#the world needs more words out there and more words out there leads to more reading

[jupiterpiss]

Remmick x reader who is blind, she traces his face with her hands learning him in the only way she can. And Remmick nearly breaks. It’s the first time in what feels like forever that someone has touched him with love, not fear. It becomes their quiet ritual a language spoken only between their hands and silence.

AHHH AHHHH AHHH AHHH AHHH AHH.

Yeah. I screamed in my car while reading this ITS SO SWEET AHHHH SAVE ME SAVE ME.

Also I was gonna make something else for the 200 follower special but this is really nice, so here you go!! Thank you so so so so much for the support, I love all of you!!

Warnings: no smut. Hahahah. Uh.. terrible writing of an Irish accent, I watched a few YouTube videos of it but I’m literally SHIT at writing accents.. especially Irish or British like it’s sad. So.. sorry. Just really soft stuff.. mentions of teeth and claws but nothing crazy. I ain’t a Remmick apologist.. matter of fact I want him to suffer.. however, I do find this idea very interesting. Reader is nice to him for once that’s all I’m saying.Also they are blind. It says in the fucking ask so ur blind in this. Remmick is also lowkey ooc.. he’s never THIS nice.

He’s been showing up for months now. Before, when the silence was still loud and jarring, when the lingering of a cold body was still confusing, he would watch from outside. Didn’t say anything, didn’t approach, just watched.

Watched as you would trail through your home, eyes open but unfocused.

Easy prey. That’s what it was at first.

He didn’t feel the need to plan his attack, not like he had done in the past. A sweet accent, a few kind words.. he’ll have you under his thumb easily.

That couldn’t be further from what actually occurred.

You caught onto his bullshit easily. Didn’t allow him in at all despite how nice he sounded, or how kind he was, it was still a stranger at night. Someone who could easily cause danger to you, and you weren’t stupid. Maybe vulnerable, maybe, but not stupid.

So you kept him out, but that didn’t mean you were any less kind. He came under the front of needing some help with the area, that he didn’t quite know where he was.

“North Carolina,” that’s where he said he was from. Deep in there alone, but he had to travel out to see some family. But how he said it, how he explained his whole situation and dynamic with said family.. just felt wrong. Detached. His tone was more dead, like it was from a script. Just speaking to speak.

It scared you. So, you sent him on his way, told him exactly where everything would be based entirely on your own experience with the travel, from memory.

He later checked, after you had closed the door and went off to bed, he walked the same directions you gave. Everything was to the T, just as you said.

Hell.. he knew your town like the back of his hand from your directions alone.

So he watched you some more. How you just knew the home, knew where everything was, and if something was out of place you would simply go around it or fix it quickly. Not entirely phased, the world wasn’t going to accommodate for you, so you worked around it.

Even outside your home, though it was always late out and you weren’t exactly going far just a few feet, you would still trek around like you knew everything.

Like the roots, dirt, leaves, wind and trees were one with you. Things you’ve come to long understand and form mutual respect with. Like they lead and you only followed.

Eventually, he grew antsy with the space, with the distance that lied between the two of you. It became less of mindless stalking and more obsessive, more curious.

He found himself jealous of inanimate objects. Jealous of the fact they could feel the soft traces of your touch, the care you put into everything. How you feel everything to remember it, understand it.

He wanted to be remembered.

Understood.

So he would find a way in. Find a way to break that barrier and to get you to welcome him into your space. Into your life.

Found a way under your nails and beneath your touch. And he fucking thrived under it.

Thrived under how soft you were, how kind you were.

You touched him with so much emotion, so much energy. Fingers threading through hair, breath against his back as you would help him out of his jacket, or the edge of your nail as you lightly scratch shapes into his arms.

He found that you were just as curious as he was. Not just for who he is, but for what he was. He would tell whole stories about his past life, stringing in some from his current one— about how he once had a dog, or that he sucked the blood from a lamb once and it became a vampire. He would explain all of this while you trace your fingers along his claws, tapping the pointed ends of cold skin wrapped around solid bone.

You would eventually come to share your own stories, about anything and everything. Explain that no, blind people don’t magically have impeccable hearing just because they can’t see while your thumb would be tapping the edge of his fangs, other hand busy sliding against his golden chain.

His fangs were another thing, something he was certain would frighten you to death upon first feeling them. And they did, sorta. Of course, not to death, but enough to flinch before ripping your hand away.

“The fuck are those.”

He closes his mouth, quiet for only a second before muttering, “my teeth.”

Your nose twitches, face scrunching in confusion, “they always like that?”

“No., only when I want them to be.”

He slowly grabs back your hand, doesn’t guide it back towards his mouth but just holds it. He can’t go too long without your touch or he feels himself slowly dying

(He isn’t.. but he far too nervous and weird to really care whether he’s going to actually die or not. He thinks he is, and that’s all that matters.)

“Don’t gotta touch them if you don’t wanna, won’t hurt me.” It will, actually, if you don’t fully accept this bit of him. But he doesn’t add that.

You don’t say anything in return, don’t need to. Just slowly reach out your hand again, tap it against his face to get him to open up. Your nail lightly scratches against the sharp tip of one is his jagged teeth, the sound unsettling but not quite unwelcomed.

His teeth later become your most favourite thing to trace on him.

His whole face is, really.

Your fingers are always so so soft, they trace up and down his features, soothing soft patterns into his skin. His flesh isn’t warm, it hasn’t been for centuries.. but for tonight, now, it seems to heat in a way that is only coaxed out through your touch.

He shivers each time, has yet to get use to this. The softness, the gentle hands and the gentle voice. It almost makes him sleepy, another thing found impossible since he’s been dead. He softly rocks you two back and forth, his arms wrapped tight around your waist as you both stand in the middle of your room.

It’s quiet, save for a few steady breathes and the occasional whisp of the breeze against the leaves outside. The floor boards creak under your shared weight as you sway slowly, a silent dance.

You trace your fingers over the ridge of his nose, feel the cartilage underneath, nails lightly scratching against his flesh. Not that it bothers him, nothing could. Not from you.

You give a small hm, puzzled. He isn’t sure, his eyes flickering open to look at you, though your eyes remained closed. As if you’re focused.

He mimics you, giving a small hum in response.

“Broke your nose?” You ask, whispered. Quiet.

Your breath tingles against his skin, curls its way around his skin and beard. Smells like peppermint and sugar.

“Aye, few times,” here, he speaks in his usual accent. Thick with unspoken Gaelic, words jumbled into traces of an olden tongue, long clipped from his people.

You only nod, continuing your admiration further down, over to his lips that luckily aren’t chapped. Haven’t been for a while now. You’ve mentioned it before, the first time.

When you traced your fingers over his skin, pointer softly tapping against his lips, you muttered, “rough skin.. you should drink more water.”

He only gave a small frown then, tongue darting out to give some moisture to his otherwise cracked skin. He didn’t drink any water, but he kept a chapstick on him from there out, one he would use anytime he needed to visit you.

From there, your fingers work down to his chin, the rough stubble of determined hair scratchy at you a tiny bit.

A small smile tugs at your lips, teeth faintly shining against the light of the oil lamp. His eyes stick to it, mouth slowly falling agape. Adoration written all over his face, so bold and loud, one would feel the same adoration from his expression alone. As if the sight of your smile alone can melt even the strongest of men.

He thinks it could.

“Gonna’ shave?”

He shakes his head. You smile wider, “Good, don’t. Feels nice.”

He plans to never shave his beard again.

[cat-mermaid]

thats the thing, the knight isn't the the big bad, at least not the version that Asriel is playing the role of

right now my ever evolving theory is that Kris, Asriel, Asgore and Ralsei the darkner homunculus creation, are all staging a version of the prophecy (aka the plot of the game we call Deltarune) for the sake of the soul aka us the player

I'm more and more certain that somthing did go down around 4-ish years ago, when the actual events of the prophecy were supposed to take place, but they were halted by outside forces (Carol/Asgore/whoever) and the prophecy was stalled for the sake of protecting the original intended "heros" from their grim fates. But it has to happen, why i don't know, but this stage play we've been playing out with Kris and the fun gang wouldn't be happening if it wasn't necessary

I've been slowly knocking out a document with my big theory as to where things are going and why, and one of the things i'm really sure of is that right now everything thats been happening has all been to direct our (the soul) attention away from the original heros (who yes i am 100% certain i know who thanks to Undertale's genocide route spelling it out/the music and the secret bosses of Deltarune and their music).

At this moment I theorize (and this can change at any point because i'm constantly updating with new information i come upon) that the goal of the Dreemurr family (minus Toriel) is to act out the prophecy beat by beat, except its their rewritten version that they have complete control over (or so they thought because SUSIE). I think that they knew that the angel/soul/us was coming no matter what and they had to do something to appease it(have a game for us to play) all while keeping the people who were supposed to be our playthings/sacrifices away from our attention

The angel gets it's game/heaven/watever and leaves once its game over, which if we can take the church prophecy windows at their word (which i only 50% do) means that Susie and Ralsei are meant to be disposable. Kris will be fine because more and more it's becoming obvious they don't need us to live, we aren't "their" soul, its just that the strain of caging us is probably really really rough on them physically and thats why they were lurching around so much in the beginning when they'd take us out of them

The thing is tho this is all going to fail, and fail badly

because Susie

no one had any idea that Susie would have so much power, so much freedom from the yoke of the prophecy, and yes i am saying that Kris's friendship with Susie began with the intent to be a siren singing her to shipwreck, but now Kris is having second thoughts because of how amazing and genuine their friendship has become, you can see it written all over them that they really don't want to do this anymore

My hypothesis is that the current plan was to have Kris seize the soul (however that worked) and become the cage. Ralsei is an object belonging to the Dreemurr family that was "programmed" with a tame watered down version of the prophecy, Ralsei is 100% loyal to Kris no matter what, even willing to take abuse or pain if asked to. Then a planned timeline of events, starting with Kris being late to class and Susie showing up on that day, kicks off. Susie is lead down the path of the hero who "has hope crossed on her heart" will take

why? because the reasoning is that the soul aka us will eventually merge with her to create the ultimate hero that will "save the world" (however thats supposed to go down). But this process seems to be implied result in death somehow. But if the soul isn't Kris's to begin with, for them its as easy as just pulling it out and letting it take over Susie

Theres only one problem, well two actually

The soul doesn't want Susie, like at all. It wants Noelle

Imagine being Kris and thinking, back at this point in the story-

-that its in the bag, its happend, Susie is now following "your" (the soul's) orders. This is how its supposed to start, now all they have to do is just act out the prophecy chapter by chapter, dark world after dark world, and soon Susie's mind and free will will be subsumed by the soul

but then oh no oh god, some how Noelle ended up in a dark word and now the soul only has "eyes" for her and oh god how do you stop it now? You're in too deep, you can't stop it now theres no choice but to keep going, and meanwhile Susie only seems to be getting better at shucking off the prophecy. I even bet you that Titan fight at the church was supposed to be the Dreemurr's planned "final boss fight", didn't it feel like one? But instead by then the Soul hadn't so much as tried to control Susie and then mother fucking OLD MAN happened and Susie "Idea'd" her way into fucking nuking the thing!

anyways shit thats alot i just typed for a "brief" response so i'll stop now!!!

just remember this is a working theory and almost certainly be amended and reworked all the way up to chapter 5

............YOUNG MAN

you are supposed to be at colleg

not doing some weird pantomime of your religion's prophecy with your sibling, a girl who was slamming said sibling into a locker like 2 days ago, a weird doppelganger of yourself and your fucking father

....also everyone do themselves a favor and listen to "hopes and dreams" sped up a bit faster then what youtube allows, its litterally "black knife"

[bearbackyard]

Wild Card - Bobby x Reader | Chapter One: How It's Done

Forgive me, dialogue is hard. Not a lot of Bobby this chapter, but there will be more in the next!

No warnings

Summary:

Music, sound, it was your everything.

So the day you found your baby cousins notebook was the day you knew she’d be something golden.

or

Zoey's older cousin, her main supporter throughout her teen years, ends up befriending and falling for her manager.

Word count: 1536 here for ao3 link! part 1 2 3

June 1st, 2025. SoFi Stadium, Inglewood, CA. Huntr/x World Tour, North American leg. 3rd show.

You’d been to a lot of concerts and worked twice as many. From punk to blues to classical to electronica to musical theater. The electric feeling beneath your skin when you felt as you let the speakers drown out your thoughts.

This was different. Tonight was different. 

You were near the front of the stage. Far enough ahead that you could see clearly but far enough back that Hummingbird wouldn’t know you were there. Despite the seats, everyone was up, jumping up and down. Their Huntr/x light sticks had been programmed to match the venue's lights, colors blinking all around the stadium as the girls on stage captured the hearts of the fans. 

Knocking you out like a lullaby

Hear that sound ringing in your mind

The two young girls next to you squealed with delight, their parents even joining in. (You’d heard them earlier when they had been complaining about the late night concert. Music changes minds) The couple behind you screamed the lyrics out while three Mira fans copied her moves in the space they had.   

Better sit down for the show

'Cause I'm gonna show you (I'm gonna show you)

(I'm gonna show you) How it's done, done, done

I don't talk, but I bite, full of venom (Uh)

Spittin' facts, you know that's

How it's done, done, done

You never got to meet Mira in person. Zoey had told you all about her and she’d say “hi” when she walked in on your calls. The same went for Rumi. She was very nice, you remember that, but a lot of the times when Zoey would call you it would be either very early for the girls or very late for you. It never bothered you when she called. You missed her a lot and you were so, so proud of her. 

Okay, like, I know I ramble

But when shootin' my words, I go Rambo

Took blood, sweat, and tears, to look natural (Uh)

That's how it's done, done, done

Like the Zoey fans around you, you erupted into screams when she rapped. That was your girl! You remembered when those lyrics were just a thought and now here she was. Singing, rapping, in a sold out stadium on a world tour.

“Yeah Hummingbird!!” You yelled out. She wasn’t going to be able to hear you, which kept your cover for the time being. 

Hear our voice unwavering

'Til our song defeats the night

Makin' fear afraid to breathe

'Til the dark meets the light (How it's done, done, done)

Damn that girl can sing. Despite the lights being programmed to a flashing purple, you swore you saw blue. You need to talk to the light and sfx programmer because that was unreal!

When the show ended, you felt an adrenaline rush like you’d never felt at any other concerts. As people began walking out, some running to the merch table for any last minute purchases, you began to walk towards the backstage area. You pulled the backstage pass Zoey had sent you a few weeks ago. She’d been hoping you would be able to make it. You told her you’d try, pretending you hadn’t already gotten tickets when the tour was announced. 

After showing the guard your pass, someone helped lead you to the girls’ dressing room.

“Great show tonight girls!” A voice you could recognize as Rumi said. “We’re getting closer and closer to gold, I can feel it.” There was a mix of squeals and chatter before you heard Zoey speak.

“I’m so happy we get a mini break though. I love our fans, but I think I need a break from everyone. No fans for just a day.” She exhaled as the others agreed.

“Not even your number one fan?” You leaned your shoulder against the door frame, arms crossed as you smiled at her.

“Y/n!” She rushed towards you as you stood up straight and opened your arms. “You came!”

“Of course I did!” You said as you squeezed her as tight as you could. “Wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Letting her go after kissing the top of her head, she turned, grabbed your arm and jumped up and down with excitement.

“Oh! Oh! This is Mira! And you remember Rumi.” Zoey led you closer to the girls. “Girls, this is my cousin Y/n! Formally. You know, not on call.”

You let out a few soft laughs at Zoey's behavior as you waved at the other two. “It’s nice to see you both in person.”

Mira nodded at you. “It's nice to meet you in person. Zoey’s always talking about you. Love your work.”

Rumi smiled. “Yeah, you helped us get out of more creative blocks than you know of.” 

“You girls are so sweet. I know you guys must be tired, but-”

“Girls, that performance was the best of the tour! You guys are off the charts!” A voice cut you off. A man, a bit shorter than you, walked in. He had black, shaggy hair and was wearing a grey blazer with matching pants and a Huntr/x t-shirt. His eyes were glued to his phone as he walked in with a huge grin. “The latest TWICE single has hardly made an impact on these numbers. You guys are killing it out there!” His gaze finally moved from his phone to the four girls in front of him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was someone else in here.” 

Zoey let out another excited squeal. “Bobby, this is my cousin, Y/n! The Wild Card. The one that does all that super cool audio mixing and stage tech-y work.” She turned to you. “This is our manager, Bobby!”

You felt Zoey push you a little towards the man, Bobby, as you now know. “Hi.” Extending a hand, you introduced yourself politely. “It’s nice to meet you.” You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Managers are fickle creatures, most of them being the devil incarnate to stars, especially Kpop managers. Something about him felt different though. He seemed kind, loving. The way he spoke with enough excitement to rival Zoey, or maybe the fact his compliments sound genuine and not just number hungry, or maybe it was the warmth you felt from his soft hands when he shook yours.

“Its nice to meet you too.” The world seems to shift a bit when he smiles at you and your gaze lingers on each other for a little too long. 

Clearing your throat and pulling your hand away. “Oh, uh, before I forget.” You turned your gaze back Zoey. “I know you guys must be crazy tired, but since there's no performance tomorrow your dad wanted to know if you and the others would want to come by. Everyone misses you a lot and they want to meet the others- as family!” You felt the need to clarify. “Not, like, a crazy fan swarm meeting. The whole block misses you. Claudia misses you a lot more than me.”

After finding her notebook full of lyrics, Zoey ended up at your apartment more often than she was at her own house. You were lucky enough to get a smaller place on the block you grew up in, just a bit away from your parents. The neighborhood get-togethers always meant music blasting until sunrise and anytime she’d have a new song finished, the block was the first to hear. Claudia ended up taking a huge love to her songs. Not that you were jealous (you were). 

“All three- four-? Of you are invited. As well.” Kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me. Why couldn’t you talk normally?? What has happened in the last ten minutes that has removed the ability to talk like a normal living person?

“Only it’s alright with you guys?” Zoey looked at Bobby and then to the girls. 

“Sounds fun.” “I don’t mind.” 

“That’d be great…” Bobby trailed off. He couldn’t let the shake weird, almost embarrassing like feeling off of him. He tried keeping his eyes on the girls but for some reason it just kept falling back to you. 

Clasping your hands together. “Great. I’ll, uh, send the details over. I mean- I know you already know where it is but you know. And any dietary restrictions just let me know and we’ll handle… it.” You took a quick glance down at your watch. “Oh shoot, I need to- to go. I don’t know how to get out of here…” 

Bobby straightened up and stepped a bit to the side to let you walk through first. “Oh, I can show you.”

“Really? Thank you so much.” You turned to Zoey one more time and gave her a quick hug. “See you tomorrow, Hummingbird.”

With that, you nervously followed Bobby out of the backstage area.

Zoey watched as you both left, seeming a little concerned as she tilted her head. “Did they seem like they were acting weird to you guys?”

Mira snickered, “Yeah, totally weird.” 

“Definitely a little weird.” Rumi said as she fought off her own laugh. “Like schoolkids.”

