#this series makes me SOB like you wouldn't believe

[mighty-ant]

I've got my disney duck addiction back but other then dw and some of the disney afternoon cartoons I need some comic recommendations cuZ I'm really curious about them.

Do you know any good ones?

there are 2 recent Darkwing comic series that I'm a huge fan of - I bought up everything in the 2010 BOOM! series, which isn't afraid to get dark and bittersweet with its stories, and features a (no longer canon lmao) crossover with ducktales!

this is from issue #1 of the Boom! series, picking up after the end of the cartoon where Drake has started a new life as a working stiff to keep Gosalyn safe, which means no superhero-ing and no Launchpad. They give him and LP big "divorced but still missing each other" energy and it's breathtaking to watch

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter five | part one | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus is his own warning, elitism

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Sejanus Plinth finds his soulmate in one of the tributes

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 i was so afraid to write this, but here it goes anyways, make sure to give me y'all feedback! the chapter is divided in two parts, this is part one!

beta read by the AMAZING @nowitsmissing

series masterlist | navigation

Coriolanus Snow didn't sleep a wink, it was perhaps at six that he managed to finish the backup proposal. He was dissatisfied with it. it wasn't nearly as good as his original ideas, but it would have to make do if you turned about to be a snake.

In someplace in his heart, he knew that you wouldn't take credit for his work. But he also knew better than to believe his heart over his mind. Being foolish and lovesick gets you nowhere.

After an undeserving cold shower and a meal of potatoes and (expired) milk with grandma’am and Tigris. He draped himself in the Academy uniform and went to the Capitol Zoo as there was time before classes began.

He ignored the aching of his legs as he arrived, he ignored the jealousy that brewed when he saw Sejanus get out of his fancy car, arriving a few minutes later Coryo had.

Sejanus was carrying a bag, the weight of it heavy as it was filled with food Coriolanus had instructed him to bring. Despite the fact that he could have sneaked food from the cafeteria solely for his tribute, he felt Dean's eyes on him more than ever. He refused to be labeled as a thief.

Sejanus greeted him with a grin and Coriolanus replied with his greeting. He ignored the way his stomach seemed to contract with the need for more food. He refused to cave in. He and Sejanus walked side by side towards the cage, the blood outside was cleaned but the blood of the district ten girl seemed to be rotting in the confinement of the cage. Filling the surrounding area with a pungent smell that made Coryo want to hurl and empty his stomach.

He bit the inside of his cheek to control the urge. Sejanus went to the other side to find his tribute, Marcus, a district two boy who was his ex-classmate. It was pathetic to Snow that after so many years Sejanus still thought of himself as district scum despite being right.

He greets Lucy Gray with a smile on his face. Lucy, with her southern accent, replied, “I am sorry about your friend.” Coriolanus shrugged it off. Arachne was never his friend, but no need to disrespect the death. “Thank you,” he replied politely, as he handed her the sandwich from the cage.

Coriolanus looks at Jessup, district twelve boy, your tribute. He had a nasty bite on his neck. Lucy Gray sees him eyeing the wound and she begins to explain,

“He kept the bats away from me on the train. So I could get some sleep, he was bitten.”

Coriolanus nodded in response, it looked like Jessup was out before the game even began. One dead, twenty-three to go. He hides the flash of joy he feels in his chest and says, “He seems like a good person.”

“He is,” Lucy Gray emphasized, “He doesn't deserve to be here and neither do I.”

Coriolanus didn't want to get into the moral argument so he stayed quiet, thankfully not even a whole minute passed as Sejanus strutted towards them, his shoulders down, his expression defeated.

It took everything in Coriolanus not to smirk at the kick-down puppy.

Sejanus came to him, his eyes glossed with sadness, “Marcus turned the other tributes against me. They aren't taking the food.”

Sejanus Plinth turned to Lucy Gray, “You… Can you help? They might eat if you give it to them.”

Lucy Gray nodded and Coriolanus felt irritated that Sejanus wasn't asking Coryo for permission first, it was his songbird after all. But he didn't say anything and watched the interaction unfold.

That's when the most unexpected thing happened. Sejanus Plinth lets out a sob as he catches the sight of Lucy Gray's wrist, the black ink on her skin, her soulmate number. Coriolanus Snow sees the recognition Sejanus has in his eyes as he looks at the date.

