingers tap on your lower lip “and a good listener too huh?” He teased watching your mouth suck at his fingers. 

He was forced to pull them out, not wanting to get too carried away “don’t stop.” There was a feeling you had never felt as Jack curled his fingers in this come hither motion. Trevor added to it letting his fingers drop down between Jacks hand and your clit. His calloused fingers were rough “fuck!” You called out watching Trevor drop his face to your chest. 

The boy clicked his tongue “look at this poor fucking tit all ignored.” He sighed not giving you a chance to respond as he too wrapped his lips around your other nipple. 

Looking down it was a sight of dreams as each boy sucked at your nipples, working in tandem on your clit and your cunt “I feel funny.” You confessed making them both look at each other.

It was encouragement for them to increase the pace of their fingers as Trevor rubbed your clit faster and Jack increased the pace of his thrusts “I think I’m gonna.” You trailed off with wide eyes as your body began to shake not sure if the pleasure was coming from your nipples, clit or cunt, or even a mixture of all three. 

Jack made a muffled grunt against your nipple that sent you over the edge, your face scrunched your face up letting your head jolt. Your cunt clenched around Jacks fingers as your body didn’t stop squirming. The boys didn’t stop there though as they brought you through your orgasm. 

The Hughes boy let his fingers begin to slow as your release didn’t seem to grow any sloppier around his digits “shit baby.” Jack let your nipple drop from his mouth with a pop. Your chest heaved as you nodded enough.” You whimpered feeling them retract their fingers away from you as Trevor finally let your other breast go. 

Trevor and Jack looked at the sight that you were in front of them “why don’t you taste yourself.” Jack offered his fingers bringing them into your mouth “so you can remember your first orgasm.” He added as Trevor had a devilish look in his eyes.

You went to turned your attention to the other boy whilst still sucking on Jacks fingers “I want a proper taste.” Trevor announced settling in between your legs. 

Your body was still sensitive and Jack was able to pick upon that “hey pretty girl.” His voice was soft, his fingers gripped at your jaw turning your head in his direction. 

His eyes caught yours “don’t worry about him right now?” Jack reassured you as Trevor kissed at your thigh “you want to still feel so good right?” Trevor asked wrapping his arm around your thigh when he blew against your cunt. 

The sensation made you squirm “please.” You nodded switching your gaze between both boys “a guy ever eaten this pretty cunt before?” Trevor ran his finger down your slit when he pressed a kiss against your other thigh. 

Jack focused his lips against the hollow of your collarbone “none.” But that wasn’t to say that you never wanted it, the guys you were with just wanted it to be you who went down on them “can’t believe you fucking thought you were the problem.” Jack clicked his tongue watching your eyes stick on Trevor. 

The boy mindlessly stared at your cunt, like he had never seen something so glorious “kiss?” You pleaded looking at Jack who couldn’t help but nod at you. 

His fingers gripped at your jaw as he started kissing you slowly at first. Trevor felt his cock throb watching the scene unfold in front of him. Jacks tongue ended up in your mouth and the Ducks player decided he couldn’t be the only one not having any fun. 

Trevor wrapped his other arm around your bare thigh, allowing your feet to settle on his shoulder blades “fucking hell.” His voice barely above a whisper before his head dropped against your cunt.

His mouth latched over your clit first making you moan into Jacks mouth “such a sweet cunt.” Trevor moaned sending shivers up your spine. The boy let his tongue travel to your weeping hole, his nose grazed your clit as he thrusted his tongue in against your walls. 

Your head fell back as Jack looked down “be a good girl and look at how good Z his making you feel.” He sucked at your earlobe making you whimper. 

Trevor’s eyes locked onto yours, his arms slightly loosened around your legs allowing you to drive your hips close to him “fuck z.” You moaned feeling Jack cup your tits once again “Jacky you’re missing out here.” Trevor confessed placing his thumb on your clit before he went back to fucking you with his tongue. 

Your eyes screwed shut as you felt Jack softly laugh against your skin “don’t have to worry because we’ve got plenty more in ya.” He looked at you through his devilishly long lashes “don’t we baby?” Jack asked as he sucked at your jaw. 

Silence swallowed you up when pleasure lulled in your ears. Trevor had been paying attention which made him scoff “he asked you a question doll.” The boy cupped his hand as he lay a smack against your cunt. 

The movement made you jolt when your eyes burst open “ahh,” you whimpered almost folding your body over “‘m sorry.” You apologised letting your lips form a pout. 

Trevor accepted the apology as he continued. He pressed a kiss against your clit “we just want you to be a good girl.” He sighed licking a stripe down your slit. 

Your thighs tensed around his head “because we don’t have to punish you then.” Your cunt clenched around his tongue as it lolled back into your hole “just wanna make you feel so good tonight.” Jack confessed going back to kissing your lips as you quickly became like a drug to him. 

There was the slightest scent of your perfume that was still on your skin that invaded his nostrils “please.” You nodded practically feeling like a brand new woman as the boys focused on you. 

Jack nodded running his fingers over your collarbone “c’mon sweet girl.” Jack cooed as you bit at your lip “you let this house hear you or else we’re gonna stop.” He warned squeezing your cheeks in his hand. 

Trevor pulled his tongue from your entrance before he let it lay flat running against your clit “seems like little miss perfect wants that.” Trevor taunted latching his lips around the sensitive nub. 

Jack gasped toying with your nipple between his fingers “you want Lukey to see what we are doing to his best friend?” The image made your voice quiver “h-he can’t.” You whimpered shaking your head. 

The boy between your thighs smirked “shame to keep this pretty pussy a secret.” Trevor sighed pressing a kiss against your clit “when she’s all soaked for us, it’s better to keep it our think no?” Jack asked pressing a wet kiss against your throat when you arched your back. 

The Ducks player let his tongue swirl around your sensitive nub, creating a healthy rhythm that caused your thighs to squeeze against his head “all for you.” You nodded with your voice turning breathy, almost angelic to the duo.

Those words went straight to the boys cocks that they were still so desperate to just let burst out, letting it soak your skin “can’t believe you tried to act like you were too good for us.” Jack pinched at your side making you jolt “I’m sorry.” You cried, your throat feeling raw as your heels pushed against Trevor’s shoulder blades. 

Jack smiled raking his fingers through your hair “‘s okay.” He mumbled pecking your lips “all that matters is that you’re here now.” Jack kissed you harder that time when your nails dug into his thigh. 

Trevor let his lips go from your clit as you whimpered not aware of how that hurt him more to stop than you could have known “please she’s been wanting to be a dumb little slut for us.” Trevor’s words were rough as he thrusted his fingers into your cunt. 

His were longer than Jacks but they weren’t as smooth either “please.” You begged clenching your walls around his digits “please what?” Trevor softly bit that the inside of your thigh. 

Your eyes almost rolled back into your head while Jack kissed at your shoulder “make me cum.” You whined wanting nothing more than to feel the high you felt earlier on “how can I say no to that.” Trevor clicked his tongue as he went back to sucking at your clit. 

His fingers did this scissoring motion stretching you out around him. The squelching noises echoed against the walls of the room, mixing with the sounds of your moans that slipped through Jacks kisses “such a spoilt girl ain’t ya.” Jack saw the sweat that formed on your stomach. 

You nodded whimpering against him “want you to cum really good for him okay?” Those words made your toes curl as the coil tightened in your stomach “can I?” You nodded not knowing it was possible for you to do it again. 

Trevor nodded refusing to slow down his thrusts as he grinded his hips into the bed beneath him. Words left your lips in a shaky chant “please fuck please.” You begged squirming as he didn’t relent running his tongue over your clit. 

You huffed shaking your head “c’mon sweet girl you can let go.” Jack egged you on kissing your lips, swallowing the moans from your mouth. 

Your legs shook when Trevor fingered you through your high, your release coating his fingers when the coil snapped in your stomach “shit, holy shit.” Your chest heaved letting your fingers tug at Trevor’s hair to pull him off of you. 

His fingers dropped from your cunt went you kissed him. Your release shone on his chin “fuck.” Trevor moaned feeling your tongue brush against his, your walls clenched around nothing as you knew it was the taste of your pussy on his tongue. 

Jack grunted from beside you as you turned back to look at him. There was a smile on your lips “you ready for one more?” He asked pushing your hair out of your face when you nodded. 

It made Trevor laugh “of course she is.” He mumbled tugging at the hair on the nape of your neck so that he could kiss you again. You felt as if the wind was knocked out of you with the amount of passion in it. 

A moan escaped from your lips “wanna taste you.” Your confession made his cock throb “how can I say no when a little slut asks me so nicely?” He nodded cupping your jaw as he smiled. 

Jack gripped at your sides “gonna let me fuck you while he does that?” Those words made you nod. 

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened but before you knew it Jack was on the end of the bed with his legs hanging over. You were hovering over his hips and of course Trevor stood over you, taking in the sight that you were through your thick eyelashes “remember when you thought you were too good to entertain us?” Trevor taunted you like those words hadn’t been spoken mere hours ago. 

You nodded feeling Jack kiss your shoulder blade “well I think it’s time you give us an apology for being such a fucking brat.” His words were harsh as Jack dragged the head of his cock against your clit “I’m sorry Trevor.” Jacks hand held your hip stopping you from sinking into his cock. 

Trevor laughed shaking his head “you gotta do a whole lot better than that.” His fingers brushed through your hair “and that’s gonna start with you getting on his dick okay?” You were eager to please them both. 

Jack let out a grunt “condom?” He asked when your head leaned against his shoulder “on the pill.” Your words made him gasp finally letting your cunt sink down on his cock. 

The ducks player smirked watching how your jaw went slack “shit this cunt is-wow.” Jack let his teeth gnaw at your shoulder blade. 

Neither one of you moved, taking the chance let your walls stretch around his cock. Trevor palmed himself watching how your eyes screwed shut enjoying how the boy felt inside of you “gonna have to try it one day too.” He nodded as you finally started lifting yourself up against Jack “you ready f’me to fuck you huh?” Jack asked, your head bobbed with your one hand resting on his thigh your nails digging into his skin. 

Jacks blue orbs burnt into the back of your head “this cunt is so perfect god.” He barked wrapping his one arm around your waist to keep your back flush against his chest “don’t stop.” The Devils player drunk in your whimpers while you squirmed. 

He adjusted his legs so that you had spread yours around his. Letting the feelings of pleasure soak over you, not sure how much more of him you could actually take. A grunt came from in front of you, reminding you that it wasn’t just you and Jack in that room.

Trevor’s precum oozed out of his cock and you swore you could see a smirk on his face when your mouth watered “you wanna suck my cock?” He asked watching you nodded. 

His breath grew short when you used your tongue to spread his liquid around his length “shit this mouth is-” Trevor cut himself off as you took more of his cock in your mouth. 

His fingers messily tugged at your hair forming a loose pony at the back of your head, encouraging you to work his cock between your lips “you want more?” He asked seeing how you looked up at him through your eyelashes. 

Jack had settled into a rhythm he liked unintentionally knocking your hand off of him. This cause you to reach out at Trevor’s thighs “fuck.” Both boys spoke through gritted teeth as Trevor’s cock hit your throat causing tears to spill from your eyes when you clenched around Jacks cock. 

The ducks player watched how you worked your tongue on the underside of his length “don’t stop pretty girl.” He nodded hearing the squelching of your cunt as Jack fucked you “yeah sweets we wanna use you proper.” Jack cooed gripping at your hip, pinching at the skin. 

You moaned around Trevor almost toppling him over “think you like the idea of us using you.” His words were full of desire, fantasies forming in his mind wanting to go through with them in that moment. 

Sweat stuck to your skin, turning you into a whimper mess “god you’re such a cock hungry slut.” Trevor muttered tugging at your hair eliciting another moan from your lips

The sensation made his eyes screw shut “fuck I’m gonna cum.” Trevor response was mangled, Jack started chasing his own high that was quickly approaching when he heard that message “you gonna let me make a mess in this pretty little mouth of yours?” He brought his one hand forward from your hair. 

His thumb brushed against your cheek “mhm.” Tears streamed down your cheeks while your eyes darted up to his. 

Trevor’s movements increased fucking your face as if you were his own hand. He took that moment before he became undone. His hand held you in place so his release hit the back of your throat all at once. 

Your throat gagged at the new sensation causing his cock to twitch before he went lax letting go of your hair. You hollowed out your cheeks as you let your lips swallow every last drop of what had been on his skin cleaning him up in the process. 

Gasps escaped from your lips causing droplets of his release to drip out of the side of your mouth “don’t go making a mess now.” Trevor clicked his tongue catching it with his thumb before he brought it into your mouth. 

Your lips wrapped around his digit swirling your tongue around it like it was his cock all over again “fuck I’m gonna make a mess in this pussy.” Jack announced feeling that he was close. 

His pace turned animalistic and if Trevor wasn’t in front of you, you swore you would have fallen over “such a tight cunt.” The boy moaned with his eyes glued to the way your folds swallowed his cock. 

Trevor felt himself grow hard again “such a pretty little cock drunk slut ain’t ya?” He asked watching your eyes grow glassy “yeah.” You cried hearing how your thighs slapped against Jack with every thrust of his cock. 

He almost felt as if he could feel your guts he was so deep, touch places you didn’t even know were in you “needed you both so bad.” You were surprised you were able to form a coherent sentence “knew you were always gonna be so desperate for us.” Trevor almost laughed watching your head bob as you nodded along. 

Your mouth watered seeing how his cock still oozed while his hand ran along the underside of it “you wanna feel this too pretty girl?” It was almost the sweetest thing he had said that night. 

It seemed to throw you off as you chewed at your lip sensing you were close “or maybe we should stop until this little slut remembers how to talk.” The threat held no weight as Jack was far too close with your walls squeezing his cock to let you off of him, but that wasn’t something that you considered “please Z.” Your moan sounded like you were a pornstar letting the whimpers of desperation escape from your throat. 

Trevor crouched down pumping his cock once more before he let the head sit in your clit “shit doll you like that?” Jack asked feeling you clench around him “so good.” You nodded letting your head fall against his shoulder. 

The sight was something Trevor swore should have been in the Louvre. His cock dragged over your clit matching the pace of Jacks thrusts. The Hughes boy was desperate to get you to cum first because he knew that the moment he finish he was a goner. 

Trevor begun to kiss at your throat which he now had the perfect spot to do as such “go on.” Trevor mumbled sucking at your sweet skin “make a mess on Jacky boys cock.” Your breathy gasps filled the room as your eyes screwed shut. 

Jack grunted from behind you “yeah baby make a mess for me.” Between Jacks cock fucking you senseless, Trevor’s cock against your clit and now both boys marking up your throat you were done. 

You shuttered out a cry while your face contorted letting tears fall from your shut eyes as your orgasm ripped through you. Neither boy stopped what they were doing, wanting to guide you through your orgasm “shit shit so good!” Jack sputtered out feeling your cunt clench around him. 