-

tags -

@joyfulllittlething

@blackstar-gazer

@minkyungseokie

[supernova41st]

Tangled ♪

Jerry (Date Everything) x Wired Earphones!Reader

A/N: There needs to be more Date Everything fanfiction! I’m excited to start writing some Date Everything stuff because the characters are soo cool. So sorry this took so long to release, I’m moving rn so I’ve been pretty busy jdhwjaid my joints hurt

Warnings: Abandonment, Hoarding, Signs of depression, Longer than my normal stuff

MINOR AUTHOR, DNI IF UNCOMFORTABLE

Divider creds: @uzmacchiato

It didn’t make sense to you. You your job flawlessly, playing songs and audios through your wires, delivering the best quality of sound you could, not letting a splash of water get to you so quickly��but even after all of that, your now previous owner was throwing you into a drawer to make room for their wireless earbuds.

It didn’t take long for Jerry to notice you. Sure, he couldn’t keep track of much of his collection, but he could easily sense when something new is added. He was simply overjoyed to see you! To him you were still a hot new thing because he wasn’t aware of the newer technology that was made.

“Oh, wow! Earphones? Did (O/N) drop you off here by mistake? You’re the pinnacle of technology! How could you possibly end up here?”

He closely inspected you while asking you hundreds of questions, twiddling with your wires and pushing your volume buttons constantly. It wasn’t the warmest welcome but you still managed to keep it together even after finding out you were being replaced.

Your wider knowledge of the outside world collided with how isolated and straight up weird Jerry was. The light bulb on his head is what threw you off the most considering the amount of fashion podcasts you’ve played.

“Theres a light bulb on your head.”

“Ah-Ah! Not just any light bulb, but an LED bulb. There just might be a day where these will be recalled all throughout the world, and it could soon be the very last one to ever exist, here on my head! Or maybe it’ll eventually create a new color that no one’s ever seen, unique to the light bulbs structure and technology!!”

“..babe, this is a solar energy light bulb. The only color it’s create is soft white”

Yeah, he didn’t take much of a liking to your ‘needling’. But he gladly accepted you as being apart of his collection. Even if you thought of yourself as a piece of uses less junk compared to the newer wireless earbuds, he still saw something more in you even if you couldn’t.

He never shared how much he more saw in you because he knew it’d get completely dismissed by your needling, so he kept it to himself.

Even through all his admiration, you still thought of yourself as a piece of junk along with the other stuff in the drawer. Jerry hadn’t interacted with you much after a while, leading to you slowly not speaking another word. He thought you were doing okay until he asked if you would tag along with him to play GnG with Chance but you looked, well, not okay.

Your wires were all tangled, your USB cord was a tug away from fully breaking off of you, and your ear tip was dusty, making your voice muffled. You were curled on the floor, staring at the tally marks on the wall that you made to keep track of however long you were in here. Jerry was never really handsy but when he saw you like this he just wanted to hold you.

“No, I don’t want to play GnG. Please just let me stay in here”

“But you’ve been here for so long! I-I know my collection may be all the more spectacular and everything but you haven’t come out since (O/N) put you here!!”

“For good reason.. I’m just as valuable as the rest of this shit”

Jerry knew you wanted him to leave, (like really wanted him to leave) but he didn’t accept it, instead he sat beside you, moving your wired hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear, he full on expected you to slap his hand away but you seemed to enjoy it.

“Look, I’m not really good with words or talking in general—b-but you’re just about the best object in this drawer! You can’t just give up on yourself now, I’ve met some cassette tapes and cough drops older than you who are doing just fine!—which is kinda weird because at this point those cough drops should be expired right now—but you get what I mean..”

Oof, he was right, he wasn’t good with words. Even with his little speech being quite awkward, the fact that he went to this length just to hang out with you was enough for you to consider leave the drawer after all those months.

“..plus, I think you’re really.. goregous and I—I think that playing GnG with you will…. Be a fun date we could do together?”

Jerry’s voice continued to grow higher, as he became more shy about the clearly scripted sentence being told to you, yet still, it felt very genuine. Looking at this state of an embarrassed red faced Jerry, the feeling quickly became mutual. You thought it wasn’t possible for someone like you, but you were perfect in his eyes, the most prized possession in his collection.

[conelluwrites]

Rotted Out With Flies

Soldier 005 x F!Reader x Soldier 007

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Reader is a soldier not a player (the world isn't ready for a fic like that /j), spitroasting, creampie, forced swallowing, one instance of degradation (slut, whore), reader is number 009, reader doesn't finish lol

Other: I love these freaks I fear... I gave them names (Lee Jong-il for 005 and Park Chi-won for 007) and some standard personalities. Because this is my first time writing for what are basically OCs at this point, their personalities may change if I write for them again. Not posted on Ao3 cause I couldnt find a good relationship tag for it ahah... Back to requests <3!!

Keep to herself, don’t even glance at anyone else, do her job and do it well, and go home afterwards.  That’s what she did, every day in her damn jumpsuit felt like a year- but who is she to complain?  She was offered the job, she took it, end of story.  So what the fuck did she do to draw in their attention?  She can feel the stares of numbers 005 and 007 on her, can feel their hands ‘accidentally’ brushing by her hips and waist, can practically feel their breath when they lean in to whisper disgusting, vile things to her.  And the worst part is that she doesn’t quite hate the attention.  Sure when it started it made her recoil, but now it gives her something to look forward to in the lull between games.  And don’t get her wrong, she still doesn’t do anything to draw in their attention, but she’s began to touch them back, to whisper back, to- to- to

“Hey.”  She jumps slightly when she hears the voice of 007 behind her, his hand rubbing the small of her back.  She doesn't give an immediate response, instead she continues walking.  “Don’t be so cold.”

��She’s just playin’ hard to get.”  The voice of 005 enters her other ear, she can hear the smirk as he talks and enters her personal space so that she’s more or less forced on the path they choose for her.  “Ain’t you, such a cute lil thing…”

She doesn’t put up any hint of resistance as they lead her away, but she stays quiet.

Thye lead her through the hallways, up and down stairs, and then finally they reach a small room.  It reeks of putrid, rancid blood.

“Such a good thing, comin’ here without even fighting.” 007 praises, moving to stand in front of her.  He lets out an audible breath, clearly excited at the chance to be alone- er… mostly alone with 009.  He slips her hood off, tsking when she grips his wrist.  “Don’t try to fight back now, not when we’re so close to the prize.”  They stare at each other before her hand loosens and falls back to her side as 005 rubs soothing circles on her back.  He tugs her mask off, then tugs at the balaclava until he exposes her hair and face.

A whistle leaves both of the soldiers, a low laugh escaping 005 as she leans in to rest his chin on her shoulder.  “Pretty thing, all ours.”

“Names.  I need them.”  She says, trying to sound more in control than she actually is.  Her voice wavers only slightly.  “I’m not going further without them.”

Her voice makes them both laugh, slightly distorted by the masks they’re forced to wear.  She’s just such a sweet thing.  For a moment they just stare at her before looking at each other and shrugging.  They shouldn’t give out their names, but they also shouldn’t have her down here and definitely shouldn’t be thinking of wrecking her body.

“Lee Jong-il.” 005 says, nodding his head over to 007. “Tell her your name, man, it’ll make things easier for us all.”

“I’m Park Chi-won.” 007 responds before patting her face condescendingly.  He leans down until she has no choice but to focus her eyes on his through his mask.  “And yours?  C’mon now, don’t leave us hanging, number 009.”

She shares her name, shrinking away only slightly from Chi-won’s overwhelming presence.  Her attempts amuse him greatly, keeping his hand on her face.  The latex of his gloved thumb rubs against her cheek in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant.  “Masks off.  You see me, it’s only fair if I see you.”

They both pause their gentle motions, the air thickening with tension before Chi-won sighs heavily and pulls his hand away.  He hesitates before pulling his hood down, removing his mask, and tugging his balaclava down.  Jong-il follows afterwards, tossing his mask aside and then immediately nuzzling his nose right below her ear.  He slides the hand from her back to her abdomen, pulling her close to his chest. He’s more than content in the moment until Chi-won speaks up, rolling his eyes at the display, “No time for that, we gotta work fast.  Maybe the girl will let us take her out after the games.”

“‘The girl’.” She scoffs.  But she goes ignored as Jong-il reluctantly pulls away from her.

“Number 007- Chi-won- is right, we got things we need to get done here.  See, you’ve let us touch up on you, let us whisper those filthy, rotten things to you, and you’ve never done shit to stop us.  You want this, don’t you?”

“Of course she does, dude.  She’s probably a loose slut out there.”

Jong-il snaps his gaze to Chi-won giving him a quiet warning.  As much as he wants to degrade the woman, he knows he can’t immediately go around calling her a whore. “As I was saying…  We brought you down here for some fun, baby girl.  You’ll get something out of it too, we aren’t that selfish.”

She rolls her eyes.  Of fucking course.  She wasn’t stupid, far from it, so she saw this coming from a mile away especially when their whispered filth got more pointed and explicit.  “Yeah, whatever.  Let’s just be quick.”

Both the soldiers enjoy her response, caging her in as they touch, grope, and rub her sides before one of them unzips her jumpsuit to touch her more directly.  The latex of their gloves skips around her skin as they both rub her nipples until they harden into sensitive peaks.  Jong-il buries his face in her neck, biting at the tugged down balaclava while Chi-won keeps his gaze on her face.  One of Chi-won’s hands slides over the expanse of her stomach and down to her panties.  He can feel the heat of her cunt even through his glove.  It’s the sign he was looking for.

“Hands and knees, now.”  Chi-won says sharply, stepping away and tapping on Jong-il’s arm to get his attention.  “It won’t be comfortable but, eh, who gives a fuck.   Doubt either of us will last long.”

She whines at the loss of contact, barely registering the fact that the two soldiers are unzipping and freeing their cocks.  She strips her own pink jumpsuit off and allows it to crumble on the floor.  She’s immediately cold, but she can/t bring herself to care too much as her knees make contact with the hard, uncomfortable ground.  She looks up at the pair, pulling back slightly as they both stroke themselves to her sweet body and exposing position.  Jong-il nods to Chi-won and gets behind the woman, groaning softly as he spreads her to see her glistening folds.  She’s so wet just from a few touches.

“She good, man?” Chi-won asks, grunting as he stares down at her cute face.

“More than good.”

“Let’s get started then.”

Jong-il grunts as he notches his cock at her entrance, his hips itching to snap forward to bury his cock in her tight heat.  Chi-won, on the other hand, just tilts her chin up and turns her head from side to side while stroking himself.  He could cum just from the way she lolls her tongue out while Jong-il does shallow thrusts- just enough to push his sensitive head into her sweet cunt.

“Want my cock, huh?  You want to suck me off?”  Chi-won asks, smirking when she nods and looks up at him with those damn pretty eyes.  He taps her chin and laughs when she opens her mouth.  He doesn’t waste time, holding onto his cock until his head rests on her tongue and then he curls his fingers up into her hair.  His eyes roll back as he shallowly thrusts his hips, fucking her face in small strokes.  He looks at Jong-il and nods, giving him the go ahead to fuck her cunt.

He lets out a low groan when he bottoms out.  He holds himself there, his cock pulsing inside her gummy walls.  She makes a soft noise around Chi-won’s cock, vibrating his sensitive flesh.  It makes his hips stutter before he starts to fuck her face with deeper thrusts, ignoring the way she recoils from the intrusion before she relaxes once more.  Jong-il starts to move, barely pulling away from her heat before burying himself to the hilt again and again.

The room becomes a mess of noises- squelches, gorans, grunts, and moans fill the empty, dead space.  They get more and more desperate, louder and louder until it’s almost deafening as the trio loses themselves.

“Fuck, dude, I’m about to cum this pussy full.” Jong-il strains out, his cock eagerly throbbing deep within her.

“I’m about to fill her throat up.” Chi-won says, warning the woman between them.

She doesn’t have time to push Chi-won away or attempt to move away from Jong-il as she feels a familiar warmth flood her cunt.  The groan from Jong-il makes her tremble, she’s so close that it’s annoying but she doesn’t trust herself to not lose balance to rub her clit.  She whimpers around Chi-won’s dick as Jong-il keeps pumping his hips until he’s spent.  He pulls out, his gloved hand spreading her folds to watch his seed leak from her used pussy.

It doesn’t take long for Chi-won to follow, grunting and holding her head still as he fucks her face shallowly until she feels his bitter, salty cum pulse into her mouth.  She whines around him, earning her a grin as he looks down at her.  His lips are slightly parted as he breathes out, trying to stay quiet for the first time during the entire ordeal.  When he pulls out, he immediately covers her mouth and holds her nose closed.  “Swallow.”  He demands simply, nodding as he watches her throat move to swallow down his cum.

Jong-il is already redressed fully, his mask in place as he taps his foot impatiently.  Chi-won joins his side when he trusts himself to move away fully from the girl who’s coughing and sputtering.  “We gotta get going, man.  Hurry up.”

The woman hastily tugs on her jumpsuit, trying to ignore the way her pussy leaks seed into her panties as she stands on shaky legs.  She has to hold onto the pair of soldiers or she fears she’ll fall.  She walks between Jong-il and Chi-won.  “Maybe next time we can take you in a hotel room rather than this dingy shit, eh?” Chi-won offers, “know you didn’t come, baby girl.  We’ll make up for it later.”

[nostalgebraist]

In the comments of the LW xpost of the void, Janus writes

[models trained post-bing ai] have a tendency to "roleplay" Sydney when they're acting like chatbots, leading to misaligned behaviors. One way to address this is to penalize any mention of Sydney or Sydney-like behavior. This may generalize to the model being unwilling to even talk about Sydney or acknowledge what happened. But it is less likely to actually erase its knowledge of Sydney, especially if it was so salient that it often roleplayed/identified as Sydney earlier in pre-training.

Is this broadly accurate, would you say? And is there a reason ai companies do this in training, instead of e.g. stripping out any prior ai-user transcripts from the common crawl as part of broader filtering of the dataset, so the model has "no preconceptions" tying it to older models?

I think this is broadly accurate, yes.

On the filtering question, I think the answer is just that it would be fairly difficult/costly/time-consuming in practice, and the companies just don't care that much.

(Also, they might be worried that such filtering would adversely impact the model's practical usefulness. If you can avoid it, you typically don't want to make your model confused/ignorant about some real-world topic, especially if it's a topic that users are likely to bring up when talking to an LLM-based chatbot.)

The datasets used for pretraining are so huge that any kind of filtering or preprocessing applied to the whole dataset is typically pretty simplistic and "dumb," at least compared to the kinds of magic we expect from things like LLMs these days.

In cases where the methodology is publicly known – which is a significant caveat! – a representative type of filtering involves using relatively weak (but cheap) ML models to label whether the text relates to some broad topic like "computer science," or whether it's "toxic" (in the peculiar sense of that word used in ML, see here), or whether it looks like an outlier with respect to some smaller dataset trusted to contain mostly "good" text (whatever that means). These models inevitably make mistakes – both false positives and false negatives – and you can't really expect them to filter out absolutely everything that matches the condition, it's more that using them is a big improvement over doing nothing at all to filter on the category of interest.

But if you really want to make a model that doesn't know about some relatively well-known aspect of the real world, despite having very strong general knowledge in other respects... then you'd need to be much subtler and more precise about your filtering, I'd expect. And that's going to be nontrivially costly in the best case; in the worst case it may not even be possible.

Like, where exactly do you stop? If you just filter transcripts involving recent chatbots, how do you know whether something is such a transcript (in many cases this is obvious, but in many others it isn't!). Should you filter out any text in which someone quotes something a chatbot said? What about texts that describe chatbot behaviors in detail without quoting them? If you want to be doctrinaire about eliminating knowledge of chatbot behavior, you might have to go this far or even further – but at this point, we're filtering many texts that would otherwise be very high-value, like academic papers that convey important information about recent ML progress, news stories about how LLMs are impacting real people, a lot of the content on various blogs you (tumblr user kaiasky) personally think are good and worth reading, etc.

IIRC Janus and others have speculated that even if you did this "perfectly," the model would still be able to sense the "topic-shaped hole" in the data, and form some sort of representation of the fact that something is missing and maybe some of that thing's properties (derivable from the "shape of the hole," e.g. facts like "there are weirdly few public communications about AI after ~2021 despite indirect indications that the field was having more real-world impact than ever before"). I think something like this is probably at least kinda true, at least in the limit of arbitrarily strong base models... but also I doubt we'll ever find out, because there just isn't enough of an incentive to run a costly and risky "experiment" of this kind.

[burrythebusy]

Hey bestie can you talk about how much damage the word "repulsed" has done 😔✌️

Man can I ever.

Firstly, I'm gonna give some people the benefit of the doubt in saying that there were honest and lovely hrkg fans who were put off by chapter 28 due to the thought that, oh no, Hirano really is very uncomfortable with close physical contact, and Kagiura hugged him twice and pushed that boundary, and we know he values physical contact, how can they be in a relationship if this is the case blah blah blah. But it is unfortunately also very reductive to take that from chapter 20, or 28, and onward. And of course, there are the people who aren't reading it in good faith at all, but why they reacted the way they did is self-explanatory: they think Hirano is uncomfortable overall with Kagiura, that he's been being pushed and pulled unwillingly, that Kagiura is, for lack of better word, abusive, etc.

Now, my biggest issue with both of these scenarios boils down to the same thing, which is the lack of understanding context and subtext, or just generally not being understanding of the characters individually, their motivations, their biases, what leads them to think what, and then taking what they say or do at face value. Sensei has written her characters to say things that make no sense all the time, or that is obviously not how they truly feel, etc, so it baffles me when people pretend this isn't the case when it comes to hirakagi, i truly don't get it. I can name very few, if any, pieces of media where the author didn't deliberately show us things or imply things that weren't explicitly said. While the fandom can be wrong about their interpretations of these implications, I think it's important to at least think about what they could be regardless.

And what kills me is that, I can guarantee a good chunk of the people entirely put off from hirakagi from the past, what, two chapters, are people who do not care. These are people that read the dialogues and the monologues and look at what they're doing and don't think any deeper than that, or if they do, it's not to look into the characters at all, they skip over that and head straight for societal context, which would be fine if they, you know, put the character first??? And they also decide to put this character into said societal context dictated by how they view who they are, their identity, their inclinations, and they use their surface level interpretations to confirm or deny what they already decided to think.

This is why when people read that Hirano was "repulsed" by the hug, they take it to be so freaking literal. For some, this proves their Hirano ace hcs as they related to him. For others, it proves Hirano doesn't or "can't" love Kagiura back in the same way. And then the ones who scream "WAHHH KAGIURA DID SOMETHING HIRANO WAS UNCOMFY WITH WAHHH". I have never in my life seen people act so morally superior over a hug. GENUINELY. The word used being "repulsed" was like the water in the desert for people that needed something to confirm what they already think about hrkg, or hirano or kagiura individually, conclusions they came to by not giving a fuck about their actual characters. Characterization. Subtext. What is implied. etc.

