#this has been sitting in my writing journal for about a year

[nevershootamockingbird]

[ Image One: An excerpt of text that reads "The useless jobs will add up to something. The shitty waitressing job. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people's diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming."

Image Two: A poem that reads "WILD GEESE

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the cleaer pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountain and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -- over and over announcing your place in the family of things."

Image Three: An excerpt of text that reads "I've a lot of feeling for you. You're kind. We'll kiss, grow old, walk around. Light months will fly over us Like snowy stars."

Image Four: An excerpt of text that reads "Not everything is an ending. Not anything's worth believing. And you can begin anytime like this whole world began out of nothing. You can walk out tonight and feel totally new. All you need is the right pair of boots."

Image Five: An excerpt of text that reads "And if you missed a day, there was always the next, and if you missed a year, it didn't matter, the hills weren't going anywhere, the thyme and rosemary kept coming back, the sun kept rising, the bushes kept bearing fruit--"

Image Six: A page of text that reads "Got up on a cool morning. Leaned out a window. No cloud, no wind. Air that flowers held for awhile. Some dove somewhere.

Been on probation most of my life. And the rest of my life been condemned. So these moments count for a lot--peace, you know.

Let the bucket of memory down into the well, bring it up. Cool, cool minutes. No one stirring, no plans. Just being there.

This is what the whole thing is about."

Image Seven: An excerpt of text that reads "There must be thousands of people in this city who are dying to welcome you into their small bolted rooms, to sit you down and tell you what has happened to their lives. And the night smells like snow. Walking home, for a moment you almost believe you could start again. And an intense love rushes to your heart, and hope. It's unendurable, unendurable."

Image Eight: An excerpt of text that reads "It is never too late to learn to love. But it is frightening." / End ID ]

you’ve still got time

tiny beautiful things, cheryl strayed | wild geese, mary oliver | anna akhmatova | tuesday, alex dimitrov | sunrise, louise glück | just thinking, william stafford | night walk, franz wright | why be happy when you could be normal?, jeanette winterson

[writteninsunflowers]

Another Crappy Day 🌶️

A deep growl rumbles in Katsuki’s chest as he picks up his keys for the third time, huffing when he finally slides the key into its slot. He kicks his shoes off angrily, throwing his keys in the nearby bowl, and drops his gym bag haphazardly on the floor. He’ll clean up everything at a later time, currently, he is focused on finding his girlfriend.

To say the least, Katsuki had a shitty day. Anything shitty that could have possibly happened had definitely happened. He damaged yet another set of gauntlets on patrol with Shouto while trying and failing to apprehend a villain. How the fucker was able to blow up his gauntlets had him stumped and he is the one with the Explosion quirk. Late that afternoon while assisting some of the other heroes in a nearby city, he was stuck with a baby whose parents had been trapped under some rubble of a damaged building. Contrary to how the media paints Katsuki as a hero with an explosive temper, he did like children and wouldn’t mind having a few brats of his own someday. This child in particular was one of the cutest chonky-legged babies that he’d ever seen and immediately volunteered himself to babysit while his parents were being examined by the medical team. The child gave him no trouble, giggling and drooling with the cutest gum-filled smiles. The trouble appeared once it was time to change his diaper. Truthfully, Katsuki had no experience in diaper changing, but Katsuki Bakugo never backed down from a challenge.

It couldn’t be that hard, right?

Well…nobody had informed him the proper way to change a diaper was to not remove the used diaper until you were sure that the child was finished releasing their bowels or bladder. Katsuki had only turned away for a second to grab a fresh diaper from the Medivan, only to turn and have his chest covered in warm baby urine. Thank All Might for his quick reflexes or it would have been his face too. Then to make matters worse, he wasn’t allowed to leave the scene to shower until he assisted with cleanup. For the next four hours, with growls and mumbled curses, Katsuki had to walk around smelling like a hot, wet diaper. When he was finally free to go shower and burn his uniform, he scrubbed himself until he felt clean, his skin red and raw, got dressed and headed to his desk to complete his paperwork. Once he had somewhat calmed down, just happy to be going home, he sees an instant replay of him getting peed on being broadcasted on every damn screen he passed.

You don’t hear Katsuki enter the apartment, too focused on cooking dinner and completing your weekly hero reports. You turn the rice cooker off just as Katsuki trudges toward you, lifting you from the floor and kisses you hungrily. You instantly melt into the kiss, your hands fisting his shirt. He pulls away, letting you down to give you a moment to breathe while he tugs your shirts from your bodies, tossing them to the floor.

“K-Katsu, w- “

“Don’t wanna talk…,” he mumbles into your neck between bites.

“Bu…”

“All I need you to do is shut up, take this dick and we’ll deal w’the consequences later.”

You nod your head wordlessly, biting your bottom lip, pupils blown. Big hands tug your shorts down, grateful that you weren’t wearing panties. Fingers dig into thick hips as he wraps your legs around his waist and walks you to the nearest wall, instantly pressing inside, twin moans kissed into each other’s mouths.  Katsuki didn’t move immediately, choosing to first suck hickies into your exposed neck and breasts. He feels the cool band of the ring he’d gifted you against his neck, sending a shiver to travel down his spine. Katsuki circles his hips slowly, then snaps them forward with a groan as you twitch and squeeze around him. “Shiiit…,” he groans as his pace increases, hissing as nails drag down his back which he retaliates with a nip to your earlobe, chuckling low and breathless at the squeal you release.

What a way to end such a crappy day.

Katsuki smirks, knowing that you’d assuredly receive another noise complaint from your neighbors, not that he gave a fuck at the moment. Usually, you are the responsible one in the relationship, having to remind Katsuki of the noise ordinance when he was on the phone with his mother during their monthly yelling matches or on game nights with friends. Today though, you’re the loudest, filling your shared apartment with squeals and moans and he couldn’t wait to tease you about it.

“Fuck K-Katsu!”

“Mhm, fuck yea, take this dick,” he pants breathlessly, his hands moving under your knees to spread your thighs wider. Katsuki leans to bite your bottom lip, chuckling as your eyes roll back when he strokes deeper. “Hold on tight,” he warns, allowing you a moment to wrap your arms tight around his neck. He pulls out, hands gripping your thighs, then drops you down, slamming his dick directly into your g-spot. Dazed carmine eyes darken at the stuttered moan of his name, responding with labored curses and growls of his own, steadily fucking into your dripping pussy.  He watches your mouth form into a small “o” as he penetrates deeper and deeper with each bounce. Your eyebrows furrow with a bite of your lip to silence yourself, finally realizing how loud you are. “Uh Uh…let it out.”  He smiles at the jittery whine that escapes when he presses you into the wall. Katsuki loved moments like this when he could come home and ease his mind after a long day. Some days you’d order take-out and watch a movie or pick a simple dish to cook together, which always led to both of you slow-dancing and singing to each other. There were also days like today when barely any words were needed, only grunts, moans, and mumbling.

You lean forward to nibble on Katsuki’s lip, moaning as your tongues tangle together. “Hngh fu-fuck, y’feel so good.” Hot hands clutch your thighs, guiding them to keep the rhythm. Your fingers grip the sweat-moistened hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging him into a breathy kiss. A whine of ecstasy escapes as your walls throb, clutching tight around the thick girth that feels like it’s now in your chest.  “B-baby, ah f-fu…th-there…gonna cum.” The man curses with a hiss as you’ve somehow gotten tighter and wetter around him. He drops one of your legs, the other still hooked over his arm.

“I feel it baby…give it t’me. Cum for me.” He groans low and breathless as his eyes travel down your glistening frame, his free hand now rubbing your swollen clit. “Come on babe, cum on this dick,” he commands with a smack to your clit. “I can tell you’re gettin' close…drippin’ all over me. C’mon, wanna feel it.” Katsuki’s legs shake from overexertion and strain, hips still rotating. His legs could give out and he would keep stroking. He refused to stop until you came at least once for him. He feels you tug him into a sloppy kiss, all spit and tongue. Your spongy walls tremor around his length, followed by a gush of warm sticky liquid cascading down his dick and balls. He pulls away from the kiss, watching as your mouth drops open in a silent scream. He loves to watch you cum, your face contorted in bliss, kiss swollen lips releasing jumbled words as you wheeze, your orgasm shaking your entire being. Katsuki’s eyes roll back as you cum, an elongated curse forced from him as he presses himself deeper. His forehead is pressed into your shoulder as he shoots a load of hot cum into you. He trembles at your moans of “fill me up”, his dick continually shooting thick strings of cum deep in your walls.

You both slide to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs, the man still seated deep inside of you. You slide your fingers through his hair soothingly, silently catching your breath. Eventually, you’re standing on shaky legs, walking shakily to the bathroom to shower and redress. You return to the kitchen together to reheat dinner and eat in comfortable silence. “Katsu how was your day,” you inquire, breaking the silence. Katsuki chuffs and places a kiss to your forehead. “Shitty until I saw you, he responds with a small smile. “Just like any other day.”

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[turtlespancake]

me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU

[aeolianblues]

I know a friend who studied broadcast journalism at school. He does a music show like I do, volunteering. Isn't it lovely when media companies can decide that all of a sudden your careers were merely hobbies all along?

[hoshigray]

I love your work so much and it makes me feel a certain way <33 BUTT im here to request something that I've been looking for 🤞🏽

Toji x Fan-Fiction-Writer ! Reader? I'll get on my knees if required 🫶🏽

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐜(𝐤)𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!! | tōji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You know, some things are just not meant to be shared, such as fanfiction writing. And how the hell did your boyfriend, of all people, come to be the one to question you about your hobbies? You tell me, you dirty little writer…

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem fanfic writer! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - the reader is mid/late 20s; Toji's in his mid-30s - humor - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking, sucking and swiping) - deep impact position - degradation (slut, whore) - use of "Daddy" title - praise + humiliation - spitting - cervix fucking - little bit of rough sex - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy; don't be silly) - pet names (baby, cupcake, good girl, mama, princess, sweetheart, sweetie) - aftercare; taking a bath together - usage of a phone; erotic literature/writing - Toji teasing you to no end, the bastard, lol - reader wears glasses cuz why not, hehe - mention of drool/spit.

��𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k (bless up)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: bro. this idea cooked so bad, i just HAD to make a fic for it, lmao!! apologies for doing this months late, hope I did the prompt justice, and ty for loving my works~☆

“Nooo, stop, Toji, give it back!”

“Hold on, baby, hold on…Phew, who knew ya liked wrtin’ dirty shit like this? The fuck is ‘pet play—’”

“Oh my God, stop it!” 

This had to be, undoubtedly, the worst day of your life.

If there’s one thing every human being on Earth has in common, it’s their love for the weekends. They’re amazing — have two whole days to retreat and relinquish the turmoil and stress after five days straight. They’re the days when you can choose whichever activity you want to enjoy your leisure. 

Some people catch up on sleep, others watch a show or try to cook up a new dish, and some go outside and hang out with friends. But then there are those weekdays where it’s satisfying enough to spend your day inside the comfort of your home, delighting in a hobby. 

The hobby you chose to indulge in this weekend was writing. And right at this moment, you regret it being the activity you selected.

Why? For one, it wasn’t just any type of writing, like journalling or poetry. No, no; if it were, things would be easier for you to deal with now. Nope, it was fan fiction writing. The type of writing you’ve known since middle school and decided to jump in and try for about a year. What started as a curiosity turned out to be a hobby that took up your infatuation to the maximum level: writing pieces every night, taking up requests from your following over six thousand followers, and serving as an outlet to project your fantasies onto the Internet. 

What type of fantasies, you might ask? The type you read in a room by yourself or in the corner away from prying eyes, under a blanket with your phone exhibiting the dark secrets that corrupt your mind, or the type that only could be accepted on the Internet and not from the judgmental looks of those in the real world.

But, most certainly, not the type of fantasies you wanted your boyfriend to see!

“Toji, please, give my computer back!”

“Nah, hold on; I wanna see this…Oh, what a title; ‘Fuck Me, Rail Me, Use Me, Daddy—‘“

“TOJI, STOP!”

Perhaps writing fan fiction with your boyfriend occupying your apartment wasn’t the best idea. But you wanted to get a draft don’t by the end of this weekend, and you were almost done with it. You were typing up a storm in your bedroom, sitting at your desk while your man, Toji Fushiguro, was doing at-home exercises in your living room. 

And you could’ve sworn you had locked your computer before going to the bathroom. All you know is that after flushing and washing your hands, you opened your bedroom door to a horrifying sight: Toji, sweaty from his routine in his sweats and wife beater, holding up your laptop that showed the exact draft that you were working on! No, no, NO! You almost tripped dashing to take the device, but the older man was too quick and effortlessly dodged your attempts while still reading the material. And now you know why you are hopping around your room trying to catch the man and stop him from reading more of your stuff. 

Spoiler alert: your efforts were beyond futile, huffing and puffing in complete defeat on your bed. Your boyfriend was sitting beside you, still reading aloud while scrolling through your drafts, to your dismay. Your ears and cheeks harbored an unbearable heat that you could cry at any second, and you covered your face in case it were to happen. God, please kill me now! 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, how many of these shits have you written?” Toji inquires, his forest green eyes scanning every draft as if the list were endless. “How long have you been doin’ this?”

“For…a while.” You can barely muster the confidence to utter an adequate response. How could I have forgotten to lock my damn computer?!

“How long’s a while?”

“Uhhh, a…a year?”

The silence was pinching your skin enough, but you don’t know if you preferred it over the next thing he said. “Wow, who would’ve thought my sweet angel was a dirty lil’ thing writing filth like this?” Oh, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. You can practically sense the smirk on his stupid, handsome face, pulling the scar off his lip! And it hurts your being that he laughs at you grabbing a pillow to scream into oblivion. “What a horny minx.”

You removed the pillow to tell him off. “It’s not all my fault! Most of those aren’t even my ideas; some of my followers asked me to write—“

“Followers?” God, would it have killed you to shut up? “So you got people readin’ your stuff?”

Downcast eyes to avoid his surveying ones, “W–Well, yes…People like how I write, so I…..Write whatever they ask me.”

“Oh, wow,” raven eyebrows lift while looking at the screen, flipping through the notes of your drafts to your blog with your completed works. “So over a hundred freaks like how freaky you write.”

“Hey, d–don’t say it like that!”

“Oh really?” You didn’t like how he said that, nor when he pulled up one of your drafts to read. “… ’You spread your legs on instinct as she sucks on your chest, and the woman takes the initiative by sliding a hand down to your—‘“

“Stop, stop, STOP!” You sit upright and try again to take the computer away from him, but Toji swiftly moves to the bedroom floor. Fuck! It was hopeless, so you groan in exasperation. “Quit it, Toji; you had your fun, so give it back!”

He didn’t think so; finding something new about you made him curious to no bounds. And for it to be a bit of a suggestive side of you? Oh, how ashamed you were of him finding this out tickled him. “Damn, there’s so much on here…Have you ever written ‘bout shit we’ve done?”

You couldn’t believe he asked you that question — you couldn’t believe you were in this situation at all! Are you serious ”—ly asking me that?!?”

“I’m not hearin’ a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’” Now, this is just diving into a more profound level of embarrassment than you could handle. “Did’ya?”

“……………yes.”

“Wait, fr’ real?! Which ones?”

“I’m not telling you! Just give me my laptop—“

“Hell nah,” his elbow is strong enough to keep you at bay—how pathetic on your part being treated like a kid. “I’m curious to see what my lil’ sweetheart is tellin’ strangers ‘bout how we do our business—“

“I’m not telling them anything!!” You retort. “I-I just use our experience as a means of…references when I’m writing,” thumbs find themselves fidgeting together. “It…It helps when I don’t know how to describe a feeling, or….what it’s like during certain…..positions.” Was the room getting stuffy, or were you shrinking under the growing pressure of every word coming out of your mouth? Who knows. 