His eyes practically rolled back into his head as his cock shot warm sticky ropes of release into your cunt “fucking hell.” Trevor softly laughed against your throat when the younger boy lulled his thrusts before he kissed your shoulder. 

Your chest heaved trying to catch your breath you lay against Jack slowly coming back to, before you softly clenched around him remembering that he was still there “you with us baby?” Jack asked brushing your hair out of your face. 

You nodded gripping onto Trevor’s arm to help yourself up “damn.” Jack mumbled looking down at where you had been sat. A mix of your release and Jacks oozed out of your cunt and down the inside of your thigh as you used Trevor to support you. 

Trevor’s eyes followed Jacks before he let out a soft gasp “you know you could do that?” His hand squeezed at your hip before he set you on the bed next to the devils player. 

You shook your head “do what?” You asked growing confused “this broken girl just squirted.” Trevor scooped the release that had fallen before he thrusted his fingers into your cunt once more “we can’t have you forgetting about this now can we?” He asked watching your hand try to wrap around his wrist to stop him. 

Jack smirked seeing how you dropped back onto the bed, allowing your face to contort as you felt with a mix of pleasure and overstimulation “silly girl this summer is only just getting started.” The devils player nipped at your ear knowing that you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Because here is to the summer you’ll never forget. 

[sqh3e]

late night babbles, l.jn

warnings : fluff, mentions of breastfeeding, pet names — drabble & soft hours ★ dad!jeno x fem!reader

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it was late and both you and jeno were up playing with your baby, maybe it was because she slept all day is why she has so much energy right now. whatever the reason was, you both just loved when she was up and cooing regardless if that meant both of you would lose sleep. jeno currently had her on his chest and she was babbling and kicking him in the face.

“one more kick in the face and dada might pass out junie,” he said playfully biting her toes, she babbled some more and more before drooling all over his shirt causing you both to giggle. junie looked at you as if she knew why you were laughing at her. “don’t look at me looking that princess,” you say sitting up in the bed and reaching over for the bib cleaning up the drool from around her mouth “you’re so talkative tonight-” she cuts you off with more babbling.

“hey, you don’t talk to your mother like that, someone is about to be in timeout.” jeno says playfully and junie goes right back to kicking him. you’re still sitting up in the bed you’re looking down at them admiring the two of them together and start smiling. “what?” jeno ask chuckling looking at you but still paying attention to junie.

“nothing, i can’t admire my babies?” you say kissing jenos forehead and taking junie from jeno making rock ship noises while you do it causing her to giggle with her fingers in her mouth. “all alright princess, it’s time for you to go back to sleep, hm? you want to eat first?” you baby talk her as you check her diaper.

“jeno, can you change her while i go to the bathroom?” you ask, he nods, taking junie back and taking her to the changing table. you smile at the two of them as he drowns her in kisses walking her over to the changing table.

after you return from the bathroom you see both junie and jeno lying in the bed, except this time jeno is lying next to junie and she has her fingers in her mouth and kicking her feet. you debated on breastfeeding her or getting a bottle but just decided breastfeeding would be better for now since it was late.

you gently grab junie, pulling one of your breasts out of your shirt and angling it towards her mouth before she starts sucking on your nipple. jeno moved closer to you wrapping his arm around your waist and rubbing circles around your waist. you use the back of your index finger and brush junies cheek.

“baby i think we got this parenting shit on lock,” he said causing you both to laugh.

author notes: please it’s crack hours right now (it’s 10:34PM) and i’m up thinking about dad jeno. this drabble had me smiling ear to ear the whole time writing it, now let’s recreate jeno! but in all seriousness i hope you all have an amazing day or night!! today is a new day let’s act like it, also i truly appreciate all the support, even though i’m not constantly posting i really love the love i be receiving on my works that have been uploaded :D

nct dream taglist (open) : request (open)

© sqh3e

[vettelsvee]

Hello! I hope this is the correct way to request..., can you write a lewis story for prompt 28? It can be something like, reader is a new wag and there is some online hate, and lewis comforts them. It's completely fine if you don't wanna do this story, Thank you!! 💞

DON'T LET THEM SAY THAT. YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL | Lewis Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton x Actress!Reader

SUMMARY: Lewis and you decided to make your relationship public in Maranello before 2025 Formula 1 season starts. However, love from fans isn't there as you expected ↳ REQUESTED: Part of VEE'S F1 PROMPTS LIST (VOL. I)! Feel free to request anything you want <3 Hope you liked it anon! 💖

WORD COUNT: 2043

WARNINGS: Age gap (reader is on her early 20s and Lewis is 40), fans acting like crazy, hate towards Y/N

VEE'S NOTES: I received this prompt on the inbox today and I don't know how I wrote, corrected, translated and corrected once again it today. Also, first ever Ferrari!Lewis fic I'm so emotional right now. Not really happy with the result since like Y/N in this fic, I have many intrusive thoughts about my writing and I didn't have the best of the weekends, but hope you enjoy it anyways! Remember that I appreciate your comments, feedback, as well as reblogs, thank you so much! :)

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The whirlwind of emotions you’ve experienced since your relationship with Lewis Hamilton became public has been unimaginable... and that’s putting it lightly.  

Although you were somewhat used to the spotlight thanks to your rising career as an actress, flashes from cameras, crowds shouting for you to turn around so they could get a picture, and the occasional fan asking for a photo or autograph, the world of Formula 1 was completely new to you.  

You couldn’t deny that you were unhappy with how drastically your life had changed. The man who had just joined Scuderia Ferrari had become everything you had ever imagined in a partner. kind, undeniably caring, and, most importantly, empathetic enough to understand how overwhelming this sudden rise in fame was for you.  

Lewis had noticed how down you’d been ever since he decided to post those photos of you both in Maranello. You had both agreed to go together so he could test one of those legendary red cars for the first time, fully aware that people would inevitably start talking. That day, you decided to make your relationship public after keeping it a secret for about six months, agreeing that it was best to do so before the 2025 season began.  

Despite it all, despite how much you had started closing yourself off in the following weeks, Lewis remained by your side, making you feel like the most important person in the world. But it was becoming increasingly difficult for him, especially when all you did was act like everything was fine on the outside while you were slowly destroying yourself inside.  

The nightmare began with small comments on the photo Lewis had uploaded to Instagram, just you, posing timidly in front of the Ferrari while he held you around the waist, smiling like never before. At first, the comments didn’t seem like a big deal, with people just wanting to know more about your relationship or if it was serious. But soon, the messages started pouring in, insults and threats far worse than you had ever imagined, many of them coming from underage girls. Eventually, you had to disable comments on every single one of your photos, no matter how old they were.

However, what truly became a living nightmare for you were the Twitter threads and, especially, the accounts dedicated exclusively to Formula 1 wags. They were relentless, tearing you apart, analyzing your every move as if dating one of the 20 drivers on the grid was equivalent to committing first-degree murder.

“She’s just looking for fame now that her acting career is taking off.”

“She doesn’t deserve someone like Lewis.”

“She’s too young for him.”

“And let’s not even talk about how ugly she is… have you seen her?”

You sighed, throwing your phone onto the couch with such force that it ended up crashing onto the floor. But you didn’t even bother to check if it was broken. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t read any more comments, wouldn’t even open your Instagram account, yet you couldn’t resist. After all, you were human, and the weight of it all was becoming too much to bear, even more than you were willing to admit to Lewis, to whom you hadn’t fully opened up yet.

The hotel room in Tokyo, where you and Lewis had decided to stay for one of your last vacations before the season began, fell into complete silence. The only sound that filled the space was your muffled sobs.

“And who even is she? Nobody knows her.”

“Lewis deserves someone better, that’s for sure.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away.

You couldn’t understand it. It felt so unfair... Why were you being treated this way just for loving someone? Why did people throw venomous words at you without even knowing you, without even trying to? Did being a fan of Lewis automatically mean they had to hate you?

You tried to relax, to break free from the spiral of thoughts that only led you to overthink, but it was impossible. Once your mind started down that path, the only thing it knew how to do was tear you apart from the inside.

As you tried to steady your breathing and quickly wiped away your tears, a knock echoed at the door.

You pulled yourself together as fast as you could, forcing a smile while glancing at your reflection in the mirror. You swore to yourself that you’d do everything possible to pretend that everything was fine, that you were fine.

But the moment you opened the door and saw Lewis, drenched in sweat from his gym session and pulling out his earbuds, you immediately turned around and rushed into the nearest room, the bathroom, locking yourself inside to keep him from seeing you like this.

“Come on, Y/N...”

Lewis knew you too well by now. No matter how hard you tried to convince him otherwise, he could see right through you, he knew you were struggling, and struggling pretty badly.

He didn’t do anything at first. He didn’t know what to do. He was afraid that whatever he said or did might only make things worse, might make you shut down even more. Instead, he rested his forehead against the closed door, feeling defeated, thinking of ways to make you feel worthy enough to stop torturing yourself over what strangers were saying online, people who knew nothing about your relationship and even less about you.

Eventually, you decided to come out. Lewis saw you, completely defeated, and he cursed himself for letting things get to this point. What had he done wrong to make you feel this way? God, you were just a girl in your early twenties who had recently made the leap to Hollywood stardom after moving to Los Angeles at sixteen, waiting tables in a run-down bar, and facing countless failed auditions until you finally landed the role that changed everything.

“Hey, love,” Lewis spoke as gently as possible, his eyes scanning your red-rimmed ones and your tangled hair. “What’s wrong?”

He knew exactly what was wrong, but he wanted you to be the one to speak, to let it all out.

You took a deep breath and pointed at your phone, still lying on the floor. A nervous knot tightened in your stomach, and your hands began to fidget anxiously. As if on cue, tears started streaming down your face once more.

“I just… I don’t understand why they have to be like this. What did I do to deserve this? Am I not good enough? Not pretty enough for you?”

Lewis sighed. He had known from the beginning that not everyone would accept your relationship, but the amount of hate you were facing was beyond excessive. He was exhausted by the senseless comments and social media accounts created solely to spew hate at you. And even more, he was tired of becoming tabloid fodder, followed everywhere by paparazzi eager to capture any moment they could.

Seeing you like this hurt him in ways he couldn’t even describe, and it made him feel miserable.

“Hey, Y/N… look at me.”

Despite speaking to you firmly and holding your hand, gently rubbing your skin with his thumb to calm you down, you didn’t respond. Lewis then cupped your chin delicately, forcing you to look at him.

“I know I’ve told you this a thousand times, and I also know that with how stubborn you are, you probably won’t listen to me, but don’t let what they say about you bother you,” he wanted to say, but all he really cared about was you. “What matters is that I love you, okay?”

“But... why does it have to affect me? Why did I used to not care about anything, and now I care so much about the opinion of strangers?” you asked, hesitantly, biting your lip in an attempt to relax.

Lewis moved even closer to you, wrapping his arms around you. He hated seeing you like this, especially when before all of this started, you were a light in his life, and it was him who used to lean on you when race weekends got overwhelming.

“Because you’re human, babe,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding you tighter. “Even though we sometimes say the opposite, we all care about what others think of us, especially when all they want to do is bring us down.”

“But... what if they’re right? What if I’m not what you deserve?”

“Do I need to remind you again that they’re wrong?” Lewis said, pulling you slightly away so your gazes met. “You need to remember how much you mean to me, but more than that, you need to remember who you are and all that you’re worth. That’s all that matters.”

You didn’t say anything else. Instead, you buried your face in his chest, once again crying quietly to avoid him seeing you like this.

“I’m ugly, Lew. Really ugly,” you confessed without lifting your head. “I don’t even know how you love me, or how you agreed to be with me after all those months we spent talking and hanging out as friends, or…”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t let them say that. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, and you’ve always been, alright? Anyone who says otherwise needs to get their eyes checked.”

You laughed, and Lewis felt that as a small victory.

You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. For the first time in a long while, you pushed aside the intrusive thoughts, the destructive comments you saw daily on social media, and allowed yourself the luxury of, for just a moment, trying to stop torturing yourself and accepting that there were things you couldn’t change.

Lewis’s words, while brief and somewhat familiar to you, brought a peace you hadn’t felt in days. You did your best to let the tension in your shoulders melt away, slowly separating from him and moving your arms bit by bit.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lew,” you whispered, once again wrapping your arms around his waist, wishing you could never let go of him.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Lewis chuckled, planting kisses on your forehead. “I’m never going to leave you, and I hope you’ll never leave me either.”

Neither of you said anything more. Your bodies remained close, exchanging shy kisses, making promises that everything would get better as you both talked about the changes you’d face in 2025. That was enough for you both to know things were going to be okay.

You both understood that the big, risky changes you were taking, especially your relationship, were going to be difficult, just like what was happening with you and the wave of hate you were receiving. But once you stopped giving it too much importance, or rather, no importance at all, no one would stop you as the newest couple in Formula 1.

“Hey, listen to me, please... I’ve been thinking about something.”

Lewis’s words caught your attention as you were starting to drift off to sleep in bed. You straightened up, your hand still intertwined with his.

“How about we take a walk, and you can get to know the city a bit?” he suggested. “You know… we could go eat out, hit up an arcade, or maybe…”

“Can you get me a stuffed animal from one of those weird claw machines?!” you interrupted him, excited, which made Lewis burst out laughing.

“Of course, I can get you a stuffed animal, or buy you all the ones you want.”

You smiled, and as Lewis went to the bathroom for a shower, you began to prepare for the day. That moment was exactly when you realized you needed to trust yourself more and, specially, just as Lewis valued you. Because if there was one thing you’d learned from him in the short time you’d been together, it was that, no matter what you did, you’d always be the envy of others, so you just needed to remind yourself that you didn’t need to feel worse for living the life you’d always dreamed of and, moreover, you worked hard to have.

[itsnesss]

Please could you do something with Junho meeting readers ex-boyfriend?? 💌

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | fluff, tension

word count | 0.8 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You’re standing in front of the window of a small bookstore on a quiet street in the center. The rain falls gently, creating a peaceful echo that contrasts with the swirling thoughts in your head. Junho is beside you, holding an umbrella over both of you, though you’ve noticed that he’s more exposed to the rain than you. He always puts others first, especially you.

“Are you going to go in, or just keep looking?” he asks with a small smile.

You turn to look at him and notice the playful gleam in his eyes. Junho has this ability to make you feel light, as if problems don’t exist for a moment.

“I was thinking about it. But I don’t want to wet the books,” you joke.

“You could soak all the books and they wouldn’t stop loving you,” he replies without thinking, and although he tries to act casual, you can see the color rise in his face.

Before you can respond, a sound behind you catches your attention. Turning around, you feel a twist in your stomach. It’s someone you didn’t expect to see, someone who represents a part of your past that you left behind.