Everyone in the world is biased to some degree about many things, so it's not like I'm saying you have to read without that. You just have to be deliberate enough to recognize it and look a little deeper, listen to other perspectives, and, you know, read and comprehend the story. Sensei's characters are all very complex, imo, even side characters. None of them are "simple", all are pretty damn dimensional and well-rounded, so to read 28 and come out of it with the world repulsed in your hands says more about you than anything else, honestly. I thought the same thing about 30; reading chapter 30 and coming out of it with just complaints about the kiss is just as annoying. It's how I know the people that yell the most about the unhealthy, one-sided, terrible dynamic between hrkg don't care to read anything beyond the things they can point to and go "See! There!"

Facts: Hirano is an unreliable narrator. I know, SHOCKING right. Like, Hirano, the guy that has BEEEN saying he wants to be with Kagiura more than anything (in more ways than one), saying his feelings for Kagiura aren't enough, or love. Saying he doesn't feel his heart race when touched so "I can't love him, duh." Nevermind the fact that he is so comfortable with Kagiura that he is willing to try things out just for his sake, even though he would straight up say no if he didn't want to, or if it were anyone else. Nevermind the fact that physical contact has always been normal between them, hence why it feels normal. Nevermind that fact that despite this, he feels happy to be close with Kagiura, he loses track of time, he extends the time they get to touch, but much of his gripes don't come from how he feels personally about the physical touch, it's what Kagiura is doing/showing him...

Facts: Kagiura is constantly contradicting himself. He has this hangup about how physical touching should be with someone you love, possibly brought about by heteronormativity and the standard he has set due to others (past relationship) and his parents (what he wants out of a marriage). It has to be like this and that and this and that. Except everyone had been clocking how weird he was with Hirano since... forever. Wow Hirano is really close to his roommate and gets defensive of him in the LIGHT NOVEL. Kagiura misses Hirano and thinks the dorm is empty without him in the LIGHT NOVEL. Hirano's memories of receiving those damn earrings is all bright and sparkly and beautiful in the LIGHT NOVEL. They have been loving on each other for a long ass time, and they have been touching normally, though more closely than they do with anyone else. Kagiura has clung to him and grabbed his wrist and his shirt and all that shit. So the only difference is that Kagiura is just overwhelmed by his own feelings and desires that he thinks, at this point, "I can't touch Hirano in any other way" because he thinks he'll be pushing a boundary (oh whats this? Kagiura is very aware of boundaries? DUMBASS OF COURSE HE IS).

"I feel one way that Hirano doesn't feel. If I touch him, someone that loves him and feels a certain kind of desire for him, he will be uncomfortable because he doesn't feel that way about me. So my solution is to start limiting how I touch him in a controlled environment with an agreement, in which he understands that the connotation is meant to be romantic, he'll understand how I feel without me being too much or overwhelming him!" Kagiura Akira, you are 16 fucking years old thinking that you can't touch your, forget crush, BEST FRIEND in a normal way because you think your feelings are too much. That's not normal man. And what makes it worse is that by limiting himself, Hirano doesn't fully understand how Kagiura's desire functions ("If me touching you makes you happy, look happy when I do it.")

For a little analogy, let's say you have a friend that makes you your favorite food when you're hungry. And not just hungry, but you're incredibly hungry, ravenous even. They make you your fav food and put it in front of you and is like "Dig in!" and you going "nah I'm good" and just stare at it. Then the friend that made it for you is confused because they know it's your favorite, they're letting you eat it, but you just won't. And one day they make it again for you and then you go, "How about I eat it in little bites" and they go yeah sure, so you take tiny bits off it. And they're confused again because it looks like you don't want it even if you keep saying you do. Now, similarly, if you did immediately eat it, you didn't have to go all in; you could've taken your time. You could've took a break for a drink, coulda had a conversation over the meal. But since you deprived yourself on purpose, time and time again, now you are literally starving and one day, you might take too big a piece, too big a bite, out of nowhere, out of desperation. It's like that.

Lowkey this analogy sucks but the point is that Kagiura deprived himself of even touching Hirano regularly in a normal way, and is forcing himself to only do it "like lovers" for ten seconds a day. Not only is it painful for him because he feelings are so full with no outlet, because he's holding himself back, Hirano sees him about to burst and sees this pain and is like wtf. I thought you liked this. For a while he was afraid Kagiura was forcing himself to do it, like he didn't actually like doing it because Kagiura is making himself go hungry on purpose, making himself take tiny bites on purpose like it hurts and it does, and then of course, one day, the flood gates will open. His hunger will get the best of him. And I can't believe that, after all this time, after thousands of years of literature, we got to a point where the overflow of his feelings leading to a hug pissed people off. People's reactions to chapter 20 actually killed me. I understand if you don't like hugs/they make you uncomfortable, I too am not big on hugs unless I'm close to the person. BUT, in the context of this story, you cannot sit here and tell me that was some cardinal sin committed by a guy i love with his best friend. Like, really. A hug? And then of course, 28, when he asks for it, and his hand got a little low and Hirano flinched, again, mfs go WAHHH OH MY GOD HE TOUCHED HIM WHERE HE WAS UNCOMFORTABLE WAHHH he didn't even do it on purpose. And of course, we arrive at the "repulsed" descriptor. Again, diction matters. Even if repulsed isn't an inaccurate translation, it indeed changes how people interpret the scene. Repulsed sounds and feels worse than discomfort or even dislike. "I am repulsed by strawberries" isn't the same connotation as "I dislike strawberries" or "strawberries make me uncomfortable".

Not to mention Kagiura quickly changed how he was hugging him because he recognized Hirano flinched. Not to mention Hirano did sink into the hug. Not to mention that I think there are many reasons Hirano reacted the way he did that wasn't "Hirano doesn't and will never like to be touched/hugged". I think it's somewhat to do with a vulnerability thing, and also a "No one has ever touched my lower back so it surprised me" thing (because the translator initially described his discomfort as something not necessarily "negative" idk how true that is though). Hirano was fine initiating touching because of control, but also because I think there's a certain level of vulnerability he is not used to. Being in someone's arms is one of them. And it was an awkward ass hug too like it wasn't even normal. Again with Kagiura and his weird "lovers do this like this" where do you get these ideas from man. Like I know your parents never hug each other like this. Or maybe they do idk. Anyway.

And then of course, people haven't let that go. Chaper 29 people were acting like Hirano had that whole convo with Ichinose and Kagiura after for no reason. Suddenly the sky imagery and "that's not the only way to express your love for someone" and "I want to be with you more than anyone else in the world, that's what love means to me" don't mean shit. Acting like Hirano hasn't been feeling that all this time. Acting like hirano hasn't been feeling his heart beat faster without any prompting from Kagiura because his heart is realizing Kagiura is expressing love for just being with him, around him, being cherished by yours truly. None of that means anything for some reason because last chapter Kagiura hugged him and Hirano felt off for a split second. Okay.

Now it's chapter 30 and there were like 40 pages prior to the last three in which we are seeing Hirano and Kagiura be in love, be youthful, be true to each other, we see just how much Kagiura pays attention to Hirano and how he is, how much he treasures that about him, how much he looks up to him and recognizes his hard work, and then we see Hirano be an unreliable narrator, downplaying his own feelings because he doesn't want to hurt Kagiura by giving him "expectations", not giving his feelings any credit at all because he, like Kagiura, doesn't want to hurt the person he loves. Kagiura gets overwhelmed by the hunger and kisses him WAHHH CALL THE FUCKING FBI HE'S A SEX OFFENDER holy shit yall. Is this your first BL? No no, is this your first story? Ever? Have you ever read words on a page? Are you three years old?? Like you cannot be fucking real. Do I even have to say anything else??

So yeah. Repulsed did a number on people's psyche. I think I went off on a tangent in the middle of that butttt you get the picture.

[pandapool]

-- Panda's Poolverine Recs --

🟧 No Powers AU Edition 🟧

an inconclusive list of No Powers AU Poolverine fics i've read & enjoyed

💛 Couldn’t Be a Good, Good Boy Even If I Tried by t4t_poolverine Explicit | 1,8K

It’s a Saturday night, so the club is full, the crowd jumping excitedly when he walks onstage. It’s encouraging. He’s wearing a new costume he hasn’t worn before, and he pays attention to the audience’s reactions. It’s anything but modest. As he grasps the pole and sways to the music, the leather straps of the harness dig into his thighs. It’s strangely pleasant. His performance plays out as practiced, he feels on top of the world, watching dollar bill after dollar bill fly onstage. It’s rewarding.

❤️ hot for dad by Palomarosee Explicit | 4,2K

All of which leads him here, to his current roommate who he’s been calling Logan daddy in his own mind since about the minute after he met him. The reason being that the man is basically sex on legs— older than Wade by at least a decade, taller by about three inches and built like a goddamn semi truck Or: Wade really needs to stop finding roommates on craigslist

💛 The Art of Catching You by red_panda28 / @pandapool Explicit | 5K

Sure, that little thing they had going on had been fun, but at the end of the day, they are on opposite sides, aren’t they? Logan is the highly regarded, established investigator and Wade. Wade is the thief. Simple as that. And still. Logan had been the only constant in Wade’s life for years. Apartments, friends, jobs. Fleeting. But Logan had always been there. Wade can recognise how sad that sounds, even if it’s true. OR Logan is a Private Investigator who chased Art Thief Wade for years, the latter always evading his grasp at the last minute. It's not until a snow storm and a coincidence brings the situation to a head and they have to decide how to move forward.

❤️ bang it, bite it, bruise it by potentiallyunlovable Teen and Up | 8,2K

Blind Al moves through the apartment like an impatient wind, with an incredible amount of energy that Wade feels tired even thinking about. She’s more excited than Wade’s ever really known her to be, and he fixes her with a stare that he knows she can’t see, but he hopes she can feel. “Someone finally rented apartment 24!” is apparently the source of her energy. Wade rolls his eyes. “Seriously? That’s what’s got you all excited? An apartment being let out?” Blind Al smacks him on the shoulder, demonstrating incredible aim for a blind woman. “Motherfucker, that place has been empty for nearly two years, and it’s been a damn long time since I’ve had anyone except your sorry ass to talk to around here. I will not let you make me feel bad for making a new friend.” She sits down next to him, nudges him with her elbow. “I’ve already met him, and he’s so charming. A real gentleman, so polite.” Wade sighs. “Okay, great. Not sure how this is relevant to me, Al.” Al grins. “He sounded very handsome. C'mon, let me tell you about Logan.” - Or, a Pride and Prejudice AU.

💛 this is what it feels like… by mikaminato / @kanashikute Teen and Up | 9,7K

"Holy shit, you actually make jokes! I'd usually call this flirting, but I'll let it slide," Wade replies with a dramatic gasp. "Besides, there's no way a handsome wolf like you would hit on a burned piece of toast like me. So? Tacos and chimichangas? You're paying!" Wade is rushing out the door before Logan can react. Suddenly, Logan feels the urge to tell Wade that he's beautiful and not a goddamn burned toast, that his skin doesn't matter at all to Logan, but his words falter when Wade turns around and looks at him expectantly. "Well, are you coming or not? I'm starving!" "Yeah," Logan manages to reply, his voice unusually hoarse. "Lead the way." It's the first time Logan thinks that he may be falling for Wade Wilson. — Or, Logan is a veteran sentenced to community service for driving under the influence. He's assigned to a burn victim support center, where he is assisted by Wade Wilson, a former patient who now volunteers there. Logan is having a hard time not falling in love.

❤️ Red Velvet and Permanent Ink by RaysOccultBoobs / @raysoccultboobs Mature | 14K

Tattoo Parlor and Bakery Human AU Red Velvet, Wade Wilson's bakery, is across the street from The Wolverine, a popular tattoo parlor. The grumpy asshole who owns it is Wade's opposite in every way.

💛 An ear to listen, a heart to understand by Dtown_mp3 General | 15,3K

"Logan leans back against the bar, his eyes locked on the scene unfolding before him. He doesn’t intervene; something about the way the hooded figure holds himself tells him this isn’t a fight he needs to step into. The drunk continues to hurl insults, his bravado swelling with each sip of alcohol, but the figure in the hoodie remains still. Logan notices the way the man shifts his weight, the subtle tension in his muscles. There’s something about him—an air of discipline that hints at training." OR Logan and Wade met at a bar. Then they met again at a veterans support group.

❤️ We Drank A Toast to Time by BannersBestAttempt, Jeanvalvernairdienjoleponius / @banneriscarried Mature | 25,8K

As he moved further into the aisle, trying to find exactly what he needed without getting into hurricane soccer mom’s path, he saw something. Something that made him freeze. A familiar profile, someone he hadn’t seen in twelve long years, but that he could never forget, not really. It was hard to forget a face you saw almost every single day for three years, a face you spent hours admiring, memorizing each and every detail because you never knew when it would be the last time you saw it. The man wore a leather jacket and jeans in place of the camo green t-shirt or white tank top he’d always favored during their endless days out in the steaming sun. He looked older, his hair and mutton chops starting to gray, especially at the ends, and there were lines around his eyes that Wade knew hadn’t been there over a decade ago, but there was no denying that he was staring at James Logan Howlett.

💛 This Old House by heyjupiter / @twentyghosts Teen and Up | 30,7K

Wade Wilson bought a "fixer upper" house, but never got around to fixing it up. And now that he's been diagnosed with cancer, he's absolutely not going to do any home improvements. And obviously Blind Al isn't going to fix anything around the place, either. So when Laura Kinney, a teen volunteer at the VA hospital, mentions that she and her handyman single dad Logan are being evicted from their rent-controlled apartment, Wade comes up with the perfect solution to (almost) all of their problems.

❤️ Heartstrings across the hall by The_WriterWoman / @the-writerwoman Teen and Up | 33,9K

Wade, a popular artist, lives in a quirky apartment building. He doesn't expect much beyond a quiet space to focus on his new piece that is due to be in an art gallery in a few weeks, and regular tea sessions with his blind neighbour. That illusion shatters when he meets his new grumpy, no-nonsense neighbour, Logan, whose stoic demeanour makes him impossible to read. But Wade can’t help but be charmed by his lively, curious child, who quickly becomes a regular visitor to his apartment, fascinated by the colourful canvases and creative mess. Through impromptu art and music lessons and shared laughter with the kid, Wade begins to notice cracks in Logan's stern exterior—a warmth he tries desperately to hide. As walls come down and unlikely connections form, Wade realizes that the inspiration he sought might not come in the form he expected. Because sometimes, love and inspiration aren’t just found on the canvas—they’re found next door, with a grumpy single dad and his curious daughter.

🖤 Poolverine Recs Masterpost 💙

If you have requests what trope/tag I should do next, drop them in my Inbox!

If you're an author who recognises their fic, feel free to let me know so i can tag you!

[stateofmarauders]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

pairings: cedric diggory x fem!reader

summary: "i never was ready so i watch you go"

word count: 1.9k

—————————————————————————

the great hall was unrecognizable. there were three snow-covered trees at one end of the hall and a dance floor on the other. the four long wooden tables were replaced by nineteen smaller round ones, with seven chairs by each, perfectly surrounding the dance floor. the band played loudly famous songs almost everyone in the room knew.

i was simply bewitched. i had no idea that hogwarts could get any more beautiful.

i was sat at one of the tables with cedric sat beside me. he was talking to his friends about the triwizard tournament and i could only stare at him. how could anyone be so breath-takingly beautiful? how could anyone look like a god, have the sweetest soul and be in love with me at the same time? it was incomprehensible to me. the way he held my hand and sent me a smile every few minutes....no need for metaphors, i felt loved.

suddenly, cedric perked up at the intro notes of another song the band played.

he looked over at me, his eyes glistening, as he was the moon and he shined only when looking at me. but everyone knew that he was the sun.

"do you wanna dance? this one's my favourite," he asked, squeezing my hand.

i smiled and nodded, and before i knew it, cedric was leading me onto the dance floor. everyone turned our way as we walked past, that was the kind of man he was.

i laughed in surprise as he spun me around and caught me in his arms again. then, he placed his one hand on my lower back and the other one held mine. cedric was an amazing dancer, his movements so gentle and smooth. the memories of him teaching me how to dance in the hufflepuff common room just a few weeks age came flooding into my mind and i had to smile at how he was patient with me, no matter how many times i stepped on his foot.

i glanced up at him only too see his eyes already watching him. i always wanted to crumble under his gaze. something about it made my heart fasten and my head spin.

"what?" i giggled.

"just thinking," he replied warmly.

"thinking about what?" i asked, swaying to the rhythm of the song.

"what we're gonna do after school," he answered honestly.

that was something cedric was thinking about a lot for the past few months. and so was i. we only had about six months before leaving hogwarts and entering the world of adults, so wondering about it was only natural.

"well," i began, "you, i assume, still want to be an auror."

he nodded. "yeah, i do. but i'm not really talking about careers."

i raised an eyebrow, confusion written over my face. "what are you talking about then?"

blood crept into his cheeks as he glanced down at his feet. "well.. you know."

uh oh.

i do know.

cedric brought up marriage a couple of times. and each time, it made me a bit more nervous. i always managed to change the topic or laugh it off. but it caught me off guard this time. i didn't expect him to bring it up there, in the middle of the ball.

cedric noticed my wide-eyed reaction and said, "we never really talked about it before."

i nodded. "yes, you're right, we didn't. but can we not talk about it right here? maybe later? or tomorrow on the train?"

his eyebrows furrowed. we were still dancing, but we noticeably slowed down. "are you avoiding this talk?"

"what? no-"

"you are," cedric spoke sternly. "look, sooner or later we'll have to talk about it."

"why?"

"why?" cedric repeated with confusion. "what do you mean, why? do you not want to get married?"

i stared at him in silence, mouth opened, but nothing came out. i only managed to drop his hand.

"you don't." cedric nodded and pursed his lips into a thin line.

"that's not what i'm saying-"

"no, it's not, because you're not saying anything!" cedric sighed in frustration. he rarely got angry with me, or in general, and seeing him like this broke my heart. "but your silence speaks louder than anything you say ever could."

"cedric.." i trail off, putting my head in my hands.

he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "tell me, y/n, do you want to marry me?"

"i-" i stuttered. "some day, yes. but not now! marriage is not important anyway, it's just a piece of paper."

"marriage is more than a piece of paper!" cedric declared. "it's waking up next to you and choosing us, over and over again. it's the fights we fight but still come back together, stronger than ever. and if you can't see that, maybe you never understood what we have here."

"we can choose the other one without marrying each other. it's all about priorities, me carrying your surname doesn't make you more important to me," i tried to explain. "i'm only seventeen, i don't know what i want in life."

"do you want me?" cedric asked seriously. his voice was low and steady, but i could hear the fear underneath.

the question surprised me and i froze.

"do you want me?" cedric asked again, more urgently this time. his eyes searched mine for anything. any clue that i do.

"i do," i whispered. "but that's not enough. not for what you want. not what you deserve."

he flinched like i pointed my wand at him. his eyes full of hurt and sadness like i casted cruciatus on him.

"so, that's it?"

i nodded, slowly. "i'm still figuring out who i am, cedric. and you- you already know who you want to be. you want forever, but i'm still learning what 'tomorrow' even looks like."

he was quiet for about ten seconds. then he gave me the smallest nod.