“Is there stuff y’ve written before that you’d like fr’ us to try?” Oh, for fuck’s sake, this was too much, bringing your –his– hoodie up to shield you from this predicament. And it only worsens when he stares your way, having you close up the hoodie by the drawstrings and collapse to his shoulder. Toji chuckles at your routing self, wrapping an arm around you. “Can’t even be honest fr’ a second.”

“Toji, pleaseeee,” whining doesn’t help, the older man moving the laptop out of your lazy attempt to retrieve it. “Give it baaack…!”

“Nnm, nnm, don’t wanna,” he places the device away to the ground and takes your hand with his. “Now I gotta read what weird shit you’ve been keepin’ ‘way from me.”

You shake your head frantically. “Please don’t! Don’t you think you’ve tormented me enough today?”

“Now, why would I ever get tired of fucking with ya?” The smirk on his face is still present after you open the hoodie to sneak a glare. “Shoulda thought ‘bout that and locked y’r laptop screen.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole…” his laugh at your words only proves your point, and you bury your face in his chest. This entire thing was so outrageous. How in the world were you this dumb enough not to double-check to make sure your computer was locked from prying eyes? What an amateurish move! Not even your closest friends know that you write fanfiction, so to have your boyfriend be the one to not only find out but bombard you with questions about your secret hobby is nothing short of humiliating. It can’t get any worse than this…

…Or so you thought.

“Hey,” you perk up to look at Toji. “You said ya got followers askin’ ya what they want you to write, right?” You nod meekly, twirling your thumbs with the bottom of your shirt. “Show me some.”

Appalled, you gawk, “Wh–why would I—”

“I know you have favorites from the hundreds I’ve been looking at for the past five minutes. So, are ya gonna show ‘em to me, or am I gonna have to read every single one to find out?”He didn’t show interest in returning the laptop to you even after asking the question. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, baby; I bet ya can look it up on y’r phone or somethin’.”

Your pout deepens in defeat as you begrudgingly stuff a hand inside the pocket of your leggings to pull out your phone to click on an app. Your thumb clicks and scrolls for a few seconds before you peer to him and say, “…I do have some favorites.” 

Jesus, it hurt to admit that to someone, especially with your him of all people, who is without a doubt getting an absolute kick out of this, the fucking bastard! This was beyond embarrassing; nothing could ever top this moment. Indeed, there is nothing else he could have done that could have made this predicament any worse than it already is. At least that’s what you tell yourself to cope because Toji’s grin on his face says otherwise. And what he says afterward makes your blood shift to ice.

“Why don’t ya read ‘em to me.”

Yup, you were killing yourself tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Go on; read that short one fr’ me.”

“Ahh—…Hahhh, ‘Sitting here and thinking…about your faves…Mmmm.”

For some reason, this felt so. Fucking. Wrong!

You already knew it was a bad idea for you to read your works to your boyfriend at his request. However, to be fulfilling said wish in this manner? The mortification had your ears ringing a thousandfold. 

How would you have foreseen this yourself, face stuffed to the pillow with your phone held up by your right hand with your legs spread up and your bottom propped up? Who the hell reads like this?! And on top of that, your boyfriend is alongside you, his body behind you. The inability to see what he’s doing arises uneasiness in the soul, quivers sneaking up as you feel the rough pads of his fingertips greet the skin of your ass after sneaking inside the oversized hoodie. 

Breath hitches at the slide of your panties, coming down for his hands to grope the flesh wholly. “To..ji…” his name leaves in shakes. 

“C’mon, baby,” you swallow thickly at the cupping of your chasm. Toji chuckles at the twitch felt on his palm, “Read it properly, yeah? Word for word.”

Oh, fuck, your brows trench together. “T…’Thinking about your faves pleasing you from behind. He knows he has to tease you a bit—Tmmm,” his lightly hits your butt. “‘B-By massaging your ass with his strong hands,” he does so, kneading your ass skillfully that has you involuntarily purring to his touch. “…’Keeping you still and relaxed so he can later feel you with his fingers and—“ his forefinger and middle slowly come from your clit to the entrance, biting your lips. “Nhhmm, hahhh.”

“Go on,” Toji scolds, the middle digit sliding up and down with a faint push. Your back quakes to the touch, fingers gripping the pillow. “What else is y’r fav doing?”

You inhale. “Mmmm…’and circle one of them around to warm you up—‘“ spit gulped down again when Toji’s digit did the exact thing as told. “‘And then, when he knows you’re ready for him, he sneaks them insi—‘ Aaaiiii!” His middle finger is shoved into your vagina, and your toes instantly curl before he pushes the rest ever so slowly.  “Oh! Ohhh, fuck…’He…then comes to your shoulder and says to your ear to make you tingle…”

“…’Stay still, sweetie,’” woah. You were not expecting that; you were too focused on trying to read your words, and Toji bending to your ear to read his part wasn’t noticed at all. You only hope he didn’t catch the clasp of your vaginal walls around his finger (he most definitely did), hoping the soft chortle meant nothing. “‘Gonna let me make y’ feel good, yeah?’” Jesus Christ, his gruff voice relayed this so intimately to your eardrums that your heart was beating too hard.

Toji’s finger goes faster, nearly having you almost drop your phone. Your face smooshes to the pillow from the scrape of his fingertip, biting on the pillowcase as he puts in the other finger. He whispers to your ear to keep going; unbelievable…So you lift your head and try. “J-J…’Just thinking about how easy he could make you cum���Mmmph! Wi-With his fingersss…scratching and rubbing your insides so precisely until you’re practically begging to mess his hand up’…”

“Oh, fr’ real?” The perk of his tone makes you anxious. “Well, don’ mind if I do.”

The pace of his ring and middle finger increase, and you gasp sharply. The onslaught of rubs to your inner channel is enough to have your lower half writhe despite Toji keeping your legs grounded with his single one. Oh, fucking Christ, your glasses up to your smooshed cheeks the more you try to conceal your cries, proven to be trivial as the seconds go by. 

“Aww, whaddaya think y’re doin’?” He coos with a kiss to your nape; you nearly shut down. His free hand takes your phone, “Tryin’ to hide that cute voice of y’rs from me? Fuck that,” he then removes his digits from your chasm as you yelp and makes you flip to your back. Oh, fuck no! Your hands go to cover your face—nope, Toji is quick to move them away. “Lemme see you, mama…Now, let’s see what else you should read fr’ me.” He swipes your phone screen, “This too wordy, this long as fuck—goddamn, baby; you writin’ whole ass novels or somethin’?”

“Shut up,” you reply as your legs move, and Toji’s left hand removes your undies. 

“Ah, this one!” He hands you back your cellular device. Your eyes catch the first sentence, and your face morphs into dread before staring back at him to meet his grin. “Go ‘head,” he says cooly, spreading your legs by the knees.

“…’Picture this: your favorite coming to your room and seeing you on your bed and striding to you to taste you,” you inhale deeply at the blow of air on your wet southern folds. “‘He crawls up to you while you’re busy scrolling on the phone, busying himself with placing kisses to your stomach and down to your undies. He’ll then take them off and spread your legs for him, greeting your privates with his ton’—Ghhh…!” Toji licks your slit leisurely; you gulp at the muscle perching between the lips of your labia. “Hahhh, shit…’The smell and taste of you are so inviting he can barely keep it together, virtually inching to stuff his face with your pussy. He kisses it, lips petting your clit,’” he does so, and you chew your bottom lip. “‘Then his tongue goes excruciatingly slow to e-explore your folds,” your exhale is shaky as Toji’s tongue laps and swirls; fuck, I can’t do this…

The older man, on the other hand, flips a switch and goes to town. You knew this was a bad idea; if there’s one thing Toji loved doing more than fucking your cunt, it’s eating it out. He pushes your legs up by the knees for easier access, the angle perfect for him to propel his mouth onto your entrance. You shriek, his nose frequently grinding the hood of your cunt as his scarred lips and tongue suck and lick you feverishly.

“—Tahhh! Ohhhshit, no…!” You cry, throwing your head back to the pillow. “Ahhnn, Tojiii, stop…not too fast—Oooh!”

He spits, mixing his saliva with your slick as he laves. “Mmmph, shit, taste ’o good,” Toji pushes his face further as he sucks on your clit, and you nearly choke on your sob. “Yeah, yeah, let ‘em out; scream like a real whore.” You jerk, but his hands firmly keep you down. “Keep goin’, cupcake, finish y’r reading.”

“Khhh, God, I can’t,” you gulp when emerald eyes peer toward you. “…’Before long, he’s too overwhelmed by you that he can’t take it anymore, stuffing his face between your legs and having you cry out his name in prayers—your phone is no longer a priority.’” Jesus, you can hear his grunts along with the lascivious sounds coming from below; he’s so fucking turned on. “‘Now he has your attention, playing with your…pussy like a toy just to hear you squeak.”  

“Fuck yeah,” he groans as he sticks his fore and middle digits into you. Fingers go to and fro frantically, and your free hand grabs his raven hair. “Christ, y’ sound so fuckin’ hot. More, gimme more,” a long and harsh kiss to your clit makes you want to arch so bad. “Good girl, good fuckin’ girl…”

You hiss at the graze of your vagina; keeping your eyes open is hard to do. Lips go agape, and your noises fly out with no restraint. Your legs tremble, impending in a wish to close from the curl of Toji’s fingers. Your senses become too keen, your nerves heightening with every massage of your walls, lick and slurp of your slick and clit. 

“Ohooo, nhhmm, fuck, Tojiiii,” another suck to your clit has you grip the sheets. “Stooop, please; I’m gonna cumm…!” 

However, your boyfriend has another idea in his head. “Oh no, you don’t, princess,” his fingers leave you hurriedly with a squeal. He yanks for your phone once more to find yet another piece of yours for you to read, giving you so little time to recuperate. Until he scoffs with a smirk, “Ohh, read this one aloud next.” 

You take the device returned to you cautiously, scanning the first few words that catch your eye. Curiosity snaps to apprehension, “W-wait, no, please!” Begging won’t work, but it doesn’t hurt to try. “Please, Toji, look for some—“

“Aht, aht,” the click of the tongue shuts you. “C’mon, sweetheart, that ain’t what y’re callin’ y’r fav right now.” He squeezes your thigh, “What’s my name?”

“Toji, pleas—“

“Mm, mm,” he pinches you, a warning. “Try again.”

Excitement Nervousness flicker through your soul, breathing tardily as you muster to answer. “Sorry…Daddy.” The title burnt your tongue when it left your mouth, and the smile lifted Toji’s scar even more. 

“Good,” he praises. “Now read.”

“…One of my followers asked about writing a post about deep impact, so it’s—“

“Deep impact?” He questions while spreading your legs. “The hell’s that?” 

“I-It’s a, uhh,” you push up your glasses. “A position where you…kinda, like, sit on one of my legs and lift the other to your shoulder.”

Black eyebrows rise. “Ohhh, somethin’ like this, huh?” Sturdy hands find your ankle and lift your leg to his shoulder, and Toji then moves to have your other leg in between his. Your lips flatten when the groin of his pants—aka, the pitched tent–touches your hole. He whistles, “Oh, now I got a new favorite to add fr’ later.” His words aren’t meant to jest, so you frown as he snickers. “Alright, what did you write for this?”

You lick your lips; why? Toji uses his free hand to bring his sweats down, not surprised by the lack of underwear as his erection springs out. His cock is standing and ready for you, the precum oozing out alluring your eyes and your lip bitten by excited teeth. Of course, your vagina is clenching to a void—anticipation is a hell of a drug affecting your entire figure. 

“Don’t get too distracted, mama,” he caught you eyeing him, lifting the hem of his wife’s beater to bite down on. Your ears and cheeks scorched at the sight of his abs and torso. “Read those words.”

Your gaze flickers to your phone while Toji lines his dick to your entrance, a gulp at the kiss of his glans and your inner labia. “…’Daddy has you propped in a deep impact, a position catered to mutual pleasure and closeness. He taps you with the tip to have you excited, then slowly pushes himself into your—Mmfff!…y-your warmth,” reminding yourself to maintain a steady breath; Toji pushes his cockhead into your slick as you’re distracted. A few seconds fly by, and he slips right in; a gasp exiting your puffy lips indicates so. “‘H–He gently shoves every inch and stretches you out,’” his girth is lethal, your eyes rolling up the further his tip goes, scrapping your texture and your opening suiting for his length. “‘A-And, it feels so good to have him making you full and good’—Hoohh?!?”

That’s it, that’s what you were anxious about—you felt the jab of his tip on your cervix. You freeze instantly, too shocked to breathe as the hit was spontaneous. Your body locks down for a quick second to process what happened.

Toji notices your tightened grip and hisses, “Fffuuckin, shit…! So tight,” his hips go sluggish, and you feel his veins and shaft brush nicely with your insides. You sneak a glance at his flashed abdomen; the flex of his abs as he pushes his pelvis in waves is a sight to see–enough to put you in a trance. 

You continue. “‘His hip work is pleasuring, having you wail and cry out f-for more…the sensation of Daddy’s dick venturing inside and hitting your sweet spots is enough to make your toes curl—Nhhaaa…”

He can sense you gripping on him more; fuck, it feels so good. His thrusts go a little faster, forming a minimal medium. You exhale through your nostrils at the change of pace, and grazes against your walls become periodic and long-lasting the deeper he goes.

 “Daaah, ahhh, f-fuuck,” you whimper aloud. “Tojiii, y’ feel so g—Nnnmm!?!“ You nearly swallow your tongue from the sudden pound of him, the rub of your G-spot too abrupt to predict. 

“Who?” God, you know he’s getting a good kick out of this, the fucker. He pushes his cock to the hilt, and it takes everything in your power not to babble from the overwhelming intensity. 

“Daddy, daddyyy, don’t…!” Correcting yourself as his fingers dance around your unattended clit. “I’m sorry, you just feel so good..”

That’s more like it. “Good girl,” he bends closer, his knees spreading further apart. He pushes the leg on his shoulder so that the angle is plausible for him to rut harder. You shriek and squirm to his enjoyment, “Keep readin’.”

“‘Y-…You’re cries become more shameful the harder and faster he goes,” Toji stimulates for a harsher pound; another hit to your cervix has you winded. Despite your gasping for air, he doesn’t relent, and you jerk to undulate to another poke. “Sh-shiiit, Jesusss…! ‘He pistons so hard, so deep, it’s difficult even to think straight when all you can think is—‘“ a choked sob from a slow pull before a devious snap of the hips. “A-All you c–an think…Ahahh!” Another nudge to your G-spot; this is so hellish!

The culprit scoffs softly. “Think ‘bout what, baby?” He swipes and pinches your clit to have you jolt and whine. “Tell Daddy the rest.” 

Fuck, I can’t take it anymore! The phone slips your hand, barely missing your head. “Daddyyy, I can’t!”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Another pinch to the bud pairs with a poke to your delicate womb. Oh, he’s such a dick! “Don’t wanna read fr’ me?” He chuckles aloud at you shaking your head ‘no’. “Why’s that?”

“C-Cuz, if you keep going, I’ll,” a head thrown back at another nip on your clitoris. “Ahh, I-I’ll…!” Shit, you can feel it, the climb rocking your bones to entail your soon climax. 

“What? Ya wanna cum on Daddy’s dick instead of readin’ like a sweetheart,” don’t believe the words; his faux disappointment doesn’t match the merciless thrusts and the devilish grin. “Wanna act like a whole slut and cum on me?”

“Yesss, yes, pleasee!!” You don’t care anymore; you want to let it out. “Please, Daddyyy, I wanna cummm!!”