There he is, your ex, standing a few feet away. He wears a black coat that barely hides his imposing presence, and his eyes seem to find yours immediately. The smile you once found comforting now feels unsettling.

Junho follows your gaze and, with just one look, understands.

“Do you know him?” he asks softly, without taking his eyes off the man who’s approaching.

“Yes,” you reply almost in a whisper. “He’s… someone I’d rather not see.”

But it’s too late to avoid it. Your ex is already standing in front of you, with that confidence he’s always had. His eyes shift from you to Junho, quickly evaluating him.

“Wow, I never thought I’d run into you here,” he says, addressing you as if Junho isn’t present.

“I’m fine,” you reply coldly, trying to keep your composure.

“And who’s this?” he asks, nodding toward Junho.

Junho steps forward, subtly positioning himself between the two of you.

“I’m Junho,” he says firmly, extending a hand that your ex takes with some reluctance.

The handshake lasts longer than necessary, and you can feel the tension between them. Your ex has always been territorial, even when he no longer had the right to be.

“I see,” he says finally, releasing Junho’s hand. “So now you have company.”

The insinuation in his tone irritates you, but before you can say anything, Junho speaks.

“She doesn’t need company. She knows how to take care of herself.”

Your ex lets out a low, almost mocking laugh.

“I know that. But it’s not bad to have someone looking out for her. Right?”

You shudder hearing your name come from his mouth, but you maintain your calm.

“I don’t know what you want, but I have nothing to say to you,” you say, trying to end the conversation.

He raises his hands as if surrendering.

“Relax. I just wanted to say hello. Looks like things are going well for you. That’s good.”

You know it’s not sincere. His tone, his posture, everything about him screams that he’s testing the waters.

“Thanks. You can leave now,” you reply firmly.

For a moment, it seems like he’s going to insist, but then his eyes shift toward Junho, and something in his gaze changes.

“We’ll see each other soon, I’m sure,” he says finally, and without waiting for a response, he walks away, disappearing into the crowd.

Junho remains silent, watching his figure until it fades. Then he looks at you, with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine,” you respond, though you’re not entirely sure it’s true.

“Do you want to talk about him?” he asks cautiously.

“There’s not much to say. He’s someone from my past, someone I don’t want in my present,” you admit, feeling a mix of relief and exhaustion.

Junho nods, giving you the space you need. He’s always been like this, never pushing you, but his steady presence is enough to make you feel safe.

“I won’t let him bother you again,” he says suddenly, with a firmness you didn’t expect.

You look at him, surprised, but on his face, you only see determination. Junho isn’t someone who looks for conflict, but when it comes to protecting you, he seems willing to do whatever it takes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, feeling the tension in your body start to dissipate.

“Always,” he responds, and this time the smile he gives you manages to make you let out a small laugh.

[chaot1c0]

dating blade as a stellaron hunter hcs !!

dating blade as a stellaron hunter entails ..

this man would DEFINITELY be protective of you [ maybe a little over protective ?? ] no but like seriously he doesn't wanna lose you ever :(

not exactly the type to get easily jealous, I feel like he'd place a lot of trust in you and have faith in your relationship but if someone bothers you by flirting, he'd scare them off for you

obviously would talk to you more than he does to the others, but not to the point where he yaps to you

I've seen someone write how blade would probably be excellent at taking pictures, and I totally agree. if you were half asleep and barely waking up, if blade took a picture you'd look absolutely stunning no matter what

would have a picture of either you and him together, or just you as his phone lockscreen

if either one of you are on a mission following a script, blade would actually keep his phone on him at all times. he wouldn't even allow kafka or silver wolf to steal it from him, only because he needs to be available if you run into trouble

doesn't listen to music ever, but will listen with you if you ask him to

can cook, probably will do anything you ask of him [ he just loves you so much ]

glares at anyone if they so much as look at you the wrong way

would drive you anywhere and let you drag him to places if you asked him to

doesn't care much about holidays or anything of the sort but will make an effort to try, just for you

his first priority is protecting you, and he makes sure to not be near you at all times when the mara strikes

not good at physical affection at all, so you'll have to teach him. won't initiate it first unless he gets confident about it after you teach him

would enjoy sitting there in silence as you brush out his long hair and untangle all the knots [ often does not have time, nor does he make the effort to ]

would let you put silly bows and ribbons on him, draw on him, and put stickers on him as you please, as long as it makes you happy [ he enjoys seeing you happy ]

wouldn't know how to comfort or reassure you using his words, but will show it with his actions [ holding you for long periods of time, rubbing small circles on your back, etc. ]

doesn't like many things but for you he tries his absolute best to give them a chance, only because you insist.

hihihiihihihihi guys

[cybrasigilism]

Hi! I really loved all your works, especially This Means War. I wanted to ask if you can write the second part cause it’s sooo interesting

All Is Fair (This Means War Pt ll)

warning: typical squid game stuff (guns mention, blood and death), love triangle (?), reader replaces gyeong-su (player 256) | ooc(?), these are my interpretations of these characters, please be respectful even if my opinions differ from your own

characters: kang dae-ho (player 388), thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

[minor characters mentioned: players 456, 001, 390, 222, 124, 380 (seong gi-hun, young-il/hwang in-ho, park jung-bae, kim jun-hee, nam-gyu, se-mi]

-

A/N: you guys have asked and i shall deliver! i did my nails before writing this and lemme tell you typing an entire fic on my phone with acrylics was not easy work! i hope you guys enjoy :3

ENJOY!

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

your head was completely reeling.

you were thrown into these games completely blind. sure you were desperate and strapped for cash, but as soon as you bore witness to countless people lose their lives over a game of Red Light Green Light, you decided that no amount of money was worth such a heartless and gruesome death.

so you were counting your blessings when the time to vote rolled around, absolutely you were going to vote “X” and get the everloving fuck out of there, as you were sure everyone else would make the same choice. i mean, who in their right mind would want to stay in such a place? you figured that even if people were desperate, the stakes were just too high for anyone to handle. although your brief conversation with your new friend player 388, AKA dae-ho, seemed to lift your mood just a bit, you wanted to get the hell out of that place. you found yourself approaching him when the players gathered up to await their chance to cast their vote, you figured it couldn’t hurt to stay close to a friend, especially now.

“at least we still get our share of the prize money if we do end up leaving.” you commented, as the players before you began to disperse into the X and O sides of the room. “yeah, i guess..” dae-ho seemed distant, you noticed that he was analyzing that golden, luminous piggy bank that loomed over everyone as some sick motivator. “but even that much won’t be enough for some people’s debts.” you chuckled at the last bit of his statement, covering your mouth with your hand as you did so. “what’s the joke?” he asked, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. “i mean, if you’re debt is that big, then there’s bigger problems for sure.” you giggled, met with silence from 388. you looked up at him to be met with an expression that caused a lump in your throat; realizing what you had just said. “oh my god wait, i didn’t mean-“ “it’s fine.” he interrupted, attempting to hide the shame in his voice. coincidentally, that just so happened to be the exact moment that dae-ho’s number was called, and he walked up without a word. you felt your cheeks grow warmer, but this time it wasn’t from any good feeling— you were completely embarrassed at how ignorant you had just been with your friend, and unfortunately for you, someone else had seen this whole uncomfortable interaction take place.

thanos approached you with swift succession once dae-ho had cast his vote, which you watched as your heart sank; seeing the number increase by one underneath the “O” on the scoreboard. the purple-haired rapper had been standing behind you for a prolonged period of time before he made himself known with a

tap tap tap

on your shoulder, you whipped around and felt your expression harden when you realized the culprit. “seems like homeboy is too sensitive, that’s unfortunate.” he joked, crossing his arms as he referenced dae-ho’s general direction quickly with his gaze. you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “you don’t have a clue what’s going on, it’s none of your business.” you didn’t want to give the obnoxious has-been any more attention than he was already getting, as you were given full demonstration of before. you turned away, restoring your view to the front which virtually did nothing to deter thanos, as he followed suit and adjusted his own positioning accordingly. “whatever happened, it definitely wasn’t your fault-“ you couldn’t believe how persistent this guy was, it pissed you off to the nth degree. “why do you care? it has nothing to do with you.. i don’t know why you bother inserting yourself.” you refused to even look at him, you didn’t know how or why but he was truly pissing you off at the very moment.

“shit, y’ don’t need to be on the offensive señorita.” thanos crossed his arms, eyeing every single player who voted X. you shot him a glare, where did he get off giving you a nickname like that? “don’t you dare call me that again.” you hissed through gritted teeth, poking him in the chest as you said so. this caught you and thanos completely off guard, but you weren’t surprised you were lashing out now; this place made everyone tense, clearly. you heard your number get called just then, talk about perfect timing, and you were able to leave the situation with the last word. but little did you know then, you would not be having the last laugh.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

it was back up those never ending stairs again. one thing was for certain, you were getting an insane workout through all of this. you scoured the numbers of the crowd for dae-ho’s 388, and sure enough you found him. he was more towards the front, and you shamelessly pushed past various other contestants to get to him. you wanted to set the record straight about what you had said yesterday, the moment was on constant replay in your brain during lights out and you truly just felt awful. the look of hurt on his face would forever be imprinted in the back of your mind, even if he forgave you.

“388!” you called out, catching his attention. much to your shock, he spun around rather earnestly at the sound of your voice, to be honest you were expecting him to ignore you. “oh, hey (Y/N)! i was wondering where you were.” you were taken aback at how friendly he was being with you, as if you hadn’t made a very personal jab the other night— however unintentional it may have been. “are you alright..?” you asked, not doing much to mask the unease in your voice. he cocked his head in a confused manner, laughing almost nervously. “me? i mean i’m nervous i guess but i’d say i’m alright— i’ve got a new group of allies now so that’s good!” he nodded over to the three older men walking in front of you two. you recognized one of these men, 456, as the guy who was getting everyone through the first game. “oh, well that’s good..” you felt yourself trail off, had he completely forgotten what happened between you two at the voting? dae-ho noticed the solemn expression now decorating your face. “are you alright?”

“i don’t know..” you inadvertently avoided eye contact as you all began to make your way through a series of doors. “i feel awful about yesterday.. i really don’t know why i said that.” you confessed. you could see dae-ho mentally putting the pieces together before his eyes widened, an audible gasp of realization leaving his lips. after a moment, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “oh, don’t worry about that! i know you didn’t mean anything by it—“ he laughed, patting your back. “you mean your not mad at me?” your eyes lit up in an almost cartoonish manner, earning a warm smile from your friend. “of course not! i get that this place is definitely putting everyone on edge, so people won’t really act like themselves.” you were so relieved at dae-ho’s sheer level of understanding. “so… we’re cool, then?” you ask. “yeah,” dae-ho affirms, looking down at you in the same way he did after Red Light Green Light, “we’re cool.”

things were all fine and dandy, that lump of shame had gone away from your throat, you were feeling better again— you almost completely forgot that you were all about to be subject to more sick games. the crowd of people dispersed into a giant room with rainbow-sky walls and what seemed to be two large rainbow tracks on the floor. as the voice on the intercom explained the game, and detailed the fact that teams of five were required, you and dae-ho nodded to one another as if to mentally solidify being on each other’s team. “well this works out perfectly,” one of dae-ho’s newly established friends, player 390, happily concluded. “now that dae-ho’s friend is joining us, we’ve got a team already!” you were amused to be apart of their team, as they already seemed to have such a firm bond. “and here you were, worried we wouldn’t be able to form a team fast enough.” player 001 remarked, looking to player 456 who still seemed a bit uneasy. you couldn’t blame him of course, he was probably still working through some stuff mentally after his first encounter with these games.

“if we don’t end up going first,” 456 began, catching the group’s attention. “we should watch the others closely as they play.” dae-ho nodded in agreement. “yeah! we could pick up on their strategies, to give us a better chance at winning.” you all chatted amongst yourselves, coming up with a game plan (no pun intended) for what was sure to be quite the nail biter of a game. you guys almost didn’t hear the little voice that called to your attention.

“can i please join your team?”

you all turned around and were met with a short woman with very unique hair, sporting the number 222 on her jacket. she seemed almost desperate, as if having been turned down by every other group. “sorry miss, but we already have five.” 390 explained sympathetically, but 222 was persistent. “please.” she begged again, this time bringing a hand to her belly. “i’m pregnant.” if there was anything to change the game, it was that. you guys locked eyes for a moment, before you spoke up.

“you can absolutely be apart of their team!” her eyes lit up from the defeated countenance she wore a second ago. the men looked at you stunned, dae-ho especially. “it’s alright, if there’s already five i can ask someone else-“

“i won’t hear it.” you insisted, catching 222 off guard. you could tell she didn’t want to take your place, but you would feel awful if someone in her condition was to lose their life in a place like this. “you need a strong, reliable group. i can find someone else, it’s no trouble.”

“if you’re sure..” 222 said, “thank you.” you nodded, before walking off. you looked back for a brief moment, even if you died in these games, you could hold your head up knowing that you just did the right thing. however, the look of fear and concern that dae-ho was giving you didn’t fail to break your heart. you knew he was worried but you also knew that that decision needed to be made.

you roamed the area somewhat aimlessly, starting to lose hope of claiming an empty spot in one of the teams. each player you made eye contact with gave you a disgusted look before turning their backs to you. you weren’t going to lie, every time you glanced at the clock your palms got slightly more sweaty. god were you going to be eliminated before the game even began? you’re mind began to resume reeling until

“hey, did you want to join our team?”

you spun around faster than you’d care to admit, eyes widened in desperation. a cool, punk rock looking chick donning the number 380 was standing before you, head cocked in anticipation. without a question you nodded and accepted her invite, to which she simply said “sweet, follow me.”, and that you certainly did. you wondered who your new team was, surely they were a group of standup individuals— well, as standup as one could be in an establishment like this one.

all of your hopes were entirely dashed when you saw just who was apart of your team.

thanos. man you just could not escape this guy, huh. he was surprised to see you too, though more on the pleasant side than you were. “woah, we meet again señorita.” you rolled your eyes at the nickname once again, seems like you were stuck with it now. “you know this rando?” the player dubbed 124, standing suspiciously close to thanos piped up, gesturing towards you. “that’s the one i was telling you about.” thanos explained, giving his friend a side glance. “ah, the ‘playing hard to get’ girl..” 380 cleared her throat, catching these two boys off guard. “y’know it’s rude to talk about people as if they aren’t standing right there.” you were relieved that you had someone else to stand up for you here. 124 snickered. “well if it bothers her that much she can always leave—“ “no.” thanos interjected, extending an arm infront of his buddy. “she stays.” he raised his eyebrows in a suggestive way as if you were supposed to thank him for his ‘noble’ act.

just then, the timer came to an end, and all the teams were instructed to sit down in designated lines. even if you wanted to leave, it was too late. you were stuck with thanos and his weird friend. but at least 380 seemed to have your back. as the first team was getting set up you found yourself thinking about dae-ho. you hoped their team made it through, hell you actually hoped they survived more than you thought about your own survival. you had never prayed to anything, for anything in all your life. but in that moment, you prayed as hard as you could for one thing.