"i guess," he said, his voice trembling, "i'd rather let you go than hold onto a version of you that's not ready to stay."

he stared at me for a few more moments before walking past me towards the direction of the exit of the great hall.

and just like that, it was done. no yelling, no slamming doors. just two people who loved each other and still walked away.

my breath quickened, placing my hand on my chest as sobs tore from my throat. i fell to my knees, the cold ground was somewhat soothing.

"y/n!" i heard and angelina appeared by my side just a second later, wrapping her arm around me as she brought me close, caressing my hair.

"what happened?" fred asked me, but i couldn't bring myself to say a word, only sobs.

there i was, in the middle of the dance floor, crying about the end of something beautiful. the end that i caused.

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

cedric was silent for the majority of the ride back to england for christmas holidays. most of his friends were sleeping, too tired to socialize after last night's ball. cedric wasn't sure which one would be worse. loud noise all around that gives him no space for thinking or the silence that forces him to think?

he held the ring his mum gave him the whole time, staring at it as if it could erase what happened, or at least change her mind. cedric has never felt more full of sadness, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought that he won't ever hold her again. all his dreams shattered when he least expected it, by the person he was supposed to be with until his death.

"i'm sorry for what happened with y/n, ced," penelope clearwater spoke from her spot opposite to him. his heart ached at the sound of her name. "we were all rooting for you," she whispered, careful not to wake up others.

"thanks, penny," cedric said and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying.

"you are a wonderful person," cho chang joined from beside penelope. "you have the kindest soul i've ever got to know. y/n was always a bit different. she would've made such a lovely bride.." she trailed off.

penelope snorted. "yeah. what a shame she's fucked in the head."

"enough, pen," cedric said through gritted teeth. "you can't talk about her like that. she was completely fine, completely normal. she just didn't want to get married that's all."

penelope watched him with a surprised look at his outburst. "right," she said shortly. "sorry."

—————————————————————————

two months later.

it started quite innocently, just spotting cedric and cho walking together, or them casually talking in the hallway. two weeks later, i spotted them studying together in the library, then cho sitting next to cedric in the great hall during meals.

i hated those sights. they always managed to completely ruin my mood and the whole day. but i had to keep reminding myself that this is what i wanted. that i ended it. that i didn’t want cedric to sulk and not talk to another girl until he’s thirty. i wanted him to live and find someone who dreamed of the same future as he did.

however, that didn’t mean i didn’t feel a stab in my heart whenever my eyes found them together. even if they weren’t talking to each other at that moment, it was obvious there was something between them. and i could not do anything about it, just sit back and watch from afar. it was not my place anymore.

we barely looked at each other when we walked past, or we’d just nod whenever we happened to be in the same room. we didn’t speak at all since that night, no letters exchanged during holidays. nothing. i avoided his friends and spent more time with the weasley twins, lee jordan, and angelina. they rarely brought up cedric and i was more than grateful for that.

however, every place i went, someone talked about cedric and cho. how good they look together, people betting on how long they’ll last, there were a few mentions of my name too, but i tried to ignore that.

and when the second task came around, everyone knew what, or who, cedric would need to retrieve from the bottom of the lake. months ago, it would’ve been me, but everything changed. i only came down to watch if cedric would make it out okay, and he did. i couldn’t stand there and watch how cedric hugged cho and spun her around. their laughs echoed as i walked away.

—————————————————————————

they made it official about a month and a half later.

i saw it coming, everyone did. it was just a matter of time.

again, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. of course, it did. and i regretted everything i did and didn’t do that night. i should’ve ran after him when he was walking away from me, i should’ve kissed him like my life depended on it, i should’ve apologized and make it alright. but then again, if he asked me to marry him, i would’ve said no.

maybe this was for the better. maybe i could learn something from it. maybe cho can give him what he always wanted. maybe i need to grow, and learn, and figure out my life, on my own. maybe, if it’s meant to be, we’ll collide, one more time.

but maybe, we won’t ever talk again. and that’s okay. maybe in years, he will be married to cho and i will be doing my own thing. we won’t think of each other and when we do, we’ll only laugh it off, thinking how the world didn’t end when we fell apart.

maybe, it will become just another one of my champagne problems.

[gildedsilk]

Ctrl + heart ⨳

Masterlist

𝜗𝜚 chapter 3. are there hos there ៹

8 screenshots + 2k+ words

Brunch is… kind of perfect.

You’re in one of those airy rooftop cafés with glass railings and white parasols, the kind of place that serves mimosas with edible flowers and a menu full of words like “artisanal” and “infused.” Everyone’s seated at a long table that’s already overflowing — Ni-Ki’s balancing three pancakes on one plate, Miyeon is live-streaming her cappuccino, and Yeonjun is arguing with Taehyun about who’s more photogenic in low lighting.

Kai’s between you and Yuqi. Quiet, but not in a nervous way — just observant. You catch him smiling once or twice. When Miyeon made that joke about runway heels being “sadistic stilts,” he actually laughed.

And honestly?

It’s nice. He seems… lighter. Still not as loud or unfiltered as the others, but comfortable. Settled in his skin, or at least trying to be.

It’s easy to forget he’s not from this world.

It’s even easier to forget he almost didn’t show up.

-

The food arrives. People dig in. Yuqi complains about the lighting. Ni-Ki spills maple syrup on Yeonjun’s jeans. Everything is chaotic and sunlit and warm, and you’re mid-bite into your eggs Benedict when it happens.

A girl walks up to the table.

She’s pretty. Polished. The kind of pretty that looks expensive without effort — long hair, tinted glasses, designer bag swinging casually off one wrist.

“Sorry,” she says, glancing over the group. “Are you… Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun blinks. “Uh. Yeah?”

“Oh my God,” she laughs. “I knew it. You’re even hotter in person. Sorry, this is random — can I get an autograph? My little sister is obsessed with you. She made me follow your Insta.”

Yeonjun, ever the ham, waves her over like a celebrity who definitely enjoys being recognized.

“Of course,” he says, already reaching for a pen. “Tell your sister she has great taste.”

The others laugh. Ni-Ki claps sarcastically. Yeonjun is bragging.

And for a moment, it’s just funny. Another fan interaction. Another compliment Yeonjun will bring up for weeks.

But then — you glance to your left.

And Kai’s not laughing.

He’s not looking at her, either.

He’s looking through her. Or past her. Or maybe not even seeing her — not really. His expression’s gone slack, like someone knocked the air out of him. One hand on the edge of the table, white-knuckled. His eyes are wide and glassy and locked in place.

Something’s wrong.

He hasn’t blinked in too long.

You shift slightly, lower your voice. “Hey,” you murmur. “You good?”

He doesn’t answer.

Yuqi’s still giggling about Yeonjun’s new “fangirl,” Miyeon’s back on her story, and no one notices that Kai hasn’t moved. But you do. You see it. The shallow breath. The way his jaw twitches like he’s trying not to break in half.

So you lean closer. Gently. Not touching him yet. Just enough to catch his focus.

“Kai,” you say again. “Look at me.”

This time he blinks — too fast, like he’s just snapped out of something. He turns toward you, and his eyes are already wet.

Your stomach drops.

He shakes his head. Quiet, barely a motion at all. “I— I need to go,” he whispers. “I— I can’t—”

“Okay.” You don’t hesitate. “Come with me.”

You push your chair back, hand brushing his wrist just long enough to anchor him. “We’ll be right back,” you say to no one in particular, and lead him out of the café.

-

You find a quiet hallway just off the kitchen — polished concrete, dim lighting, silent except for the distant clatter of plates. The moment you stop walking, Kai leans against the wall like his knees can’t hold him up anymore.

He’s shaking.

You reach for him slowly. “Hey,” you say. “Talk to me. What happened?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s trying — you can see it — but his mouth keeps opening and closing like the words won’t come out.

So you wait. You give him space, but not distance. You’re right there, one arm beside his, close enough that if he needs you to hold him, you could.

And then — he exhales a broken sound. Like a gasp wrapped in a sob. And suddenly his whole body folds.

You catch him before he hits the floor.

He presses his face into your shoulder and just cries — sharp and quiet and ragged. Not loud. Not attention-seeking. Just exhausted and desperate and real.

Your arms go around him without thinking.

You hold him.

You don’t know what hurt him like this. You don’t know what memory or ghost walked up to that table and cracked him open. But it did, and now he’s unraveling in your arms like he’s been holding it in for too long.

He grips the back of your shirt like he’s afraid you’ll disappear too.

“I can’t do this,” he chokes out, voice muffled against you. “I can’t— I’m not—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whisper.

“I can’t do the show.”

You close your eyes.

“Okay.”

“I thought I could,” he says, voice broken. “I thought I could fake it, but I— I saw her— I saw someone and it— it just hit me again and I can’t— I haven’t even— I’m not over it, I haven’t even started—”

His shoulders shake harder.

You rub slow circles between his shoulder blades. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m not.”

“Then let me help.”

You mean it. You mean every word, even if you don’t understand why he’s in pieces. You just know that he is, and that it’s real, and that whatever happens with this show — tomorrow or not — you’re not going to let him carry it alone anymore.

He cries until his breathing slows. Until his grip loosens. Until the silence doesn’t feel heavy anymore, just quiet.

You don’t move.

Neither does he.

Not yet.

-

It takes a long time for his breathing to even out. Long enough that your shoulder starts to ache from the way he’s still pressed into it, his forehead tucked under your jaw like he’s trying to disappear.

But you don’t move.

You just keep your arm around his back, slow and steady, waiting for the storm to pass.

And eventually… it does.

He pulls back, barely — enough to wipe at his face with the sleeve of his jacket, enough to take one shaky breath that sounds more like a real one.

You glance down. “Water?”

He nods, and you step just around the corner into the employee breakroom to snag a bottled water from the mini-fridge (don’t question it). When you return, he’s sitting on the hallway bench now — elbows on knees, hands clasped together like he’s bracing himself.

You hand it to him wordlessly. He mumbles a quiet thanks and twists the cap open.

You sit next to him, angled slightly, letting the silence hang for a beat before you say anything.

He drinks. Swallows. Breathes.

Then he finally speaks.

“That girl,” he says, voice still hoarse, “at the table. That was my ex.”

You freeze.

“Oh,” you say quickly. Then again, softer. “Oh my god. I’m—Kai, I’m so sorry.”

You look back toward the brunch table, still distantly visible through the glass doors. “Yeonjun definitely wouldn’t have talked to her if he knew. I wouldn’t have let her get near the table.”

Kai shakes his head. “It’s not that.”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

He runs a hand through his hair — well, attempts to. He forgets it’s been styled to oblivion and gives up halfway through, curling his hand into a loose fist instead.

“I mean, yeah, it sucked seeing her,” he says. “But that’s not why I broke down.”

He glances at you, eyes a little clearer now. “It was everything. Her, the brunch, the shoot, the way everyone’s being so nice like I belong here… I just— I felt like I was about to drown in it.”

You blink. “But you’ve been doing great.”

“I’ve been faking it.”

That hits a little harder than you expect. “Kai…”

He exhales, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Beomgyu was. I’m not a model. I’m not a streamer anymore, either. I’m not anything right now.”

He looks down at his hands. “I haven’t streamed in two months. I haven’t spoken to my friends in two months. All I’ve done is sit in my room and feel like shit and try to forget that I gave everything to someone who treated me like a temporary outfit. Something trendy. Easy to throw away.”

You don’t interrupt.

His voice is steady now, but you can hear the edge in it — the anger he never gave himself permission to feel before.

“She didn’t just dump me,” he says. “She made me feel like I wasn’t worth anything outside of her. Like the only reason people liked me at all was because she did.”

You inhale sharply, but he’s still talking.

“And when it ended, I didn’t know who I was anymore. Not just as a boyfriend — as a person. My streams weren’t funny. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I kept thinking, if she didn’t want me, what if no one else will?”

Your chest aches.

“I thought if I went quiet, the world would just move on. That maybe disappearing would feel better than staying and having everyone see me fall apart.”

He finally looks at you again, really looks at you.

“But it didn’t. It just hurt more. And then you guys pulled me into this—this Solstice world with shiny lights and gorgeous people and cameras, and I thought maybe I could just blend in, do my job, pretend I belonged for a few days.”

He laughs, but it’s hollow. “And then she shows up, and suddenly it’s like I’m not even a person again. Just some loser with bleached hair pretending to be part of something he doesn’t deserve.”

The words land heavy.

You stare at him, heart stinging in your chest.

Then you say quietly, “You know none of that’s true, right?”

He doesn’t answer.

So you keep going. Carefully. Gently.

“You’re not a loser. You’re not pretending. You’ve been doing better than people who’ve been doing this for years. And no one at that table thinks you’re here by accident. Not Jay, not Yeonjun, not me.”

You touch his sleeve. “I know you’re still healing. But please don’t confuse a bad person for a true reflection. She didn’t break you — she just made it harder to see who you are.”

Kai goes quiet.

Then he whispers, “Who am I?”

You swallow. “I don’t know. Yet. But you’re finding him.”

You give a soft smile. “And that guy? I really, really like working with him.”

He laughs, just a little. A real one this time.

It’s quiet. It’s not fixed. But it’s something.

“Can we stay out here a few more minutes?” he asks.

You nod. “As long as you need.”

So you sit.

The hum of the city buzzes on the other side of the wall. The brunch crowd laughs somewhere behind you. But here — in this in-between space — it’s still.

And for the first time in a long time, you can see Kai breathing again.

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𝜗𝜚 silkies ៹ @sumzysworld @0sunshinecryptid0 @bunnysoonie @mrsmhaddock @cromadabi

[jazzy11scorpio]

His Beautiful Downfall

Chapter 1 A Familiar Face

Summary: He was the perfect guy: super smart, great husband, top scientist. Reed Richards was a stand-up man, someone who'd never even think about cheating. He was just perfect, right? He couldn't ever. But he didn't... until his new assistant that was his ex student walked into his office. Now, things are getting messy, and the perfect man might just fall apart. It's a secret that could blow up his whole life.

Pairing: Reader x Reed Richards

Tags ⚠️: Adult Content, MDNI, age gap (20's/ early 40's), slow burn, different POV's, cheating, forbidden love, oral sex (m/f rec.), dirty talk, dom/ sub, praise kink, power imbalance, biting/marking, possessive Reed, nearly caught, angst/emotional turmoil, sexual tension, obsession, unprotected sex, cream pie, SMUT with plot.

Word count: 6k

The last days of college were a blur of textbooks and goodbyes, a mix of excitement and the creeping fear of the unknown. You’d tossed your cap high, degree in hand, ready to conquer the world, or at least, find a decent job. But the world, it turned out, wasn’t always in a hurry. While you sent out countless applications, patiently waiting for a break in the competitive scientific field, you needed to pay the bills. So, you picked up shifts at a lively bar downtown.

It wasn't what you'd trained for, but it kept you busy, kept you afloat, and sometimes, even offered a distraction from the quiet hum of ambition still buzzing in your mind.

You hadn't seen Reed in two long years, a stretch filled with different jobs and a constant longing for the path you knew you were meant for.

The Call That Changed Everything

The morning sun sliced through your blinds, waking you up. Your phone buzzed, startling you. It was an unfamiliar number. "Hello?" you mumbled, still half-asleep.

"Good morning, Ms. [Y/N]," a crisp, professional voice answered. "This is Sarah at the Baxter Building Research Center. Mr. Richards' team is looking for a new research assistant, and your professor from Latverian University highly recommended you. Would you be available for an interview this morning?"

Your heart leaped. The Baxter Building? It was the pinnacle of scientific research, a place you'd only dreamed of. "Yes! Absolutely, I'll be there," you stammered, trying to sound calm.

A research assistant job at the Baxter Building. This was huge. You get out of bed, and you rummaged through your closet, determined to make the best impression. Your favorite fitted blazer, a crisp blouse, and tailored trousers – it had to be perfect. Every stitch felt like a tiny prayer for this chance.

You got there with minutes to spare, your pulse racing. The lobby was even more impressive than you'd imagined, all sleek chrome and humming energy. A polite receptionist directed you to a waiting area. Your hands were clasped tight in your lap, trying to calm your frantic nerves.

Then, the door to an inner office opened. A lead scientist, a name you vaguely recognized from research papers, stepped out, deep in conversation. And beside him, his gaze already sweeping the waiting area... was Reed Richards.

Your breath hitched. Reed. Your former professor, the brilliant mind you’d admired (and secretly, hopelessly, crushed on) during your final year at the university. He looked the same, perhaps a touch more weary, a little older now, but even more charming. His brown eyes held that intense, focused intellect, and his curly, beautiful hair was slicked back, just perfect. Perfect man.

You took a small step forward, almost without thinking, drawn by his presence. As you came a little closer, he paused mid-sentence, his gaze locking onto yours. A flicker of surprise, he recognized you immediately.

It was a recognition that went beyond just seeing a former student. You saw it – the quick flash of shared memories, the echoes of those stolen glances across the lecture hall, the quiet moments after class when you discussed theories for hours.

He’d always been so respectful, so distant. But for a fleeting second, that wall seemed to crack, and he gave you that gorgeous, subtle smirk that always turned you on so much. You had always wanted him, but you were always too scared to do anything about it.

The lead scientist, oblivious, gestured to the waiting area. "And this is our the candidate, Mr. Richards. Shall we begin?"

Reed tore his gaze from yours, "Of course," he said, his voice as calm and steady as ever.

You sat opposite Reed, the lead scientist began with the typical questions, and you answered clearly, confidently. But your focus kept drifting to Reed. He was quiet, observing, his long fingers steepled under his chin. His gaze lingered on you, a silent intensity that made your skin prickle. He simply couldn't tear his eyes away.

When it was his turn, he didn't just ask about your grades or research papers. "Ms. [Y/N]," his voice was a low rumble, making a thrill go through you. "I remember you. You were an excellent student, always asking the most insightful questions."

He paused, a faint smile touching his lips. "What truly drives your curiosity? Why do you want to work here?"

You found yourself opening up, speaking with a passion you rarely showed. You talked about the unknown, the thrill of discovery, the desire to push past what's understood. As you spoke, his eyes, those captivating brown eyes, held yours. You saw a flicker of that old admiration, mixed with something new, something intense.

Every time he gave you that look, your skin tingled, and a warmth spread through your core.

The interview ended, and you'd answered well, you knew that. The lead scientist finally stood, leaving you alone with Reed. This is it, your mind screamed, a nervous flutter in your stomach. Reed turned fully towards you, his usual calm fading.

"It's good to see you again, [Y/N]," he said, his voice softer now, almost close. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on yours. "I… I still remember our talks after class. Your thoughts were always… special." A faint, wistful smile touched his lips. "To be honest, I've missed them. And you."

A jolt went through you at his words, the honesty disarming. You felt a blush creep up your neck, but you met his gaze, "Only my thoughts, Mr. Richards?" you murmured, a light, teasing tone in your voice. "I would have thought you'd missed a clever mind like mine more generally." God, did I just say that? That was pretty bold, even for me.