He knows the number.

Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray are soulmates.

Coryo got over his shock quickly when he realized the irony of the situation. A mentor and tribute. Both are from the districts but have vastly different lives. A songbird and a boy Coriolanus Snow wished could sew his mouth shut.

Fitting.

He could barely manage the smile off his face but then he remembered you and his burnt wrist. The smirk turned grim, and he was glad that he was not the only one sharing the misery despite it being with Sejanus. Now Sej knew what it felt like, let him suffer, let's see if daddy's money works here.

He tuned out as Sejanus and Lucy Gray talked. Lucy Gray doesn't cry but Sejanus has enough tears for both and Coriolanus wants to scoff. But instead, he puts a hand on Sejanus' shoulder and gives him what he thinks is a comforting squeeze.

“We have to go,” he said, his eyes flashing to Lucy, hoping she was more rational than her counterpart. “There are classes to attend.” Coriolanus Snow refuses to be late and has that on his record. Unfortunately, he can't voice that reason out. “We have to go,” Snow insisted to Sejanus.

“Go,” the songbird encourages, taking Sejanus's hand in hers. She gives him an awkward but genuine smile, not meant for the TV. Something special. “I'll be here,” she joked and it worked horribly as more sobs seemed to wreck the Plinth boy.

Coriolanus gives a pitiful stare to Lucy before dragging the boy out of the zoo and shoving him into the car. He barks the order to drive and relishes briefly at how the driver had flinched. Sejanus continues to cry and despise Snow feels the urge to knock him out. He doesn't. Instead, he runs his thumb over the raised flesh on his wrist and redirects his thoughts to you and yesterday (he refuses to acknowledge the sin he committed at night)

Yesterday was refreshing. Nice company (though his mind didn't seem to want to admit that). Full stomach. And despite the panic attack, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed you. Spending moments with you was rare throughout the years, it took Coriolanus a long time not to retch whenever he saw you. It was better now, he was mature, nothing like the eight-year-old but with the same thoughts nonetheless.

Despite everything you're not worthy of being his soulmate.

Sejanus managed to control himself, picking his pieces up and licking his wounds as they got closer to the academy. As they reached the gates, Coriolanus' hand reached to open the door. Sejanus' voice stopped him.

“Make sure she wins, Coriolanus. Please”

“I will try my best,” was all Snow said in return. Before Coriolanus is fully out of the car, he turns to Sejanus and says, “Buy a guitar for your girl.”

His songbird. Coryo's songbird. His soulmate. Snows’ Victor.

“And keep it a secret, Sejanus.”

He can't let the Plinth boy take the glory when she wins.

NEXT PART

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 7

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: I apologize in advance lol.

Masterlist | Read ch 6 here

Your feet buried in the sand, just inches from the gentle waves crashing to shore. You could smell the salt in the air, feel it on your skin as the wind carried droplets of water until it reached you. The sun kissed the horizon of the ocean beside you, painting the waves in streaks golden.

This was possibly your favorite thing about New Asgard, the ocean.

Or, second favorite, you thought, as you squeezed the hand holding your own.

"And Thor wouldn't listen to me, of course," Loki continued the story, his feet burying in the sand just as yours did. One of his hands interlocked with yours, the other holding his shoes. "Not until the whole tent came crashing down on him."

You giggled, the soft wind carried your laughter and messed up your hair, "Thor never was the brightest at learning our 'contraptions', as he would call them."

"No, I guess not," Loki mused, a smile of his own lingering on his lips.

You looked up at him then, watching as the fading sunlight reflected against his bright eyes and shaped the curves of his smile. You'd never tire of the sight, of him by your side.

"You should come with us next time," Loki suggested, apparently just as lost in you as you were in him.

"Camping?" You raised a brow.

Loki nodded, stopping in his tracks. He dropped his shoes to the sand without a second thought, so he could take hold of both your hands. "You'd make it better."

His voice, however, began to sound far away. You frowned, looking around as the golden sunlight seeped away, making room for a grey and stormy sky. The wind picked up speed, cutting into your skin like needles. The sea, once calm and serene, now raged and thundered against the shoreline.

"You always do." Suddenly, Loki's voice was nothing but an echo.

You didn't have time to hold him tighter before his hands were snatched away from yours.