“dear god, not like this.”

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

AT LAST, PART 2 IS COMPLETE!! idk if i’ll do a part 3 or not, it all depends on if you guys like it! i really hope this was up to standard, and worth the wait. i pulled out the big guns for this one but part of me is worried it doesn’t make a lick of sense 😅 regardless of my lack of writer’s confidence, i truly hope you enjoyed!

have a magnificent day/night lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @agornotsworld @kvstjwonnie @marymustdie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga @wonestro @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet @l5byrinth @chxrrybomb22 @deathsmellzz @bl4z3db4by @katscloudy

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 8

Source for pic

Trouble 8

Word Count: 5093

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I am DYING to write the next chapter... just you wait...! Now I need to know each and every one of your thoughts on this, please!

Masterlist

“Roronoa.”

“Cap.” Zoro matches his long strides with Mihawk’s. The hospital beeps sound faintly from the rooms they pass, and nurses hasten their steps to answer some wailing woman two rooms down. 

Mihawk stops abruptly in front of a room, and his amber gaze pierces Zoro's eye. “I know you just got back and barely had any time to rest, but I thought you might want to be present when we interrogate him.”

Zoro nods. It's another one. Another man has shown up with missing limbs and a note. A crime of passion seems far-fetched now. This case and Lucci’s are definitely related. They're too similar to be a coincidence. 

Besides, Zoro doesn't really believe in coincidences. 

“Has someone talked to him already?” Zoro asks as Mihawk’s hand sets on the handle. 

“The doctors haven't let anyone near him yet. And they say he's heavily sedated, so we might not get much out of him for now.” Mihawk is directly involved now, and that alone tells Zoro they are about to treat this case with the level of respect it demands. 

“After you, Cap.”

The door swings back as Mihawk pushes it, and both men stand near the hospital bed. Zoro recognizes the man immediately. He's the store clerk of the grocery shop he usually goes to. 

“Hello. I'm Captain Dracule Mihawk, and this is Officer Roronoa. The nurses told you we were coming, right?” 

The man nods, his eyes glazed over and out of focus. Then he raises his arm as if he’s going to run his fingers through his hair, but groans when his stump hits his forehead instead. 

“I have nothing to say.” He sounds slightly frightened as his voice wavers, with shaky breaths escaping his lips. 

Mihawk ignores him, a scowl forming on his lips. “What do you remember about the person who did this to you?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Any detail is important. Height, build, voice, distinctive features–”

“I have nothing to say!”

Mihawk inhales deeply. Zoro knows his Captain is a very patient man. If he were the one doing the interrogating, he would be shaking the man by his collar right now. Couldn't the man see they were trying to help him? 

“So you were threatened.” It's not a question. It's a mere statement. The man's eyes fill with tears as his chin trembles slightly. 

“What am I supposed to do now? My hands were my job. I can't do my job without my hands!” He sobs, his shoulders sagging. “Not just my job… How am I supposed to live like this? He ruined everything.”

Mihawk places one hand on his shoulder, his hawk-like gaze losing a bit of its edge for a moment. “It's not all lost. You're alive, and that's more than many people can say. We're trying to help you. We want to catch the bastard who did this before they can hurt somebody else. But we need your help to do it.”

The man closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he starts talking. He says that it was a man who did this - massive, bulky and really tall. He had a mask covering his face, a hoodie and gloves on, so any detailed description is off the table. He also had a rough voice and immediately threatened him if he shared the details of what happened with the cops. 

“After he… when he… he said to never touch what's his again. I didn't understand what he meant. I was in shock, I guess.” He sighs, his head falling back. “Can you call the nurse? I can't take this pain anymore.”

Mihawk nods, and Zoro turns, ready to leave, but the man isn't done yet. “He had maniacal red eyes and seemed amused by my suffering.” 

The clap of the notebook his Captain had been scribbling on signals they’re done, so Zoro takes another step towards the door while Mihawk thanks the man for his help. But when they’re halfway through the door, he speaks again. 

“I should've listened to her. She said someone was coming for me.”

Her?

“Who are you talking about?” Zoro speaks for the first time, his stomach churning with unease. 

The man shrugs and shakes his head, his chin trembling again as, most likely, the threats the criminal spewed fill his mind. “It's nothing. Nothing. Forget it.”

“Who is she?”

“I said fucking forget it. Leave me alone, I'm done!” 

Zoro grits his teeth, his instincts driving him towards the hospital bed, ready to drill the man with more questions until they get what they came for. But Mihawk’s firm grasp on his shoulder stops him. 

“We'll leave. Rest. Thank you.” They both leave the room, and Zoro growls as soon as the door clicks behind him. 

“He knows more!”

“And you should know when to stop. Let him rest. We'll try again another day.” Mihawk starts walking, and Zoro follows, staying silent when his Captain asks the nurses to check on the man. “I have a feeling this case is just getting started, anyway.”

Mihawk’s foreboding words echo in Zoro's brain all the way back to his car. The creep who's doing this is leaving him uneasy. A feeling of dread tightens his stomach and constricts his heart. 

All he can think about is keeping you safe, and he can't exactly pinpoint why. 

Though it's quite a coincidence that Rob Lucci ogles you and gets his eyes removed, and the store clerk hits on you and gets his hands chopped. Quite a coincidence indeed. 

And Zoro doesn't fucking believe in coincidences. 

-*-

You take your car to Robin's, even though Nami offered to pick you up, knowing how unreliable your old car can be sometimes, because you want to avoid having Zoro bring you home. And, gosh, you want nothing more than to spend time with Zoro, but if you can help it, you'll do whatever’s in your power to keep him from touching you. 

No matter how hard that might be. 

You don't even know how you’re going to get into the right mood to party with your friends. They all have so much energy, and you… don't. At least not right now. 

Briefly, you wonder how many times you’re going to use the ‘I'm just tired’ excuse today, but a buzz from your phone distracts your thoughts. 

Unknown: Remember, Kitten, no one touches what's mine.  Unknown: Behave, be a good girl for me, and I won't be upset.  Unknown: I'm always watching. 

You stuff your phone into your pocket before forcing a fake smile onto your lips and buzzing the doorbell of Robin's apartment. She opens the door with a smile that quickly turns into a frown upon setting her eyes on you. 

Not even all the makeup in the world can disguise the massive bags beneath your eyes, the redness in them, or the frayed look. And even if it could, Robin is your most perceptive friend. 

Still, she doesn't address the matter directly. She simply gives you a tighter hug than usual and whispers in your ear: “You need anything, honey? I won't ask questions, even if it's murder.”

The laugh that bubbles up in your throat is completely genuine, and you feel a little lighter. “Oh, trust me, Robin, I know you're the one to ask! But I'm okay, just tired, I guess.”

That's one. 

“Are you sure? You know I know ways to get rid of a body without getting caught…”

“Nico, I'm right here. I have no qualms about taking your ass to jail, you know?”

He's teasing Robin, but his piercing eye is set on you and you have to bite your lower lip to stifle a sob. Zoro's mere presence exudes safety and all you want to do is rush into his arms and forget everything. Forget about feeling scared, trapped, helpless and useless. 

He's right there. 

“Hey, Troublemaker, making trouble?” Robin smirks, shoves Zoro playfully, and returns to her home, leaving you two alone in the doorway, where Zoro leans casually. You notice his piercing gaze assessing the dishevelled state of your hair, the lack of care with your chosen outfit, the way your hands fidget with the hem of your jacket, and surely the way your lip trembles. 

“Hi. Not today, Zo.” You give him a soft smile along with your chill greeting, but the slight buzz in your pocket alerts you, and reminds you not to push it, so you quickly erase it from your face. 

Zoro's eye widens, and he crosses his arms as his brows scrunch. “Is everything–”

“I'm just tired.”

Two.

“See you inside, I’ve got to go greet our friends.” You try to get past him, but he stretches his arm across the doorway and blocks your path. You inhale a quick breath and are inundated with the smell of steel and his musky scent. Safety. Protection. 

… Home…

“Hey. Talk to me.” He mumbles, reaching and tilting your chin slightly so he can look into your eyes. “You look like you haven't slept in days.”

Bzzzz.

You shake your head both as an answer to his question and to deflect his touch. A quick step away brings your back against the doorway, his arm right next to your face and he leans in, seeing you're trapped. 

“Yeah, I know. Too much farm work, I guess. I'm just–”

“Tired?” That's three. 

You nod. Bzzzz. Then you flinch, and Zoro arches his eyebrow. 

“Talk inside, okay?” And before he says anything else, or does anything else - because it's starting to prove impossible to stay away from him - you duck beneath his arm and scurry inside. 

-*-

What the royal fuck? 

Tired? That's not tired. That's exhausted. You look like you've been through hell and back and, apparently, you don't want to tell him why. 

What's going on? 

Zoro follows you inside and closes the door behind him. He watches as you force a smile on your usually cheery face and greet the rest of your friends. Then he watches as Luffy hugs you tighter than usual - probably noticing your frayed state - and watches you push him away, your hand flying to your pocket. 

You stare at your phone, eyes darting back and forth - reading - then you close them shut with an almost imperceptible shudder, and put the phone back in your pocket. 

What is going on? 

He watches you when you think nobody's watching, and he sees the way your hands tremble as you reach for a sandwich you only nibble on, giving the rest to Luffy. He sees the way your eyes dart around the room and the way you avoid windows, preferring to sit in the middle of the living room and on the floor. 

He's especially interested in whoever is texting you, because you can't seem to let go of your phone. Though the texts don't make you happy. They seem to upset you. 

He also sees the way you avoid the Cook and all his flamboyant attention. He realises that your actions are so thought out, so careful, that you're not even your clumsy self. He sees you struggle, trying to smile and to engage. 

To pretend. 

But mostly, he watches as you actively avoid him all night. 

Something is definitely going on. And he's going to find out what. 

-*-

Unknown: The Vinsmoke is too flirty. Get away from him.  Unknown: You're doing so well, Kitten.  Unknown: Avoiding the cop all night. Look how well-behaved you are. 

The hundredth involuntary shudder assaults you. You're trying. By all that is sacred, you really are trying to be good. 

But you feel watched. Not that usual uneasiness that comes from the creep watching you, no. Sadly, you're already getting used to that dreadful feeling. What you're feeling right now is the piercing gaze of Zoro. He's watching your every move. And all you want to do is gravitate towards him. 

He's right there. 

With a heavy sigh, you collect the empty plate of the food you never touched - thank God for Luffy's unending appetite - and go to the kitchen to set it in the sink. 

“Need help?” Fuck. You just saw Zoro snoozing on the couch. Does he have superpowers or something? Now you're both alone. 

Your heart starts hammering away in your chest as you rinse the plate and set it aside. With a deep, steadying breath, you turn, holding a dish towel in your hands as you dry them. “Thanks, Zoro, I'm all done.”

The smile plastered on your lips feels as fake as the little plastic birds Robin has adorning her windowsill. But you try to sell it as you drop the dish towel and start to move to get away from him as fast as you can. 

“So you're running from me again?”

Shit. 

“What are you talking about, Zo? I'm just heading back, you can come too if you want.” But he doesn't move. And he's blocking the door. 

“Stop lying to me, Trouble. You've been avoiding me all night.” Does he actually sound hurt? “What's going on?”

“I'm just–”

“Don't even think about giving me that crap about being tired. You're not tired. You look like hell.”

Bzzzz.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk.” You try to make light of the matter and get past him to go to the living room, but he grabs your shoulders, his fingers digging into your flesh. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

You flinch and shudder, your eyes closing with a gasp. 

“Stop. Talk to me.” You sigh and close your eyes. You want to tell him everything. “Are you still getting those weird gifts? Is that what this is?”

Yes! And so much more! “No, Zoro. The gifts stopped, the person must have given up.” You sigh, the lies coming easier than you would’ve liked them to. “I'm tired. I hate being alone in that big house, and I miss my dad. That's all.” Some truth mixed with the lies might just help you sell them. 

He nods, and his hands squeeze tighter. “I get that. But that doesn't explain why you're running from me.” Bzzzz. You flinch again and roll your shoulders, trying to evade Zoro's touch because you know that's what the texts are sure to be about. “See? Why are you avoiding my touch, Trouble?”

Shit! 

“I'm not.” Wow. That lie wouldn't fool a child. 

“Prove it.” What? You raise your brow, lips curling into a dumbfounded expression. “Let’s finish what we started. Let me kiss you.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

No. God, no. 

You want to. You want this nightmare to come to an end. You want Zoro to kiss you, and to hold you, but mostly, you want him to protect you. To help you crawl out of this miserable rut you got yourself into. 

But you can't. Because you know the texts that await you are all threats to his safety, and you can't risk him. You just can't. 

“I… Zo… I'm not feeling well, another time, maybe.”

You can't bear the hurt in his eyes so you look down, but he doesn't relent. “I thought… I thought we had something. I thought you wanted…” His hands cup your cheeks and he forces you to look at him.  “This.”

You do. God you want all of it. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

Zoro leans slowly. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Your throat feels dry, your phone doesn't stop vibrating and there's not enough air in the world to fill your lungs. 

“I did. Before.” You leave it at that and he's so surprised by your answer that you take advantage and slip past him, trying to hold back sobs as you quickly make up an excuse to your friends and leave. 

You shouldn't have come. This was a mistake. You just managed to hurt Zoro. 

Fuck. 

-*-

You don't quite know how you made it home, but you did. Tears kept streaming down your face, and you blinked them away furiously, but reaching home and locking the door behind you doesn't bring the sense of safety it used to. 

Everything is tainted. You don't feel safe anywhere. 

The phone burns a hole in your pocket with its incessant buzzing. Someone called you on your way over, and you bet it was Zoro. You don't dare to look, as you already know there are dozens of texts from your interactions with Zoro tonight. 

He almost kissed you, and he was so adamant in trying to find out what’s wrong with you. Your friends noticed something was up, but the tired excuse worked perfectly with them, whereas with Zoro… 

He didn't buy it for an instant. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“God, just stop!” You screech, your hand clawing at your pocket as you take the device out and turn it off without even glimpsing at any text. You place it with force against the kitchen table and slump in the chair, holding your head tight as sobs claw up your throat. 

You're tired, you are. But it's not just physical. What he's doing to you is much worse. It's torture, and it’s bringing you closer and closer to despair. 

A melodic sound comes from your phone, and you hold your breath, removing your hands from your face as you stare at the bright screen. It turned itself on. 

What? 

Bzzzz. 

Unknown: Kitten, don't shut me out. You don't want to anger me any more than you already have. 

You stand up abruptly and widen your eyes, a hand pressing against your mouth as a way to trap the whimper that threatens to escape. Then you turn off the phone again, setting it back down on the table as if the thing were on fire. 