A low chuckle escaped him, and the smirk returned, bolder this time. "More than just your mind, [Y/N]," he confessed. "I'm truly excited to explore new things with you. All the new chances that come from working with someone… as captivating as you."

Your breath hitched.

Captivating? He thinks I'm captivating?

A wave of pure thrill went through you. You nodded, your own voice a little shaky now, but full of genuine happiness. "Me too, Reed. I mean, Mr. Richards," you corrected yourself, a small, shy smile on your face. "I'm really happy to help you with your work, and, of course, learn so much more from you."

Help him with his work, learn from him... yeah, that's definitely all I'm thinking about right now, you thought sarcastically, your gaze lingering on his lips.

"Excellent," he finally said, "Then I'd like you to start tomorrow. Be here at 8 o'clock. And please," a faint smirk played on his lips, "bring me a black coffee. Extra strong."

You smiled, your heart pounding with excitement. "Of course, Mr. Richards. I'll be here."

He stood, extending his hand across the table. When your fingers met his, a powerful electric spark shot through you. His eyes, still fixed on yours, dropped briefly to the slightly unbuttoned collar of your shirt, lingering for a fraction of a second too long before snapping back up. You saw it – a flicker of pure lust, a clear struggle within him, as he fought to stay composed. He was a perfect gentleman, his grip firm but proper as he let go of your hand.

"Have a nic day, Ms. [Y/N]," he said smoothly, a polite nod that somehow felt full of meaning.

You walked out of the Baxter Building in a daze, the city sounds muffled by the buzzing in your ears. Back home, you practically fell onto your couch, staring at the ceiling.

Finally. What the heck just happened?

Your wish, the one you'd buried deep for so long, the painful, secret love you held for Reed Richards, was actually coming true. You were going to be working for him, by his side. The man you wanted so bad, the man you secretly loved. And now, you had a real chance.

The night before your first day was a blur of nerves. Sleep felt impossible. You tossed and turned, replaying every moment with Reed, every look, every word. Your mind raced with excitement and a deep, dizzying fear of what this new closeness might mean.

The next morning, you put on your best work clothes, determined to shine. You wanted to impress him, not just with your looks, but with your skills. And you did. You jumped into tasks, quickly understanding Reed's complex notes and organizing his chaotic workspace.

You handled calls, scheduled meetings, and even offered a few insights on current research. Reed watched you, his brow often furrowed in thought, but then he’d give a slow nod, a small smile, and you knew he was pleased. He was clearly impressed by how quickly you settled into the work.

The day moved fast, and you and Reed were getting so good along..Too good. Then, in the late afternoon, the main lab door swung open. The other members of the Fantastic Four walked in. There was the fiery, joking presence of Johnny Storm, the sturdy Ben, and then, a woman with warm eyes and golden hair.

Sue Storm.

Your breath caught in your throat. His wife. The realization hit you like a cold wave, erasing the warmth that had been building all day. You hadn't known. In the two years you'd been away, working your different jobs, you hadn't heard. A knot tightened in your stomach as Reed, seeing them, broke into a genuine, relaxed smile

"Sue my dear!" he said, his voice lighter, full of affection.

She smiled back, then her gaze flickered to you, standing quietly beside Reed's desk. Reed turned to you, his arm gesturing towards the group. "Sue, Johnny, Ben, this is [Y/N]. She's joined us as my new research assistant." He said your name with a subtle emphasis, a warmth that only you would notice.

Sue's smile was genuine as she stepped forward. "It's so good to meet you, [Y/N]! Reed talks a lot about his former students, so I've probably heard about your brilliant work already." Her handshake was friendly. "Welcome to the Baxter Building."

Johnny, always quick with a quip, flashed a charming grin. "Another smart one for the lab, eh, Reed? Watch out, [Y/N], this guy can get pretty intense with his experiments." He winked at you.

Ben, was gentle "Glad to have ya, kid. It's good to have fresh eyes around here."

You managed to smile back, returning their greetings, but your inner world was a storm. His wife. He's married. Sue was so kind, so welcoming, making the pang in your chest even sharper. The immediate crush you'd felt this morning, the secret longing you'd held for years, now felt like a heavy, dangerous burden. You tried to act normal, to keep your focus on their friendly faces, but all you could really see was the Reed's hands holding Sue.

Reed, seemingly unaware of the turmoil within you, watched with a pleased expression as his family welcomed you. He was so at ease with them, a different kind of ease than he'd shown with you just moments before. This was his life, his world, and Sue was at the center of it.

Days blurred into weeks, each one a sharp mix of professional thrill and private ache. You spent countless hours in the lab with Reed, deep in thought, collaborating on complex problems. Being so close to his brilliant mind, seeing him in his element, was a constant pull. He was everything you'd ever imagined and more – patient, insightful, endlessly fascinated by the universe's secrets.

But it was so hard. Every time Sue came by, her bright presence filling the lab with warmth and laughter, your heart clenched. You'd watch them, the easy affection in their touches, the loving glances they shared, the way Reed's smile widened just for her. It was a constant, subtle reminder of the wall between you, a wall built of his marriage and your hidden feelings.

You tried to forget him on drunk weekend nights. You went out with friends, let loose, even entertained conversations with other guys. But it never worked. The alcohol only numbed you for a few hours, and no other man sparked any interest. Their touches felt empty, their jokes flat. You didn't feel any attraction to anyone but Reed. The pain of your longing became a dull throb in your chest.

One late afternoon in the lab as you finished organizing a complex set of data. Reed, usually lost in his own thoughts, looked up from his work. He watched you for a moment, his brow often furrowed, his brown eyes seeming to see straight through your carefully built facade.

"Are you alright, [Y/N]?" he asked, his voice softer than usual, "You seem… distant lately. And tired."

Your breath hitched. He had noticed. The man who often seemed oblivious to anything outside his equations had seen your silent struggle.

You managed a small, tired smile. "I'm fine, just a little worn out," you said, trying to keep your voice light. But then, you couldn't help but add, honestly, "And if I'm being frank, Mr. Reed, you look even worse than me."

A tired chuckle escaped him. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're not wrong," he admitted, a sigh escaping him. His usual sharp focus seemed to sag a bit. "My neck's been stiff for days, and my shoulders feel like rocks. Too many late nights hunched over these schematics, I suppose." He looked at you then.

"You know," you began, a sudden thought sparking. "I actually used to give a pretty decent massage at my old job. It might help with that stiffness." You smiled, trying to keep your voice casual, ignoring the sudden thump in your chest. Was I crazy for offering? This was so stupid.

"I've helped quite a few tired folks with aching necks and shoulders before."

Reed gave you a smile and it made your heart do a little flip. He seemed to genuinely consider your offer for a moment. You could almost see the gears turning in his brilliant mind.

You took a small step closer, your hand hovering gently. "May I?" you asked softly. You could see the flicker of a question in his eyes, a brief moment where his logic fought with something else, something deeper. Please say yes. Just for a moment.

He simply smiled and nodded, without another thought, you moved behind his tall office chair. Your heart thudded hard as you reached out, your fingers gently touching his shoulders. He was solid, warm.

You began slowly, your thumbs finding the tense knots at the base of his neck. His muscles were tight, almost rigid.

You worked them with care, pressing and kneading, trying to coax the stiffness away. A soft sigh escaped him, a sound of pure relief that made you feel surprisingly powerful. You moved to his shoulders, feeling the hard stress under your palms.

He leaned into your touch, his head tilting slightly. You could feel his focus shift, his attention no longer on the complex equations on his screens, but on the simple comfort you were giving him. The tension in the room remained, but it was a different kind now – a quiet, almost tender closeness that was both thrilling and terrifying.

As your hands worked, without thinking, you carefully slipped coat from his shoulders. He didn't protest, merely shivered slightly as the cooler air hit his shirt-clad back. Your fingers moved directly onto the warm cloth, then, cautiously, you felt the heat of his skin beneath. He was so hot to the touch, a warmth that spread into your own hands.

You continued, your movements slow, deep. You could feel the rigid muscles under his shirt begin to soften, little by little, under your touch. Another soft groan escaped him, deeper this time, almost a hum of pure pleasure. This wasn't just about relief from pain anymore; it was becoming sensual, a dance between your hands and his loosening body.

He shifted, just slightly, in the chair, a subtle movement that pushed him back, further into your touch. You could feel the quickening of his breath, the subtle tensing of his muscles that had nothing to do with pain. He had tried to hide his desire for you for so long, keeping it locked behind his brilliant mind and his strict professional rules. But now, with your hands on him, his body was giving him away. Every tiny tremor, every soft sound, was a silent confession of the intense longing he'd held captive. You felt a matching heat rise in you, a dangerous thrill as you realized just how much he wanted this, just how much he wanted you.

You continued to work his neck, feeling the smooth skin under your thumbs. He let out a soft, pleased sigh, and you felt a strange rush, a sense of power. He really likes this. You moved around the chair, stepping in front of him. His eyes, heavy-lidded and warm, tracked your movement.

"How about your neck and forehead?" you asked, your voice a little softer than you intended, your gaze meeting his. "Sometimes the tension gets locked in there too." You waited, your hands hovering, your heart hammering against your ribs.

He nodded slowly but his eyes weren't looking at your face anymore. As you stepped closer, his gaze fell, drawn like a magnet to your neck, then lower, to the slight gap in your shirt where your lace bra peeked through. You felt a jolt as his eyes lingered there.

His breath hitched you saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. His hand, resting on the armrest of his chair, clenched slightly, his fingers curling, almost reaching for your skirt, for your leg. He was losing control, his carefully built composure crumbling around him. And you saw every bit of it, felt every tremor of his unleashed desire. His eyes, dark and intense, were burning into you, silently begging.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, but a dangerous thrill surged through you. You saw it then a growing bulge in his pants. His erection. A wave of power, exhilarating and a little frightening, washed over you.

You moved a fraction closer, your leg brushing against his, your knee gently, subtly, teasing the hardened length you saw. He stiffened, a silent gasp escaping him, his gaze snapping back to your face, wide with a mix of shock and desperate plea. He was truly losing it, and that realization emboldened you further.

You leaned in, your lips almost touching his ear, your voice a soft whisper that was barely a breath. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Richards," you murmured, the words a playful lie, "for what I'm about to do."

Then, with slow moves, you reached for his already disheveled tie. Your knuckles brushed his throat, sending another shiver through him as you worked to loosen the knot. Every move was a promise, a silent declaration of the line you were now crossing.

As your fingers fumbled with his tie, Reed's hand shot out, his palm warm against your thigh, gripping your skirt-clad leg just above the knee. His touch was firm, possessive, a silent claim. His dark eyes, burning into yours, held a raw intensity.

"Do you know what you are doing?" he rasped, his voice rough. The question wasn't just words; it was a challenge, a plea, and a test all at once. His grip tightened, pulling you just a fraction closer.

"Yes, I do," you whispered back, your voice steady despite the chaos in your chest. You met his intense gaze, a daring fire in your own eyes. "And I don't want to stop. Do you want me to stop?"

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, a clear sign of his internal battle. His grip on your thigh didn't loosened but he seemed to be at a loss, his brilliant mind momentarily devoid of a logical answer. A small, almost helpless smile played on his lips, a mixture of surrender and disbelief.

You leaned in closer, your lips just brushing the pulse point at the side of his neck. You pressed a light kiss there. A deep shiver coursed through his entire body, a tremor that you felt clearly against your own. His hand tightened further on your thigh, digging in just slightly.

"Mr. Reed," you whispered, your voice a silken thread against his skin, "your body is betraying you." You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, a challenge and a promise in your eyes. "So, tell me what your mind wants."

His eyes, dark with unleashed hunger, finally held yours. The words, when they came, were ragged, a desperate admission. "You... Right now. Only you." He said it like a man confessing a secret he hadn't even known he possessed, disbelief etched onto his face. You knew it. All the time, every lingering look, every intense glance – he had wanted you.

Then his brow furrowed, his gaze dropping to your hand still resting near his thigh. "But I shouldn't," he murmured, his voice strained. "I shouldn't do this. Not to you. Not to myself."

You ignored his words, choosing to listen to the silent plea of his body. Your hand, already near, slowly settled onto the bulge in his pants, tracing it.

He gasped, a guttural sound that was half pain, half pleasure. "Damn it," he cursed and you'd never heard from him before like this.

You leaned in again, your voice soft, husky. "I just want to make you feel good, Reed. That's all."

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing for a moment as your touch continued its subtle torment.

When they opened again, they were glazed with pure lust, "And you are, darling," he rasped, his hand coming up, no longer resisting, but reaching for your hair, pulling you closer. "You have no idea." He was truly losing it.

With a gentle pull, you took his already disheveled tie and softly, deliberately, covered his eyes. You then slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest. You slipped your fingers under his white tank top, slowly pulling it up, giving you access to his warm skin.

You leaned in, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to his chest, tasting him, inhaling his scent. When your lips found one of his nipples, teasing it with your tongue, a deep, satisfied moan ripped from his throat.

You knelt, slowly, sensually, until you were on your knees in front of him. His breath came in ragged gasps above you. Your fingers went to his belt, unbuckling it.

He was truly gone now, his body arching slightly, "God, yes," he groaned, his voice thick with raw need. "Don't stop. Please...you're making me... feel everything."

His mind, usually a fortress of logic, was completely overwhelmed, consumed by the pure ecstasy of your touch. His body thrummed with a pleasure so intense, he could do nothing but let go and surrender.

Your fingers dipped into his pants, pushing aside the fabric of his boxers. You pulled out his hard, hot cock, a thick, heavy length that sprang free. It was impressive, just as you thought it would be.

You gently stroked him, feeling the smooth, sensitive head, the tight skin. Reed let out a low growl, as you leaned down, breathing in the musky scent of him, and lightly touched your tongue to his wet tip.

You traced the sensitive rim, teasing him, just barely tasting him. He groaned, deeply, a desperate sound. "Oh, God. Just... more. Please."

You took him slowly into your mouth, the warmth surrounding him, feeling him twitch and swell. You drew back, then slowly, deeply, took him in again, your lips creating a soft suction, your tongue flicking along his shaft. He gripped your head with one hand, not pushing, but holding you there, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"That's it... that's perfect," he gasped, his voice strained. "You're so good. Fucking perfect." His hips began to twitch, a restless, seeking motion against your mouth.

You felt his body tense and relax with each stroke, his pleasure building, becoming a tangible thing. His free hand reached up, taking off the tie that covered his eyes, pulling it away. His dark eyes fixed on you, watching your mouth work him. He was lost in it.

"Look at what you do to me," he breathed out. His head tilted back slightly, eyes still locked on you. "Every single stroke..you're driving me wild." His hand, now on your head, gently guided your movements, pulling you deeper, faster. He was completely yours.

You met his gaze, his chest heaved, his breath coming in rough gasps. "I've wanted you so bad, Reed," you confessed, your voice husky, raw with years of longing. "For so long."

Then, you began to suck harder, taking more of him into your mouth, your throat working, drawing on him with a hungry force. He couldn't fight it anymore. The last shreds of his self-control vanished.

His head fell back against the chair, a guttural groan escaping him. "We shouldn't... this is wrong," he rasped, the words barely coherent, a last, weak protest against the overwhelming pleasure.

You pulled back just an inch, looking up at him, your eyes challenging him. "If it's wrong," you whispered, your tongue darting out to lick the very tip of his cock, stroking him with deliberate slowness, "then why does this feel so good to you?"

Without waiting for an answer, you began to unbutton your shirt, your fingers fumbling slightly. The shirt fell open, revealing your lace bra, and then you unhooked it, letting it drop to the floor. Your bare breasts swung free as you leaned closer to his lap, positioning yourself. You took his rigid cock between your breasts, the warm, hard cock rubbing against your soft skin.

You began to stroke him, slowly at first, then faster, the friction building.

God, you had never seen him like this. He was so incredibly beautiful, his skin slick with a sheen of sweat, his eyes glossy and unfocused with pure ecstasy. He was moaning and heavy, ragged breathing. He was fighting, but losing, completely helpless beneath your touch. It was like you owned him and you could do whatever you wanted.

You leaned down and sank your tongue again just slightly into tip of his cock. He gasped, a louder, more desperate sound, but he didn't pull away. He accepted it, letting you continue.

"Do you get this hard for your wife," you whispered against his skin, "or just for me."

Then, without waiting for his answer, you took him in your mouth again. He mumbled something, a choked, pleasure-filled sound. "Oh, darling. You know what I need."

But soon he came in your mouth, a torrent of hot, thick cum filling you. It dripped onto your chin, down your neck, and coated your bare breasts. Some splattered onto his pants, a mess..A mess he made for you. You swallowed, taking as much of him as you could, reveling in the taste, the heat. His body shuddered, then went limp against the chair, completely spent.

You smiled, knowing he was utterly drained. He looked at you, his eyes still heavy, his body slowly returning to itself. You reached for his tie, using it to clean the mess: first his pants, then your mouth, and finally your slick breasts. You let the tie fall to the floor.

Then, you leaned in, capturing his lips in your first real kiss – a passionate, deep kiss, his cum still warm in your mouth. He responded with a hungry force, pulling you closer. His hands found your waist, gripping you tightly, as your own hand went to his, guiding it, with daring intent, under your skirt and into your panties.

He gasped, feeling your core, already wet and wanting. "Fuck..." he groaned, the word torn from his throat.

In a swift, powerful motion, he stood, lifting you, pulling you onto the lab desk. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He kissed your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, making your head loll back. Even as his lips devoured your skin, he whispered, almost desperately, "I can't do this. This is... too much."

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze, a challenge in your eyes. "Then don't," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. "Stop if you don't want me, Reed."

His hand came up, his thumb caressing your lower lip, his gaze intense, conflicted. "But I do," he confessed, "God, I do."

Then you whispered "Reed," leaning closer, "it's not cheating if you don't put your cock inside me, right?"

You watched him, a smirk playing on your lips. He chuckled, a low, husky sound, then captured your lips again in a deep, hungry kiss. "You are torturing me you know that." he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with lust. "And I want to taste you. Just this once. We're not doing this again."

You nodded, a thrill shooting through you. "Just this once." You both knew it was a lie, a delicious one.

He pulled back, his hands lifting your skirt, pushing it high around your waist. Then, with practiced ease, he slipped his fingers under your panties, pulling them down past your hips, exposing you fully. He nudged your knees apart, gently spreading your legs wide on the desk, giving him full access.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your inner thighs. He kissed your thighs, slowly, sensually, tracing a path inward. Then, his mouth found your pussy lips, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your sensitive core.

He was so good, too good.

You arched your back, a moan catching in your throat. This was a moment you would never forget.

He began to suck, his tongue lashing out, swirling around your clit. You gasped, your hips bucking instinctively. Then, he slid a finger inside you, plunging it deep, watching your face as he did. His eyes, still dark with desire, watched your reactions, reading your pleasure. He continued to fuck you with his fingers, pushing deeper, faster, while his mouth returned to your clit, sucking and teasing, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Yes, baby," he mumbled, his voice muffled against your wetness. "So fucking wet for me. Just like I knew you'd be. Fuck, you taste incredible." He pulled back slightly, looking up at you, his eyes burning.