Stumbling forward, you tried running after him, but the sand began to swallow your feet. Panic settled into your chest and got your heart racing.

You looked up, but you shouldn't have.

His eyes were bloodshot, his feet held off the ground as he struggled against the bruising grip on his neck. When Loki looked into your eyes, tears were running down both your cheeks. Blood trailed down his mouth as he choked for a breath. "Run," it was a plea, so quiet and weak past his lips.

The last thing you heard was a sickening crack.

You woke up with a scream lingering on your lips, sitting up on your bed and already clawing at your chest for the air that you desperately needed yet couldn't get a hold of. You didn't know if you were sobbing or coughing, perhaps a bit of both.

The tears were non-stop, dripping down your chin and dampening the collar of your pajama shirt. You threw the covers away from your body, feeling trapped on your skin. Burying your head on your trembling hands, you did your best to try and catch your breath.

It had been a while since you've had a nightmare this haunting.

─── ·❆· ───

You felt numb. The day began and you couldn't feel anything besides the emptiness in your chest. Foolishly, you had thought you'd finally outgrew the bad memories, the grief. You wondered if you ever would.

As you walked through the hallways of the TVA, you thought back to yesterday; to the rain, the northern lights, and him. He who had those same dark curls, those same bright eyes, and alabaster skin that you saw in your dreams and nightmares. Each day it became harder and harder to believe the lie you insisted on telling yourself.

As if on cue, you heard the stomping of someone running to catch up with you.

"Good morning," Loki greeted, just a tad out of breath as he fell into step beside you.

You closed your eyes for a moment after hearing his voice. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you nodded without looking at him. "Morning."

Loki noticed, he felt the shift in the mood, heard it in your tone. You know he did, because he hesitated. "Um-" He tried to start; you could perfectly picture his eyes being unable to find a place to focus even if you weren't looking.

"I've been thinking," he tried again, and you could hear the tentative smile on his words, "For the next time you manage to borrow Mobius' tempad, I- I have a place I would like to show you, if you'd like."

There were tears brimming in your eyes. You weren't sure why. Maybe because this was such a Loki way for him to try and ask you out. Maybe because you could feel your heart melting for him as it found its home again after being in the cold for so long, and that terrified you.

"Yeah…" You cursed under your breath when your voice came out broken and strained. You cleared your throat. "I don't know when he'll let me borrow it again, so," you shrugged, quickening your steps, "I guess we'll see."

Loki fell behind just for the time it took for him to mull over your words. It didn't take much effort for him to match your pace again. "Yes, of course."

The sadness dripping from his voice made your heart clench. You didn't want to hurt him. But you didn't want to hurt yourself either.

Finally reaching your desk in your secluded nook of the library, you immediately busied yourself with threading over the fresh stack of documents resting on top of it. Pointedly avoiding Loki's concerned look.

"I can help you with those," Loki suggested, already reaching for a spare chair.

"You really don't have to," You tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, turning on your table lamp.

"I want to," he told you with that softness reserved for you only. "We can finish it twice as fast and maybe stop for tea-"

"Loki, stop!" You suddenly snapped, finally turning to look at him. "Can you just leave me alone for one goddamn second?" You hadn't meant for your voice to come out as harsh as it did.

Loki lowered his head so you weren't able to see the pang of hurt in his eyes. His hand went limp as he slowly let go of the chair. Still, he took a step closer to you and asked; "Are you alright? Did something happen?"

Of course he would be able to tell. Of course he'd put your pain above his own.

You surrendered the facade with a sigh, and a single tear rolled down your cheek. "I keep seeing…" It was difficult to think of it, let alone say it. You closed your eyes. "The day I lost him, I- I keep seeing it over and over. Even after all this time."

You had gotten better, for a while, keeping busy in the TVA had somewhat helped. But you knew you only buried the feeling, never dealt with it. And then Loki—this Loki, the one who would be yours—found his way to you, and everything crumbled again. Those bright eyes of his were still the same you've always known, after all; and between the memories you had together that only you had lived, and the way his soul tangled with yours as if they never parted, you didn't know what to feel.

Your chin wobbled and a sob fell past your lips. "And I just want it to stop hurting… I just him back."