“Heh, what a nasty girl you are—Nnnmm! Fuck, just milkin’ me dry, beggin’ fr’ it, huh?” The same fingers he used to play with your clit come to your lips to shove inside, forcing you to taste yourself. “Go ‘head, mama; let y’rself go, be the slut you really are…Hahhh, shit, c’mere,” he grabs for both your wrists with his free hand after taking off your glasses and propels you towards him at the same time as he pounds. Holy fuck, this position was getting rougher, pulling you in and hitting your cervix with accurate hits that you’re whining and twitching. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck! It’s too much, it’s all too much to bear, so it’s no wonder you climax in seconds.

You cry with the breach of your crescendo, your inner muscles contracting around the cock, hitting your womb. Your nerves are now peaked as the air is sensitive to your skin, and you feel so out of breath, everything happening all at once that you can’t keep up as you thank Toji in babbled prayers, still sucking on his fingers as your vagina flutters and coats him of your essence.

“Good job, cupcake,” he comes closer and removes his digits. “Can’t beat the real thing, right?” He cups and massages your cheeks before spitting into your mouth. 

You don’t even flinch, too fucked out to even care, just moaning to his lips as he brings you in for a passionate kiss as his hips keep going until he’s done and satisfied…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Ughhh, I can’t believe I just did that…”

“Pfft quit whinin’. Don’t act like ya didn’t enjoy it.”

“I hate you so fucking much, you know that?”

“Whatever y’ say, Ms. Novelist.” You grumble at the name before he brings the washcloth to wipe down your neck.  

You and Toji were now in the bathroom, your nude bodies squished together, with the warm water cleansing you both. Hair and skin damp, your back meshed to his front as you sit between his legs. The soft yellow lighting basks the bathroom with a warm glow as you two bathe in relaxation, a needed state after the excitement prior. 

You snatch the washcloth before Toji wipes your face clean off. “Why did you have to be so nosy, looking at my laptop for what?” You wipe his arm that rests on the rim of the tub. 

He rolls his eyes, knowing he’s in for a lecture. “Well, if ya didn’t want me to see, shoulda locked the shit.”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re nosy as hell! Could’ve just looked somewhere else or left the room!”

“Hmph, well, when you see the words ‘Down and Dirty’ all bolded and big and see another tab with a pic of a rimjob, who wouldn’t stop—“

“Okay, okay!” It would be best if you threw the cloth at him for chortling; such an indecorous personality for someone supposedly older than you. “You’re insufferable.”

“Right back at you,” he whispers to your ear and kisses your cheek. You sigh softly from his lips, resting your head on his shoulder while he pecks your chin. The hand in the water finds your thigh to grope and massage, and you moan at the touch and unwind.

Tranquility fills the cozy space between you two as the silence settles in, the humid air comforting to your nose and eyes, and the drip of the faucet plucking into the tub water is a soothing sound to cajole you into a dormant plane. 

However, even when relaxing, it doesn’t stop the bothersome feeling of asking Toji something. And where better than with you in his secure embrace? “Toji,” his name has him open an eye to look your way. “You don’t think I’m…weird, don’t you?”

He raises a brow. “Explain.”

“Like, don’t you find it weird that me, your partner, indulges in hobbies that are…you know, like that,” now your eyes trail away from his gaze. “Writing about fictional fantasies and such, looking up erotic material and stuff…”

A few seconds fly as he scoffs. “Baby, I’ve been lookin’ at porn way before I met you—“

“Th–That’s not what I meant??”

“Besides, it’s nothing more than just writin’ shit that doesn’t exist. Hmm, if anything, now I know y’re just as big of a pervert as I am.”

Anxiousness transitions to peeve. “You are so—“

“Do you like what you do?” 

The question takes you aback; the immediate serious tone switch wasn’t expected. “…I..yeah.”

“Are ya hurtin’ anyone?”

“No…at least I don’t want to.”

“Are ya hurtin’ y’reself?” You see what he’s doing, the glint shining from his viridian orb.

“No. I…like this hobby.”

Finally, a small smile contorts that scar of his. “Then I don’t mind it. It’s what ya like to do, so do whatever, sweetie.” He comes to kiss your nose and rest his forehead with yours. “I like ya bein’ a lil’ weird anyway.”

“Jackass…” And there you go, falling in love with him again. You cup his cheek, kiss the other, and repose onto his shoulder with a blissful sigh. 

“Now,” you blink back to him. “Can’t lie, think you gotta start callin’ me ‘Daddy’ from now on,” like a scratched record, your heart stops, especially with his mischievous smirk. “Where can I read the rest of y’r stuff at?”

“That’s it,” you ignore his annoying bark of laughter as you try to squirm out of his hold. “Let me out of here, get me out of this fucking tub.”

“Haha, hey, quit it; y’re spillin’ the water!”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi morgera + dividers by @/cafekitsune + @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[sh1-n0bu]

i have noticed a small pattern of elves being on my latest fictional character obsessions and HEAR ME OUT!!

elf who has lived for hundreds upon thousands of years, who had experienced many of the things the world has to offer. sadness of bidding hundreds of farewells to the beauty of life and alliance of different races

elf who even after all his years of living still yet to find a love for himself. regal and seemingly detached to the concepts of relationships elves may be, even they get lonely. some nights feeling a little bit too long, a little bit too cold as they add another layer of blanket over themselves or reaching over to hug one of his puffy pillows like how he would hug his future lover. the coldness of being immortal seeping into his bones and making him shiver despite elves being above the concept of getting sick or feeling the cold temperatures

elf who runs into you by some chance meeting. maybe you were walking in the territory of elves without knowing it, maybe he purposely goes to human residences and towns, seeking adventure, excitement and change of pace. who immediately is enamored by you just by your smile that you flash his way, a kind one, a gentle one, to a nearby passenger. who falls in love with the callouses of your hand, the freckles, the small scars, the little bits of imperfection that marked you as clearly human, very much mortal, very much brittle but still with your own strength that he hasn’t felt before

elf bf who starts to court you the moment he realizes that you weren’t seeing anyone, bringing small gifts, exchanging knowledge, singing you soft ancient lullabies that no other mortal has ever heard before. maybe he finds himself writing a poem about you one day, describing your looks, your feelings, your everyday actions that you may see as mundane but ones he sees as just as courageous and beautiful in their own ways

elf bf who has never seen human flesh or bare skin before, finding the rippling biceps and toned legs of yours to be… curious. a tentative finger touching the muscles here and there, stopping you mid work as he inquires about them in a soft tone. elves of course were magical beings, blessed with magic and eternity and had no need to develop visible physical muscles till the point they become buff or beefy to some extent all due to their magic and ancient powers. the tips of his pointy ear twitching softly, eyes wide in wonder as you explain that contrary to his kin, your own develop muscles if they are put to work in physically demanding job for enough time

elf bf who over time, finds himself obsessively scribbling down any sort of new information about human anatomy on a journal, always asking you new things as he finds himself able to learn more despite having been alive for hundreds upon thousands of years. tracing the old faded scars on your body with the tip of his finger, counting the freckles, kissing the stretch marks as they were all you. regardless of how you see it, to him it was all you, together and healthy. you were alive even if you may have battle scars and he always makes sure to thank the stars as it was thanks to the tribulations you have conquered that you two were here now. staring eye to eye, touching your foreheads together as you whisper about mundane things

elf bf who one day sees you cut down a tree, cut a log off or prepare firewood and finds that he was imagining the bulge of your muscles against himself. big arms caging him in a bear hug, legs to support him and strong back that he could sink his nails into as he moans under you— hold. since when has his thoughts of you turned… impure? since when has he become turned on? sitting there on one of the logs with a painful strain against his pants as he swallowed the saliva that gathered in his jaw down, tearing his gaze away. no no, he really shouldn’t think of you as such, you were still in courting phase after all and elves were a race that took their romances and courting extremely important

yet regardless of his kin’s customs and traditions, your pretty elf bf couldn’t help but continue to stare. his gaze constantly seeking your figure out, seeing you just go through the motions of every life peacefully while he gets pathetically turned on by your actions as if he was still but a fledgling who learned of a kiss. chopping down trees for firewood, maybe you would work in front of a fire or heat for too long and get sweaty, removing one of the overtunics. maybe you’re just simply dragging a bucket full of water from the well, cranking the pulley as the muscles on your arms and back strained

elf bf who finds himself extremely aroused as his mind wanders to the gutters as he just shamelessly stares at your working form. oh, to feel those calloused hands touch his colder skin, palms smoothening over his creamy skin, and down his chest, his stomach and over his bulge. maybe you would tease the poor thing, tease him of how quick he is to get aroused, the pre of his half-hard cock weeping through his underwear and pants like he was some sore pathetic loser. a little virgin. bully him about being unable to use his cock, make him whine at your mean words as his hips weakly buckle under your exploratory hands

elf bf who couldn’t help but imagine the usual sweetness of your attitude gone, replaced by one that was just a tad bit meaner as you pushes his face down into the pillows of your bed, force his hands to stretch open his puckering hole for you to fuck senselessly. imagining you whispering all sorts of filth into his twitching ears, promising to breed him full, to use him to your heart’s content all night long as he whines and squeals like a little lamb caught in the nest of a hungry wolf. who couldn’t swallow down the quiet whimper coming from his throat as he imagined your hand grasping at his long locks, fisting it tightly as you yank him back, forcing him to arch his back and push the tip of your cock to bruise his guts even more

elf bf who waves off your worry when you had managed to hear the embarrassing noise that slipped past his lips, saying that he was having a bit of a sore throat. gods, he would love to actually whimper from having a sore throat of getting his mouth plowed all day by your fat cock head forcing his jaws wiiideee open

elf bf who couldn’t help but get a little needy in his kisses since then. hands that touched your muscles with curiosity now running over your skin as if trying to feebly seduce you. dropping things to the ground a bit too many times, following you close behind even as you told him that some of the work you needed to do required space and for him to be away for his own safety. who straddles your lap all snug, pushing his chest flush against your own as your simply daily evening kisses after dinner becomes a bit too heated. he definitely had little to no experience with the way his tongue kept licking at your lips meagerly, long fingers curling over your shoulders tightly while his bucking hips on your lap as he starts to get hard again

elf bf who has finally had enough of just his meager imaginations, tugging on the strings of your white tunic with shaky hands as he rambles about touching you, you touching him, feeling him, using him — anything dammit! use those hands of yours on him!

elf bf who soon realizes that he had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew when your hands grip at his hips, dragging his clothed cock against your thigh that had him whining like a cat in heat. meagerly, he tries to replicate what you just made him do, dragging his hips back and forth on your thigh but he all but just looks like an inexperienced bunny. which he probably was judging by the things he spoke to you about himself

elf bf who finds so much pleasure in simply grinding against your thigh for now, the precum of his now hard cock weeping through his pants, staining it into a darker color. all cute and red in the face that spread to his pointy ears, cute high pitched whines falling from his chewed up pink lips. a cute, surprised “a-aahn♡︎??” echoing in the room as you pull his eager body against your own. your chest to his back, hands loosely draped over the hip bone of his

elf bf who lets out the most embarrassing high pitched squeals when your hands travel up his body under his clothes, traveling more and more until teasing at his nipples. rolling your fingertips against the soft areola, squeezing and fondling his pecks as if they were breasts. who jolts in place when you pinch at the hardened buds, tugging at them to test the waters as he arches his back off of your chest, a filthy mewl falling as if he was being fucked stupid already

elf bf who blubbers out uncharacteristic words of “s-shensiitiivgh♡︎ n-no, don’t pinch the-eeengk♡︎♡︎!“ his pleads of your rough hands not torturing his sensitive nipples being replaced with an open mouthed wail when you place a kiss to the pointy tip of his ear. his ears were so sensitive! you knew that and now you were just being downright mean to him as you whisper filth into his ears of acting like a cooped up virgin for merely getting his chest played with. he wasn’t! he was way older than you! slurring out “how c-could you be sooh m-meanngk…♡︎?” as you lick a slow stripe up the pointy helix

elf bf who bucks his hips on your thigh, trying to bounce, trying to move away but ending up whining as his clothed cock grazes against your hardened muscles again. his cute nipples being tortured and groped by your hands, the delicate helix of his ears being assaulted by your wet kisses and licks. any time your hot breath spoke into his ears of how he was such a precious little thing, just like a bunny in heat, he would try to wiggle away. shaking his head with a weak sniffle, his mind churning into a mush as all he could do was to pathetically fuck his cock into your thigh, letting out a soft mewl everytime you buck your leg up to meet his shy excuse of thrusts, jumping in place

elf bf whose minds and body starts to feel weird. the room feeling stifling and your touch making his own skin heat up too much. who tries to tell you that he was feeling ‘odd’ and concerned, yet only to harshly thrust his hips back into your own arousal. eyes widening, a shudder running down his spine at the feeling. still clothed and hidden like his own but good grief, it just felt… so huge since he was sure your human dick couldn’t possibly be much bigger than his own. but no, it got him gulping down the saliva in his mouth

elf bf who bounces himself experimentally onto your own hardened, covered dick, feeling his balls brush against where he guesses is the tip of your strap. his earlier cute whines growing in volume as your torture of his sensitive spots grow worse, groping, squeezing, calling him too eager to get fucked, making him dumb and airheaded. the constant tugs to his chest, the words you spat into his mind so lovingly and the small actions of your hips thrusting up to meet his own weaker excuse of grinding

elf bf who’s voice grow more and more breathier, who finally loses it as he throws himself back against your chest, his head on your shoulder as he let out a wail of “h-hoowt!! t-too ahgg♡︎ haah anhg t-too hoounwt...♥︎!” as he cums into his pants, dirtying the material as a single glob or two of his sweet transparent arousal oozes out through the linen. the dark patch growing into a considerable size, his body racked with twitches and jolts as he cums untouched on your lap. precious little thing getting drunk on the feeling of sex and physical pleasure so much till the point he disregards all of his traditions, bending himself over onto the bed, his hand reaching back to tug you forward by the belt with a desperate whine and a cute blown wide pupils and twitching ears♡︎

⇨ meludir, lindir, legolas, maglor, mairon + whoever you like

[fuzzythoughtsblog]

I had a fantasy that I went to a best friends sleep over and ended up reading her older sister's diary :

Truth or dare

My friend says to me. I look in her eyes and I know I can't choose truth. She'll will come up with the most vile secert to get out of me.

"Dare !" I spit out in fear

"I dare you to sneak in to my sisters room read her diary and report back. " she says with a smirk.

Fuck me I tell her that , she's so childish. And that were on break from college.

"To bad, you pick dare or are you pussy? " she retorts saying the one thing that would convince me to go.

I'm not scared of her sister. She's only a 6'7 grunge base player who is 3 years older. What there to be scared of? It's not like whenever I'm here she rolls her eyes and slams the door. It's not like she refuses to eat dinner with us. Yeah and she wasn't to scary when she yelled at us after sneaking out to a slutty Halloween party. Fuck she hates me and I'm about to sneak into her room.

I decided to just swallow my fear and go for it besides she's not even home she has a gig.

I creep to the basement where her room is. Slowly the fear begins to still as before I enter her room I see the walls covered in electric guitars. Every color and style I could imagine. I stop to admire all the other equipment she has records, picks, amps and even some Cassettes.

I let out a breathe of relief as open the door to her room and she isn't there. Now all I got to find is that damn book.

I first go to her night stand and begin to peer in. I taking a moment to process what I'm looking a, Lacy lingerie. Upon realizing its contents I quickly shut the drawer. Embarrassed I move on desperate to get this night over with. I look at the bottom drawer and am left starring. Toys so many toys in different shapes and sizes. But what left me shocked wasn't just the various toys. I mean were both adults.