You can count the time passing by the accelerated thrums of your heart hammering against your chest.

The melodic sound chimes again, and you freeze as the screen lights up once more. Its obnoxious light fills up the room as the harbinger of doom itself. 

Bzzzz.

Unknown: That’s strike two, and I’m not amused. Don’t shut me out. I’m not–

This time you turn it off and shove it inside the kitchen junk drawer, amidst corks and can openers, hoping against all hope that this nightmare comes to an end, because how can it continue if you push it out of your sight?

Your stare burns a hole in the drawer, but you don’t hear the melodic jingle of the phone turning on, nor any buzzing. Is it… over?

The sounds of the old house seem amplified as you train your ears on any noise.

Can it actually be this simple?

BANG!

Your scream comes as unannounced as the loud bang that rattled the front door. Grasping the edge of the table with all your might, since your legs gave out from under you, you stare in the direction of the front door.

Then you hear it, clear as day, loud as if it were right next to you: footsteps. Heavy footsteps thump on the porch in a slow, taunting march. It’s him. It has to be him. You feel all your limbs locking up, constricting your breaths.

BANG! 

This time, you press both your hands against your mouth and stifle your cry. He’s right there. Your breath comes out of your nose in loud, rapid bursts, and your head feels light. It’s over. He’s come for you and there’s no escape. 

The footsteps cease, and you take a deep breath as tears drip down your face. Did he give up? 

You're not quite sure how you get the courage to do it, but you approach the front door with very light steps, avoiding the creaking boards of the floor and standing on your tiptoes to try and see through the peephole, even though you’re already dreading what you’ll find once you press your eye against it.

Darkness.

You can’t see anything. Should you turn the porch light on?

BANG!

This time, you can’t contain your loud cry as you fall to the floor. The door rattled right against your touch and your stomach tightens at the thought that there’s just a door separating you from whoever is out there. 

You crawl backwards, deranged sobs leaving you as you curse and plead, not quite sure what to do.

And then, as your back hits the kitchen counter, you know what he wants.

Getting up on shaky legs, you can still hear the pacing outside the door. You’re terrified. Fear makes your limbs congeal, and you shake your hands to try and stop them from trembling. Your fingers fumble with the drawer, and you have to clasp your phone with both hands as you turn it on. 

The melodic ring resounds all around the kitchen, and, as soon as the phone is connected, it buzzes.

Unknown: Good girl.

-*-

Another restless, sleepless night. 

You can’t shake away the fear that he left behind, no matter how much he assured you over texts that he would never hurt you, he just needed to make you learn. You’re a fast learner, he said. You can be good, he added. You just need to be reminded of this now and again.

He kept calling you his, kept saying you’d learn to love him, to call for him, to need him. 

You were so shaken up from the whole ordeal that you threw up whatever meager food you had managed to eat at Robin’s. Then, you locked yourself in your room again, trying to drown out any thoughts of heavy footsteps or threats. 

There was no rest or sleep.

Just paralysing fear and helplessness. You can’t see a way out of this hell. Maybe there really is no escape.

-*-

Saturday comes and goes, and though your friends call, you ignore them. 

Except Zoro doesn’t relent. He calls, and you don’t pick up, so he calls again, and again, and again until you do. 

“I was about to march in there and see if you were alive.” He’s growling, but he still sounds a bit hurt, and you grimace, making yourself smaller against your couch. You’re sitting on the floor, somehow it seems more secluded, safer.

“I’m fine, I’m just sick. I think I caught a cold.” You cough a bit, trying to sell the lie, but at this point, you doubt Zoro actually believes anything you say.

“Right. So, you’re not coming with us to the movies today?”

“Not today.” You sound defeated, exhausted, shaken, and scared. You hope he just thinks you’re as sick as you claim to be. 

“What if I go to you and we watch a movie at your house? I can get the Cook to make you some soup.”

A whimper almost leaves your lips, and you have to take a few extra seconds to compose yourself before answering. 

“It’s okay, Zo. I’m fine. I just need some rest, okay? See you soon.”

And you hang up on him, like the coward you are. 

Bzzzz.

Unknown: Kitten, that’s enough indulging the cop. You don’t get to answer any more of his calls. He needs to know you don’t want anything to do with him.

You read the text and drop the phone on the floor next to you, your head falling against your knees as you hug them tighter. You’re numb to all of this now. He controls you, he owns you, and there’s no escape. 

You’re trapped in your own home, cornered in your own life. 

You’re barely surviving. You’re just existing.

And it’s painful as hell.

-*-

The week goes by, and you fall into a numb routine. You get up, throw away whatever gift is waiting for you - sometimes they’re fresh flowers or candy, other times there are dead animals or crumpled flowers - you feed the farm animals, then try to eat something.

The afternoon is spent cowering in fear until you do the rest of the chores. Then, you try to eat something else for dinner after you lock up every inch of the house. You curl into bed in your locked bedroom, cry yourself to exhaustion, and start all over again the next day.

The stalker’s texts are relentless. He praises you and your beauty, your behaviour, and how good you are to him. Then, sometimes, he says you still need to learn, to accept that you’re his, and to understand you will love him back eventually.

And then, there’s Zoro.

He calls, he texts, and he comes knocking at your door. Every single day.

You pretend not to be home when he comes, even though he says he knows you’re home, but you don’t open the door or say anything. And then, he always gets a call from the station, something urgent that comes up, and he needs to go.

You know it’s him orchestrating Zoro’s life as well as yours. And the noose tightens around your neck. 

-*-

Friday comes, and you’re not even strong enough to get out of bed. You’re drained. You ask Ace to help with the animals and stay curled up in bed for the majority of the day. Your phone is strangely silent.

No Zoro.

No stalker.

You fall asleep. A restless sleep born from weariness and depression. Then, you wake up drenched in sweat. It’s almost dark outside, and an ominous feeling grips you in its hold. You try to listen, to hear if there’s anything out of place, any foreign sound that doesn’t belong, but all is quiet.

You check your phone, and there’s nothing there.

Everything feels peculiar and unusual. 

You get up on light feet and have to take an extra minute to steady yourself because your head feels light, and you feel faint from not eating all day. Then, you slowly make your way downstairs. It’s too quiet. Too eerie. 

Something is definitely wrong.

It takes you an extra minute to notice, but when you do, all the breath is knocked out of your lungs. 

There’s a huge, beautiful bouquet of fresh roses in the middle of the kitchen table.

He was inside your home. 

He was inside while you were asleep and vulnerable. He could have been in your room, he could have touched you, he–

Heavy gasps disturb the eerie silence of your home as fat droplets of tears stream down your face. You can’t take this, you can’t. It’s too much, and you’re not strong enough. There’s no way you’ll be able to survive this alone.

You grab your phone and press Zoro’s name, placing the phone against your ear with trembling hands. It’s time to tell him everything.

Except the call doesn’t go through.

“Come on!” You whine, your legs giving out as you fall to the floor, the red from the roses still burning your retinas. You try again. And the call doesn’t go through.

It’s his doing. 

The police. You dial the number and press the phone against your ear, but it disconnects before even ringing. 

“No!” You scream and throw the phone to the floor, getting up hastily and bumping against a chair before your trembling fingers grasp the landline phone. Sobs and hiccups leave your lips, and you don’t even care, You’re so tired, you just want this nightmare to end.

The line’s dead.

A broken, desperate scream climbs up your throat, and you lose track of time as you curl up into a ball and cry some more. 

There’s still someone who can help. Even though asking for his help is the last thing you want to do, maybe it’s exactly what you need to get out of this.

Ichiji.

Determination and a newfound purpose seem to stop your tears from flowing freely, and you grab your phone again, taking a seat on the couch this time, not wanting to stare at the roses anymore and not daring to touch them yet.

The call goes through, and you sigh in relief.

Two rings, and a familiar voice churns your insides. “Well, hello, Doll. This is… unexpected.”

“Ichiji, I need your help.” There’s no use beating around the bush. “I need you to spare me one of your bodyguards.”

The idea hit you like a truck. Ichiji has tons of bodyguards, he can be persuaded to share one, you’re sure of it. Even if you have to owe him something - and you know he’s going to collect - it’s much better than living in this constant fear.

The silence prolongs for a while before he sighs heavily into the phone. When he speaks again, his voice is clipped and monotone. “I would love to help, Doll.” Somehow, you doubt that very much. “But I’m a bit understaffed at the moment.”

“Cut the crap, Ichiji. You have dozens of bodyguards. Each one is better than the last.” It’s true. They’re all elite. Might as well just say he doesn’t want to help you, that you can understand.

“Had.” Another heavy sigh. “I had dozens of the best bodyguards. My best one left around the same time you left me. And half of them followed him out.” He chuckles dryly as the information sets into your tired brain. His best bodyguard?

You remember him vaguely, though the name eludes you, you talked to him on several occasions. Ichiji’s events were boring and dragged on, so you made small talk. He seemed to like what he did and was the best at it. 

“Do you see the chaos you left with your departure, Doll?” This time, you’re the one that sighs. 

“I just need one, Ichiji, please.” How low have you stooped, to be begging the asshole who broke your heart? 

“I can’t. What I’ve got left are mediocre soldiers and a footlong list of threats. I barely feel safe leaving the house. But if you feel so unsafe, maybe you can crawl back to me, Doll, I’m sure I can make arrangements.”

“Goodbye.” You exclaim dryly into the phone before turning off the call. 

A bodyguard was your last hope. The small flicker of light that had turned on. And now you are truly alone. No Zoro, no police. Just you and the stalker.

You turn your head back into the kitchen where the bouquet stands, taunting you with its beauty. He was inside once. He’ll be inside again. 

How long before he hurts you?

You don’t even know when the tears started to flood again, but soon enough, your face is completely wet, and your shoulders shake with every ragged sob. You have never felt this helpless.

You’re trapped.

There’s no way out.

BANG, BANG, BANG!

And he’s come for you.

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache

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[qqueenofhades]

do you have any advice for those in the very early stages of thesis-writing? currently desperately clinging to the mantra of "shitty first drafts," et al

Unfortunately, there is no place where you will more whole-assedly have to embrace the "shitty first draft" mantra than in academic writing, especially in thesis writing, especially if this is your first-ish crack at an advanced and major piece of original research. I'm not sure if this is for an undergraduate senior thesis, a MA-level thesis, or (my true and heartfelt sympathies) a PhD dissertation, but the basic principles of it will remain the same. So there is that, at least. This means that yes, you will write something, you may even feel slightly proud of it, and then you will hand it into your supervisor and they will more or less kindly dismantle it. You have to train yourself to have a thick skin about this and not take it as a personal insult, and if your supervisor is remotely good at their job (not all of them are, alas) they will know how to be tactful about it and not make it feel like a direct and extensive commentary on your private worth as a person. But you will have to swallow it and do what you can, which can include -- if you're the one who has done the research and know that's how you want to present it and/or you are correct about it -- pushing back and having a conversation with them about how you think your original approach does work best. But that will come later. The first step is, yes, to mentally gird yourself to receive critical feedback on something that you have worked hard on, and to understand that no matter how much you grump and grumble and deservedly vent to your friends and so on, implementing the feedback will usually make your piece better and stronger. That is the benefit of working with a trained expert who knows what makes a good piece of research in your particular academic field, and while it doesn't get easier, per se, at least it gets familiar. Be not afraid, etc.

If you're in the writing stage, I assume that you've moved past the topic-selection and general-research stage, but allow me to plump once more the services of your friendly local university library. You can (or at least you can at mine and probably in any decently well-equipped research university) schedule a personal consultation with an expert librarian, who can give you tips on how to find relevant subject databases, create individual research guides (these might already be available on the university library website for classes/general topics), and otherwise level you up to Shockingly Competent Research Superhero. So if you're still looking for a few extra sources, or for someone else who might be reading this and is still in the "how the heck do I find appropriate and extensive scholarly literature for my thesis??" stage, please. Go become a Research Ninja. It's much easier when you have a minion doing half the work for you, but please do appreciate and make use of your university librarian. It's much more effective than haphazard Google Scholar or JSTOR searches hoping to turn up something vaguely relevant (though to be fair, we all do that too), and it's what your tuition dollars are paying for.

Next, please do remind yourself that you are not writing the whole thesis in one go, and to break it down into manageable chunks. It usually does make sense to write the whole thing semi-chronologically (i.e. introduction, lit review, chapter 1, chapter 2/3/4 etc, conclusion), because that allows you to develop your thoughts and make logical connections, and to build on one piece to develop the next. If you're constantly scrambling between chapters and zig-zagging back and forth as things occur to you, it will be harder to focus on any one thought or thread of research, and while you might get more raw output, it will not be as good and will require more correction and revision, so you're not actually hacking yourself into increased productivity. You should also internally structure your chapters in addition to organizing your overall thesis, so it makes sense to draw up a rough outline for section A, section B, section C within the body of a single chapter. This will make you think about why the segues are going in that order and what a reasonably intelligent reader, who nonetheless may not have the specialized knowledge that you are demonstrating for them, needs to move understandably from one section to the next.

Some academics I know like to do an extensive outline, dumping all their material into separate documents for each chapter/paper and kneading and massaging and poking it into a more refined shape, and if that works for you -- great! I'm more of the type that doesn't bother with a ton of secondary outlines or non-writing activity, since that can lead you away from actually writing, but if you need to see the fruit of your research all together in one place before you can start thinking about how it goes together, that is also absolutely the way that some people do it. Either way, to be a successful academic writer, you have to train yourself to approach academic writing in a very different way from fun writing. You do fun writing when you have free time and feel inspired and can glop a lot of words down at once, or at least some words. You do it electively and for distraction and when you want to, not to a set timeline or schedule, and alas, you can't do this for academic writing. You will have to sit your ass down and write even when you do not feel like writing, do not feel Magically Inspired, don't even want to look at the fucking thing, etc. I have had enough practice that I can turn on Academic Writing Brain, sit down, bang something out, sit down the next day and turn on Academic Editing Brain, go over it again, and send it off, but I have been in academia for uh, quite a while. The good news is that you can also automate yourself to be the same way, but the bad news is that it will take practice and genuine time invested in it.

As such, this means developing a writing schedule and sticking to it, and figuring out whether you work best going for several hours without an interruption, or if you set a timer, write for a certain time, then allow yourself to look at the internet/answer texts/fuck around on Tumblr, and then make yourself put down the distraction and go back to work for another set period of time. (I am admittedly horrible at putting my phone away when I should be doing something else, but learn ye from your wizened elders, etc.) You will have to figure out in which physical space you work best, which may not be a public coffee shop where you can likewise get distracted with doing other things/chatting to friends/screwing around on the internet/doomscrolling/peeking at AO3, and to try to be there as often as possible. It might be your carrel in the library, it might be your desk at home, it might be somewhere else on campus, but if you can place yourself in a setting that tells your brain it's time to work and not look at WhatsApp for the 1000th time in a row, that is also beneficial.