Seeing you like this, it hurt. Loki took half a step closer to you, his glassy eyes gauging every twitch of your muscles. If you told him to leave, he would, even if it's the last thing he wanted. Your pain pierced his soul like an arrow, tearing and making it bleed. More than anything, he found himself only wanting you to be okay.

No names were needed. Loki knew, just from the way you were adamantly refusing to look at him; he knew you were talking about… him.

Carefully, testing tentative waters, Loki reached for one of your hands. He held his breath when you tensed as his skin touched yours. His fingers closed gingerly around your wrist and he pulled your hand up with a gentleness he didn't know he was capable of.

You let him. You weren't sure why, but you did.

Loki brought your hand to rest above his chest, flat against his beating heart, and held it there, with his own hand still grasping yours tightly. He hesitated. He was afraid, he realized. Afraid of losing you.

Only when Loki opened his lips to speak, did he taste his own tears that had fallen. "I'm here." It was nothing but a breath. "I promise. I'm here." He tried, it was all he could give you; himself.

You clutched the fabric of his shirt, fingers shaking. You leaned your forehead against his shoulder as another sob escaped you. As the waves pulled you under.

In a place out of time, time stood still. For a precious second, only you and him existed.

You looked up after what felt like an eternity, your lips hovering as you struggled to hold his gaze. "But you're not him." The half smile that stretched the tear tracks on your cheeks held nothing but sorrow.

As if ripping apart a piece of his soul, Loki reluctantly let go of your hand. "What is it you have against me?" He whispered, pleaded.

You'd never seen him this vulnerable. His ocean eyes glimmered under the dim artificial lights of the library, eyebrows pulled softly together in what looked more like loss than confusion.

"And what is it you have with me?" You found yourself whispering back, just as desperate. "For you, we never met." Your voice broke and then dripped with frustration, "You have nothing to lose. So what is it that you want from me?"

It was selfish to put the blame on him, just because he brought back the same warmth you've been missing for so long. But you were hurting, and broken things tend to have sharp edges.

Loki's lips hovered open and he shifted his gaze down, almost as if ashamed. He held the silence for a beat longer. "I guess I just…" He stopped, and forced himself to look into your eyes. "I saw how much you loved your Loki… I think I was jealous, and I was selfish, for wanting the same thing he was lucky enough to have." His smile was that of someone who knew when he'd lost. "You."

All emotion drained from your face. It felt like a bucket of icy water being dropped on top of you.

Had Loki actually fallen in love with you?

For a moment you wondered if, in every reality and every lifetime, you were destined to fall for each other. As the universe's own twisted version of soulmates.

You would've laughed at such a sweet thought, if it hadn't just made your heartbeat skyrocket. Because deep down, you knew you'd fallen for him as well. Again. As you always knew you would.

In every lifetime. As you promised you would.

And it terrified you, because what if you were destined to fall, yet also destined to lose?

"I'm sorry," you breathed, tasting the salt of your tears on your lips. You took staggered steps away from Loki. "I'm sorry, I- I can't."

I'm sorry, I don't know if I can pick myself back up if I ever lose you again. So I'd rather not have you at all.

"Please, I-" Loki started, yet he didn't know what he was pleading for.

But you shook your head vehemently. "I need," your voice stumbled, "I'm sorry- I just need a moment alone."

You turned around then, walking away and taking Loki's heart with you. His eyes refused to watch you leave again, luckily he had tears to blur the memory.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 8 here

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[makeyoumine69]

Call Me Babydoll 5

PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Patrick stays in your mind even after the disastrous Dorsia incident. Like a song you can't get out of your head, he continues to hum his sultry and sensual words and ways into your ears and heart. When he arrives unexpectedly with a surprise guest, he cannot deny that he is attracted to you. But is this even real?

CONTAINS: Angst, smut, masturbation (f), obsessive behavior, cursing and use of pet names, smoking, gaslighting & manipulation, humiliation & hyperfixation, Daddy kink, making out, marking, biting.

WORDS: 3.5k

A/N: Sorry to make you wait so long, I hope to get in shape soon and post more often!🥰

LINKS: [Ch.4]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]

Your mind was a complete mess, your heart nothing but glass dust. The echoes of your private conversation with Patrick on the outdoor terrace of Dorsia still lingered in your mind even after you returned home, though you couldn't remember how you made it since you had declined Bateman's offer to take you to your house.