It was the was the paddle. Wooden and bigger that my hand I wondered why she would have something like this. With stupid curiousity I lift it up to examine it. The paddle was in perfect condition, like it had never been used. The thing has hearts cut into it and says in big black bold letters "Scream". I begin to put it back but as I do to other items that it was hiding catch my eye. A pair of metal hand cuffs and a strap harness. I can't help but imagine who she's been using these on. At that thought I quickly put the items back in and close drawer.

If she doesn't hate me, she'll definitely hate me now. I went through her stuff and I hadn't even found the book. I sigh before moving over to the other night stand and open the drawer. This time though jackpot the book was sitting in plain sight. As I pick up the black leather book I curse myself for not looking through this one first.

For a second I hesitate, this is total over step of her boundaries. Besides I could just go back and lie that I read it. I decided that a good idea but as I'm about to put the book back I think about how I could figure out why she hates me. I ponder for a moment but I got to know what I did. I open the book.

It turns out the book is less of a diary and more of a shadow journal. I begin to flip until I find a page about me. The prompt reads " What is your toxic or most obsessive desire? "

Slowly I take in what she writes. "If I had a second alone with my sisters best friend I think I'd devour her. " my eyes stretch wide as I keep reading. "The things I want to do to her body are just ... I want to see her begging and crying under me. I want to punish her for being so damn tempting with those little skirts and short shorts."

I bite my lip but flip through more pages until I see something that mentions me. The prompt "What is a bad financial decisions you've made recently? " I can't help but lean closer while reading. " I was checking in on one of the local sex shops I frequent when I saw a cute little paddle. I couldn't help myself not when I imagine her below me pleading. I imagined pulling her hair and telling her to shut up and asking if she was a good girl. She said "yes daddy" and fuck did that just scratch the right itch in my brain. I told her then she needs to take her punishment like a good girl. Before laying down on her ass while she screamed and cried. Of course I gave my pretty girl kisses after I bit her ass. I have to remind her who she belongs to. And now I want to buy her a collar. "

I'm horrified by what I just read but I couldn't put the book down. I continued on. "What is the most fucked up fantasy you've had recently? " "I imagine her coming to my house and asking for my sister like always but this time I walk her to my sisters room even though she's not home. I lock the door behind her and get really close while she backs up. She looks so cute and she's wearing that tight purple dress she wears. I grab her and begin to kiss her while she pushes me away. I bite her lip and she crys into my mouth while I shove my tongue down her throat. She fights me as I throws her on the bed. But I'm stronger and able to hold her down. She begins to cry as I rip off that stupid fucking dress and kiss down her neck to her perfect tits.

I then slide my hand down to her pretty panties and rub her clit through the lace. She makes a noise and trys to squirm away which cause me to hit her. I tell her to be a good girl and this will all be over soon. She fucking whimpers but stops struggling. I continue to play with her cute clit till she soaks her panties. I whisper "see you want this." Before ripping her panties off of her. And sink a finger in. She's so fucking wet. I slide another finger in and then another. Till I'm three fingers deep. She makes the most beautiful noises while I take her apart on my hand. The more I take her the more wet and docile she becomes. I fuck her like this until she's dripping down her leg and begging me to stop. She pleads so cutely I can't help it. I pull down my pants revealing my biggest strap. Pushing it in while she just lies their limp like a perfect toy. I slam in and out of her taking both her virginities on her best friends bed. By the time I cum she's quivering and her cunt is unrecognizable. I take a picture and drag her to my room leaving her juices on my sisters bed. So the most fucked up fantasy I've ever had is raping my sister's best friend on her bed for hours and its reoccurring. I'd never do it of course I want her to enjoy and consent to it I'm not a monster it's just a fun fantasy. "

I begin to rub my legs together at that last one. I put the book back having had my fill when I see her sister standing right there in the door way causing me to scream.

She looks pissed and close the door and locks it behind her.

"How much did you read? "

"Nothing" I shout frozen to where I stand.

"Bullshit" she says stalking closer

"Just the crush thing and it's okay!" I say as she gets even closer.

"Lier"

"Okay I read the thing about the paddle but that's it!" I wince

She grabs my shoulders and looks at me. A chill run down my back. I flinch.

Squeaking out a "Please, don't!"

She sighs and let's go of me before sitting on the bed.

"You read the fantasy? "

I nodded slowly.

"The rape one. "

I nodded again

She sighs "Fuck, this is not how I wanted you find out! Actually I was hoping you'd never find out! "

She puts her hands on her head.

"Sit down, I'm not going to actually do any of that to you. "

I sit beside her. While she remains still before taking a deep breath in.

"So you read it, why? "

I meekly say "A dare"

"Fuck! It was my sister wasn't it? I'll kill her. "

I stay quite she knows the answer.

She sighs "So what do you want to ask me? And then I'm gonna ask you some questions, okay.

I nod.

" How long?" I ask

She breathes "Since your freshman year, of course I wasn't going to act on it. It's just, I thought I thought of you like another little sister and then I started watching out for you. Which turned into watching you and before I knew it I couldn't look away. "

"Is that why your we're mad at us on Halloween that one year ? "

"Are you kidding me? You were basically wearing lingerie. I mean a skimpy pink bunny suit, I know you were a senior but still what if someone tried something? And on top of all that you guys snuck out! You know I had to hide that from mom and dad so you could stick around. "

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you looked... amazing. Look I don't just like you because of your body, I mean don't get me wrong it's a plus but I also love your laugh. How your the first one to try to help. Even when my sister started doing her project last minute you where there to help. I love the way you melt around animals and your stupid dance. I like you okay. Not just what you have to offer." She says while looking up at me and holding my check.

We're so close. I lean in to close the gap but she pulls away.

"Don't do that, don't give me a pitty kiss! "

I lean forward "I'm not, I just want to try this. "

Our lips finally connect and its like electricity I feel it from my head to the tips of my toes. I shiver we break apart to breathe then begin again. It feels amazing, but not close enough. I crawl closer until I'm sitting on her lap and kiss her while wrapping my arms around her neck. The kiss begins to get more and more dangerous as we go on. Her hand begin to wonder and grip. While I rock into her lap. Soon she breaks the kiss.

"Hey, I don't know if I'm getting mix signals but can I touch you? " she says with her pretty eyes.

I pause for a minute then get a sly idea "Yes, daddy! " I whisper into her ear.

"Fuck " she says before pressing me down to where my back touches her bed. "Who knew you'd be such a damn brat. " she says while kiss down on my neck

I whine as she bites my shoulder. "What's the matter ? You've never been touched like this? "

She lowers her hand down my skirt and begins to rub while I stutter "No, then again no ones touched me. "

She pause "What?"

"You guessed right. "

"Are you sure you want to do this because we don't have to. I can... " I quiet her

"I'm sure , I trust you. In fact I want you to do to me what you wrote about in your little book. Y'know the thing with the paddle. "

"Are you sure that's a little advanced. "

"I'm sure, do you not want to? "

"No I want to, fuck I want to" she says while reaching into the night stand.

"Good, how do you want me, daddy? "

"Fuck your going to be the death of me. Across my lap baby. "

I lay across her lap. And give a wiggle.

"Let's see, how many spanks? Maybe 4 spanks for your 4 years of teasing. Plus 3 for the 3 pages you read. Plus 5 for that slutty fucking costume that had me salivating for weeks. So 12.“

I whine

"Don't whine or I'll make it 15."

I stop.

" That's a good girl. " she says while ruffling my hair.

"Now we're going to use the stop light system, along with a safeword. Do you know how the stop light systems work and have a safeword in mind?"

"Yeah my safeword is rock. And the stop light systems works like red means stop, yellow slow down or change what your doing and green means keep going. "

"Correct, now I'm not going to be upset or disappointed if you safeword or want to stop okay. "

"Okay."

"Good now, count. "

The first hit stings

"One"

The second one burns

"Two"

The third positively aches

"Three"

The rest hurt but for some reason it leaves me feeling dizzy and so good.

"Twelve"

"Good girl are you, okay? "

"Yes."

"Okay how are you, are you okay to continue? "

I nod

"No girl I need a verbal answer what's your color? "

"Green, don't stop I want you to fuck me"

"Fuck, okay baby. " she says before digging in her drawer and strapping into her strap.

I flip around and spread my legs out and put my arms up.

"Wait babygirl, I have to make sure your prepped. " she says as she dips a cloused finger in while I whine

"Fuck baby your soaked. Did my girl like spankings that much? "

I nod

"Poor girls all layed out like a pretty little toy. "

I begin to moan as she adds another finger and begins pumping them in and out with her thumb on my clit. Then she goes fast and pumps in and out harder.

"I know baby it's so much, my fingers are so much for you. " she says while working me harder and harder until fuck... She stops.

"Not yet sweet heart, your gonna cum undone on my cock pretty girl. " she says as she pushes in slowly so slowly.

After bottoming out she waits a minute and I nod. After I nod she thrusts shallow slow thrusts. That feel amazing but leaves me wanting.

After a few minutes of that I grab her shoulders "Daddy, harder!"

"Fuck." She says while rolling her hips.

She lifts my legs up higher to my confusion before slamming in hard. The thrust again and again while I just take it letting her use my body.

"There you go baby. Sorry daddy though you wanted to fucked like a princess. I forgot how much of a slut you are. " she says while still pounding into me

And then she begins to rub my clit. It's so fuck much. Fuck I begin to cry and whine.

"That's it babygirl, cry on daddy's fucking dick" she begins rubbing my clit harder causing me to scream.

"Daddy, I don't want to get pregnant yet. " I say through dazzy tears

"Aww " she says while rubbing and thrust like she was trying to milk more nosies out of me "Don't worry baby you'll look so nice with my kids. "

I feel my body shake and arch and then everything thing goes limp. And my vision goes white. I hear a soft buzzing and for that moment I have no fucking idea what my name is.

"Comeback to me baby" she says my head barley follows her eyes

"Was it good? "

I nod

"Good." She says as she pulls out while I hiss. "It's okay. "

She then lays down beside me and holds me while I begin to come back down.

"You back? "

"Yeah" I say voice horsed

"Okay we'll put cream on you and clean you up later. Okay. "

I nod and cuddle closer

"Okay and baby you can not tell my sister yet. "

[earthtooz]

baby, would i still be your lover?

fluff with angst, 1k words, gn!reader celebrates their bday bc it's my bday today, reader likes pearls, childhood friends to lovers (?), ooc!al-haitham, conflict and resolving it, al-haitham's grandmother is featured.

The best way to describe yours and al-Haitham's friendship is... unusual.

Having known him since childhood, you cannot say that he has changed much over the years. When your parents brought him to his grandmother's house to hopefully give the young boy a chance to socialise with something other than academic journals, befriending him was not easy.

He dodged all conversation you tried to make, ignored all attempts you made to play tag with him, completely evaded your childlike innocence. He always was more mature than everyone else his age, or rather, always acted like it.

Most unusually, he had an uncanny streak of pushing everyone out of his life, and you were not immune to the imaginary lashes he strikes, eventually removing yourself from his life too out of frustration.

At seventeen, when an unforeseen tension had lodged itself between you and al-Haitham, it deteriorated your friendship. One day, he had taken his opinions too far and sharpened his words too much, you left the House of Daena tearful and too wounded to see him for a while. It creates a distance between you two, one that lasts for three years.

At twenty, you visit al-Haitham's grandmother for the last time, and she makes you promise something. She pleads you to take care of her grandson, that for years, he has been hoping for the rekindling of your friendship, and she asks of you to make his wish come to fruition.

You reach out to him a month later on impulse. He invites you to dinner and drinks at Lambad's Tavern, and for the preceding week, it mentally drains you to think about being alone with him again.

He is already there when you arrive, sitting with crossed legs and arms at an empty booth. Showing up later than him gives you time to admire how he has grown. Now freshly turned twenty-one, time has served him well. He has grown into his sharp, taut features, and the way his grey hair falls accommodates his features well, and his build is impressive for a scholar. You've heard from others that he's graduated with the highest honours, and has already been offered a job at the Akademiya.

When the conversation begins, you're relieved to find out that nothing has changed from when you were both seventeen and fumbling teenagers.

As the only person who has stayed in his life since his youth, there is a bond that somehow cannot be severed. You apologise for what happened at seventeen, he does too.

As dinner passes, one thing becomes abundantly clear: al-Haitham does not need someone to 'take care of him' like his grandmother asked. What he did need, however, was his childhood friend that always knew how to push his buttons, and perhaps that was your way of 'caring' for him.

"Y/n." al-Haitham's broad figure looms over your desk, causing you to pause the scribble of words and numbers that you were in the midst of writing. "With your birthday coming in less than a month, I went to review our personal channel for gifts you'd like."

"Have you now?" You rest your chin on your hand, looking up at him through your lashes.

He completely ignores your question. "A sango pearl necklace? From Watatsumi Island? Is that your only desire?"

"I am easy to please," you shrug.

"Perhaps you misunderstand me. Is there no other gift that you'd appreciate?"

"Is a pearl necklace not possible?"

"One from Fontaine would be more achievable. Watatsumi Island, however, given our geographical distance and the fact that Inazuma is only just beginning to open up its transnational-"

"-So it's not possible? Even for the Grand Sage?"

"Acting Grand Sage, and whilst it is not impossible, I came to review with you possible alternatives for gift ideas that would provide the same marginal benefit."

"I suppose I could think of something else," you tap your chin. "One day I'll get my hands on those pearls, do you see the way they shine so clearly? You could use them just to fix your makeup! Cold to the touch and a clearer reflection are what make pearls high quality."

"How fascinating," he responds flatly and you pout. "In other news, it's lunch time now, and you promised you'd pay for my next meal at Lambad's."

You huff, compiling your papers together and clipping them together. "I was hoping you'd forget."

(As always, when the meal is said and done, he doesn't actually allow you to pay.)

A month later, when the clock strikes midnight on the day of your birthday, there is a series of knocks at your door. Unsurprisingly, you're greeted by al-Haitham's handsome face, now softer without the makeup he wears to enhance his features, but still beautiful nonetheless.

In his hands, he holds a gift.

"Happy birthday, Y/n." He declares, straight to the point, and hands you the box. "I hope it is to your liking."

The unassuming packaging only adds to your shocked delight when you see the contents inside.

"Sango pearls, from Watatsumi Island! You got me a necklace and bracelet set!" You squeal in pure excitement, treating the jewellery like fragile little things when you feel them. Cold to the touch, and you can see your reflection in them.

Pride shines in his eyes and a small smile pulls at his lips. He doesn't say anything except watch you freak out, satisfied with the hoops he had to jump through for this present.

"al-Haitham, I am so happy I could kiss you."

"I'd be happy to oblige."

The best way to describe yours and al-Haitham's relationship is unusual. You would do anything to get on his last nerve (without overstepping), and he would do anything for you.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[hysteria-things]

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART SIX.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and chris hang out after what feels like forever, and he finds something personal of yours under the bed. because he’s nosy, he can’t help but open it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, that should be it :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,034

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: changing up some things…

(dividers by @strangergraphics)

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐍 disbelief, the nostalgia hitting him like a truck. nothing and he means nothing has changed about your house from when you guys were little. hell, there still was the wall by the doorway where it had your heights written in pencil. it faded throughout the years, but it’s still visible. his heart hurts when he realizes it stops at age ten.

the both of you talked as if you guys didn’t stop talking at all. “let’s chill out in my room.” you say, grabbing his hand and guiding him up the stairs.

although he was in here the other day, he didn’t get to really look around until now. your room captures you perfectly. you sigh, sitting down on the mattress that is filled with stuffed animals. you pat the spot next to you for him to take, and he does. “sorry if it’s messy.” you bite the inside of your mouth before speaking again. “now what? i was never a good host.”