Finally, remember that you do not have to produce an absolutely world-beating, stunningly original, totally flawless and perfect piece, even in its final form. Lots of us write very shitty things when we're starting out (and some of us, uh, still write very shitty things as established academics), and you do not have to totally redefine your entire field of study or propose a groundbreaking theory that nobody has heard of or anything like that. A lot of academic work is small-scale and nuanced, filling in spaces on the margins of other things or responding or offering a new perspective on existing work, and it's best to think of it as a conversation between yourself and other scholars. They have said something and now you're saying something back. You don't need to be so brilliant that everyone goes ZOMGZ I HAVE NEVER HEARD OF THAT BEFORE; by its nature that happens very rarely and is usually way out on a limb (extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, etc); you just need to continue the dialogue with a reasonably well-constructed and internally plausible piece. So if you think of it that way, and understand that a shitty first draft will usually develop into something that is good and valuable but not SHOCKING NEW REVELATION clickbait hype, you will take some of the pressure off yourself and be more able to shut up that perfectionist voice in your head. However, all of us have some degree of imposter syndrome and it never entirely goes away, so you'll have to manage that too. Etc etc as before, it doesn't vanish altogether, but it gets easier.

And last but not least, though I'm sure I don't have to say this: for the love of fuckin' god, do not use ChatGPT. Even the genuinely shittiest paper in the world that you still worked on researching, organizing, and writing with your own brain is better than that. Trust me.

[monabee-draws]

As someone who is acepec, the whole demi Lucanis debacle just doesn't sit right with me. He has so many dialogues that just cut off suddenly, scenes that feel like they're missing (that missive in Act 2 where he talks about dealing with Spite once and for all that just became a completely different scene with Zara??) All the concept art for the romance that was never explored. The massive difference in relationship progression between Rookanis and Nevecanis in terms of both emotional and physical intimacy.

Lucanis' romance is so clearly incomplete even in a game where the romance arcs are sparse on the whole. His character without the romance feels incomplete as well - we get two or so big moments of characterisation and everything else is just the same scene about coffee repeated as infinitum.

I have no issue with a character being awkward and inexperienced, wanting to take things slow, not recognising flirtation or romantic cues, wanting to figure out their complicated situation before jumping into something. I am that person! It took 6 months after my partner and I acknowledged we had feelings for each other for us to start dating because I was not in the right place mentally to do so. Both of us are demi. Both of us have had very few previous experiences with romantic relationships. But that doesn't preclude a person from understanding or wanting emotional intimacy.

The Lucanis situation does not come across as 'he just doesn't have sexual attraction to Rook yet', it's just complete shutdown of conversation on all fronts (something he does not do with Neve, btw.) I too find flirting scary from people I don't know and agonised over it before my partner and I were together. This is not how he's written. His expressions do not reflect shock or awkwardness when Rook flirts, nor does his tone when he responds. Do you know when he does do this? With Neve right at the start of their banter. And he overcomes that shyness quickly. He just does not acknowledge Rook speaking at all the same way any video game character does when their conversation tree is bugged, the game decided to cut some response dialogue and just transitioned directly into the neutral follow-up line. He isn't rejecting emotional intimacy because of Spite and the Ossuary prison because during the ambient dialogue it's clear he's sharing that emotional intimacy with Neve waaaaay before Rook helps him.

I just want more of his writing. Where is he and his character in this story? He's so incredibly inaccessible to us. And I know people will say that characters do not have to be emotionally available to the player (which is true! A great example of this working well is Vivienne, who is warm but not directly open if befriended.) But that should then be a consistent character trait, and it's clearly not. In fact, Lucanis is incredibly declarative about his feelings for Rook romanced or not once you hit Act 3, he's just completely missing in Act 2. Which to me is a flaw in the game's structure. And that 'missing-ness' is being read as demisexuality instead of 'hey this character's writing is actually incomplete and needs restructuring and additional scenes.' Those additional scenes could very much be as awkward and non-romantic in tone as you please, but we needed more of them. Have Lucanis visit Treviso more often to do things other than drink coffee. Have him visit other locations as well! Teach Rook how to cook a local dish, the gondola fight we saw in the concept art. Deciding after the game's poor reception that a character who is clearly only 3/4s of a character, who is lacking in so much characterisation, is the demi character? That feels bad man. Demi characters should be written with just as much care and attention, should get to express themselves in as wide a variety of circumstances, show us more of themselves and how they interact with the world. The reality is that Lucanis has the weakest romance arc in the game, and posthumously attributing that to demisexuality feels like an indictment of acespec people's ability to read the room and express emotional intimacy rather than a true attempt at representing us.

Just as Cullen's heterosexuality and preference for elves and humans is in fact a game development constraint rather than a character writing decision, and Solas' heterosexuality was a result of running out of dev time to record voice lines and re-rig cutscenes, I think we should be able to acknowledge that this version of Lucanis is not a good representation of his character in multiple ways. And that is due primarily to the development cycle rather than writerly intention.

We've had beautiful slowburn romances that were also deeply affected by character trauma throughout the Bioware series. Lucanis' is (in its present state) not one of them. Leliana, Cullen, even Alistair. I think using demisexuality or even slowburn as an 'excuse' for Lucanis' incomplete character isn't a useful way to think about his writing.

Note: This post is purely about quality of writing wrt emotional intimacy. I have zero issue with virgin Lucanis and think that fits his wider writing. I also don't wish Lucanis to be someone he's not - Zevran or Davrin or some other flirty/dommy archetype. I just don't like the casual conflation of awkwardness and inexperience with asexuality. These things do go together but also I don't think we should use demisexuality as a bandaid for poor writing because it reflects poorly on our understanding of ourselves and the community.

[pizdasi]

AND YOU DID IT AT MY BIRTHDAY DINNER

when you attended your friend’s birthday dinner you didn’t think things would get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 with the waiter. fortunately, thinking was never your strong suit.

cw: smut (mdni), substance abuse, degradation, sex under the influence, petnames

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“tati!” your friend turned around to look for the person calling her name. when she saw it was you who called for her, a smile lit up her face. “oh my god, y/n, i can’t believe you made it!” she said while reaching out for a hug. “wow, you look amazing, and the dress? stunning, to die for!” she said as she stepped back and took a good look at you.

you didn’t want to stand out too much so you decided on the safest option - a little black dress. it had been a few years since you last had the chance to wear it though, so it had gotten a bit short, ending somewhat closer to your crotch than your knees. since you didn’t think to try it on before the dinner there wasn’t any time left for last minute outfit changes, even if you felt a bit uncomfortable.

“here’s your seat, right next to me!” tati said with excitement and pulled the chair out for you. as you sat down she stood up and tapped her wine glass with a fork. “everyone, thank you so much for coming, i’m honored all of you could make it to my birthday dinner!”

she went on but you couldn’t focus on what she was saying because something, well, someone else caught your attention.

in the corner of the restaurant you saw the staff. more specifically, your eyes focused on a waiter. you tried to look at his name tag but before you could make it out, his gaze met yours. suddenly an applause broke out. you looked at tati and realized she had finished her speech. you looked back at where the waiter had been standing and he was gone.

after a while, your table had picked what to order and tati signaled to a waiter to come. as people were listing their orders you looked up at the waiter.

it was him. “namgyu”. you had the chance to read the name tag now. he stopped scribbling on his notepad and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. you panicked a bit, could he have heard your thoughts? you couldn’t bring yourself to utter a single word. “do you not know what you want to order yet, y/n…?” tati asked with a hint of confusion in her voice after a few seconds of silence. oh, right, it was my turn to order. “uhm, i’ll have chimichangas, please.” you managed to say through some stuttering. you felt your face slowly turning red. you looked at the waiter again and saw him writing down your order with a slight smirk on his face.

“alright, anything else?” he looked around the table and left his gaze lingering on you. for a second it felt like he glanced lower than he should’ve, but you were sure you were just imagining things. it was a really fancy restaurant after-all.

you spent the next 15 minutes waiting on your food, but mostly glancing around the restaurant to see if namgyu was near. in the few times you managed to spot him, his eyes were already on you.

though you didn’t want to admit it, his presence made you nervous and your mouth water. he wasn’t even all that, but still, there was something that drew you to him. his nonchalance perhaps?

even though you tried to resist it, you couldn’t help but wonder how his lips tasted and how he would’ve felt when tasting you. you weren’t sure if you were slowly losing your sanity or just ovulating (probably both), but one thing was certain - you needed that man.

after what felt like hours, dishes were being delivered to your table by no-one other than your latest obsession. every time he put down the plates, he slowly looked at you before walking away.

finally you saw him coming over with your food. “and chimichangas, best for last. enjoy your meal.” he scoffed after licking his bottom lip and returning to his duties. your felt your heart starting to beat faster. the tension that might’ve very well just been your delusions was getting to you.

“sorry, i need to go the bathroom, i’ll be right back.” before tati could answer, you got up and quickly headed for the toilet. thankfully it was empty.

you stood in front of the mirror, leaning over the sink. as you stared at your reflection you couldn’t stop thinking how good namgyu’s hands would look all over your body. you lightly dragged your fingers across your neck and chest, imagining they were his.

“you need help with that?” you jumped while covering your mouth from shock. he was standing right in front of the door, holding it closed behind him.

the air had never felt heavier as you were trying to think of something to say, anything. “t-this is the women’s room!” you replied with a somewhat accusatory tone in your voice. “and i’m an employee here. now stop avoiding my question.” he said while taking small steps to get closer as you backed away.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you said with a slightly shaky voice while hitting the wall behind you. you couldn’t back away any further but he was still getting closer.

he stopped right in front of you with his hands in his pockets, tilting his head a bit. “don’t act all shy now after you’ve been eye fucking me all night. you’re fucking stupid if you thought i wasn’t going to notice.” he said as his smile grew bigger. you gulped. it was over, you were caught. you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything so you just looked at the floor in silence.

“hey, look at me.” he said while suddenly lifting your face with one hand and lightly slapping it with the other. “open up, slut. ahh.” his thumb dragged over your bottom lip as he gestured for you to open your mouth. you were taken aback but you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. you opened your mouth and before you could react, namgyu stuck his fingers in. as he made you suck on his digits, his left hand found itself creeping down onto your chest.

“you’ve got great tits, you know? i’d love to suck on them.” he smiled widely as he lowered his face to your neck and started placing sloppy kisses all over it, leaving your knees feeling weaker and occasional whimpers escaping your mouth.

“be quiet, baby, you don’t want everyone to hear what a whore you are now, do you?” he took your wrists in his hand and pinned them to the wall above your head while his other hand found its way to your thighs. he held eye contact with a serious expression on his face as his fingers moved closer to your inner thigh.

“you like that?” he said softly while rubbing his hand over your underwear. “what if someone comes inside?” you said in between some muffled moans. “that’s what makes it exciting!” he replied with an almost insane expression on his face.

he slipped his hand in your underwear. “fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me and i haven’t even done anything yet.” he pushed a finger inside you, earning a gasp from you. he began thrusting his fingers slowly, making you feel dizzy. his hand finally let go of your wrists and your hands fell on his shoulders. he grabbed you by your neck as he began picking up the pace, looking you straight in the eyes.

you couldn’t hold off any longer. you felt yourself reaching the climax, causing you to cover your mouth with your hand to silence the noises that escaped you uncontrollably. you held onto his shoulders tighter as you came all over his fingers. as you were gasping for air in his arms, you heard the bathroom door open.

“y/n?!” tati said in shock. namgyu brought the hand that was just in you to his lips and put his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean. “hmm, the main dish tastes different tonight.” he grinned, “my apartment is across the street.” he whispered as he leaned closer. “i’m getting fired anyway, might as well make the most of it.” he said as he walked out of the bathroom.

“y/n, what the fuck is going on? why was he in here? did he- is that why you were talking so long?” tati frantically tried to find an explanation. but adrenaline was rushing through you and the orgasm you just reached was so fucking amazing you couldn’t really think straight. “i’m sorry, tati, i have to go.” you rushed out of the restroom. “for what? to suck dick and cock?” she yelled after you, feeling betrayed, “i mean time and place!” understandably so. after-all, you did this at her birthday dinner.

you stormed out of the restaurant and found namgyu already waiting for you. “take this.” he said as he took out a pill you couldn’t recognize, “it’ll make you feel even better.” even though you had never done this before, you wanted to obey him. he was the one who had just made you feel like heaven so you trusted his word.

you took the pill a second after he took one as well. he then grabbed your face and placed a passionate kiss on your lips. “let’s go, chimi.”

the second you two walked into the apartment, he slammed the door behind you and began making out with you while simultaneously taking off his uniform. his hands found the zipper on your dress and soon after that, you were left standing in just your underwear.

“can you get on your knees for me, chimi? hm?” he said while unbuckling his belt. “why the fuck do you keep calling me chimi? my name’s-” you were cut off, “because you ordered fucking chimichangas, nobody orders fucking chimichangas.” he said while laughing akin to a maniac.

you were left speechless. to be honest, the pill he gave you earlier was starting to hit you so you couldn’t have cared less what he called you, you just knew you needed him inside you more than ever. “knees… please?” he said with his eyebrows raised and a cheeky smile on his face. you were pretty sure he was clinically insane but that wasn’t going to stop you.

you slowly got down on your knees while holding eye contact. you were about to pull down his boxers, when you suddenly heard the toilet flush. a second after that, you saw a tall purple haired man walk into the room. “yo, namsu, my man!”

“oh my god, what the fuck are you doing here, when did you get back?” namgyu yelled back at him. “my brother, i missed you!” he started walking towards namgyu with open arms. “dont fucking touch me, bro! get the fuck out, i’m trying to get fucked right now, god!” he said in frustration while pushing him away.

“no worries, namsu, i’ll be in my room if you need anything.” the purple haired guy said. “no, thanos, get the fuck out of this apartment right now. go to mina’s place or a club, i don’t give a fuck, just get the fuck out!” namgyu yelled as he pushed him out of the flat, locking the door behind him.