The first thing you noticed when you crossed the threshold of your home was a strong, sweet scent of flowers. It was a familiar perfume that you already hated.

"Y/n? I thought you were already asleep in your room," and there she was - your father's girlfriend named Sophia, meeting you in the hall, smiling mischievously as she caught you doing something criminal. "Where have you been?"

Sophia was a middle-aged woman with Greek roots, she was really a nice person, always so kind and friendly to you, and most importantly - she never tried to replace your mother, for which you were very grateful. 

"I had dinner," you replied tiredly as you took off your coat. "Not a good one."

"Ouch…" She gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before continuing. "Don't be sad, honey. You're an incredible person and I'm sure that one day you'll meet the right person." Sophia cheered this, smiling as if her words were a prediction of the future. "With whom you will feel that everything is in the right place."

Sighing, you tried to master something close to a smile. "Thank you, Soph." As much as you wanted to share your worries with her, you couldn't because she could tell your father everything. "I'm so exhausted I could fall asleep right here."

"Go rest," she mused, watching you go upstairs. "Tomorrow your father and I are going to visit my family."

"Good luck with that." You replied before disappearing from her vision.

It was obvious that you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, thanks to the endless thoughts that looped in your head like a broken record.

Why did you ever think that a man like Bateman could really take you seriously? You felt deceived, embarrassed and madly frustrated, because at the end of the day, Patrick was just playing with you like a toy, twisting you perfectly around his finger. 

Fidgeting in your bed, you accidentally recalled the memories of the day he was here - you could still feel the remnants of his hypnotizing cologne as your sheets smelled of him. A lonely tear slid down your cheek, outlining the beautiful shape of your face - now so dull and dejected. 

If only you could rewind time and not allow him to get close to you, not even for an inch. Sobbing, you curled up like a kitten, pressed your knees to your chest and tried to drift off, but every time you closed your eyes - his gorgeous face popped up in your mind, making you believe that he really had blessed you with a curse. A curse to be obsessed with the man who would never be yours.

It had been a week since you had seen Bateman, and somehow you had even managed to live through your depression and hide it from your father, although it was quite difficult due to his numerous questions about your sad face and bad mood. At work, some of your co-workers were also trying to figure out what was wrong with you, so you finally decided to take a few days off to relax and get your life back on track.

In the morning of one of those days, you suddenly found yourself writhing on the sheets, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. With an irritated groan, you threw the blanket aside, accidentally touching your painfully hard nipples. 

Oh shit, not again.

Closing your eyes, you didn't even notice that you were dreaming about him for the third fucking time in a row. You let out a muffled gasp as your trembling hand snaked down your belly between your half-opened legs to the center of your desire.

It was just impossible to resist.

"Aww, Daddy," you moaned softly, imagining it was his hand caressing your taut folds. "Please...I need more..."

Embarrassed but absolutely horny, you spread your legs wider, letting your own digits slide along your dripping pussy, and kept picturing his beautiful face as he praised you for being such a good girl for him. 

A loud gasp echoed through your room at the memory of his velvety, deep voice, playing in your head as if Bateman was really here, next to you, his hand wrapped tightly around your trembling throat as he wanted nothing more than to bring you to your climax, to see you collapse right before his dark hazel eyes.

"Mmhm, Patrick..." you frowned and shivered, your ministrations growing more impatient as you rubbed circling motions into your throbbing clit while feeling the impending orgasm building in your core. "Patrick, Patrick, please!"

To muffle your obscene moans, you had to bite the pillow next to you as you reached your climax, never stopping to massage your feverish nub. 

'You are so naughty, Babydoll. Look at the mess you have made.'

The echo of his sexy voice resounded in your clouded mind, prolonging your intense orgasm and you couldn't help but cradle your breast, only to pinch your hard little tip as you craved more. 

But unfortunately, after the haze of ecstasy wore off and you were finally able to think clearly, the bitter realization that it was all an illusion washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you completely broken. It felt as if you had put all your energy into getting that high, and now you could barely move, feeling satisfied yet devastated.

Over the next few hours, you showered several times and refused to leave your room, no matter how much your father and Sophia tried to convince you. Shame and despair were eating you alive from the inside out, draining all your positive emotions like parasites.