“whatever you want to do.”

groaning, you get up and wipe your palms on your pants. “what i want to do is go pee. i’ll be right back.”

walking out of the room, you leave chris there alone. he rose himself off the bed and slowly walked around. he laughs to himself. he realized you became more comfortable with him again in the short hours you’ve been together, despite recent events. next to the closet door, there’s a bookshelf with a ton of books on it. the same bookshelf that was filled with dr. suess and harry potter. now, it’s filled with… interesting.

he leans down, reading the spines with furrowed brows. twisted games? the nanny? icebreaker?

stay curious for this one, chris.

next to the flatscreen TV on the wall, you have a lot of other stuff hanging up, one being your varsity award for volleyball. two pictures however stood out to him — besides the dinosaur with sunglasses painting you also have hung up. one of them is a polaroid of you and nate, recently took at the local fair. chris makes a face at that.

the other photo is of these two kids, roughly the age of seven. they look like twins; boy and girl. the rest of your family doesn’t live here, hence all of the pictures of them. because chris does nightly facebook searches to keep up, he noticed these are your cousin’s twins.

smiling softly, he thinks about how much you love your family. you’ve always been a family person, even if they aren’t here. he understands what that’s like. being in L.A. while everybody else is in boston sucks, but luckily they got a few months to be back home.

as he turns around to sit back down on the bed, he sees a notebook sticking out from under it. he doesn’t want to look through your belongings, but curiosity got the best of him. he bends over to pick it up and open it while lowering himself to sit down.

there is a note on the inside of the cover.

he skims through the pages to see how much you wrote and it is a good amount. he stops when the handwriting suddenly changes, meaning that you stopped writing for a while. the other entries had smudges on them except for the ones he landed on. this one must be new.

so, he started to read.

dear journal,

i’m sorry i ditched you for about a year and a half. i don't have an explanation for it, but lately, i’ve been itching to write. i remembered i had this journal - thanks to my cousin bethany for getting you for me for my 9th birthday. i know you’re an inanimate object, but i forgot how relaxing it is to write down my thoughts for nobody except myself.

i can’t help but cringe at what i wrote in the past, and i sincerely apologize.

“i can’t wait to marry kevin one day!”

“omg, he talked to me today!”

“i think we’re going to be together forever!”

i’m gagging just rethinking that moment. come on now.

anyway, life has been crazy lately. shoutout to the sturniolos for ditching me and acting like we didn’t grow up together! appreciate you guys for real. i’m exhausted.

the thing is, i always had trouble sleeping. i know i just said i’m exhausted, but it’s 3 AM and suddenly it feels like i’m wide awake. i just know i’m going to be grumpy for the next few days. a lot has happened ever since they left. i’ve changed, and i hate/love it at the same time.

i’ve been going out more, doing shit i shouldn’t. (don’t tell my parents…) something also happened a while ago that’s still a blur. i can’t put my finger on it. all i remember is that the police came to my door and asked me a ton of questions about somebody.

anyway, life has been happening too fast. i would appreciate it if it slows down a tad. on the upside, my mom said the rest of the family is coming here soon. i don’t know when, but soon. bethany would for sure be happy to hear i’ve started writing here again.

my thoughts are draining the second i write things on this paper, so i’m going to try and get sleep. i’ll update you whenever i can.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

me again: at approximately 4 AM. today has been something else, let me tell you. my mom came up to me yesterday and told me some unfortunate news. can you guess who’s back in town? if you guessed my lovely besties, you’re correct! and do you know whose birthday it is, meaning i have to go to the party? you’ve guessed it! my BFFs!

doesn’t help that i’m on my period right now. i can’t do this shit.

either way, i had to be there for nate. he’s the one that stuck around. marylou will forever be the original best friend in my opinion. she stuck around, too. it’s her children i got a bone to pick with. (except justin. he’s cool.)

seeing them in person for the first time in so long had me tweaking. i admit that i was a bitch to them at the party, and not to be a bitch now, but they deserved it. however, when i saw chris, my first thought was about how he’s such a cutie still. i hate my mind for that.

i tried to ignore them for the rest of the party, and it was semi-successful.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

you will not believe this. nick messaged me on instagram saying how sorry they were and asked to meet up at my house. for whatever reason, i said yes and they came over. we sort of cleared everything. key word, sort of.

they said they wanted me back in their life and apologized for what they did. i still need to give it time, but we do want to start hanging out again soon. i missed those dorks.

that’s until chris stopped me and asked for the note he wrote to me when we were little. the note he promised me to keep, and i obviously did. i’ll tape it here.

this little piece of paper is my favorite thing anybody ever gave to me.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

sorry, i left you hanging for a few days, a lot happened in such a short amount of time.

long story short, jaiden and claudia invited me to a party. chris texted me while i was there. he seemed a bit weirded out about why i was at finn yaw’s party, but i hope he knows i wasn’t there for any specific reason. i do appreciate that he cares about my well-being, even after the downfall.

i got home not long ago and he’s texting me as i’m writing this. he just asked me to hang out tomorrow which shocked me a little, but i said yes.

not going to lie, i’m excited to hang out with chris, even though i have no idea what we’re doing. hopefully, it goes well.

- y/n

chris snaps out of it as he hears you walking back into your room, making him shove the book back under the bed. he feels kind of honored to be a part of your little notebook. “sorry, that took longer than i wanted. i had to deal with something.” you say, sitting down on the bed with a sigh. you furrow your eyebrows at him. “why are you smiling like that?”

“smiling like what?”

“like… that,” you say, circling your finger that was pointing at his face.

“no reason.” he shrugs “anyway, what’s next on the y/n agenda?”

you look around the room while biting the inside of her cheek. “are you hungry? my dad made ribs last night and it’s to die for.”

jumping up from the bed, you motion him to follow you. you walk into the kitchen, flicking on the four light switches that are on the wall. you waltz over to the fridge and open it, going on your tippy toes to grab the container on the top shelf. “how many do you want?” you ask, going on your tippy toes once again to grab paper plates in the upper cabinet.

“three is fine. do you need help?”

you shake your head. “no, i got it.”

chris stands by the island that separates the kitchen from the dining room. he leans against it, watching you plop three ribs onto his plate and only one on yours. you take his plate in your hands and reach up to the microwave. you stick your tongue out and groan. you’re struggling because of how short you are since the microwave is on the wall above the oven.

“i got it.” he chuckles, grabbing the plate from your hand and sticking it in the microwave. his hand grazes the side of your arm as he puts in two minutes and presses start. you cross your arms without looking at him. “i could’ve gotten it.”

“yeah, right.”

sitting there for two minutes feels like ten before the microwave finally goes off. you start running to the microwave but he stops you. “i don’t want you to hurt yourself by reaching for it. i got it.”

he takes the plate out and feels a rib with his finger. he nods. “it’s good.”

“okay.” you say with a low tone. he looks towards you to see you staring at your rib that still lies cold on the plate. “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t think i want this anymore.” you quickly open the container, plop it back in, and stick it back in the fridge.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 sitting in your room, matt had to come pick his brother up. you and chris are currently standing on the front porch, having one last word with each other. matt is waiting in the van at the end of the stairs.

“it was nice hanging out with you again,” you say shyly. “we should get everybody back together soon.”

“i agree.” he smiles “i’m sure i’ll text you later.”

getting closer to him, you pull him into a hug. it was abrupt, but he hugged you back of course.

then, the horn of the van beeps causing you to jump and pull away. “can you hurry the fuck up? nick is waiting for us at home and is obnoxiously annoying. mom also made dinner.” matt screams from the window.

“i’ll see you around,” chris says, jogging down the stairs. he gets in the passenger seat and grabs the seat belt to strap himself in. matt waves to you, which you graciously return.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 them to get home. they live close to your house, and the duration is no longer than five minutes. he takes off his shoes at the door as his phone vibrates from getting a text.

y/n😶‍🌫️

thanks for today

i had fun :)

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @sturnstvr @sturnclouds @bernardsbendystraws

[allfortheslay25]

In an au where milo has siblings that aren't Maya and Ollie, what would they be like and how would it affect the canon lore in miloverse?

Finally, I can answer this ask✨

Sorry for the long wait, I ended up pretty busy with my job and was backed up with loads of asks (I don’t like mixing my doodles unless it’s just one or two but I had HUNDREDS of asks about All for the fish and decided to just pick through and answer as many as I dared)

Anyways! For Other Kids AU (aka separate ‘what if’ AUs where the Foxes have other or more kids)

Ofc I thought of more andreil kids. What do you take me for? The aftg brainrot is my disease✋😔

⚠️ this is not canon to We’ll Both Be Fine or Milo’s main story in general. This is a what if situation ⚠️

Admittedly, they could have been canon but andreil didn’t care about having more children. Milo was enough for them.

The first kid is Connie (Conner David) born 2011. Andrew and Neil decide not to deletus the fetus and so Connie is born. It is actually Nicky who gets to name him :)

Milo is very happy and emotional about having a little brother and tries to involve himself in every second of his life. They grow up very close, Connie looking up to Milo a bit.

Connie likes writing, cookies with jam, and spring

Dislikes conflict, chewing gum, and his freckled eyes (has eye nevus)

Second are the twins, Honey (Miela Marie) and Niko (Nicholas Nolan) both born 2014. Very simple decision from andreil that since Connie went well, why not test fate? And then they had twins who tried to make their lives hell. Andreil let the Foxes brainstorm names and send their best picks for andreil to choose through before narrowing it down to six (three if it’s a girl and three if it’s a boy) (they didn’t know it’d be twins) and let the foxes make a unanimous decision. The foxes decided on Nolan for a boy and Miela for a girl. Andrew and Neil ended up naming the boy Nicholas (Nicky cried about it for days) and gave Miela the middle name Marie after Abby.

Although Milo loves his new siblings, the twins are very hard to deal with and whine to him about every thing instead of andreil. The kids are also a bit air headed and tend to be hurtful without meaning to. When Milo goes to college, he finds out that they replace him with Connie who takes care of them as if they were his kids. (Admittedly, they love Connie more and it hurts Milo’s feelings)

Honey likes apiculture, traveling, food

Dislikes sitting still, sharing her things, being told what to do

Niko likes sports, napping, living life to the fullest

Dislikes being active (when it’s not sports), alcohol, explaining himself (he can’t)

Old concept designs when I was first making them

Some facts:

- Honey and Niko don’t consider Milo their brother but not in a malicious way. In their weird minds, he’s too old and different (however, they consider him family the same way Nicky, Aaron, Kevin, and Robin are)

- Honey lives with Nicky and Erik in Germany. She goes to school there

- Connie briefly lived with Stuart in the UK for two years, studying literature and journalism

- Niko doesn’t like playing exy but he goes pro as a hockey player since it’s similar

- they all call Milo something different. Connie calls him Brother or Milo, Honey calls him Mywo (Me - Woah), Niko calls him Lio or Em

- Milo used to take the kids to school (either walking or driving) since the twins were in daycare

- each kid is represented by one of the many animals that represent Milo. The rabbit (Connie), the bird (Honey) and the cat (Niko). With them, Milo is the dog. (Each animal makes up a part of Milo’s personality)

-⬆️ specific animals: White bunny (Connie) summer tanager (Honey) orange tabby (Niko) Wolf or Fox (Milo). However if they were Milo; New Zealand rabbit, Crow, and Red Siberian cat

- Maya would not be born in this au because at that point, they’d have their hands full with the twins and there’s no reason to have another. Ollie would have not been adopted either

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART THREE !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 6.4k

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, suicidal themes, grief/death, weapons, violence, blood, maladaptive daydreaming, implied masturbation, drugging, kidnapping, unhealthy & unrealistic religious themes.

carlos oliveira's yandere traits are . . .

worshiper, delusional, & nurturing

──── Carlos Oliveira hates the scent of ink. Yet still, his hands are covered in the excess of the relentless use of such.

It stains everything. His ragged clothes, his fingers, the top secret documents he couldn't be bothered to care after. Despite his loathing of the material, it somehow seems to follow him with every step he walks. It doesn't take away the sheer relief he feels when he uses the same ink to jot down everything in his journal. While Carlos is far from home and occupied with his position as a Corporal, he fills pages upon pages of entries assigned to you. From how he swore he heard your laughter at lunch that day to obsessive hours spent writing your name over and over again, he finds it soothing, in an odd sense. Everything the ink touches revolves around you in some shape or form.

Y/N L/N. The name he will never forget.

Carlos remembers your aromatic sweat, your intoxicating breath, your perfumed skin; he will never forget how you ended his life in Raccoon City. It was persephonic, the last day of his life. Through the maze of chaos and gore, he found you, his little taste of heaven before he would face his demise. However, he is still shamefully alive. And selfishly, Carlos wishes that he had died that night. He should be grateful, as insinuated by the thousands of innocent lives lost and his family thanking the universe for sparing their boy. But, he just isn't. He can't, as much as he tries.

Even though his heart still beats, something within him has been dead for these past five years. He tries to heal his soul which decomposes with every day that goes by, but his efforts are brought to no avail. As much as he attempts to write out the fairytale he desperately wishes would materialize into reality, the truth sits and rots beneath a canopy of pretty lies.

You are dead and there is nothing he can do about it.

If Carlos thinks too much about it, he'll be brought to tears. And he can't afford another days-long meltdown filled with unruly sobbing and staggering guilt. He just can't. Instead, he defiles his brain with dreams of you that he deludes himself into believing are real. Writing his sweet spouse letters while he is away from home, buying you trinkets and clothes from foreign places, and leaving behind warm plates of food for you to enjoy. The truth of your well-being dances in the back of his head like a ghost in an attic. However, fully acknowledging you are gone would just about kill him. Carlos will prolong it as long as it can, no matter how fast the inevitable truth gains on him.

"My honey, My sweet, My lover. I will be home soon. Please wait for me, my bumblebee." Ink stains Carlos' fingers as he jots down yet another letter to you. He wonders if you also hate the way ink stains your fingers when you finally write back to him. His heart swells when he imagines you receiving his letter all safe and cozy in the home you share together. One day, he'll receive a letter back from you. The ghost of the truth lurks in the mind, but he turns his back to it. One day, he'll receive a letter back from you.

Five years without you and all that sunshine and wit he used to possess has depleted. Now, it's impossible to know when the ticking time bomb that is Carlos Oliveira may explode.

Unbeknownst to his peers, every emotion expressed is a manifestation of you, whether good or bad. After working the day away, Carlos becomes agitated after such treacherous hours without being able to bathe his mind in the light of you. The anger suffocates whatever room he walks into, causing the people within to recoil from the energy alone. No one has forgotten the time when a few colleagues had poked the bear after a single day Carlos spent unable to return to the thought of you. This inevitably caused an hour-long outburst of broken bones, furniture thrown about, and an eruption of unconsolable tears and horrifying threats. The memory still sends goosebumps across the skin of witnesses and no one has dared to cross the man ever since.

All Carlos needs is to venture back to the lustrous haven within his head. Just you and him, together in extraterrestrial bliss. It's all he needs, please let him have it.

All he needs is indulge in the heavenly sights of you at this moment. Instead of the blood-stained reality that is his life, let him spend his days out in the wild with you. Breezy Summer days where the sun beats down and soaks you in its golden, empyrean hues. Carlos sits with his back against the trunk of a willow tree and you lay on a blanket with your head resting in his lap. The enchanting, peaceful state he has found himself in is almost enough to lull him into a slumber. But, how could he dare shut his eyes when the astonishing sight of you sits right before him? Carlos traces his fingers among the tracings of sunlight that peek through the branches and rest upon your face. Beautiful. How irrevocably, indubitably, catastrophically beautiful you are.