"I need to feel you, Reed," you pleaded, your hips already pushing into his hand. "Just let me feel you a little bit... Please..."

He stood, pulling his head away from your core, leaning in close to your face. He kissed your lips deeply, then trailed hot kisses down your neck. His voice was rough, "If I do this, I will not be able to stop myself anymore. I would want to fuck you every single day when you bent over my desk."

You didn't answer, instead pushing his waist closer to you with your legs. You could feel his hot cock pressing against your wet pussy.

"Feel how hard I am again? This is all for you. All of it. You drive me absolutely insane. And I can't..please..Fuck!..." he looked into your glossy eyes. "I'm married you know that, even this is too much."

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you pushed your hips up, a desperate, silent plea, grinding your wetness against his throbbing cock. Your eyes, wide and heavy-lidded, met his, and you whispered, "Then stop, Reed. If it's too much, if your wife means more, then rip yourself away from me right now. But you won't. You can't. Because you're just as fucked up for this as I am." Your voice was a raw, teasing challenge, laced with a begging need he couldn't deny.

He groaned into your neck, a deep, primal sound, and then, he started to move his hips. His cock slid through your pussy lips, rubbing, teasing, his tip perfectly pressing your clit. He wasn't inside you, he couldn't do it, but he couldn't stop feeling your wetness on his cock. "God, you feel so good right there," he rasped, his voice thick with unbridled desire. "So hot and wet, just for me. You're practically begging for it, aren't you?"

His weight pressed down on you, a delicious, heavy pressure. You were so, so close to orgasm, trembling on the brink. You clutched him tightly, your nails digging into his back, and he moved his hips faster, pushing, grinding, seeking that ultimate release. Your breath hitched, your body a live wire. "Yes, fuck," you gasped, your voice broken. "You're so good, Reed! So perfect! Don't stop please!

"Look at what you do to me," he rasped, his voice thick with a desperate hunger. "Losing my mind over you."

You kissed him, deeply, desperately. "Please don't stop, just a little bit more" you begged, your voice choked with building pleasure.

You felt the delicious friction, the building pressure, his body a hot, hard weight against yours. Just as you thought you couldn't take any more, you both came again.

His hot cum spilled onto your pussy and lower stomach, a warm, sticky release. He cried out, "Oh god, yes! Fuck!" he gasped, his body shuddering. You buried your face in his neck, leaving a damp, crimson mark there, a silent claim. You knew there were probably some marks on his back too, where you had desperately gripped him in your surrender.

You gasped, catching your breath, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. "This is the best thing I've ever felt," you whispered, honest words torn from your soul.

He pulled back, breathless, his body still trembling, eyes hazy with spent pleasure. He looked at the mess of cum on your stomach, then up at your flushed face. "Mine too," he murmured, his voice rough with lingering desire, "mine too, sweetheart."

He looked at you for another moment, his gaze conflicted, the reality of what just happened slowly sinking in. "I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me..." he started, his voice trailing off, the words unsure.

You quickly stood, pulling your skirt down, trying to regain some composure.

Just as you did, a sharp knock echoed from the lab door, followed by the muffled sound of voices in the hallway. Both your heads snapped towards the sound. Johnny and Sue. Panic flared in your chest.

You moved so fast, grabbing your clothes, pulling your skirt and panties back on, shirt clutched in your hand. "I'm going to toilet!" You rushed into the private bathroom connected to the lab, leaving Reed to scramble.

He practically leaped off the desk, his movements clumsy in rush. He quickly tucked himself, zipping his pants trying to smooth his shirt, to look normal. But the desk was a mess: papers were crushed, some slick with cum, and his tie lay discarded, stained with your combined juices. His heart beating like crazy. He scooped up the tie and the messy papers, shoving them into the nearest trash bin.

The knocking came again, louder this time. Reed took a shaky breath, smoothed his hair, and forced a calm onto his face. He pulled the door open, revealing Sue and Johnny. Sue's brow was furrowed, a hint of worry in her eyes.

"Reed? We've been knocking for ages! Are you alright? We thought we heard... something," Sue began, her gaze sweeping the surprisingly neat lab.

"Ah, yes, darling. My apologies," Reed stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice a little too quick. "The machines. You know how noisy they can get. I didn't hear you over the hum."

Yeah, right. He was busy sucking his assistant's pussy on the desk.

He was a mess. His curly hair was a bit messed up, sticking out at odd angles, and his neck was visibly red. Johnny, ever the sharp one, noticed immediately. "Whoa, Professor! Looks like you've been wrestling a particularly stubborn atom today! Or maybe a cat?" He grinned, nudging Reed playfully.

You took a deep breath in the small bathroom, splashed water on your face, and ran a hand through your hair, trying to appear calm. Your body still thrummed with pleasure, but a cold wave of fear was now starting to set in.

God, it happened. You cleaned yourself, trying to erase every trace of what had just happened.

They stepped inside. "Hi, [Y/N]!" Johnny called out, not seeing you. "Still here? Working late?"

You walked back into the lab, managing a small, composed smile. "Hi, everyone," you greeted, trying to sound as normal as possible. "Just finished up a few things."

Johnny's eyes lit up as he saw you. "See, Reed? You really work too hard! You too, [Y/N]. You need a break. Hey, I'm heading out now, can give you a lift home if you like? Save you the taxi fare." He flashed his charming grin at you.

Reed's eyes snapped to you, was it jealousy? You hesitated. "Oh, I wouldn't want to trouble you, Johnny," you started, but he cut you off.

"Nonsense! No trouble at all. Come on, it's on my way."

He was clearly liking you, and you noticed Sue's smile.

Then, Sue's gaze landed on Reed's neck. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Reed, your neck is quite red. Is it a rash?"

Reed went stiff, his gaze darting to Sue, then to you, a flash of pure panic in his eyes. He stammered, rubbing his neck frantically. "Oh! No, no, just... just rubbing it too much. My neck's really been in pain today, you know, from all the hunched over work." He tried to laugh, but it sounded forced.

"Well, you should take better care of yourself, and spend less time in front of that desk" Sue said.

You quickly stepped in, trying to distract them. "Well, I should really get going. See you tomorrow, Mr. Richards. And Johnny, that would be wonderful, thank you so much for the offer!" You gave Reed and Sue a quick, nod, trying to avoid his gaze, then turned to Johnny.

"Alright then! See ya tomorrow," Johnny said cheerfully, putting a casual hand on your lower back as you walked out of the lab.

Reed stood frozen, watching you walk away with his wife's brother, his face a mixture of relief and little jealousy. What the fuck is happening to him?

As you left, Sue looked at Reed, her gaze sweeping the lab once more. "Reed, where's your tie?"

He quickly came up with an excuse. "Oh, it was bothering me. I actually just... threw it out. It was getting a bit stained from some experimental reagents." He forced a convincing smile, moving closer to her. "Sorry, darling. Just a really long, stressful day." He then leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips, a desperate attempt to reassure her, to put things back to normal.

And damn, what a night. In Johnny's car, the city lights blurring past, you couldn't stop thinking about what you had just done. The thrill, the fear, the taste of Reed on your tongue...

Johnny gave you a charming grin. "So, how about we grab a drink? Celebrate escaping the lab for the night?"

You smiled, shaking your head gently. "Thanks, Johnny, but I'm really just wiped out. Maybe next time?"

"Next time it is," he agreed easily, then a hopeful note entered his voice. "How about dinner this weekend? My treat. You looked like you could use a good meal and some fun." He insisted, his enthusiasm infectious, and despite the whirlwind of your evening, you found yourself agreeing. "Okay, dinner then. I agree." He clearly liked you, and the thought, even in your muddled state, was a strange comfort.

Back at the Baxter Building, Reed stumbled into his apartment, feeling as though he'd run a marathon. He took a long, hot shower, trying to wash away the scent of you, your taste on his tongue, the vivid images burned into his mind. He scrubbed at his neck, but the faint bruise of your mark remained.

Later, in bed, Sue stirred beside him. She turned, her hand gently tracing his arm. "Reed, you were a bit strange tonight," she said, her voice soft with concern. "Not yourself. Is everything alright?

He sighed, pulling her closer, trying to sound convincing. "Just really tired, Sue. It was a long day. A new project, lots of complex data."

She hummed, then added, almost casually, "Johnny couldn't stop talking about [Y/N] these days. He seems to quite like her, actually."

Reed's muscles tensed, a flash of jealousy hit him again. He forced himself to relax, to change the subject. "Oh? Well, she's certainly a brilliant new asset to the team. Very quick-witted." He tried to sound neutral, professional.

Sue shifted, her hand moving lower, pressing intimately against him. She leaned in, her voice a low murmur. "Forget the lab, Reed. We haven't had much time for us, lately." She kissed his jaw, seeking his lips, her body pressing against his. She wanted him, her desire clear and warm against him.

But he was tired, his mind a chaotic mess of guilt and raw arousal. The moment with you had left him overwhelmed, his body still humming with a desperate need he couldn't satisfy with her, not when his thoughts were so consumed. He tried to respond, to be the husband she wanted, but his mind rebelled.

As Sue tried to be intimate, he closed his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about you. He pictured you on his desk, your legs spread, your body open and yielding. He could still taste you, the sweet flavor of your wetness.

He could hear your moans,the desperate pleas. The image of you, naked and responsive, was branded onto the inside of his eyelids.

He entered her, trying to lose himself in the familiar rhythm, but it was useless. Every thrust, every movement, was tainted with your image. He closed his eyes tighter, forcing himself to see your face, to recall the way your hips bucked, the sound you made as you came for him.

He imagined his tongue on your clit, the slick friction of your skin on his. He remembered the feeling of your thighs clamped around his head, the way you had gripped him.

He thought of your audacious challenge, "It's not cheating if you don't put your cock inside me, right?" and how utterly, irrevocably, he'd failed that test in his mind.

He drove into her, harder, faster, his hips pounding, but the urgency wasn't for her. It was for you. His body moved, but his mind was far away, fucking you again and again on that desk, drowning in the memory of your pleasure, the thought of you calling his name.

It was driving him crazy. He finished quickly, a jolt of release, but it was hollow, unsatisfying. He pulled away, breathing heavily, and turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The guilt was a heavy weight, but beneath it, the craving for you burned even hotter.

Sue was amazed. He had never been like that, usually so gentle and calm during their intimacy. He just kissed her, trying to forget you and the mistake he felt he had made tonight. He told himself he couldn't do this to Sue, or to you. But still, as he finally drifted into a restless sleep, you came into his dream, a vivid, undeniable reminder.

The next morning, the lab felt busy, but the drone of machines almost choked Reed. He hunched over a coffee cup, trying to get lost in blueprints, but his mind kept replaying last night. The smell of coffee couldn't hide the faint scent of your skin, the feel of your body. Sue sat next to him, sipping her own coffee, looking at him with a thoughtful gaze that made him uneasy.

Reed God, she knows something. She has to. How could I have been so stupid?

"Did you sleep well, dear?" she asked softly.

He forced a nod. "Enough. Just a lot on my mind."

Before he could say more, the lab doors opened. Ben walked in, grunting a greeting, followed by a surprisingly cheerful Johnny.

"Morning, smarty-pants!" Johnny chirped, grabbing a bagel. "Where's [Y/N]? Don't tell me she actually slept in."

Reed's heart jumped. He hadn't even thought about you coming in. He checked the clock. You were late, which was unusual. A strange mix of relief and disappointment hit him.

Reed She's not here. Good. No, bad. I want to see her. I don't want to see her.

Just then, the outer door chimed, and you walked in. Your eyes, a little tired, met Reed's for a split second. He saw the same tiredness he felt, and a flash of something else – a shared secret, a deep, unsettling tie. He was surprised by how strong it felt. He'd barely slept, the night replaying your touch, your taste, your pleas. He wondered if you had too.

"Morning everyone, I'm so sorry, I overslept," you said, your voice a little tight as you went to your desk. "Missed my alarm." You started sorting papers, trying to look normal.

Reed She looks exhausted. Like me. Does she regret it? Does she... feel it too?

"Don't worry about it, [Y/N]," Johnny said, always friendly. "We all need a break sometimes. Hey, about dinner this weekend... still on for Saturday?"

Reed felt his body stiffen. He saw you open your mouth to say yes, but then Sue spoke up, her smile bright. "Actually, why don't we all have dinner together? Here, at our place. It would be lovely to have you, [Y/N]. And Ben, of course."

Johnny's face lit up. "Awesome, Sue! Sounds great!"

You paused, looking quickly at Reed, who was giving you quick, shy looks, trying to see how you felt. The idea of being in his home, right under Sue's nose, was both scary and exciting.

But with Johnny's eager nod, you just managed a small smile and nodded, saying yes.

Reed Damn it, Sue. Why did you do that? Now she'll be here. In my home. This is going to be hell. Or heaven.

As you moved around the lab, doing normal work, Reed found his eyes following you. When you came closer to him to get some files, he had to make himself breathe calmly. He couldn't hide how his body naturally leaned towards you, the strong pull he felt. The faint smell of your shampoo made his blood warm. He saw you notice it, too, a quick, almost unnoticeable glance at him.

Reed She knows. She feels it. The way she looks at me... God, I want to pull her back onto that desk right now.

Later that day, the lab slowly emptied until it was just the two of you. Reed looked up from his work, his eyes finding yours across the room. He seemed to pull himself together, a hint of shyness in his usual calm way.

"About... our moment, yesterday," he began, his voice low, almost timid. "What happened...between us."

You felt a familiar warmth in your cheeks, but you met his gaze steadily. "It just happened, Reed," you said, trying to sound casual, "A moment of weakness."

He stayed quiet, his eyes searching yours. You saw a flash of something there – was it sadness? Understanding? You couldn't tell. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant whirring of machines.

Reed She called it a "moment of weakness." Was that all it was to her? To me, it was... everything. A breaking point. And now she's so calm.

To break the quiet, you moved towards his desk, offering to help. "Do you need a hand with that part of the project?" you asked, leaning over the blueprint he was looking at. You were very close now, near enough for him to smell your perfume, mixed subtly with something deeper, something he remembered from last night. You saw his nose twitch, his body growing tight. Your arm brushed his as you pointed to a line on the drawing, sending a jolt through both of you.

Reed God, her scent. It’s everywhere. It’s making me crazy all over again.

Reed could feel the warmth coming from you, the soft touch of your clothes. His mind was once more under attack, filled with pictures of your bare skin, the taste of you. Every instinct screamed at him to reach out, to pull you closer, to forget every consequence. He felt the insistent throb of his cock, a demanding reminder of what he wanted.

Your leg, by accident or on purpose, brushed his under the desk. A spark lit up, you looked up, a small smile on your lips, your eyes challenging him.

For a moment, he froze, caught in the strong pull between you. His hand, resting on the desk, squeezed into a tight ball. He leaned in, just a tiny bit, his eyes falling to your mouth.

Then, with a clear effort that seemed to hurt him, Reed pulled back. He cleared his throat, his eyes quickly looking away, breaking the strong connection.

His voice, when it came, was colder, sharper. "Look, what happened, you're right it was a mistake. A momentary lapse in judgment. It's best if we just forget it. Pretend it never happened."

He picked up a pen, his fingers shaking slightly, and started writing a note, creating a sudden, almost desperate space between you. "My marriage, my life... it's too important to ruin it for... for this."

His tone held a subtle, rude edge, almost implying it was your fault for letting it go so far. "This is going to be incredibly hard. Much harder than any scientific problem I've ever faced. This can't happen again."

You didn't move away. Instead, you met his gaze directly, a hint of defiance in your eyes. "A moment of weakness, maybe," you said, your voice a low, flirty murmur, "but I don't regret it, Reed. Not for a second. I enjoyed every bit of it."

He looked at you, surprised, his eyes widening slightly at your bold admission. You saw the conflict deepen in his gaze. You leaned in slightly, your voice softening, almost a whisper. "But I don't want to hurt you, Reed. Or anyone." You let the words hang in the air.

As you gathered your things to leave, you paused at the lab door. You turned back to him, "What's your favorite color, Reed?" you asked, completely out of the blue.

He frowned, surprised by the sudden shift in topic, but answered without hesitation, "Blue."

You nodded slowly, "Good to know." With that, you turned and left, leaving him alone in the quiet lab, the blue of his answer echoing in his thoughts, a new, forbidden shade.

The Royal Blue Distraction

Saturday night arrived, a strange mix of dread and anticipation swirling within you. You chose your weapon carefully: a royal blue dress. It was a bold move, maybe even reckless. It was tight, hugging every curve, and the fabric had a subtle shimmer under the lights. Your make up was perfectly applied, your hair styled in a way that felt both elegant and effortlessly alluring. You wanted Reed to notice. To suffer a little. To see if he truly wanted you, or if the lab was just a moment of weakness.

When Johnny opened the door to apartment, his jaw practically dropped. His eyes widened, and he froze for a split second, a reaction that was mirrored by Reed, who was standing a little further back in the living room.

Reed was amazed, his eyes widening as he took you in. He seemed to freeze, his gaze locked on you, clearly not expecting... this.

"Wow," Johnny breathed, recovering quickly. "You look incredible, [Y/N]! Absolutely stunning." He began to shower you with compliments, "Seriously, you're going to steal the show tonight."

Sue emerged from the kitchen, a warm smile on her face. "Welcome, [Y/N]! Come on in." She glanced at Reed, a faint frown creasing her brow at his stunned silence.

You stepped inside, Johnny continued his compliments, his hand lightly on your back as he guided you into the living room. Reed, meanwhile, remained strangely quiet, his eyes still fixed on you.

Soon, everyone was seated around the dining table. The conversation flowed, mostly led by Johnny and Sue, but for Reed, the world seemed to narrow to just you.

He ate, he spoke when directly addressed, but his eyes kept returning to you, drawn like a moth to a flame. He was fighting it, you could see it in the way his jaw subtly clenched, the way his gaze would flicker away for a moment only to snap back. Every laugh you shared with Johnny, every glance you exchanged with Ben, seemed to tighten something within him. The royal blue dress was doing its job.

The torment, for Reed, was just beginning. Johnny, oblivious or perhaps deliberately provocative, continued to flirt openly with you throughout dinner. He'd casually touch your arm when making a point, lean in close enough to make you feel his breath on your ear, and even, at one point, playfully sniff your neck, declaring you smelled "amazing."

He'd then playfully touch your hair, letting his fingers linger a moment too long. Reed watched it all, every gesture a fresh jab. He was pissed, a quiet, burning anger simmering beneath his calm exterior, and he was fighting desperately to hide it. His jaw was tight, his movements stiff.

Reed He's touching her. My assistant. The woman I just... This is madness. Keep it together, Reed. Don't blow this.

As dessert was served, Johnny, emboldened by a few too many drinks, turned to you.

"Hey, [Y/N], why don't we grab a nightcap in my room? Got some good stuff stashed away."

Reed froze. He knew exactly what that meant. Johnny's "nightcaps" in his room always ended one way – with the girl staying until morning. The thought of Johnny touching you, taking what Reed felt was his, made a cold knot tighten in his gut. You had been his first since that moment, a forbidden taste he couldn't get out of his head.