Whenever you tried to distract yourself by reading, you were annoyed by your mind tricks because every character's name starting with the letter P automatically became 'Patrick'. 

You hated that man for infesting your mind, body, and soul. Before meeting Bateman, you even thought you were frigid, but now...now you were ready to climb on the walls from the consuming desire to be...possessed? Owned? Marked? 

A loud knock at the door interrupted your train of thought and you barely stopped yourself from squeaking - all these days, since you started having nasty dreams with Patirck, you felt like you were doing something bad and someone from your household could catch you. Quickly you approached the door to your room and after unlocking it, you let your vision - which turned out to be your father - in. 

"I thought you were taking a nap," he chuckled, but then his face changed when he saw your tired eyes. "Are you sure you're not sick, (y/n)?"

"I'm not sick, Dad," you rolled your eyes and crossed your hands over your chest, ready to be lectured again. "Did something happen? I was in the middle of proofreading."

Your father hummed, tilting his head to the side. "You took a few days off to work at home?"

Scowling with annoyance, you leaned against the door and mumbled: "It helps me relax and clear my head."

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that Patrick is here," you felt the ground disappear under your feet as he spoke. "He came to sign some papers and I thought you might like to join us in the living room. Soph made your favorite apple pie."

This information made your temples ache with tension, and you had to massage them to ease the stabbing pain. "Father, I... I'm not really in the mood for guests."

Especially when this guest was Patrick Bateman.

Your father just sighed and stepped back, which meant he wasn't going to try to convince you. Most of all, you hated to upset your family, even though you didn't want to see Bateman, not after the things that had happened to you during these long, crazy days.

"Okay, okay," you knew you would regret it, but now you didn't see any other option. "I'll be back soon."

With that, you closed the door, feeling the panic rising in your chest. It seemed that your father still thought that you were still on good terms with Patrick, since you had not told him anything about that damn dinner. Trying to pull yourself together, you quickly went to the mirror to freshen up a bit - the fact that you were worried about what Bateman would think of your appearance still bothered you, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Almost fifteen minutes later, you finally came downstairs, wearing a short black top and your favorite tight jeans, and no, you weren't trying to impress him - a little spice wouldn't hurt.

As you approached the living room, you began to hear a cacophony of different voices: your dad's, Sophia's, and another unfamiliar female voice that made you stop in confusion around the corner. Who was that?

"(Y/n), don't be shy, come here." Your father's comment made you frown and bite your lip in embarrassment as you felt like you were transferred back to your childhood.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the living room and immediately became the center of everyone's attention. Your eyes quickly found the owner of the unknown voice - a pretty blonde girl sitting next to Patrick with a small notebook in her elegant hands. 

Another blonde, huh? 

Putting on a friendly fake smile, you managed to hide your frustration and walked closer to the couch to take a seat next to your father, completely ignoring Bateman's intense gaze.

"Uh, this is Jean, Patrick's assistant," your father introduced the blonde girl to you, and she smiled shyly when you raised your eyes to her. "Jean, this is (y/n), my lovely daughter."

"Nice to meet you, (y/n)," Jean murmured and turned to look at Patrick, as if looking for his approval. When he said nothing, she continued. "Patrick has told me a lot about you."

"Really?" You replied skeptically, your hands already crossed over your chest as you desperately tried to keep your composure. "How nice."

Somehow your father managed to notice the growing tension between the two of you, and his little cough caught everyone's attention. "Sorry, my throat gets dry from time to time."

"No need to apologize, Mr. (y/l/n)," Bateman suddenly joined the conversation, causing you to almost jump in your seat. "How about your lovely daughter making us some drinks?" His white-toothed smile was blinding, but you did your best not to react to this provocation.

"Yeah, sure. I'll make them." You stood up quickly, seeing this as a great opportunity to escape.

"Let me help you!" Jean suddenly suggested.

"No no no, you don't have to!"

"Hey, let her help you," Patrick put forward and tapped Jean's knee several times, which you couldn't miss. "It's better not to refuse people's help, because we live in such a cruel world. You know what I mean, (y/n?)" 

His smug wink at you made your hands clench into fists, but you decided not to argue with him and just stumbled out of the living room, hearing Jean's soft footsteps behind you.