A picnic out in an empty field where the day would be spent letting the world fall away as he looks down on the love of his life. Your lips, ever-so appetizing, are dusted with sugar from the numerous treats Carlos made for this exact date. His hand cups your cheek and he caresses your cheekbone with his thumb, your smile growing in response. And the way it tugs on his heartstrings is almost as if your mere happiness was playing him like a string instrument. He gazes at you with so much wonder, it's practically baffling how in love a man could be. You offer him a bite of the pastry in your hand, but he declines. The heat of the season's temperatures and the burning love within Carlos is more than enough to keep him satiated.

Safe, content, and alive with love. There couldn't be a more perfect way to describe this precious moment with you. Safe, content, and alive with love.

A hand waving in his face brings him back to his unforgiving reality. No more sunshine, no more birdsong, no more you. The dread that permeates his entire being could rival the pain of being stabbed in the heart. Carlos jumps in surprise and casts his eyes upward to find Tyrell, whose worried eyes peer at him through the glasses perched on his nose. His body is tense, terrified of treading over a boundary and causing another outburst. Only this time, he fears the several guards with syringes that were able to make him comply before would fail this time. And Tyrell wouldn't be able to escape Carlos' wrath with his life.

However, in the head of Carlos, he can't fathom why his colleague was suddenly so afraid of him. Maybe it was the way his expression was entirely unconscious. Maybe it was the way his eyes were wide and distant, in a completely different world. Maybe it was the way his lips would twitch into a smile that would be deemed creepy or maybe it was how he whispered unintelligible sentences under his breath. All of this remains unknown to Carlos, as he was far too busy in la-la-land to pay attention to his surroundings. Tyrell then motions to the ground, where Carlos finds how his pen had managed to roll across the floor and how his journal was now sitting face-down against the concrete. When did he drop those?

"Are you okay, man?" The question echoes as if he was standing miles away from him. Is he? Is he ok? These days, it never really feels like it. Only when he can escape to his paradise does he truly feel okay.

"You kept saying something. Over and over again." Carlos can barely render the words spoken by his friend.

"Y/N. Who is that-?"

Something snaps within Carlos. The fireworks you have ignited inside him have been snuffed out like a cigarette; the skipping of his heart trips over itself like a child sprinting down a jagged sidewalk. Your name alone sitting on someone else's tongue is more than enough to send him spiraling into an envious frenzy. You've never even met this poor man, but Carlos' brain infests his thoughts with visions of you and Tyrell together. This parasite paints images of you in the same field, in each other's arms, hopelessly devoted to one another. Happy with one another. And the stifling jealousy practically makes Carlos maniacal. It should be him, it should be him. He doesn't deserve it, but it should be him with you. Not Tyrell, never him, please not him please choose me please just choose me I will do anything baby please-

Carlos doesn't even think before he's swinging his right arm back and surging it forward to Tyrell's face. He can't win, he can't win, he can't. Permeating pain flashes like a flickering light and it courses through his entire arm. This sudden flare of weakness grants Tyrell the opportunity to block the attack before it lands. He now just stares at his friend in complete horror. Carlos falls to the floor of the infirmary and inspects the source of pain, finding that his right bicep has been covered in thick gauze. What was once white and clean is now tattered with blood-red stains. The memories hit him like a train. How could he have forgotten? Was he so caught up in his fantasies that he failed to recall what happened mere hours ago?

One of the most prominent and more so realistic fantasies (in his opinion) Carlos has is of you in heaven, watching over him like his own personal guardian angel. To finally accept your death would shatter him entirely, but to think of how your soul has lived on and is now living in promised eternal bliss calms his stuttering heart. His relentless acknowledgment of this fantasy has caused disastrous side effects, however. Behind the scenes, he has caught himself on many occasions contemplating death. To indulge in his demise and to see you on the other side, Carlos knows it shouldn't make him this exhilarated. Still, he continues to wallow in the celestial phenomenon of joining you in the clouds.

He refuses to fulfill these suicidal tendencies for the sole reason of how you'd perceive him afterward. You had ever so bravely lost your life to the wreckage of Raccoon City; you died a fucking warrior. Whom would Carlos be if he simply ended the torment by slitting his wrists? The echo of your voice barking of how much of a coward he'd be for killing himself over such dramatic, puny reasons makes Carlos recoil in shame. This obsession of his has accelerated to a degree where he'll purposely slack off during missions, hoping that he'll be fatally caught in the crossfire. A bullet through the brain and he'd wake up beside you, where you'll praise him for his bravery and how he died a hero.

To reunite with you — that is the only thing Carlos could ever want.

Today was no different. Yet, while his comrades shout for him to take cover and question why he is being such an idiot, it finally happened. Barrelling through the air is a bullet, which buries itself into the flesh of his right arm. The force sends Carlos to the ground. When others try to take hold of him and drag him to safety, he swats them off like they're nothing but pesky mosquitoes on a humid July afternoon. And he laughs so loudly and so manically, it could almost convince the enemy that the Corporal is secretly the Joker.

It all makes sense now. You had broken your right arm five years ago and now, Carlos has been shot in the exact same arm. This must be you! This must be your way of lending your hand through the sky, guiding him to join you in heaven! You are here with him and Carlos can't restrict the genuine smile and streaming tears from forming on his face. Now, however, the wounds your tender heart left have now been cared for. These doctors have defiled your mark on him; they have sullied the gift you have so kindly given him. And the fury that bubbles inside of Carlos in response is nothing short of harrowing.

Through the heaving breaths of the man he once considered to be his friend, Tyrell finally speaks up with a waver in his voice. "You-You need help, Carlos. I don't know who Y/N is, but-"

"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" Carlos' outburst explodes and the ringing of it settles like a blast wave. It bounces off the walls and reverberates through the ears of both men.

The anger is practically palpable. What Tyrell failed to notice through that rageful veneer was the pieces of Carlos' broken heart that lies beneath. With every passing second, this phantom within him reminds him of the state of your well-being. You're dead, you're gone, I won't see you ever again. With naivety Carlos excuses as the truth, he continues to ignore this voice. He has been stuck in a five-year-long chase with his logic and will continue running for five more if he needs to. And slowly but surely, this endless race is tearing him apart.

Tyrell leaves without so much as another breath. One question stays heavy on his mind, though. Whoever you are, Y/N, what the fuck have you done to him?

The patient must be given PTO to avoid another breakdown that could potentially accelerate into lethal violence — that was the "excuse" the doctors gave to the Sergeant regarding Carlos' wellbeing. This leaves him here. Alone and driving back to his estate. Meanwhile, his brain is blooming with iridescent fantasies he claims to be memories. Driving home to you after a long day of work and bringing you all the money and love you could ever ask for. He wonders, would you wait for him to come home? Would he find you asleep on the sofa, succumbing to your drowsiness before he'd be able to open the door? Or would you be in the bedroom? The soft glow of the lamp light framing your face as you peel back the covers, welcoming him into your idyllic embrace?

The tires of his car begin to skid off the road. Carlos is brought out of his imagination, where he then jerks the vehicle back into its proper position in the lane. You may just be the death of him, he muses. And when he finally arrives home, he tries to ignore the love letters he sent to you piling in the mailbox, the trinkets and clothes he bought you collecting dust, and the dinner he left for you that is now putrid and overwhelmed with mold. He tries to avoid how much it actually kills him. But still, this aching sense of dread rots in the pit of his stomach. It isn't until he glances at the calendar pinned on the wall does the devastation finally settle like fresh snow.

The date today was September 28th, 2004.

Six years.

It's been six years since he survived Raccoon City; it's been six years since he met you and lost you on the same night. This isn't the first revelation that comes to mind, though. Instead, he feels absolutely mortified by his own negligence. It's your sixth-year anniversary, how could he have forgotten? What kind of person, boyfriend, husband is he to forget this day? He should have brought home chocolate, flowers, shit, maybe even taken you on a month-long vacation to a resort across the world. God, how could he be so fucking stupid? You two could have been at each other's side during the most important day of the year (besides your birthday, of course). But no, he just had to get so caught up in his head that he forgot the anniversary of the day that made him the man he is today.

Another epiphany, one of the much more luminescent standards, hits Carlos once again. This must be why you had never written back to him. You aren't dead, you're simply upset with him! All the letters, all the gifts, all the plates of food, everything you have neglected — it was just your way of expressing your anger. Ha, take that, brain! And despite the circumstances, Carlos imagines the scowl on your face and is absolutely giddy from the vision alone. You're upset with him, yes, but you're alive. His sweet lover is here with a beating heart and an angry head. And God, does it make Carlos practically shiver with glee.

He then storms through his house, looking into every nook and cranny in search of you. "Y/N? Honey? Honey, it's me! Look, I know you're upset, but I promise I will do everything I can to make it up to you!"

"Where would you like to go? Hawaii? Paris? Shit, Italy? Wherever you'd like, Y/N!" With each room left devoid of you, that wrenching misery returns piece by piece and yanks on what is left of his heart. His voice begins to crack as he continues to shout for you. "Y/N, please! Please come out, honey! I'll do anything, Y/N... Please..."

Carlos then collapses to the hardwood floor, his body crushed with the sobs now protruding from his chest. Tears pour down his cheeks with uncontrollable force before landing on the ground beneath. And he cries so violently that he fears his ribcage may shatter from the force of it alone. He can't accept it, he can't, he can't, he can't. Even if this is what the rest of his life looks like, just veiling the truth with delusional fantasies, Carlos will never face the honest conclusion. He just can't.

"Please, bumblebee... I need you..." It's a final, desperate prayer. For your presence or for mercy, Carlos isn't exactly sure which.

He then digs beneath the collar of his shirt and fishes out the necklace he has worn for six years now. Swung upon a rusted chain is the charm of a bumblebee, the yellow and black shades now decayed with age. Carlos (as forgetful as he now realized he is today) will never forget when he first received the necklace. It was right before you had boarded the subway train that would eventually lead to your departure from life. How you enveloped him in your sugar-sweet hug and the way your natural musk sat on your skin still drives him nuts after all these years. The memory brings him great comfort on restless nights spent tossing and turning in bed.

At that moment, however, he never realized how constricting his hold was on you until he hears something snap. Opening his eyes and awakening from the stupor of his cartoon-esque infatuation, he finds how he had underestimated his strength and crushed the clasp of your necklace. The state of your beloved jewelry piece is left oblivious to you. Carlos wasn't given a second to process what had happened before you're peeling your arms off of him and boarding the train. In his hands are the remnants of the necklace you left behind.

The insect symbolizes perseverance, which he finds is a perfect way to describe his life today. Persevering through every day until he can finally let his body rest six feet under; persevering through every day until he can join his honey, his bumblebee through the gates of heaven. Carlos presses another kiss of millions to the pendant as he sits in his lonely house, pretending it is your skin beneath his lips instead of the rusted metal. His heart is shattered, his body is weak, and his brain is infested with every kind of mayhem he has ever known, but he will push through it. He will push through any and all kind of chaos knowing you are at the end of the finish line. Waiting for him.

The quick tune of an email alert brings Carlos out of his lovesick, grief-burdened daze. Suddenly being torn away from the thought of you makes rage flood through his veins. He stomps over to shut his computer off, maybe even throw the monitor against the wall in the process. When he catches a glimpse of what is on his computer, he hesitates. A loud gasp then escapes from him.

On his computer is an email from an old friend.

Carlos is able to fly into the country in less than twenty-four hours. He has to take several deep breaths in order to eradicate the black dots dancing in his vision as he races to Jill's apartment. Seeing her face and the present relief in her expression, the all-too-overwhelming revelation settles. Carlos is surprised he hadn't blacked out right there on her doorstep in response. It's time to finally get you back.

And just like Jill and Carlos had orchestrated after two weeks of planning how they'd release you from Umbrella's clutches, one sip of the cup of tea in your hands and you were out like a light. Your collapse was harsh, evident in the loud thud that permeated when you landed. Fortunately, you had your blanket-cape there to cushion your fall. It doesn't stop the two from bursting the bathroom door open and rushing to your aid, however.

Without your knowledge, Jill and Carlos then proceed to take you far, far away from the place you had once called home.

"What the fuck?"

Despite knowing you were sleeping soundly just several rooms over, your sudden presence still manages to have their breath locked in their throat. The way you look at one another contradicts each other in such discrete ways, it's almost comical. You're hyperventilating, staring at the scene in front of you with eyes blown in crazed shock. Six years of grieving through the most traumatic night of your life, why is it now you find out they have been alive this whole time? These two, however, stare into your soul with so much wonder, you're almost convinced they thought they were looking at some sort of mythological creature. It's almost as if they're hypnotized. No movement, no response — just pure amazement at the sight of you alive and looking at them with eyes full of life.

It isn't until you take a cautious step back does it trigger them to escape their state of captivation. You venturing further away from them, even just a pace — they can't let it happen. Never again. While Jill resorts to calmly approaching you as if you were a stray cat, Carlos makes an abrupt dash for you. You take several more steps backward before the man you presumed to be dead became inescapable. With another onslaught of tears brimming in his eyes and a whimper fleeing from his throat, Carlos practically tackles you into a tenacious embrace.

The hold he has on you is ridden with disbelief and desperation. He's shaking against your body like an Autumn leaf drifting through the wind. Burying his nose further into your neck, he inhales the musk that sits on your skin as if he had been trapped underwater and you were a pocket of air. God, Carlos wasn't even able to look at you for more than one second before he started blubbering like a baby. The man is so absorbed in the moment of finally reuniting with you, he almost misses it when Jill smacks him on his arm and growls through clenched teeth for him to "get his fucking shit together." But, Carlos refuses to budge. He is ready to beg Jill to let him stay here, to please let him revel in the fact that this isn't another fantasy someone will wake him out of.

He somehow nestles his face further into the crook of your neck and brings your body closer to his, almost as if he was trying to mold you together as one. And at this moment, Carlos has yet another revelation. Years upon years of imagining what heaven looks like, he was entirely incorrect. There are no clouds, no birdsong, no vibrant gardens. This. Right here in this moment, this is what heaven is. To have you, the partner of his dreams, so close to him is nothing short of heavenly. For six years, he has dreamed of this moment. And if he were to die at this moment, Carlos would be elated to know he died the happiest he has ever been in his whole life.

Meanwhile, you're thrashing in the tight hold of his constricted strength. It's almost hard for you to breathe with how hard he’s squeezing you. The woman you see over his shoulder is collected, but only a fool would miss the way her shoulders tense and nostrils flare with rage (and a sliver of possessiveness, too). She receives your silent plea and grabs a fistful of his mop-head of hair, using all the might in her arm to pull him away from his own bear hug. Carlos reluctantly loosens his grasp on your form. However, he then resorts to checking you for any and all signs of life.

The past six years have been spent dodging the logical answer to your disappearance. Now, however, the sight of you alive is just too good to be true. He begins thoroughly checking your body for a pulse, listening intently to any irregularities in your heartbeat. Anything to assure him you are actually alive and breathing. When every sign and question points to 'yes' over if you are here, Carlos can hardly contain it. Finally seeing you walking, looking, talking, alive — it's like the crescendo of a beautiful song.

Jill, as collected as she is, does not differ from Carlos' state of emotion very much. She has thought of this moment at least a million times, rehearsing every syllable and breath to make the moment all the more perfect. Now, however, every perceivable thought in her head was robbed the second you entered the room. How desperately she wishes to reassure your safety, inform you of the lies you were told, and vow to never let another soul lay a single hand on you ever again. But, with her racing heart and this grizzly bear of a man latched to you like a leech, her idea of the perfect reunion has been spoiled. Still, for six years she has longed for this. Whether it's a steamy kiss beneath the moonlight or caught in Carlos' mess of tears, she couldn't be more elated to finally have you again.