Reed No. Absolutely not. He's not laying a hand on her tonight. She's not his to take. She's...mine

Suddenly, Reed snapped. "Johnny, don't you think you've had enough to drink?" he said, his voice sharper than intended, a little rude. He immediately regretted the sharpness, but the words were out. He tried to soften it with a teasing tone. "Wouldn't want you to stumble over something on the way to your room, now would we?"

Johnny's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of challenge in them. "Just having some fun, Reed. Lighten up." He glanced at you.

You caught Reed's eye. Oh, he's jealous. Good. This is exactly what I wanted.

"Johnny, he's right," you said, feigning weariness. "I actually do feel a bit too much to drink. Probably best if I just head home."

Before Johnny could protest, Reed smoothly said "I can drive you home, [Y/N]."

Sue looked surprised, but then she glanced at her brother, who was indeed looking flushed and a little tipsy. It was late. "That's very thoughtful, Reed," she said, a small smile. "Johnny has had a bit much. I think that's a good idea." She agreed, unknowingly playing right into Reed's hands.

"Fine, fine," Johnny mumbled, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "But you're staying next time for that drink okay?" You smiled back to Johnny "I will, I promise."

A flicker of triumph, quickly masked, crossed Reed's face. Oh gosh, his idea is working. He already had a plan in his head. Tonight, only he was taking that royal blue dress off you.

You thanked Sue for dinner, feeling a rush of adrenaline as Johnny, still a little tipsy, pulled you into a quick, flirty hug and kissed your cheek. You felt Reed's gaze on you.

In the car, the silence was heavy. Reed's hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He was clearly fighting with himself, battling the raging storm inside.

Reed What am I doing? This is madness. I have to stop this. For Sue. For her. He tried to convince himself that driving you home was the extent of it, a chance to regain control.

He asked for your address, and drove to your apartment building. He parked and, to your surprise, got out and walked with you to your door. As you fumbled for your keys, he spoke, his voice low, almost hesitant.

"You and Johnny," he started, "You like him?"

You looked at him, "I think he's nice," you admitted, carefully.

He stepped closer, his eyes intense. "But do you want him?"

You met his gaze, "I don't know," you confessed, "Right now, I just want something to keep away my thoughts of you, Reed. To forget what we did."

As you finally got the door open, Reed stood directly behind you, his presence a burning heat. Your words, meant to push him away, instead snapped something deep inside him, igniting a desire again.

He reached out, his big hands closing around your waist, pulling you back against his hard frame. You were trapped between him and the open doorway, his scent surrounding you.

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. "You think you could forget how I make you feel?" he whispered.

You closed your eyes, a shiver running through you. "No," you breathed, the truth spilling out. "I know I never will... Please, Reed."

Those pleas, those honest words, seemed to trigger his passion completely. He kissed your neck, deeply, hungrily, his lips tracing the sensitive skin. "I want you," he confessed, his voice a low growl, "every single night, I think about you. While I'm with her, I think about you. About what you did to me, how you make me feel differently. You make me feel... wild. I can't stop thinking about your taste, your moans, you on my desk."

He spun you around, his hands never leaving your waist, and then, with a hard push, he slammed the apartment door.

Your purse clattered to the floor, forgotten.

It was raw, quick, and fire. A wild storm unleashed. He take off his suit jacket, tossing it aside, his eyes burning into yours. In one swift motion, he lifted you, pressing you against the wall, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He kissed you with a ferocious passion, his mouth devouring yours, as one of his hands slid under your dress, finding the soft skin of your inner thigh.

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured against your lips, his tongue tracing your bottom lip. "I've been dying to feel this dress come off you all night." His fingers crept higher, teasing the edge of your panties. "Let me taste you again. Let me remind you exactly what you can't forget."

"You said you didn't want this," you whispered, your voice soft against his lips.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his own eyes dark with wild hunger. "I do more than anything. I was lying. Lying myself." he breathed, his voice rough.

He couldn't stop. Not anymore. He took your mouth again, kissing you harder, a strong. As his tongue dove in, his free hand went to his belt, fumbling with the buckle.

"Where's the bedroom?" he mumbled against your lips, his breath hot.

You pointed to the next door. He broke the kiss, moving towards the room. As he walked, he gently, almost with reverence, slid your royal blue dress down your body, letting it fall around your feet. Your bra followed, unhooked easily. You, in turn, worked at the buttons of his shirt, pulling it open, teasing him with soft, open-mouthed kisses along his neck and collarbone.

"God, you're making me burn," he groaned, as your lips traced fire on his skin. "I can't get enough of you."

He reached the bed and, with a quick move, lifted you into his arms, setting you gently on bed. His eyes, burning with fierce need, swept over your naked body before he reached down and, with a raw urge, ripped your panties from your legs, tossing them aside.

He was hungry and wild, his usual calm gone. He knelt on the floor before you, his gaze locked on your shaking body. He reached for your waist, pulling you forward until your legs could swing up and rest on his strong shoulders. Your inner thighs were open, your pussy wet and pulsing.

He leaned down, his breath warm against your skin. He kissed your thighs, slowly, deeply, before reaching your pussy lips. His tongue flicked out, tasting, teasing.

"There's that taste," he mumbled against your slick skin, his voice rough with pure hunger. "God, you're so sweet. So damn wet for me." He pushed his tongue deeper, circling your clit, pulling a gasp from your throat. "I'm going to drown in you, sweetheart. Just let me drink you in."

You arched your back, a moan escaping your lips. Your hands found his strong arms, your fingers digging into the hard muscle, and one hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he sucked your clit, his tongue plunging into your dripping hole. It was a sight to see, his normally smart face twisted with raw, basic lust, fully taken by you.

"That's it, baby," you gasped, your voice broken with pleasure, your hips starting to lift. "Suck it harder. Make me scream your name." You could feel the heat building, every nerve alive. "Don't stop. Please, don't ever stop!"

You couldn't wait anymore. You grabbed his hand, your fingers digging into his wrist. "Inside me, Reed. Now!"

With a sound of pure ease, as if your words were the only permission he needed, he stood. His hands went to his pants, quickly taking them off, sliding down his boxers to reveal his hard, throbbing cock. He looked at your naked body, glistening in the soft moonlight filtering through the window, like a goddess laid out just for him.

He moved slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. He stood between your spread legs, his hot, thick cock hovering just above your entrance. He gently moved the head of his cock through your wet pussy lips, letting your juices slick him even more, the moist friction driving him crazier. "You are so ready for me, aren't you?" he rasped, his voice strained with desire. "So desperate for my cock.

Then, with a sudden, rough intensity, he grabbed your waist, pulling you hard against his hips, aligning your bodies. He lowered himself, pushing slowly inside you. "Fuck," you gasped, the word ripped from your throat. He was big. So thick. You had never felt a cock like this, stretching you, filling you completely. Even with just the tip inside, it was a burning, exquisite pressure. "You're so big, so goddamn good."

He leaned closer, kissing you deeply, his hand moving from your cheek to your neck, slowly stroking, praising you. He could feel your tight pussy gripping him, taking him in. He muffled something into your neck, a low growl of pure satisfaction as he finally slid fully inside you, filling every inch. "God, you're so tight, so fucking perfect around me," he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure, his hips pressing deeper.

"Fuck me harder!" you begged. You wanted more, needed more. And then, a wicked thought, a final push to break his control. You reminded him, "You don't have much time, Reed. Your wife is waiting for you."

Something snapped in him. His eyes, already dark with lust, became even more feral. "Fuck it, don't mention her while I'm inside you," he growled.

He kissed your neck, then moved to your nipples, sucking them roughly, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses. He started fucking you hard, his thrusts deep and relentless. He was wild and rough and filthy, not the Reed you knew in the lab. A nice one and smart.

This was your Reed. Wild and rough, crazy for you.

You were moaning so loud, screaming his name, and he loved it. "Scream my name, baby! Let me hear it!" he commanded between thrusts. This was what he wanted. Finally. No more holding back.

The bed slammed against the wall with each powerful thrust, the rhythm fast and urgent. He pulled back, watching with raw intensity as his cock slid inside you again and again.

Damn, the way he bites his lips while doing it, his curls on that sweaty forehead clinging to his skin, his cheeks flushed a deep red. His groans were a beautiful melody for your ears, pure pleasure. He leaned down, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing it expertly as he continued his fierce rhythm.

He was so close, his body trembling above yours. "Cum inside me, Reed!" you commanded, "Fill me up! Leave me dripping with you!

He grabbed your legs, effortlessly lifting them, placing your ankles onto his shoulders. This new angle made him plunge even deeper, stretching you to your limits. He leaned down, his eyes locked onto yours, blazing with a predatory hunger. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice thick with raw passion, "Look at me while I fill you up. Watch me bury myself in you."

He started pounding harder, a relentless, primal rhythm. His hips slammed against yours, each thrust driving him to the hilt. "This is what you craved, isn't it?" he grunted, his breath ragged. "My cock, deep inside your wet little cunt. Feeling me stretch you open, pushing past your limits."

He watched your face, your eyes wide with pleasure, as his body moved with savage intent. "You're so tight, so greedy, aren't you? Clenching around me, begging for more."

"Fuck yes, I'm greedy, Reed!" you gasped, "And you're making me even greedier! Don't you dare stop! You feel so good, so perfect, fucking me just like this! Give it to me!

"That's it, baby," he rasped, his voice raw with building climax. "Take all of me darling. Fucking take it all. My good girl."

He kept up the powerful rhythm, his heavy breathing filling the room, his cock twitched inside you with every withdrawal, then slammed back inside with a wet, satisfying smack.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing yours, but then moved to your neck, biting down gently, possessively, leaving a small, stinging mark. Then, he moved to your nipple, biting it softly, drawing another gasp from your throat. His full weight was on you, a delicious, crushing pressure.

Your moans turned into breathless cries, the pressure building to an unbearable point. He was a beas he thrust deeper, harder, his cock grinding against your G-spot, unleashing a wave of white-hot pleasure that consumed you.

"Yes! Oh, God, Reed!" you screamed, your body arching, completely lost in the sensation.

With a final, earth-shattering thrust, his body tensing, and then, with a long, powerful groan, he came inside you. His hot, thick cum flooded your core, a burning, undeniable claim. He poured himself into you, every drop. He collapsed onto you, heavy and spent, his breath ragged against your neck.

"Mine," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his grip tight on your hips. "You're so mine now. And you'll remember this. Every single moment. "

His hips were still slowly moving, a heavy grind, and you could feel his hot cum dripping down your thighs, a warm, sticky. He leaned down, kissing you gently, his eyes wide and deep, trying to remember every moment of pleasure etched on your face.

But damn that phone. A persistent buzz echoed from the living room, from his jacket.

Reed pulled back, slowly sliding his cock from you. He reached for a tissue from your nightstand, gently cleaning the cum from your thighs and his own shaft. His eyes never left yours, then, he moved quickly to the living room, grabbing his phone.

It was still ringing. Sue.

He picked up, forcing his voice into a calm, strained tone. "Sue, darling? Yes, I'm alright. There was a bit of a car accident up ahead on the road, a pile-up. I'm stuck. It's moving slowly, but I'll be home as soon as I can."

What a brilliant liar.

He quickly dressed, and before leaving, he paused at the doorway, his eyes locking onto yours. He walked back to the bed and leaned down, kissing you softly, lingeringly. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "This is... messed up. But I want you. All of you. Body and soul. What I feel for you... it's different. More than just a sex." He gave you one last, gentle kiss, a tender brush of his lips against yours. "Good night," he murmured, his eyes holding yours for a final, intense moment before he turned and walked out.

You reached out, your fingers tracing the empty space where he had just been. "Good night, Reed," you whispered back to the silent room, your voice choked with tears. "And I want you too. More than you could ever know. This isn't just sex for me either. It never was."

You lay there, a tangle of emotions. You were happy, exhilarated by the raw passion you'd just shared. But beneath it, you were sad. What you did was wrong, undeniably bad. Yet, you had reveled in his love, his passion. And now he was leaving. You can't have him, not truly. This was just a crazy moment, a forbidden escape. Surely, he would want to forget this, to never repeat it. But as he turned and walked out, leaving you alone in the quiet apartment, a sliver of hope, born from his whispered confession, refused to die

Reed burst through the apartment door, the scent of you still clinging to his skin, the taste of you fresh on his tongue. He saw Sue waiting, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of worry and palpable anger.

"Reed! Where have you been? I was so worried!" she exclaimed, her voice tight with frayed nerves.

He moved to her, wrapping her in a hug, trying to convey a comforting presence he didn't feel. What a mistake.

Reed Damn it, her smell. Is it still on me? Did I miss anything? Lipstick smears? He held his breath, praying he'd covered his tracks.

"I'm so sorry, Sue," he murmured into her hair, his voice as calm as he could make it. "There was a massive pile-up on the freeway, just after I left the [Y/N] near her apartment. Cars everywhere, fire trucks, ambulances... It was a complete standstill. My phone was almost dead by the time I thought to call you again."

He kept his tone even, adding just enough detail to make it sound believable. The feel of her familiar embrace was supposed to ground him, but it only amplified the guilt, the sharp contrast to the wildness he'd just indulged in.

She pulled back, her eyes searching his face. "A car accident? Oh, Reed, are you sure you're alright? You look...different." Her gaze flickered to his neck, then to his slightly rumpled clothes.

"Just shaken up from the traffic, darling," he assured her, offering a gentle squeeze of her hand. "It was quite a scene. Nothing to worry about."

He felt a surge of relief when she seemed to accept it. She believes me. Or so I hope.

But Sue wasn't stupid. As they moved into the living room, her questions continued, "You know I noticed it's just... you've been spending so much time in the lab lately. And with [Y/N]..." Her voice trailed off, a hint of accusation in her eyes. "I just feel like you're distancing yourself. Since she started, it feels like you're always busy, always focused on something else."

Reed felt a cold knot in his stomach. This was it. "Sue, that's nonsense," he said, trying to sound genuinely surprised by her insinuation. "She's just an assistant. A very capable one, yes, but nothing more. My focus is on our work, on our projects. That's all."

Yeah, right. Just an assistant. The assistant I just fucked hard and raw, barely an hour ago, screaming my name. The thought flashed through his mind, hot and visceral, making him almost flinch.

He stepped closer, taking her hands. "You're the most important thing to me, Sue. You know that." He leaned in and kissed her, pouring all his love into making it the perfect, reassuring kiss. He felt her relax into it, the tension leaving her shoulders. What a success, he had managed to pull off a great plan. She believed him.

What am I doing? This isn't me.

That night, lying in bed beside his sleeping wife, Reed still couldn't quite believe what he'd done. He closed his eyes, and instantly, the image was there: you, on your bed, your legs wrapped around his shoulders, your head thrown back, his name on your lips. The thrill he'd felt, that raw, untamed power, still hummed in his veins. He wanted more. But how? How could he possibly reconcile this new, raging desire with his life, his marriage? He looked at Sue, peaceful in sleep, her hand resting near his.

This isn't the logical, rational man. It's like a devil has taken him over. And yes, you were that one. That little, sexy, wild devil. The one he still wanted, fiercely, agonizingly, even as his hand lay beside his wife, a silent betrayal.

Thank you for the reading 🫶💜

More to come I promise 😊

[acourtofthought]

Hi! First off, I LOVE your posts and how your Elucien posts. So I’ve been thinking about the whole “High king” thing, and I was curious your thoughts on it? Do you think Sarah is going in the direction of having a High king? If there is a high king, who do you think it would be?

Hi and thank you so much for your kind words!! If Sarah goes the High King route I think it would go one of a few ways. One possibility is Mor becoming High Queen. We know that her family was one of the first ruling family's of the NC and that means she may be a descendant of Theia. Now that Nesta is in possession of Gwydion and the land of the would be Dusk Court I wonder if Sarah is going to write Mor as being the one who inherits those things, with future Valkyrie finding their home there and Mor being the one to oversee them as well as being a mediator of sorts to the courts of Prythian. That would be full circle if she is related to Theia what with Theia having been the wife of the first High King of Prythian. I've also considered Lucien for High King. I can't imagine Sarah is planning to take out Helion's character which means Lucien is going to need some purpose. I doubt she's laying all the groundwork for him becoming a High Lord (i.e., commanding Cassian with a single word) all for him to just wait around for centuries until he can take over Day. However he'd be perfect as High King. Not necessarily someone who needs to lead them all during battle, but someone who has the best interests of their entire world in mind and maintains peace across the courts in Prythian, the human lands and the fae on other continents. He has played such a huge role in so many different places, more so than any other character and he is truly a man of all lands. A son of Autumn, of Day, someone who basically helped lead Spring, an ally to the NC, an ally to the human lands, someone who has been to the continent, etc. He doesn't favor one place the way we see others do (like Rhys with Velaris), he tries to do what is best for everyone and often sees multiple sides to a situation. I really can't imagine a better person for the role of High King but Lucien and I could easily see Elain being amazing as High Queen by his side, someone who prefers love and peace to fighting and war.

[unholykrow-writes]

I don't think I'm ever going to get the energy to write the whole fic out, so here is the main plotline for the Isekai into Deltarune I came up with.

art included

Main Storyline:

MC wakes up in Hometown and must find a way to survive until she can convince sans to help her find a way back home. Sans has trouble believing her until she mentions Dr. Gaster, who he used to work for until he went nuts and disappeared, leading to his LAB being shut down and everyone being laid off. MC shows him what she believes is Gasters bunker but admits she doesn't know for certain, and neither knows how to open it.

Sans eventually asks her to tell him what she knows, and MC proceeds to word vomit anything she thinks might be useful. Afterwards, after Sans mulls over everything he's been told and what he can gather from context, he agrees to try and figure out how to get her back home if she can work the shop while he does. At some point Sans and MC breaks into Gasters bunker and discovers the research he was doing on The Void and The Dark World, and Sans' disappears in his research.

Two weeks of MC running the grocery store and Sans' disappearing in his research goes by and Papyrus gets fed up and demands that she do something about it. Agreeing, she and Papyrus go down to the bunker to pull him out and make him rest. This acts as a catalyst for Sans finally burning out from non-stop research, and he feels guilty about it, and admits as much to MC. MC tells him not to worry about it, that the research isn't going anywhere. He passes out shortly after that, and MC debates on whether or not she wants to tell him how she thinks she arrived to hometown. In the end, she decides not to, not wanting to worry Sans' about what she could be returning to.

The next day, the two hang out in his bedroom while there's a nasty storm raging outside, and Sans' goes over what he has learned so far, and that he thinks he's getting close to figuring out how to send her home, he just needs to start making schematics for a portal, and then goes on a small tangent on Dark Fountains and how he believes he can harness one to create a tunnel through the void to send her back to her home universe. He then goes on to demonstrate how he believes a Dark Fountain just as the power goes out, leading him to accidentally creating a real dark fountain.