In the kitchen, the two of you didn't try to strike up a conversation, feeling uncomfortable but not hostile. With casual confidence, you took out two glasses and three cups under the attentive gaze of Patrick's assistant.

"Whiskey for the boys and coffee for the girls," you hummed to yourself, finally glancing at Jean, who was standing shyly in the doorway. "Maybe you want something else?"

"No," she gasped when you asked her. "Coffee is fine."

"Good."

As the blonde woman watched you make the coffee, she came closer and looked around the kitchen. "'Your house is very cozy."

"Thank you," you gave her a warm smile and picked up a silver tray for the cups. "My mother used to love an atmosphere like this," your sudden confession made you stop everything for a moment and Jean noticed your tension. "She would be very touched by your compliment."

The sad undertone in your words made the woman pause and think about what to say next, and you used the moment to get additional things for the coffee, including sugar, cream and vanilla. 

"I would only ask you to help me with this," you nodded at the nearly full tray. "And I'll take glasses and a bottle."

"Okay," Jean picked up some napkins before taking a deep breath. "Patrick was right when he said you were a lovely girl."

Frowning, you almost spilled the last cup of coffee when you heard those words. "Uh, I don't understand why you were talking about me at all."

"Well, we talked about you when I made the reservation for your dinner in Dorsia."

An awkward silence hung in the air for some time before you managed to pull yourself together and place all the cups on the shimmering tray. "Mmhm-yeah, that dinner was something, I have to admit," you let out a nervous chuckle, not wanting to remember the events of that evening. "Do you like him?"

"W-what?" Jean blushed almost instantly, her beautiful blue eyes averted from your curious gaze and she had to fix her stray lock of hair behind her ear. "He's my boss, and I like working with him."

"Is he a good boss?"

"Yes, he is."

Satisfied with her answer, you crossed your arms and grinned. "Glad to hear it, I mean seriously," you watched her bat her long eyelashes as you moved the tray over to her. "I think you two look great together."

Exhaling, Jean took the tray and giggled sheepishly. "What makes you think that anyway?"

"I just noticed the way he looks at you," you replied frankly, picking up the glasses. "Thanks for the help. Now I have to get a drink for the boys."

With that, you cast your most sincere smile before retreating from the kitchen, and once you were out in the hall, your face became blank and dull. The things you just said - were they just some kind of masochism? You kept asking yourself as you walked to your father's office, where he kept his favorite drinks that he only served to special guests.

Carefully, with cat-like grace, you touched a doorknob when you noticed that the door was half open. Concerned, you quickly turned around and when you saw no one, you quickly opened it and stepped inside, only to freeze in shock and it was a fucking miracle that you didn't let the glasses fall down on the floor.

Bateman was standing with his back to you, so at first you hoped he wouldn't notice, but as soon as you turned on your heels, the man spun around and the sight of you made him smile mischievously and absolutely charmingly.

"Wrong door?" Patrick chuckled and shifted his position so that you could now see him holding a bottle and a lit cigar in the other hand.

"You can't smoke in my house," you said in an irritated voice. "I'm serious."

"Oh, stop it," his mocking chuckle echoed in your ears, annoying you more and more. "Your father gave me permission. Besides, he told me he had a bottle of J&B, so I decided to take it myself, since you two were very slow."

Having said that, the man puffed on his cigar and blew several rings of smoke, causing you to cover your mouth as you started to cough. The sheer arrogance he radiated was poisonous and somehow suffocating, it was like a tight rope around your neck, no snuff could affect you like that.

"Why did you send Jean with me?"

"And why didn't you answer my calls?" Bateman interjected sternly, closing the distance between the two of you.

The sudden question made you lose your balance for a second. "Calls? What calls? I... I don't even understand what you're talking about."

With a cheeky grin, Patrick took a drag on his cigar and blew right into your face. "Hmmm, let me remember," he leaned against the door and cocked his head to the side. "The one right after dinner, and the one the next day, and the one two days after that."

It was strange, because all these days no one had ever told you about Patrick's calls, and you thought that if he had really made them, your father would definitely have told you, since he wanted you two to get along so much.

"All right, let's pretend that you really did call me, but I can't understand why?"

"You seemed very upset after dinner," the man strove to parry your provocative question, though his eyes glowed with the thrill of the challenge you were giving him. "I just wanted to check on you, since your old man is worried about you too much, and... I didn't need any trouble to close the deal."