Much to your dismay, your empty stomach then grumbles its frustrations into the silent air. In response, your face grows warm in embarrassment. You had been so occupied with the current events and battling your shock, the dinner you had missed out on the night before had gone overlooked. The two, however, react much differently to your perceptible hunger than you. Without a mere second to waste, they're fawning over you as if you were some powerful deity and they were your humble, loyal servants. Their infantilizing treatment of you makes your skin burn with even more heaps of humiliation.

"Oh? Are you hungry? I've almost finished breakfast!" Carlos breaks physical contact to return to the stove and you have to restrain yourself from expressing your perceptible relief.

"I... I didn't have dinner last night." With an exhale of dry laughter, your attempt to lighten the mood only does the opposite. How could they have let you go hungry? They brought you here to care for you the way they deserve and they have already failed!

A gentle hand on your lower back causes you to jump in startlement. You find Jill beside you, who helps guide your trembling legs to the kitchen table. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice the way her hand lingers. Finally free of any unsolicited touch, you sit down at the end of the table. The only way you can bring yourself to any state of ease is to ignore the relentless cooing of the woman beside you and the furious scraping of a spatula against a pan. Almost as if Carlos was speeding through the process of cooking in order to get back to you sooner. Jill then sits beside you, taking your hands into hers. Being free of physical contact was good while it lasted, you joke to yourself.

"You're real... You're real, my butterfly, you're real." Jill indulges in the reality of your genuine touch, before shaking her head as if to wobble her rationality back in place.

A plate is soon served before you. And it is easily the most delectable dish you had ever seen; it looked like something straight out of a magazine, despite the frivolous efforts made by the chef. A gourmet omelet sits in front of you, steam pervading the air in invading your nostrils with its mouth-watering aroma. Adorned with spinach, tomato, and feta cheese, you could have easily downed the delicious serving in one gulp. Nausea swaying in your stomach like a boat on sea prevents you from doing such. You thank Carlos through stuttering breaths and almost miss the way his body softens from receiving your gratitude.

Always so possessive, Jill reverts your attention back to her. "There is so much you are unaware of, Y/N. But, we're here to help. You don't have to be afraid a second longer." Her reassurance does little to calm your nerves. "Right, Carlos?" He only nods weakly, completely dazed as he stares at you in adoration. Had he even heard what she said?

"We will not let anything happen to you." The gravity of her statement practically touches your bones with its weight. It scares you, the severity of the declaration.

Terrified of angering them (even though there is not a single thing you could do that would ever irritate them), you grasp the fork laid out for you on the pristine table. Your efforts are halted by Carlos, who sits down beside you, opposite of Jill. To satiate his gnawing need for you to be close, he pushes his chair to touch yours until you are both shoulder-to-shoulder. After all, you must be so terrified upon being kidnapped by such an evil corporation. It is his touch and comfort you need to lull you back into a place of tranquility, he's sure of it.

Carlos then takes the fork from your hands, nearly passing out when your thumb grazes his hand. To your horror, he plucks some food onto the utensil and holds it up to your lips, ushering you to let him feed you. Almost as if this was some romantic anniversary or something. Reluctantly, you open your mouth and let him place the bite of food on your tongue. And you would be a liar if you said this wasn't the most delicious meal you have ever eaten. Your tastebuds adorned in succulent food and flavorful seasoning, you joke that this dish is compensation for all the turmoil this morning has brought.

Slowly, as Carlos was painfully milking the moment for as long as he could, your hunger is satiated. The joy he garners from merely feeding you radiates off of him like a campfire against the dark night brume. Once the plate is wiped clean of even the smallest crumb (despite your assurances to him that you were full), Jill then wipes the corner of your mouth with her thumb. Your holy attention is reverted back to Carlos when he pokes your lips with a straw, once again, ushering you to let him nourish your stomach. "To wash it down" he excuses, with far too much exhilaration hanging heavy in his tone.

Indulging in the cold, fresh water as it cascades down your throat, you miss how Jill brings her thumb, now adorned with bits of food and your saliva, into her mouth. And she just relishes in the absolute taste of you. Her vision goes hazy and her eyelids droop from the ecstasy. She would have let herself completely fall into the arms of enrapturing oblivion if it weren't for the fact you were right beside her. Carlos takes notice, however, and a sneer forms on his lips as he looks at her in disgust. Jill bites her tongue, holding herself back from pointing out how he is no different. So easily, she could inform you of how after your intimate bath together, she found him inhaling your sweater with his eyes rolled back into his skull and his hand stuffed into his pants. If she were to voice this, however, the man would easily throw himself over the table and attack her like a feral animal. She can handle him, but you don't need even more stress.

Upon being thrust into the middle of this mess, the only thing you can do is watch as the obsession of Jill and Carlos play out before your very eyes. And the physical manifestation of your return has caused disastrous consequences. Six years and you're ashamed to say you have forgotten what their facial features looked like. The memory remains as a blurred, distorted mess of blood and grime. An expression of all the trauma you all have endured. Now, however, you'd be damned if those were two expressions you could ever forget.

Carlos and his dark goo-goo eyes, adorned in overwhelming heaps of drowning devotion that could swallow you whole with one glance. They're affixed with teardrops, adding onto everything cherubic, holy about the way he looks at you. Despite the sheer display of sadness leaking from his eyes, his lips exhibit the biggest, most genuine smile you have ever seen in your life. The way he looks at you, it's almost as if God himself had descended from the heavens and graced Carlos with his presence. All from just the mere act of feeding you. It was deranged, you thought to yourself.

His smile vanishes, eyebrows raising as something seems to click in his head. He then takes your right arm gingerly into his grasp, fingers treading amongst the field of goosebumps blossoming on your skin. "Your arm, you poor thing... Are you okay, honey?" The worry in his voice makes you shiver with convulsion. It takes you several seconds to compute that he was referring to the injury you endured six whole years ago.

Jill and her cheeks that are blazon in hues reminiscent of two ripe cherries, appending a sort of childish innocence to her always-stoic expression. The way her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed displayed a sense of fury — presumably toward the man clinging onto you like a lifeline. When she looks at you, however, her features perceptibly soften as if beams of sunlight had enveloped her after years of being in the depths of Winter. It was deranged, you thought to yourself.

"You... You kidnapped me..." Even through all the violence and torment these two have endured, nothing had cut deep than those three words. The waver in your voice, the emotions brimming in your eyes, the trembling frown plastered on your lips. God, it killed them right then and there.

They begin to ramble and deny your accusation. All as if it wasn't a lie coming out of their mouths. And in their heads, it was anything but a lie. They truly believed that they saved you as if it was a genuine fact. Somehow, they manage to inch closer to you. The empty air around you becomes suffused with their waving hands and panicked explanations. All to convince you that they would never hurt you. Never.

"You're upset, Y/N, we understand. But you have to know that this was for your own good!" Jill remains the voice of reason, if that's what you would name it. Meanwhile, Carlos throws shambles of assurances such as, "It's not true!" and "I need you!" your way, hoping that something, anything will mend your fears.

And poor you. So confused, so terrified, so bewildered. All you could want at this moment is to go back twelve hours ago. To leave with your friend the second they entered the room, to scrutinize what in your home had caused you to black out, to burst down the front door and beg the the surrounding security guards to save you. Even though the truth of your “home” simmers just beneath the surface, itching to claw its way out, you still find yourself aching to go back to the way things were. Even if it is all just a fat lie. Anything is better than this.

Miles upon miles away, the three of you are completely unaware of the fourth presence treading closer to their secret. Suspicions high, Tyrell can't help but use some of his free time to venture into why Jill and Carlos had suddenly vanished. For the umpteenth time, he looks through more footage from the security system Jill was so insistent on receiving. And what he finds is horrifying. The two people he had once considered his friends were seen climbing through a window, to where they escape moments later with an unconscious body.

A flare of guilt spreads through him. Unwillingly, he had actively played a part in this. Whoever you were, he felt inclined to take full responsibility for helping these two take this innocent life away. To be kidnapped, murdered, he doesn't know. What Tyrell does know, however, is that he feels to be partially blamed for this. When he does further research, his heart sinks even deeper into the pit of his stomach. Reports of a missing patient were sent around the establishment. Y/N L/N, a potential runaway was actually the body nestled tight in Carlos' arms. He remembers how he had spoken that name and the reaction it garnered from Carlos; he remembers seeing the name on the door of the room Jill relentlessly paid him to receive footage of.

With that, Tyrell reports the incident. An investigation commences and two major clues are found. A shattered mug that had been filled with sedation-induced tea and specks of blood on the bathroom floor that have been tested positive for matching one of the assailants. Now, a manhunt is in play for Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira.

At his desk that was overwhelmed with littering documents, Tyrell eavesdrops on a conversation between his two colleagues.

"You won't believe who they've gotten to take over Carlos' spot for this mission!"

"Who?"

"Leon Kennedy."

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ WE WERE WILD AND FLUORESCENT

COME HOME TO MY HEART . . . ❞

this is what i imagined the necklace carlos stole borrowed from you to look like. however, you can imagine it as whatever you'd like!

[kanmom51]

Like Crazy - new insights

*This is a reposting of my latest reblog due to issues with that specific post.

***This has been sitting in my drafts since April 2023!!!

This is the post I reblogged and the basis to my own post.

Yep. I had some of a post written way back in April 2023, but the pieces just didn't come all together for me.

After Muse's release and specifically after the BTB yesterday where JM discussed Who, Muse and the lyrics, we also saw the change made to Who's lyrics from "you" to "she" things started to clear up for me. But then, a friend also shared a picture of the original lyrics of Like Crazy, which were subsequently altered before recording. We discussed these changes and I now feel that this is it! This is the missing piece to my post.

I mostly left what I wrote over a year ago in tact, adding the missing pieces to this puzzle that makes this post with what I feel is a little more insight into Like crazy.

Needless to say, these are my opinions, how I see the lyrics, the ones that made the cut and the ones that stayed in JM's lyrics journal.

So, let's get started:

Here I was thinking I'm the only one who was seeing this...

I do hope I'm reading this right, before going off motormouth about something that maybe isn't what is being said, but to hell with it, this is something I've been thinking too and I'm just gonna come out and say it.

We're all over 18 here right?

This is a subject we can talk about?

The more I listen to this song, the more I think it to be true too.

First of all, before starting off, I want to link this ask:

**Shock and awe... "she" wasn't part of the original lyrics for Like Crazy . Colour me surprised to learn the same is true with Who (even though JM didn't actually write the song himself). Oh, and if we are on that subject already, how not surprising to see the process of writing the song with John Billion, who happens to be one of the writers of SNTY as well (me sitting here thinking of several words and references that could have been somehow suggested and inserted into the song. No idea who (nah, I'm telling lies, I know exactly who). How shocking (NOT) to see that the artist actually had input with the song lyrics of which he is not credited in writing.

Again, the depth of the song, the layers to the song and the multiple interpretations too.

JM told us this song is about him struggling. He told us he was going through a period where he was drinking too much. He was finding fulfillment in ways other than performing, as performing is part of him, he is a performer, someone who needs the stage to express himself. The stage is where he is at peace, the stage being a piece of him that he was missing.

We saw his outburst of emotions in the first day of MOTS ON:E (that was my first experience of BTS and he literally broke my heart - and later seeing him being mocked for it infuriated me).

This was October 2020, around 6 months into the pandemic. The uncertainty. This is their first online performance and from there until Muster another 9 months go by. We know from Festa 2022 that the pandemic screwed up all of their plans. The uncertainty, working on and releasing BE and then Butter and PTD everything leading up to the PTD online concert, a year after MOTS ON:E. For those that performing is their life, standing in front of an audience and giving it their all, it's a hard pill to swallow. The unknown, if they will ever get back to perform on stage in front of a live audience, when this is who they are, their essence, it can be unbearable. JM wasn't the only performer to go through this. It's just that he shared this with us. He showed us his pain and vulnerability and was mocked for it by many. Shame on them!!!

So, again, JM told us with Like Crazy, that he was filling in that hole. Alcohol was mentioned by him specifically. But listening to the song, I think it's quite clear that sex was a very big part of it as well. Looking for that rush, that high. It's clear as day, for me anyway, in the lyrics.

(I think we could last forever I'm afraid that everything will disappear Just trust me)

[Verse 1] She's saying Baby, don't think about it There's not a bad thing here tonight Baby, you can leave it Stay with me until today

[Verse 2] Watch me go Wet me all night (Away) And morning too Don't come if you're drunk

In this loud music It fades me It's a drama-like story I'm get used to it Have you come far to find me that you used to know? Yeah, I know You know, I know (Ooh)

[Chorus] I'd rather be Lost in the lights Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind It holds to the end of this night Every night You spin me up high The moon that embraces you Let me have a taste

[Post-Chorus] Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') It's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever you and I

[Interlude] Mmm-hmm Yeah, hey Mmm-hmm Ooh-woah Mmm-hmm Mmm-hmm (Forever, you and I)

[Verse 3] Me reflects in the mirror I'm going crazy without hesitation I'm feelin' so alive, wasting time

I'd rather be Lost in the lights Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind It holds to the end of this night Every night You spin me up high The moon that embraces you Let me have a taste

[Post-Chorus] Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') It's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever you and I

[Outro] This will break me This is gonna break me (Break me) No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

Those are the lyrics he recorded.

But you see, there were changes made to the lyrics he was working on originally, and we got to see some of them.

This specifically:

Reading this draft and the final ones there are a few things that just fall into place for me (and I'd think for anyone that reads them), loud and clear:

First of all, obviously JM is singing about drinking too much alcohol. If the final lyrics hinted to losing himself in alcohol, the draft lyrics are ever so clear regarding that point.

Second of all, the sex. I think JM was pretty straight forward using the wording he was using. "Give me a good ride" can be other things, if you twist it around to try and explain it away, but bottom line, those lines within the context of the lines in the draft, like "just go turn off the light, you and me..." not to mention the whole chorus, to me the reference is obvious.

Next, I talked about the many references to JK in this song in this post:

This is all also relevant when it comes to my next point being the fact that to me it's clear that JM wrote this song referencing a special someone with whom he shares a high level of intimacy. A special someone that was there by his side when JM was struggling. A special someone that was struggling seeing JM going through everything he was.

To that person JM wrote (in the draft): "oh baby don't you cry, just wanna see your smile..."

These lines, they were too much. Too obvious. Too intimate. And they were left out probably because of just that.

So JM went with other lines. A little less obvious perhaps, and yet still very telling. The finale of the song:

No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

Now, you could claim that the song is about an inner struggle. JM struggling with himself, talking to himself, and yes, that could very much be part of the message JM, the king of layering, is going for. But see, that's exactly the point. JM is the king of layering, of having several meanings and messages within his lyrics and creations. And this is not different. There is no mistaking the reference to another person, not JM himself, in the lyrics. The way he uses the "you" in the lyrics, at times could pass as you being the alcohol, at times the you being himself in the mirror, but at times it's clearly a third party he is talking to. Especially in that finale to the song, that someone that wants to lift him out of that stupor he is in, to wake him up, to save him, when he is unwilling, not ready to accept that help just yet (same person he asks not to cry, knowing that he is making them sad). There are also the clear JK references in this song. The "you are me I am you" being the loudest of them all.

But JM being JM, he showed us in his own way what this song was about, opening up and allowing us to see his drafts.

And then he gave us Letter. Hidden, and private and intimate. Addressed not to us, but to that person that was always there by his side, that person he addresses in Like Crazy telling him "forever you and I". Now, in Letter, being in a better, healthier place, he can repeat the sentiment of them together forever. A sentiment JK had mentioned in the past (omg, that was so very awkward).