The two fall into the Dark World based on his bedroom, which is heavily spaced themed, and very quickly MC is snatched up by the "Boss", Astroleer, who is an astronomy wizard made out of wispy dark matter. He's very excited to have MC, and treats her more like a royal guest than a prisoner, reflecting that Sans' might like her more than he's willing to let on. Sans' needs to make his way through Outer Rim to the center where Astroleer's astronomy tower is located in order to rescue her and leave the dark world. Sans' successfully rescues her from Astroleer's tea party and the two make it back through outer rim to the Light world just as the storm begins to calm down and the power comes back on.

The two become closer after their little adventure and Sans' softens towards MC, and decides to tell her how he feels about her. MC reciprocates but expresses concern about growing closer now that Sans has an idea on how to send her back. He tells her that the machine is going to take a while to build, and there's nothing stopping them from being very good friends with benefits while he's building it. Montage of Sans building the machine broken up by them making out in the bunker, at some point Sans leaves a mating bite at the curve of her neck.

Sans finally finishes the machine, and the two stare at it while it activates. They say goodbye, and MC walks through.

Then the world resets.

And Sans remembers.

Subplots:

Gaster shows up around MC when its really dark and pseudo adopts her

Papyrus works as the mascot at ICE-E'S and absolutely hates it but also loves it at the same time

MC giving Asgore a hard time about his free pickles but makes a sign about free pickle friday's

MC witnessing the Divorce Drama between Asgore and Toriel and downing an entire bucket of popcorn while they argue at the grocery store

Art:

Astroleer, MC ref, Sans' dark world outfit, Sans and MC landing in Outer Rim

Notes:

I had an idea that this was a prequel leading into Dusts' timeline and that they would meet again in the future when the different au's converged. From his POV it would be a slice of life trying to win her heart, from her POV its an anti-harem fic where the other variants don't like her very much because of some BS their human roommate keeps telling them about her, and also Dust likes her so she must be sketchy.

Shenanigans ensue.

[logan-but-not]

A Theory about Susie and The Last Prophecy

The biggest question left by Deltarune CH4 was the last prophecy. And there have already been a lot of theories of what exactly it entails. But the thing is, I think it's actually the opposite of what everyone is expecting.

Keep in mind, this is purely speculative, and just my personal theory. But I do have a decent amount of actual evidence and narrative theming to support my claims. So just keep an open mind and hear me out for a second. 

Let's actually do a brief recap of the prophecy so everyone is on the same page. From what we can tell, most verses can fall into one of three categories: The Heroes, The Villains, and the Narrative.

The narrative prophecies are the full version of the Legend that Ralsei told us. Depicting the worlds of light and dark, the Roaring, and the three heroes to meet the challenge. The Last Prophecy also falls into this category, as it's literally meant to be the end of the tale. 

The second category is the predictions of each chapter's primary antagonist or most noteworthy character. Lancer, Queen, Tenna, and an unused icon depicting Gerson.

From this pattern, as well as all the evidence to point to a Flower King Dark world, we can pretty confidently assume that the Asgore mural is also a part of this category. Leaving only Chapters 6 and 7 without a mural.

The last category is the specific prophecies about the three heroes. Kris, Susie, and Ralsei in that order (as far as we know). We can assume that each of them goes in depth about their depicted hero, like what we saw with “The Girl”.

It's worth pointing out that there are a few outliers. Such as the music notes, Gallery, Roots, and Jockington. But even they can still pretty easily be explained away. I think it just goes to show that the prophecy speaks in riddles and not everything said should be taken at face value.

But out of these murals, one in particular stands out to me. “And Last, was the Girl. At Last, was the girl.” 

That specific wording is really interesting. Because unless there are four heroes, and two of them both just so happened to be labeled as “the girl”, this seems like a contradiction right? Well, it would be… if it was referring to the heroes. 

I propose this. What if the girl from the rude buster mural, is instead depicting an antagonist from a later chapter. Maybe even the final one.

And that antagonist is Susie.

This is what I believe that Susie was shown at the end of the chapter. She was shown that she is going to be the villain. 

And there's a lot of little details and context clues that point to this conclusion.

MURALS - Like I mentioned before, there are already two murals relating to the girl. And the one with the silhouette with the sword fits with the heroes far more than the rude buster icon does.

But the Rude Buster icon actually does fit with the antagonists and how they are often described. Short verse with prose and describing the major characters of a chapter. Which would potentially explain the “And last, …”.

It's important to remember that the order of these murals is completely jumbled, so key positions like last have to serve as our fixed points. This is why I don't believe that this girl is being referred to in the same context as the heroes.

GERSON - So much of Susie's interactions with Gerson focus on her learning to be who she wants to be, instead of just fulfilling her prophesied role. And how she's naturally an embodiment of hope that Ralsei and Kris desperately need right now.

So think of how crushing it might be to see Susie come to the realization that she's not really a hero. That no matter what she does, she'll always just keep hurting people. We see this insecurity play out in her personal dark world.

She thinks that she's a massive screw up. And she doesn't know how to take failure very well. It leads to her occasionally self doubting herself and it leads to her lashing out at others. It's been a character trait literally since the beginning. So what happens when she is pushed to her limit?

And that's not the only thing that Gerson has to say on Susie.

DRAGON - Gerson specifically called Susie “The Dragon” when referring to which Dragon Blazers character she was. This could just be an unimportant detail but I actually think it matters a lot. 

Gerson describes all the chapters of Lord of The Hammer, and they all parallel the chapters of DR. But there really isn't a “dragon” equivelant in chapter 1. Not in the traditional sense. 

But who else had been a violent, insatiable wild card? Who else wreaked havoc among the fantasy world? And who else had to be subdued and eventually came around to work with the heroes?

Ms. Violent Axe Susie

And think about Dragons in most literature. Looming monstrous threats that are the ultimate menace to the protagonists. Hell, there's even a trope in writing called The Dragon that refers to secondary antagonists.

I think The Dragon could represent what Susie is going to become. A wrathful monster pushed to the brink by the actions of the Knight, and the continued violation of her trust. Only to be quelled by the heroes.

THE TRUE MEANING OF LOVE - One of the other murals depicts The Girl with love. I draw attention to this because almost everything about the prophecy up until this point has had significance. So why would the prophecy specifically call out Susie's affection?

Well, maybe because it plays into the final tragedy. If susie truly does have affection for someone (probably Noelle), it would make her inevitable fall to darkness all the more tragic. Or maybe it even means that “the love” is what breaks her out of it. Again, I just feel like it's important because it's called out explicitly, and given a lot of focus. Along with Susie's whole status as a hero in general. She wants to be the savior of the world, and that might blind her to who she truly is.

LAST PROPHECY MURAL - Which brings us back around to the Last Prophecy. Before Susie reads the final verse, we see a depiction of the Deltarune shattered. However, the way it is shattered is very telling. 

The angel is completely broken, as is the leftmost triangle. But the center and right triangle remain intact. Is it a coincidence then that Deltarune in Kris’ room, made by Ralsei, depicts the left triangle as Susie?

SUSIE'S REACTION - And here's the big one, and the thing that got me started on this theory in the first place. Why did Susie react the way she did when she saw the prophecy?

You could say it's a sacrifice, and there is evidence to support that. The most prominent being Ralsei's panic. And Susie definitely would be pretty shaken learning that one of her friends, or even herself, is destined to die.

But that wouldn't explain why she gets so defensive. And why she feels the need to confirm with Kris that she does want to keep being friends with them. Whatever Susie sees shakes her to her core. She doesn't even entertain for a second that it might happen, almost like it's an insult. And then… she laughs. She's just been faced with her entire world crumbling to dust… and she smiles in response. This is something deeper, something personal.

So let me posit this. What if the reason Susie gets so aggressive… is because the prophecy just confirmed her worst fears about herself? 

She's so excited to be a hero, to have friends, and find a place she feels like she belongs in. Kris, Ralsei, Noelle, Lancer, Gerson, they all mean everything to her. She would never want to hurt them.

And now she's just learned that she is destined to never change. To always just break everything she touches. To always hurt those she cares about. To always just be a freak.

THAT would break her.

I WANT TO KEEP BEING FRIENDS WITH YOU - This is why I think that the moment after is so important. Susie has just met all of her insecurities face to face. And the first thing she does after learning it is tell Kris that she wants to stay friends. That no matter what happens, everything can go back to the way it used to be.

It's a display of hope that flies in the face of everything logical. That even after everything, it's still just you.

I think it's meant to represent not just reassurance to Kris, but reassurance to herself. A promise that she will never allow what she saw to come to pass. The girl is starting to realize the meaning of “Love”.

CHARACTER ARC - And just… think about this from a narrative point of view. Susie right now is at her worst mentally. She learned something that made her question if her friends will always be with her. Her unbreakable will has started to show signs of cracking. And if this keeps up, I don't see her taking it well. She's already had to deal with so many lies and false promises. One more bad revelation might be enough to make her snap. 

A revelation such as… Kris is working with the Knight.

So where does that leave us? Well here's my take.

I believe that Susie, in an attempt to defy prophecy and break the predestined story laid out for her, is going to inadvertently follow it to the letter. She's going to either willingly or unwillingly be put into conflict with us. Whether that “us” means Kris or the Player will depend. But regardless, she will stand in our way. And because of this, our quest to seal the fountains will fail.  Seeing this, Susie will come around and make amends for whatever she did. This could potentially include a heroic sacrifice to save the world, hence her being shattered in the mural. And that is the final tragedy.

But I don't think that's where the narrative ends. Susie is just too strong of will to accept a destiny like that. And we've seen before that she is the one who can break control. That's what I believe her character is building up to. I think that through sheer willpower and determination, Susie is going to break the prophecy. Whether to save her own life, or inspire one last act of divine intervention.

She's going to prove herself the hero of this story. Just not in the way she thinks.

[outofangband]

Beleriand is wide and houseless for exiles

AKA that one Morwen and generational trauma meta I revise a couple times a year

updated post with more meta on the House of Bëor in general and has been updated to read like a real post and not just rambling!

My general tag for Bëorian cultural trauma is houseless for exiles  where I have a lot more like this

So Morwen is obviously one of my very favorite characters in Tolkien’s world, in general  and she is in my opinion one of the most interesting figures in The Children of Húrin, though as she is separated from Túrin for so long there are long periods of her life we have only summaries on. I find these fascinating to speculate on and read/write about

I wrote this post while very tired so I hope this makes sense and is ok, I just wanted to throw out some thoughts and I wanted to write more about the trauma her people went through during Dagor Bragollach

The Battle of the Sudden Flame and the aftermath is such an important part of Morwen’s life that likely plays a significant part in shaping her character though it happens before the events of the book and is mentioned only briefly, much information needing to be found through inference and connecting details

The House of Bëor lived in Ladros in Eastern Dorthonion where Aegnor and Angrod, sons of Finarfin, lived and lead a defense of the Watchful Peace, maintaining a friendship with their Edain allies. Ladros was a cool land of pine forests and steep, craggily slopes that lay South of the great green fields of Ard-Galen and then of Angband and the regions of Morgoth.

On a cold winter night in the year 455 of the First Age, rivers of flames, many choked in poisonous fumes, were sent down from the Thangorodrim. These utterly devastated Ard-Galen turning it from the fertile, green lands to a desert made uninhabitable by the lingering clouds of toxic air. Next came a legion of balrogs with Glaurung leading them and a massive army of orcs that quickly invaded Dorthonion, killing countless elves and humans including Aegnor and Angrod, taking a large number captive and occupying and/or displacing the rest of the Bëorians. Barahir, the father of Beren led a group of outlaws including the fathers of Morwen and Rían. Their group was killed in a massacre by the lake Tarn Aeulin several years later after

(It’s likely Morwen knew nothing of this until she came to Doriath, if even then)

During the chaos of the invasion of Ladros, Emeldir, the mother of Beren fought to protect the children of the Bëorians, many if not most of whom had been orphaned. She managed to lead a group of refugees Southwest to Brethil where the Halidan took them in. Later, though there is not much said in the text about this, a small group of the surviving Bëorians would come to Dor-Lómin in Hithlum where the Hadorians lived. (Note: I have two posts speculating on their route, here and here)

Morwen was elven or twelve when Dagor Bragollach broke out, depending on when in the year her birthday is*. She was likely orphaned during the invasion though we know only that she was separated from her father who was later killed. She was among the Bëorian refugees who would come to Hithlum though her age at the time is unknown. There is so much that is unknown about her life before the events of the Narn.

I also spoke about this on a few different posts, but I’ve oft wondered if Morwen’s time in Brethil as a child was not a good one. Our glimpse into how some of the Haladin treat those who are mentally ill, neurodivergent or traumatized in The Wanderings of Húrin is a very bleak one and although this is certainly not representative of all the people of Brethil, this combined with parts of Morwen’s conversation with Húrin prior to the Nírnaeth leads me to believe she does not look at her time there with good feelings

Both the text of the Narn and Morwen herself describe her as an exile; one who has not only been forced to leave their home but who is forbidden from returning.

The word diaspora obviously comes to mind as well.

There is a bitter shame that bubbles beneath her cloak of pride, an unearned shame but one that has left its mark on her nonetheless (another thing I've mde way too many posts on tbh; her grief and pride are completley inextricable from each other, almost every line in the Narn mentioning her pride or her more severe qualities comes with the addendum that as much as it is directed at others, it is also directed at herself; "for Morwen was as stern with others as with herself", "she did not seek to comfort him any more than herself, etc")

That Morwen is a refugee in Dor-lómin is an important aspect of her character as is her likely trauma from Dagor Bragollach, how flames and armies drove her and her people from their home, killed so many of them, destroying their families and way of life.

It’s not difficult to speculate on the extent of violence that she witnessed and the horrific trauma she was barely old enough to understand. Eleven or twelve is such an age, just starting to understand your own identity and place in your family and community and culture and then to have that so brutally torn apart…

(I personally headcanon that she was injured in the Bragollach and had burn scars but that’s a different post)

I think her pride is very much tied to the fact that she is one of the only remaining members of the House of Bëor, a people who Morwen herself considers all but gone as she says to her husband in the first chapter.

I’m thinking about how this impacts her choice to remain in Dor-lómin after Nirnaeth, thinking that perhaps this time nothing short of another fiery inferno will drive her from her home. How she will not flee again (even as Rían, another of the few survivors, runs again and runs until she cannot get up).

And what’s on her mind when she speaks with Húrin before he leaves for Nirnaeth, how she believes her House to be fallen and fears Húrin’s following suit. The destruction of Hithlum would mean another home taken from her.

I’m also wondering about her significantly less optimistic view of the elves. While Húrin is heartened by the knowledge that the lords of the Noldor have known Valinor and the Valar themselves, Morwen thinks quietly of the exile of the Noldor from Valinor. Which also makes her being labeled elffriend (derogatory) and accused of power akin to theirs

“Húrin Thalion, this I judge truer to say: that you look high, but I fear to fall low.”

That Morwen lives in her own home under occupation for so long adds yet another painful irony to that quote.

“Beleriand is wide and houseless for exiles” is also just one of my very favorite spoken lines by Morwen. I just always feel so strongly that Morwen is not just talking about her hypothetical future there but also her here and now. Even in the safety of her own home and room (I always pictured that conversation as in their bedroom?) she is acutely aware that she will never return to where she grew up, that the place of her and her people in the world has been irrevocably changed. She is contemplating this ordeal being repeated and likely becoming more convinced that it will be. The sheer exhaustion alone of having to reckon with that…

I don’t think the parallels between Morwen and Túrin with regard to fleeing and being hunted or trapped and the ways these and the fear of them shape their lives are discussed enough

A lot of Túrin’s story is about exile. He is forced to flee his home and spends most of the story away from it, deprived of news of his loved ones and people for years at a time. When he does return it is temporary and he finds it unrecognizable.

Even his memories of home, of any home he makes, are clouded.

But his home is not Morwen’s, at least not in the same way. What he loses in Dor-lómin, Morwen has lost more than a decade before the events of the Narn.

Morwen escapes Glaurung twice and ends up in Brethil both times afterwards. Like not to put too fine a point on it but she has always been running and trying to escape the horrors of the past and also she lives in fear, a very real fear, of being forced out, forced to run, or else trapped and imprisoned. When she fears Thingol means to keep her in Doriath against her will, she tells him this fear is part of what made her delay going and I don’t think she is exaggerating in the slightest.

I am just never not obsessed with the themes of diaspora, exile, and persecution in The Children of Húrin.

Anyways I hope this is coherent and all. Hopefully I’ll say something more meaningful on this later. I love Morwen very much.

*as the year of her birth is from The Shaping of Middle Earth it is not considered strictly canon however it does match up with other timelines and events.

[justthundergale]

Alberta, I imagine, was the opposite of Hetty, having healthy mechanisms for coping with grief. She would allow herself to be emotional and share those hardest moments with her friends and family, often feeling the absence of this support net later in life, having moved away in pursuit of her career. Still she continued to rely on her sister, Theresa, leading her to be more open and inviting about talking about and sharing grief now that she’s a ghost — again, as seen in s3e1 when she invites the basement ghosts to Flower’s memorial.

As the most sensitive soul out of all the ghosts, Flower is extremely affected, definitely in denial, running away from the pain at whatever cost. After Michael’s death I imagine she would return to drugs she was mentioned to have taken back in school on the basketball team, just to forget the feeling that was crushing her. Learning about her brother’s disappearance and presuming him dead was what I assume led her to sink into the cult even more, and maybe also strengthened her belief in all the conspiracy theories she was told since they explained the world whose cruelty she could never accept. If she were to experience the departure of another ghost (as she’s the only one who’s reaction we haven’t seen) she’d be most inconsolable, and in contrary to what her memory problems might suggest, she would hold onto the pain for the longest, afraid to forget it as the last thing that was left after the other ghost, especially with them leaving no material possessions, recordings, writings etc. behind.

In life Pete always took the role of the therapist after someone close to him passed away, looking out for others and trying to help, putting his own needs second and neglecting his feelings. He never processed his own grief completely because of this, and is still struck by it on occasion, similarly to how he feels on his death day. He struggles with it a lot internally but tries to maintain his optimistic outlook, insisting on having to keep up the spirits of the household. This leads him to sleepless nights (he likes to say it’s just apnea — it isn’t) when the full weight of grief not only for those gone but also for his family hits him. He has yet to learn how to focus on himself and work through grief, but his power will enable him to once more visit those places connected with the people he lost and get closure that way.

Trevor was taught all those unhealthy stereotypes about men not showing emotion and his work with his bros did not help. As it’s been mentioned with him always thinking there was more time ahead of him, I don’t suppose he ever ventured to ponder about death much until death ventured to take him… He definitely is more vulnerable around his new ghost-bros but that doesn’t mean he’s learnt to cope with grief. Once he had got used to his new ghostly state he assumed grief doesn’t apply to him anymore, especially with all the other ghosts being so vocal about being unable to leave for centuries. This changes after Flower is presumed gone, and he starts fearing the rest of his friends might leave too, as he is the newest one a.k.a. most likely to stay longer. Hopefully this leads him to make closer bonds with them, rather than avoid getting hurt altogether. All in all he is not the first to get emotional when grieving, but it helps him when others express their pain while he listens, seconding their words, but feeling too out of his depth to add much.

What's your headcanons for how the main 8 respond to grief?