“fuck, i feel so bisexual right now!” he exclaimed in annoyance. “you mean bipolar?” you finally spoke up still, in the same spot on your knees. “i don’t know the fucking difference, both! fuck…” he sighed, “just open your mouth for me, angel.”

and you did. he pulled down his underwear and revealed the absolute monster cock he had been hiding. before you could think about it, your hands reached for it, stroking it slowly and rubbing it over your face. in a moment of bravery, your lips got closer to the tip and you started sucking on it as you took off your bra. “fuck yeah, baby, that’s right. take it, take all of it.” he moaned as you gagged on his dick, “such a fucking good girl. so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

after he started pushing your head, it didn’t take long for him to start whimpering. as he did, he lifted you without warning and carried you over his shoulder to his bedroom. he laid you down on your back and got on top of you, starting to lay sloppy kisses from your mouth down as he played with your nipples.

your panties were on the floor in an instant and his tounge on your clit, making you whine and grab at his hair. “yeah, that’s-” you moaned, “don’t stop!” he buried his head in between your thighs as he sucked on all the right places before getting to your tits and lightly biting your nipple.

he grabbed you by your waist and turned you around so you were lying on your stomach. “ass up.” you did as he said and arched your back. “such a pretty pussy.” his arms wrapped around your thighs, his hands spreading your ass, as he got all up in your holes, his tongue in your pussy and his nose on your asshole.

he flipped you back on your back. “you ready to take all of me, slut?” he said while caressing your cheek. you nodded in response because you weren’t able to do much more.

he spread your legs and started rubbing his tip over your clit, earning shaky breaths from you. when he put it in you cried out. “fuck, babygirl, you feel so good!” he moaned. you felt so dizzy and ecstatic you couldn’t even do anything but moan uncontrollably. you weren’t sure if it was entirely the pills fault you couldn’t control yourself because namgyu was making you feel things you’ve never felt before.

“feels… so good!” you managed to get out between gasps and moans. “you look even better when i’m fucking your brains out.” he grunted while holding your legs spread. you felt yourself reaching the climax, “i-i’m gonna cum!” you cried out. at those words he fastened his pace, “cum for me then, slut.” your hands covered your mouth as you screamed incoherent words.

namgyu felt himself about to cum when he saw you shaking and orgasming under him. he pulled his cock out of you and started jerking it. he grunted and moaned after he finally came all over your stomach. he exhaled and laid on his back next to you. “see, wasn’t that so much better than your stupid fucking dinner and stupid fucking chimichangas?”

[glowettee]

how to recover from chronic procrastination (not just time management tips)

by mindy @glowettee

i wanted to talk about healing your relationship with time and tasks when you're stuck in a deep procrastination cycle. i've been in this cycle for a month now, and just recently got out of it using all of these methods. please just remember to be gentle to yourself, and take small steps.

understanding your procrastination:

identifying emotional triggers: notice what feelings come up right before you avoid tasks. is it fear? overwhelm? sometimes it's as subtle as a tiny flutter of anxiety

recognizing avoidance patterns: maybe you always clean your room when essays are due, or suddenly need to reorganize your pinterest boards before studying

spotting perfectionism links: notice when you're not starting because you're afraid it won't be perfect. this often shows up as "i'll start when i feel more prepared"

understanding fear responses: your body might feel heavy, or you might get suddenly sleepy when facing certain tasks. these are actually fear responses in disguise

mapping procrastination cycles: track how one avoided task creates a domino effect of more procrastination. it's usually a sweet little pattern we can gently break

emotional recovery steps:

healing task-related anxiety: create tiny, sweet rituals that make tasks feel safe. maybe light a candle before starting or use your prettiest pen

building self-trust again: start with promises so small they feel silly. like "i'll work for just two minutes" and actually stop after two minutes

developing completion confidence: collect evidence of times you've finished things, even tiny things like making your bed or sending a text

managing overwhelm spirals: catch yourself before the "i have so much to do" spiral starts. write everything down in your prettiest handwriting

creating safety in starting: make beginning feel cozy. wrap yourself in a soft blanket, make tea, create a gentle environment for work

rebuilding work capacity:

micro-task training: start with tasks so tiny they feel almost meaningless. maybe just open your laptop or take out one book

starting-point exercises: practice just beginning things without the pressure to finish. it's like dipping your toes in a pool

momentum building: string tiny tasks together like beads on a necklace. each small completion leads to another

success spirals: document every tiny win in a pretty journal. watching the pages fill creates its own kind of motivation

confidence restoration: celebrate completing even the smallest tasks. treat each one like a tiny victory worth noting

practical healing methods:

task relationship repair: make peace with tasks that scare you. talk to them like old friends you're getting to know again

emotional safety nets: create comfort zones within your work space. maybe a special corner with fairy lights and soft pillows

anxiety soothing techniques: develop gentle ways to calm your nervous system. perhaps counting flower petals or tracing patterns

overwhelm prevention: break everything down into pieces so small they feel almost silly. like "open notebook" as a complete task

progress preservation: keep a soft, gentle record of all your tiny steps forward. no progress is too small to celebrate

creating new patterns:

gentle accountability: find ways to be accountable that don't feel punishing. maybe share your tiny goals with a friend

achievement recognition: notice and celebrate every small completion, even just getting out your materials

progress celebration: create sweet little rewards for progress. maybe a favorite song or a moment with your comfort book

pattern interruption: catch old patterns with gentleness. "oh, there's my pinterest avoidance. how sweet of me to try to protect myself"

identity rebuilding: slowly start seeing yourself as someone who can start and finish things, one tiny step at a time

maintaining recovery:

preventing relapse: notice early warning signs with kindness. catch yourself before the avoidance cycle starts

managing setbacks: treat setbacks like gentle reminders to return to your healing practices

building resilience: each time you start again, you're building stronger foundations

sustaining progress: keep your momentum gentle and sustainable

adapting strategies: adjust your approaches with tenderness as you learn what works best for you

remember: recovering from chronic procrastination is about healing, not just forcing yourself to work.

tip: small wins create the foundation for bigger changes 🤍

p.s. you're not lazy, you're healing from task trauma.

[doodle-pops]

House of Feanor | Dating A Powerful Mage Reader

Request: First off I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart, your writing has brought me much joy. May I please ask for some headcanons for the house of Fëanor dating a gn reader who is a powerful mage?❤️ – @verydazedreamland

A/N: Always a pleasure, luv! Thank you for requesting 🤗

Masterlist | Navigation

➽ Feanor

• Fëanor had, of course, been deeply fascinated by your magic the moment he saw it. Not just fascinated—obsessed. He was relentless in his questioning, dissecting your abilities with the same manic energy he applied to his crafts. When you demonstrated a spell that conjured fire in your palm, he scoffed. “Impressive, but do you shape it? Do you command its form, its intent, its very purpose?” He immediately tried to argue that his own control of fire through forge and creation was more refined. You ended up in a heated (literal) duel where both of you nearly set half of Formenos ablaze before someone intervened.

• He was the worst about stealing your books and magical tools for his own research. “I borrowed it,” he insisted, holding a tome clearly marked with your warding spells. “You had it sealed with magic. So that means you wanted me to open it.” His grin was infuriatingly smug. The book had exploded with a harmless but embarrassing puff of glitter when he cracked it open, a security measure you had placed specifically to deter thieves.

• He refused to acknowledge that your power sometimes outstripped his in areas unrelated to craftsmanship. When you levitated an entire banquet table just to clear space after a feast, he acted unimpressed. “A minor parlour trick. If I had wished to move the table, I would have built something far more elegant than lifting it with brute force.” He was absolutely seething with jealousy but would never admit it.

• He had a tendency to dramatically proclaim your superiority when it suited him. If someone else dared to belittle magic in comparison to smith-craft, he would immediately shut them down. “You dare to question the power of my beloved?” he’d sneer, eyes aflame. “They can summon a storm with a whisper. I have seen them bend the very elements to their will! Tell me, what have you made that can compare.” The poor elf he was berating had only suggested that magic wasn’t as tangible as physical creation.

• He loved when you weaved spells into his creations. The first time you enhanced one of his swords with an enchantment that made it cut through nearly anything, he held it reverently, eyes alight with pure awe. “This is perfection.” Then he turned to you with an uncharacteristically soft expression. “We should create everything together.”

• He hated when your magic got the better of him. The time you charmed his cape to stick to his shoulders no matter what, after he kept discarding it dramatically during arguments, was an infamous incident in the household. “You think this is funny?” he demanded, tugging fruitlessly at the fabric. “You shall rue this day.” You did not, in fact, rue it. You laughed until your sides hurt.

• He had an unfortunate tendency to get too involved in your spellwork. If he saw you preparing a complicated ritual, he would immediately offer (force) his assistance, despite not actually understanding half of what you were doing. “Magic is but another form of craft,” he reasoned, grabbing an ingredient he did not need to be touching. The resulting explosion singed his eyebrows. He sulked for three days.

➽ Maedhros

• Maedhros was more measured in his fascination with your power, though it was clear he found it deeply impressive. He had a quiet, steady admiration for the way you wielded magic, often watching you in silence as you worked. Sometimes you’d catch his thoughtful gaze, and he’d simply say, “It’s…beautiful. The way you command it.” There was a kind of reverence in his voice, as if he saw your magic as an art form rather than just a tool.

• He was, however, keenly aware of the dangers of magic. “Don’t push yourself,” he would warn whenever you performed powerful spells, his voice low with concern. If you overexerted yourself, he would immediately step in, catching you before you could fall. “You do too much. You don’t always have to prove your strength.”

• When he sparred with you, he made sure you fought fairly—no overwhelming magical barrages, no instant teleports. He insisted on strategy and balance. “You can’t rely only on magic,” he told you as he disarmed you during a training session. “A blade is just as effective when wielded correctly.” He handed you back your sword with a smirk. “Try again.”

• He hated feeling helpless when you were injured or drained from magic. The first time he saw you collapse after a particularly intense spell, he panicked. “No, no, stay with me,” he said, his voice tight with barely restrained fear. He held you tightly until you stirred, his grip not loosening for long after.

• He got far too used to your magical conveniences. If you teleported something to him once, he expected it forever. The day you refused to summon his forgotten sword before a battle, he gave you the most betrayed look imaginable. “You did it yesterday.” You stared at him. “And now I’m teaching you responsibility.” He groaned in exasperation.

• He hated your invisibility spells. You once used one to sneak up on him, whispering his name just to startle him. His sword was out before you could blink. “Don’t do that,” he snapped, shoving his blade back into its sheath. “Do you want to get stabbed?”

➽ Maglor

• Fiund your magic utterly enchanting. He had an almost poetic appreciation for it, often weaving its imagery into his songs. The first time he saw you manipulate water into dancing shapes, he composed an entire ballad about it on the spot. “It moves like music,” he said, watching the shifting patterns with awe.

• He was the most dramatic when things went wrong. If you accidentally hexed an object and it backfired on him, he acted like he had been mortally wounded. “This is betrayal,” he declared when his harp started playing dissonant notes at random due to a misfired spell. “You have cursed my art!” He refused to admit he actually found it funny.

• He loved being part of your magical experiments, though he was more cautious than Fëanor. “Are you certain this won’t explode?” he asked warily as you handed him a glowing crystal. When it did explode, he sighed heavily, rubbing soot from his face. “I knew it.”

• He always wanted to see the artistic side of your magic. “Make the lights dance,” he’d say, gesturing toward the sky. He loved when you conjured illusions—patterns of stars, shifting mirages of golden fire. It was pure wonder to him.

• He had a habit of using your magic against you in the pettiest ways. If you irritated him, he would immediately find a way to use a spell you taught him in revenge. “Oh, you’re tired?” he said sweetly, levitating his harp just out of your reach when you tried to take it from him. “If only someone had the energy to retrieve it.”

• He despised teleportation spells when used on him. The first time you teleported him mid-sentence just to cut off his lecture about proper song structure, he was furious. “I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF A POINT,” he roared as he reappeared across the room. You had never laughed harder.

• He was, however, always grateful when your magic protected them. “You are a wonder,” he murmured after a battle where your wards had shielded them from an ambush. “I would compose a hundred songs in your name.”

➽ Celegorm

• Celegorm was delighted to be dating a powerful mage. He saw it as the perfect complement to his own skillset—he was a master hunter and warrior, you were a master of the arcane. “You do the magic, I do the stabbing,” he declared proudly. “It’s balance.” You reminded him that your magic could also do the stabbing. He didn’t seem to see the issue.

• He constantly tried to convince you to use magic to cheat at hunting. “Teleport the prey into my hands,” he said, grinning. You refused. “Alright, fine, just use magic to slow it down?” You refused again. “What about a tiny spell? A suggestion in its mind that it wants to be caught?” He was relentless, but you never gave in.

• Huan adored your magic. He was particularly fond of the spells you used to conjure floating lights, chasing them like an overgrown puppy. Celegorm pouted every time Huan responded to you faster than to him. “I raised him,” he grumbled as Huan happily sat at your feet. “And now you’re the favourite.”

• He was far too reckless when asking you to enhance his weapons. “Make my arrows explode,” he said excitedly, handing you his quiver. You stared at him. “Do you want to set yourself on fire?” He seemed completely unfazed by the idea. “I’ll dodge it.” You absolutely did not give him exploding arrows.

• He loved practical magic the most—the kind that made his life easier. When you first demonstrated a spell that could clean gear instantly, he immediately demanded you apply it to all his equipment. “This is the greatest use of magic I’ve ever seen,” he declared as his previously bloodstained armour gleamed good as new.

• He was the worst when you tried to meditate or concentrate on spellcasting. “What’s this one do?” he asked, poking at your ritual set-up. “Tyelko, don’t touch that—” The ensuing magical backlash sent him flying across the room. He groaned from where he landed. “Okay, so that’s what it does.”

• He hated when you teleported away mid-argument. The first time you vanished before he could get the last word, he just stood there, absolutely livid. “YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE!” His voice echoed through the halls as he stormed around looking for you. You heard him ranting even after you’d reappeared hours later.

• He had the absolute gall to demand magic be used for his own convenience but complained when you used it on him. The first time you levitated him out of bed when he refused to get up, he flailed wildly. “THIS IS A VIOLATION OF MY RIGHTS,” he shouted as he hovered helplessly in mid-air. You let him drop unceremoniously onto the floor.

• He had no patience for subtle spellwork—he wanted big magic. “Make the sky change colours,” he urged. “Make fire rain from above—wait, no, don’t actually do that, that was a joke.” He did not like when you demonstrated the actual scale of destruction you were capable of. “Alright,” he muttered after witnessing a storm you summoned, “remind me never to piss you off.”

• He was oddly tender when he saw you exhausted from spellcasting. He never said much in those moments, but he’d gather you in his arms without question, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You push yourself too hard,” he murmured. “Even magic has limits.”

➽ Caranthir

• Acted unimpressed by your magic at first. He hated admitting he found things fascinating, so he pretended it was nothing special. “Hmph,” he grunted the first time you summoned an entire storm with a flick of your hand. “I suppose that’s useful.” You could see the barely restrained awe in his eyes, though.

• Was the worst at dealing with magic he couldn’t control. The time you enchanted his armour to be lighter and more flexible, he refused to wear it at first, claiming it felt wrong. “It’s unnatural,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t like when things don’t behave as they should.” He did end up wearing it, but only after grumbling for a week.

• Took issue with your lack of structure in magic. “How do you know what will happen?” he demanded as you prepared a spell without extensive planning. “It’s instinct,” you said. He hated that answer. “Instinct is how people get killed.”