And now using lines like : "I sincerely hope we are forever" and "But don’t forget that we’re always together"...

The lyrics, the sentiments, the drafted lyrics that never made it, like the use of "Dangshin", I have talked about it all. Letter was for JK. Period.

When seeing Like Crazy again, the lyrics, the struggle, the person by his side, the intimacy, and Letter, I'm kind of thinking that not only is Letter a love ode to JK. That is stating the obvious. But it's also JM's acknowledgement and thank you to that person that stood by his side in his most difficult of times.

JK.

Bottom line:

Like crazy is about JM struggling and self medicating with alcohol and sex.

It's personal about himself, his struggles, but also includes a person that is there by his side, one he is highly intimate with, one who is there with him together. That person is there, spending the nights with him, in that escape world JM created for himself. Sad seeing JM struggle, trying to find a way to help JM out of that pit but being unable to do so, staying by JM's side all the same.

We know who that person is.

Same person he addresses Letter to.

[yetanotherhiddlestoner]

Summary ~ Daryl finds a journal on a supply run and reads it, what will happen when he sees the world through someone else's perspective?  Set in the commonwealth, straying a little from TWD timeline, but hey that the fun thing about fanfics right?

Daryl X Y/N. Words ~ 2449. Warnings ~ None (Photo found on Pinterest) Also I am trying to update I fell hard, you'll fall harder but it wont let me post it :(

The Entries Chapter 1

Daryl wasn't a man who just picked up a book to read it, not these days at least, if he found books for the kids then he would grab it and give it to them, he tries to recall the last time he actually read a book, but while he was looking for supplies, Daryl found a diary, the front looking worse for wear and covered in pink glittery stickers, something that reminded him of Princess and her style, Daryl's curiosity got the better of him and so and he opened it and read the first page. It read.

Entry one~

"This may very well be the last chance that I have to write, my family told me I should be a writer, I guess this is my last chance to ever get a book out there, but if anyone ever reads it, I hope you find comfort within the pages of this journal. My name is Y/N and this is the story about how I survived the apocalypse, or didn't I might be gone by now, in that case if would be a memoir right?"

Daryl shuts the book, placing it in his bag, he goes around gathering what supplies he can find before finally placing his bag on his back, starting up his bike and speeding back to the Commonwealth. Today was a good day for the supply run, he was able to find some medication for the community, canned food and some clothing for the small kids. That night as he lay in bed, he digs into his bag finding the journal, he starts reading it again.  

Entry two~

"I was born in 1989, 21 when the dead started attacking us, currently 26-27 years old although I have no idea if that is even right, I am just guessing the days and months at this point in this world, and I don't know how much time it has been if someone is reading this anyway back to my life story. My mother and father married at a young age, or at least young for them, they had just turned 20, been high school sweethearts, the whole Prom king and queen story line expect this was real life. It didn't take them long to start a family. My brother aka the eldest was born when my mother was 22, then another 2 years later came my other brother, the annoying middle child and then myself with a nice 5-year gap between myself and my second eldest brother."

Daryl flips the page to a collage of photos, ripped or cut to fit onto the pages. In the middle was one clearly done by a professional photographer, you are all sitting on the ground, smiling while looking at the lens, each person has their name on the photo, he looks at you in the photo. front and center, sighing at how happy you looked. Then in the corner is a photo of your parents on their wedding day, followed by photos of each child not long after they were born

"The day the world fell, I can't even remember the date, I was meant to be going to work, but my mother called me and begged for me to stay home, she begged for all of us to stay in our home, she told us all about the videos of people being shot down and them coming back and attacking people, I heard the terror in her voice, my brothers thought she was worrying for no reason, so they left for work. I tried to stop them, but they just wouldn't listen. I watched them walk out that door, hop in their cars and drive away, fearful that they wouldn't come back. I rang my friends, we chatted for a while, scared. We had planned on hanging at mine in the coming days, thinking this was just a temporary thing and that it would be fine within a week. How naive I was thinking the police and the government were going to be protect us.  I was very wrong. I watched as some of my neighbors left, cars packed up, houses left unlocked, pets left to fend for themselves. The street felt quiet, usually the kids would be playing in their lawns, coming home from school talking to their friends, or riding their bikes, now those things were left discarded. I watched the news, it only made my paranoia worse, watching them shoot down what I thought were innocent people at the time, the screams I could hear outside my door had me on high alert. My father never came home that night. He was away on business, he was meant to be coming home that day, I can only assume he is now dead. When my mother came home, she rushed us to get all the supplies and weapons we had, mostly kitchen knives, loaded them into the car, we waited for my father, constantly calling his cell phone and workmates but no-one answered, the longer we waited, the worse it got. During the night, I heard screams from down the street, saw neighbors running for their lives getting attacked, the screams as their friends chewed into their flesh, and then coming back. That night my family and I hid upstairs in one room, no lights, no noises nothing just praying we would make it through. 

Sunrise came and with it did us leaving our family home, the concrete covered in blood splatters, the groans of the dead coming out of the yards towards us, as I hopped into the car I gave the house one last look the one that I was born and raised in. In that moment the life I had known was gone. I have no idea if my friends were alive and if they are I hope they are well. That night, we tried sleeping in our car, taking turns at driving out of the city and further in land, my mother says we would be safe, away from the ones who can kill us. I doubted it though. We could see the cities being bombed from our car, the flame lighting up the horizon."

Daryl flips the page. His fingers glide over the page of photos once more, he notices that is your style, you write and then you put photos. He likes it, he likes that you are a real person, that had a real life, real friends.  Entry three~ "We drove for what feels like days, we pass the undead, we even ignore the hitchhikers, we can't risk taking on the wrong people my brother says. I've seen children biters, that is what we have come to call them, it breaks my heart. I had always wanted to be a mother but now I don't see kids in my life, not if my life is constantly running from the undead or living in fear."

Daryl keeps reading, finding himself more intrigued with each line. Another page, another photo of you and your friends, of you and a dog, he can assume might be a pet of yours once. You started drawing things you have seen on your travels; he takes in the details of each piece of art. You have a knack for art, a lot better then himself he tells himself. Another glimpse into your life. Another thing her learnt about you.

Entry four~ "The days pass in a blur now, it's been months since shit hit the fan. I think it might be coming up to winter, the air is cooler, a nice bite to it at night. I lost my brother to a biter; he was out trying to find more supplies when the dead came out of nowhere, he tried to fight them off. He managed to get away and spend his last few moments with us, his body bloodied and bitten. I watched as he turned, his eyes glossing over, the snapping of his teeth as he reached out for our mother who was crying for him to stop, I didn't think I just acted, my knife plunging into his skull, he was my first biter I had to put down, we buried him in a field under a tree. Our mother hasn't been the same since, she barely says a word these days. We lost our car, ran outta petrol, lost most of our things, I managed to save the one thing I need in my life, my photos, my memories in the one bag I don't ever want to lose" At the bottom of the page is a Polaroid of yourself."

Daryl notices the tally on the bottom of the page. Later on in the journal he would see the numbers go up each time, you didn't write about them but you kept track.

Biter - 1 Human-0 Animals -2

And then a photo of the makeshift grave you buried your brother in. His date of birth and just the year 2010 at the end.  "I know it may seem silly to whoever is reading this but as long as I got a camera, batteries and film, I'll keep taking photos, documenting what I survive through, until I can no longer find the supplies. I'll keep doing this until I am no longer able to. It is the only thing that makes me sane, it makes this world feel to real"

Entry five~ "I know death comes to all, but I didn't think my own mother would end it herself. I should have seen the signs, she stopped eating, stopped speaking, stopped living, day by day the life drained from her eyes, I think ever since we left, each day has made her realize that things were not going to get better. My brother and I buried her as best we could then we headed back out into the world, on foot for miles, tonight our home is a service station, not really safe, we are holed up in office, being as quiet as possible, we have raided the shelves for food and water, if we lucky we might get another day to rest here and then we will keep moving. I doubt we will make it to the mountains, it is too far to travel by foot."

He sees the cut-out photo of you and your mother, noting how much you look like her, you have her hair and facial features. His fingers move over the photo, he feels sorry for you, he knows how to feel to lose a loved one. You look so happy in this photo, the world can be cruel.

Entry six~ "I tried, I tried so hard to stop him, I screamed at him, begged him. But he didn't listen. Now I am all alone in the world I wasn't born for. My brother, the eldest, always looking out for me, we got stuck in a rundown house, he used himself as a diversion. He screamed at me to run, to get out. I grabbed my bag and ran, the last thing I saw as I turned back was him being over ran by them and screaming for to keep running, don't look back and that he loved me. My brother was a person who rarely said the L word, so hearing his last words as that made me run harder, until my chest burned. I have found a small tree house in the woods, I am guessing it was a child's secret hideaway, built by their parent's or at least that is what I am telling myself while I cry for the lost of my family, for tonight it is my sanctuary.  I have no idea how I am going to live alone; do I find a group? Do I try to live alone? I am scared, I haven't felt like this since day one. I have no idea what tomorrow brings, I have limited water, limited food and a couple weapons." Daryl continues reading the journal well into the night, when he glances at the clock its almost 2am in the morning, he decides to close the journal for the night, placing it on his nightstand. 

When he picks up the journal again, he can't believe how much he has read in a short time.

Entry 17~ "Found a library today, took out the undead inside, found a book on edible foods in the wild and how to survive out here. I am hoping they come in handy as my rations are almost out, also found a book to keep me entertained."

Biter-16 Human -2 Animal-8 Entry 18~ "I miss them." Daryl reads those three little words and feels a pang in his heart.

Entry 19~ "Today I snapped. A biter came out from behind a corner and in a second, I saw my life just die away. I beat that thing into a bloody pulp, smashing its head over and over, while tears formed into my eyes. Am I losing what little humanity I have left? Is being alone making me into an animal?"

Daryl grimaces at the photo of the now dead walker that you took. He wonders why you took that? Why would you want a photo of something that broke you? He has had his fair share of kills, yet he never truly wants to remember them.

Entry 20~ "Found a creek near the road I was walking, I have learnt how to filter dirty water, at least I have something to drink now, I just need to find food and a place to rest for the night. I have no idea really which direction I am going; I have to learn all this now."

Biter-36 Human -2 Animal-14

Entry 21~ "I am nearing the end of the book, the pages filled with the stories I have written, photos I have taken, I have truly lost track of time, the days, the months everything is mashed into one big never-ending nightmare. I fight for my life daily, it is exhausting. I think my next stop for me is the next town 30 miles away. For now I leave this journal here, for anyone, if there is anyone left out there that is. Please take care of my photos, my life story, it may not be anything these days."  The last words written hurts Daryl a little. "I truly don't want to die. But I don't know if I am strong enough to live."

And your signature style is a photo of you, he guessing you took it the day you finished the journal, you look sad, alone. He just wanted to hug you and tell you it's going to be alright.

[mollyjames]

I've talked about this before, but I had a friend who went hard in the paint to try and make "the best webcomic of all time". To accomplish this, they dedicated themselves to learning how to write and how to draw, and to studying their favorite work so they could learn how to emulate it.

At first it was really cool. This was a person who supported me at a time when I was really unsure of myself. Without them I wouldn't have a patreon, and I probably wouldn't be working on comics at the same level and consistency that I do today. So I was happy to do whatever I needed to support them in return.

They started taking a bunch of online courses and watching youtube videos. At the same time they started a Daily Journal on discord so they could document their progress. A few weeks passed, then a month... I encouraged them to do some brainstorming, come up with some ideas, draw some characters, and they did a little... But they really wanted to learn how to do it Right first, so that when the time came to actually sit down and make the comic it would be the best it could possibly be from the very beginning. After a few years I fell out of contact. As far as I know they never really made anything.

A part of me still hopes I'm wrong, that one day they'll show up out of the blue with an amazing comic and all that work building a strong foundation will shine through... but my gut says no. That discord server has been dead for a while. I hope they're still moving forward. I still want to see what they'll make someday.

[multific]

Simply Perfect

Dimitri Kravinoff x Reader

Summary: Your first Christmas with him.

The fire crackles softly, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

Outside, it was a rainy day in London, but inside, it was just the two of you, wrapped in the spell of Christmas.

The tree twinkles with the lights you placed on it that morning, and the smell of pine and cinnamon fills the air.

Dimitri sits next to you on the couch, his hand resting lightly on your knee as you look at him with a smile.

He looks so handsome in this light.

Despite the luxury of the room, there’s something wonderfully simple about tonight, just the two of you, sharing this special moment.

He reaches under the tree, pulling out a velvet box.

“I hope you like it,” Dimitri says, his voice low and smooth, carrying a hint of suspense.

Your heart skips a beat as you take the small box from him.

He’s always thoughtful, but there’s something about his sincerity tonight that makes your chest tighten in a good way.

You open the box, and your breathing stops for a moment.

Inside is a necklace, a beautiful silver necklace with a pendant which has intricate design that gleams like starlight.

It’s the one you’ve admired for months, the one you thought was out of reach.

It was simply too expensive and too beautiful for you.

You’ve talked about it before, but you never expected him to buy it for you.

“Dimitri… it’s perfect,” you whisper, your fingers brushing over the delicate diamonds.

You meet his gaze, his eyes dark and warm with affection. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he looks at you tells you everything.

“I'm glad you like it,” he says, his voice a soft promise.

You get the necklace from the box and drape it around your neck.

Immediately, he stands up, reaches behind you, and fastens the clasp with fast fingers.

His fingers brush your skin, and for a moment, you feel just how cold they are.

He must have been nervous to give you this beautiful gift.

"I feel spoiled." you laugh a little.

"You should be spoiled, you deserve it, My Love."

You reach for the gift you’ve been hiding in the pillow behind you.

It’s not nearly as extravagant, but it’s from the heart.

You spent months trying to find the best gift.

“I’ve got something for you, too,” you say, your voice a little shaky as you hand him the box.

He looks at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, and it is only fair because you also bought me something,” you reply, your heart beating faster, now you understand why his fingers were cold.

Dimitri unwraps the gift slowly.

When he finally opens it, inside is a leather-bound journal. You watch as he makes a confused face.

Then he decided to open it.

The first page: For every moment we’ve shared, and every one we still have to come.

His expression softens, the stoic façade he often wears slipping just a little. His eyes flicker to you, searching your face but you just smile and motion for him.

“It’s… it’s beautiful,” he says, his voice thick with meaning. “You know, I’ve never been someone who writes down my thoughts, but… maybe I’ll start.”

As he flicks through the pages he notices that you have also written some things in there.

It makes him smile. You are so thoughtful.

You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I thought it would be nice. To have something for only you. Write your thoughts down since it has been a tough year for you. I have put some of mine in there. Some might be... dirty.”

His eyes lit up as he quickly began his search through the pages.

You only laugh.

He closes it, his thumb brushing over the cover.

“I’ll treasure it.”

For a long while, neither of you speaks. You simply sit there, in the quiet warmth of your home, the sound of the fire crackling in the background and the soft hum of Christmas music playing from the speakers.

"This is the best Christmas you know?" he speaks. "I never really liked Christmas... with my father... but you changed my mind."

"I'm glad I was able to help you. And I really do love the necklace."

He leans in and you kiss him.

It is a slow and soft kiss.

The world outside may be cold, but here, in this perfect, intimate space, you have everything you need and want.

You rest your head against his shoulder, the necklace he gave you gleaming softly in the firelight, and Dimitri pulls you closer, his embrace wrapping you in both warmth and affection.

He reaches for the remote and turns the TV to search for your favourite Christmas movie.

It was simply perfect.

A/N: Above photo is not mine! It's from Pinterest!

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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