• He was secretly fascinated by the precision of your magic. He’d never admit it outright, but he observed your spell with the same scrutiny he applied to trade and strategy. He especially admired enchantments that required delicate calculations. “It’s like forging,” he mused once, watching you weave a complex spell. “If you get even one thing wrong, the whole structure collapses.”

• He hated when you used illusions against him. You once created a fake letter to trick him into thinking Curufin owed him money. His reaction was immediate and furious. “THAT BASTARD—” He had already stormed off before you could tell him it was a joke. You had to physically stop a fight.

• He found magical transportation deeply unsettling. The first time you teleported him without warning, he staggered and nearly fell. “DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN.” He needed a full minute to stop looking like he was going to punch something.

• He was surprisingly gentle when tending to you after spell exhaustion. He wasn’t good with words, but his actions spoke for him—holding you close, wrapping his cloak around you, silently pressing a flask of water into your hands. “You should rest,” was all he said, but his grip on your wrist lingered.

• He loved when you made magic useful to him. When you placed protective charms over his belongings to prevent tampering, he looked genuinely pleased. “Good,” he muttered, nodding approvingly. “This will stop certain people from touching my things.” He shot a glare at Curufin.

➽ Curufin

• Was thrilled to be dating a mage. He saw it as an opportunity for limitless collaboration. The first thing he did was start drafting projects that combined his craft with your magic. “We’re going to make something unique,” he promised, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Something legendary.”

• He was absolutely insufferable when you first tried to enchant one of his blades. “Ah, no, you’re doing it wrong,” he declared, immediately trying to ‘fix’ your spellwork. “Curufin, I have been practising magic for decades,” you reminded him. “And I have been forging for centuries,” he shot back.

• He had no patience for spells that weren’t immediately useful. When you demonstrated a beautiful but functionally useless illusion, he just stared. “That’s it?” he asked. “It does nothing?” You sighed. “It’s art, Curufin.” He frowned. “Art should do something.”

• He had a deep interest in magical artefacts, constantly pressing you for knowledge. “How was this enchanted?” he asked, holding up an ancient amulet. “What’s the method? The materials?” He was relentless in his questioning, absorbing everything like a sponge.

• He hated being bested. The time you outwitted one of his traps using magic, he refused to let it go. “I am the master of strategy,” he huffed. “You cheated.” “I used magic.” “Same thing.”

• Incredibly smug when your magic enhanced one of his creations. The first time you strengthened his armour with an unbreakable spell, he smirked. “So you admit it,” he said. “My work is worthy of magic.” You rolled your eyes.

• He was oddly soft in moments when magic drained you. He never said much, just guided you to sit, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Reckless,” he murmured. “But brilliant.”

➽ Amrod

• Loved using your magic for fun—and sometimes, for chaos. He quickly realised that certain spells could be used for pranks, and he was far too eager to participate in your mischief. When you enchanted his brother’s boots to stick to the floor, Amrod collapsed in laughter while Amras cursed you both. “Oh, this is brilliant,” he wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “We are keeping this spell.”

• He had an unhealthy enthusiasm for magical transportation. The first time you teleported him mid-stride, he whooped in excitement instead of being disoriented. “Again!” he demanded. “No one will ever catch me if I can blink out of the way!” He started pestering you to teach him how to teleport, despite having no magical aptitude whatsoever.

• He was infamously reckless, and your magic became his favourite safety net. He leapt off a cliff once, fully trusting that you’d catch him with levitation magic. You did, but not before letting him plummet just long enough to hear him scream. When he landed safely, he glared at you. “That was unnecessary,” he huffed. You raised a brow. “Was jumping off a cliff necessary?” He grumbled something about ‘dramatic flair.’

• He was the first to challenge you to a magical duel—not because he thought he could win, but because he wanted to see how far he could push you. He came at you with twin blades, grinning wildly as you dodged and countered with spells. When you finally pinned him to the ground with vines sprouting from the earth, he just laughed breathlessly. “That was amazing,” he admitted. “Alright, your magic wins.” Then he grinned up at you. “But I almost got you.”

• He had no patience for long magical incantations or rituals. If he needed something done, he wanted it immediately. “Can you just zap the firewood into a pile?” he asked one evening, rubbing his hands for warmth. You made the logs explode instead. He stared at the smouldering debris and then at you. “Right,” he said slowly. “That’s on me. I should’ve been more specific.”

• He was a terrible student when you tried to teach him minor magic. He had the attention span of a squirrel and constantly got distracted. “Are you even listening?” you asked as he poked at the runes you’d drawn. “Yes, yes,” he waved you off. “Something about channelling energy, focusing my—ow!” He yelped as he electrocuted himself. You smirked. “That’s what happens when you don’t listen.”

• He loved it when you used magic to enhance his hunting. When you silenced his footsteps with a spell, he grinned like a child with a new toy. “I’m unstoppable,” he declared before vanishing into the forest. He promptly fell into a hidden pit because you forgot to mention the spell only silenced noise—it didn’t help him see better.

➽ Amras

• He was a bit more wary of magic than his twin. He respected it but didn’t fully trust it—especially after witnessing some of your more volatile spells. “You do realise half of these things could kill us, right?” he asked dryly after you accidentally blew a hole in a tree during an experiment. “If you ever turn on us, I’m running first.”

• He was extremely particular about magical interference in his domain—hunting. “No magic,” he warned before a hunt. “We do this properly.” That rule lasted until you found a particularly massive beast and he muttered, “Okay, maybe one spell.”

• He was a nightmare to keep track of when he decided to avoid your magic. The first time you tried to locate him with a scrying spell, he dodged it by moving constantly, making your vision blur with shifting images. When you finally found him, he smirked. “Magic’s powerful,” he admitted, “but I’m faster.” You had to grudgingly agree.

• He refused to let you teleport him. “No, I’ve heard the stories,” he said, backing away when you reached for him. “I’ll walk, thank you.” The one time you teleported him anyway, he appeared upside down in a tree. He hung there, blinking. “I hate you.”

• He was actually quite good with magical traps. The first time you showed him how to weave a snare with enchanted threads, he caught Amrod in it immediately. His twin dangled from a tree, yelling. Amras smirked at you. “Best lesson ever.”

• He had a deep appreciation for your ability to manipulate light and shadows. When you used magic to blend into the darkness during a hunt, he was genuinely impressed. “Alright,” he admitted. “That’s actually useful.”

• He was constantly suspicious of enchanted objects after you pranked him too many times. He refused to sit in a chair if he even suspected you had tampered with it. “I know you did something,” he said, glaring at the completely normal chair. He eventually sat—only to find himself stuck in place. You laughed while he cursed.

➽ Celebrimbor

• Celebrimbor was utterly fascinated by your magic. Unlike Fëanor, who saw it as a challenge, he saw it as an art that could enhance craftsmanship beyond imagination. He was constantly asking to study your spells, sketching runes in his notebooks. “What if,” he mused one night, “we infused enchantments directly into the metal during forging?” The resulting experiment ended in an explosion. He was delighted.

• He was extremely meticulous with magical theory. If you cast a spell in front of him, be prepared for an onslaught of questions. “What’s the range?” he asked after you demonstrated a shield spell. “How long does it last? Can it be layered? Does it dissipate naturally or require a dismissal incantation?” You groaned. “Can’t you just enjoy the magic?” He grinned. “This is how I enjoy it.”

• He was the only one who actually studied your spellbooks instead of just skimming for the flashy parts. The first time he cast a minor enchantment correctly, he looked so pleased with himself. “Did you see that?” he asked, eyes bright with excitement. “I did it!”

• He was always working on enchanted objects, many of which he designed specifically for you. When he presented you with a ring that amplified your power, he watched you put it on with something close to nervous anticipation. “Try it,” he urged. You cast a spell and felt it surge through you, stronger than ever. His smile was pure joy.

• He had a terrible habit of muttering spell theories at inappropriate times. You once caught him whispering about rune structures during a feast. “Tyelpë,” you hissed, nudging him. “We are eating.” He blinked at you. “Oh. Right. Food.” He barely paid attention as he continued scribbling in his notebook.

• He was absurdly competitive when crafting magical items. If you enchanted something, he immediately tried to improve upon it. “Your fire gem is strong,” he admitted, inspecting it, “but what if we stabilised the energy with an embedded lattice structure” The next day, he presented you with his version—twice as refined. You gaped at him. “Did you sleep?” He waved you off. “Details.”

• He adored seeing you work, often sitting silently just to watch your magic unfold. When he saw you manipulate raw energy into a tangible form, he whispered, “It’s beautiful.” It was rare to see him so openly in awe, but when it came to you, he always was.

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi! I'm trying to get into writing twst fanfiction, but I'm having some trouble with keeping the boys in-character. What do you think are their base traits? Like, what's the foundation of their personalities?

Hello! I spent a long time debating about whether to respond to this ask or not. Ultimately, a lot of the thoughts I would include in my response are the same as what I have already expressed here. However, I've noticed that this has become sort of a recurring issue, so I'd like to address this more seriously.

I've recently been getting a lot of people requesting that I basically tell them how to write the Twst characters. Tens and tens of them, in fact (too many to include all in one post). Sometimes it's an ask like, "please list out strengths/weaknesses or a summary of their character traits", and sometimes it's more specific like, "here is a prompt I am working on; how do you think [character] would act in this situation?" I'm NOT comfortable with either type of ask and refuse to answer asks of this nature.

I want to be clear: this is NOT the same as asking for general writing advice; this is literally just asking to be spoon-fed the answers. There is a difference between seeking advice on how to overcome writer's block or asking what are techniques to show, don't tell (which is general writing advice) versus asking someone to specifically instruct them on how to write Leona Kingscholar from the hit Disney mobile game Twisted Wonderland. The former is okay with me, while the latter is not.

While I am flattered that people care about my opinion and hold it in high regard, I am not here to be a cheat sheet, and nor are my opinions the "most correct". There is no single "correct" way to write a character, and even if there was, it's certainly not mine. Only the Twst devs themselves are the "most correct", as whatever they produce is what ends up as canon.

As I have said in my previous post on this topic, having someone else tell you how to write does little to help you. Writing is a skill, and skills are not inherent. They are something you train in, practice, and learn. Looking at a bunch of adjectives will not help you write or understand the characters any better than you currently do. If anything, it just means you don’t develop or practice your critical analysis skills. In a worse-case scenario, it devalues what a writer does, as it places the burden on them to condense what they know into a laundry list of characterization--as if it doesn't take us tons of time to hone those writing skills. The only real way to get the results you want is to do your own research, develop your own interpretations, and practice, practice, practice. There is no magic pill or shortcut or streamlining or easy way to do it and come out with a quality result. You have to be willing to put in the time and the effort to learn a skill, and that extends to writing, be it for this fandom, another fandom, or even for non-fandom writing. Think about it like this: when you're writing a good research paper, do you go and ask a single other source to gather all your data and summarize it for you? Of course not. You have to go out and manually collect the resources, do the reading, take notes, and gain an understanding of those resources. Then you use your newfound knowledge to summarize and to synthesize your own conclusions in your research paper. The same logic applies for writing in fandom.

I'm not sure why there is this sudden interest in shortcuts. Is it social media shortening our attention spans? Is it the rise of A.I. like ChatGPT making people more reliant on and more comfortable with summaries? Is it that people are concerned with nailing characterization or instant success the first time around? Is it that the internet's so much crueler with comments + feedback that we want to avoid OOC-ness as much as possible? Is it that I just so happen to like talking about character analysis so people think I must know everything? It could be any of these reasons or a combination of them--but whatever the reasoning is, it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It's concerning to me that it seems like people are becoming less and less interested in thinking for themselves and instead are increasingly reliant on others telling them how to create. You NEED to fail and get stuff wrong. You NEED to be able to have the courage to try things on your own. Don't be afraid of failure--failure isn't inherently a bad thing, it is how we learn, grow, and shape our own styles and ways of thinking! I definitely was not perfect when I first started out. I had to fail and stumble and struggle to get my craft to where it is today. So did every single one of your favorite creators. Artists had stick figures, writers had their first words. No artist or writer started off making masterpieces. Arguably, they still don't. Every creator is continuously learning and trying to improve their craft. It's not as though they hit perfection one day and decided to stay stagnant. I feel that it devalues what we make when we try to boil down all the skill we've developed into easy "answer keys" for others to digest. Again, you can ask all you want and seek out as many shortcuts as you like, but that's not going to be properly absorbed into your brain unless you walk the walk for yourself. You can't assume that learning these things will be as easy as reading a summary, memorizing a tutorial, figuring out what brush someone uses, etc.--it wasn't for the people you're asking for this advice from either. Failing is normal and expected. You will also never be able to create something that pleases everyone or something that everyone agrees with--so instead of trying to appeal to an unseen audience, please focus on creating what makes you happy. You have your own creative journeys ahead of you, so don't be scared to walk that road! It can be tough and you'll hit roadblocks and challenges--but overcome them, and you'll become even stronger and more skilled than you were before.

Best of luck!

[strawbearyxx]

꒰୨୧◞ 。dae-ho hcs as requested⠀.ᐟ

~~how he acts when he likes you~~

no nsfw !

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⟢ always making sure you’re alright, asks the little questions like “have you eaten?” “did you sleep well last night?”

⟢ reassures you alllll the time, he wants you to be okay because he cares about you so so much

⟢ his voice gets quite soft and shy when speaking to you

⟢ he can make eye contact with you, but only for a moment!! he’s immediately looking down at the ground blushing

⟢ has lots of fantasies about you and then feels guilty about it

⟢ wants to be touchy with you, but too scared to at first

⟢ eventually, he will be the one making the first move; it’ll be so sweet!! he’s the type to say “can i try something? please?” and when you agree, he’ll kiss you on the cheek and then turn bright red

⟢ extremely polite!!! and definitely will go out of his way to help you out whenever you ask. it’s like as soon as you need something, he’s immediately by your side asking what he can do

⟢ steals glances at you from across the room, especially during the games— just looking at you can calm him down out of a panic

⟢ offers you his food even though he knows he’s still hungry

⟢ daydreams about you a lot.. jung-bae will always ask him what’s he’s thinking about— “nothing.. i’m just.. yeah, thinking about going home. we’re going to go home after this next vote, right?” (loves to change the subject)

⟢ extremely obvious about liking you but will deny it every chance he gets

⟢ replays the moments he talked to you in his head after lights out and imagines how his confession will play out

⟢ chronic overthinker— he thinks you might like him bac, but then he thinks “what if she’s just being nice to me? what if she likes someone else instead? like.. like she talked to thanos once or twice what if she likes him?” when it really is obvious you like him

⟢ you tend to touch him on his shoulders, cheeks, arms etc when he’s having a panic attack, little do you know that makes him more nervous

⟢ always leans into your touch though

⟢ you are definitely his comfort person !!!!

the end~ let me know if you want me to write a longer scenario for any of these !!

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