Another disappointment.

"Business above all, huh?" No matter how hard you tried to hide the pain, your voice still sounded somber. 

"Shhh," his sudden touch on your lower lip caused something heavy to fall in your stomach. "Don't be like that, Babydoll. I'm just doing my job."

"Even now?" You taunted him blatantly, though your panting could be clearly heard in the room.

The sexual tension between the two of you was palpable in the air, but you both remained still, even when Bateman approached your neck to inhale your sweet scent, mixing it with the sharp smell of snuff.

What the hell were you doing? 

When Bateman pulled away to place the bottle on the nearby bookshelf, he grabbed the glasses you were holding so desperately that your fingers began to curl. Then the man squeezed the cigar between his white teeth and, with practiced ease, picked you up and carried you to your father's desk. As he set you down on the wooden tabletop, he didn't let you protest, pressing his large palm over your mouth.

"Now, now, little girl," he cooed, exhaling smoke before pulling you a little closer. "C'mere, I'm going to show you something."

Carefully but determinedly, Patrick grabbed your chin and drew you closer so that your mouths were barely an inch apart. Pressing his thumb along your lips, the man forced you to part them, and in the next moment, he blew some smoke into your mouth before sealing it with his own. Intoxicated by both the smoke and Patrick's sudden intrusion, your hands clutched desperately at his broad shoulders, cramping the expensive fabric of his pinstriped suit. After all these days of desperate need for his touch, this kiss was like a sip of water in the desert; it was vital and overwhelming. With every breath you took, Bateman's movements became bolder, less tentative and more demanding; his warm hand slipped under your short top to caress your shoulder blades with feathery strokes that almost drove you to moan against his lips, but you struggled to stop yourself.

"Patrick," you gasped after breaking the kiss. "What the hell are we doing?

"You tell me, Babydoll." 

"No, because it was you who told me you didn't want to be a babysitter. Did you forget?" 

When you tried to slide off the desk, he wouldn't let you, pressing you closer to his strong body and finally putting his cigar in the ashtray not far from where he was holding you. "I always remember my own words…" With that, he placed both his hands on either side of your knees before moving them slowly up along your hips and God, Bateman was doing it so damn slow on purpose, forcing you to jolt from the strange tension in your lower belly - the feeling that had become your personal drug. "Oh, don't pretend you don't like it. Your body speaks for itself."

You tried to pull away from him as you couldn't stand the way his hazel eyes were stripping you down, but the more you struggled, the more Patrick grew impatient, so he just yanked roughly by your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back and expose your delicate neck, which Patrick didn't miss the chance to mark, biting your tender flesh and then sucking the mark with a muffled groan.

There was something feral about him and that 'something' was making your body respond to his every touch, every little contact.

Nuzzling your cheek, Bateman lowered one of his hands to your bare stomach, drawing invisible lines along it before suddenly cupping your throbbing pussy through the tight material of your jeans, making you squeal and shake on the desk.

Just as Patrick was about to kiss you again, you both noticed a commotion coming from behind the door and then realized it was your father, you both didn't even have a chance to move as the door was quickly opened, revealing a very compromising picture.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[devotedfem]

→ Mean

Synopsis: You weren't innocent at all, yoongi can see right throughout your act and fake tears. It was almost like you were challenging him, but he didn't have enough proves. The only thing he can do is tame a liar brat like you.

Yoongi x f.reader

Genre: detective au | yander-ish

Tags: mean min yoongi, crude language, sassy reader, possesive behavior, yander-ish, a bit of stalking, Jungkook and reader's situationship, detectives, dealers.

From the series masterlist; The chasing.

A.N: hello there, this is my first time writting on tumblr. I've always been obsessed with crime tv shows and Yoongi's mv where he wears that police outfit. Anyway i hope you enjoy!

Yoongi watched every expression of your face like a hawk through the glass separating him from the interrogation room, where you were trembling with teary eyes.

You were pretty, and the way you talked with such fear and vulnerability made you look innocent, but yoongi didn't believe your act, his guts telling him you weren't that innocent, you just were playing with them.

"I didn't knew Jungkook was a dealer, i swear to god. I-i am in love with him," your lips wobble with fat tears staining your redding cheeks.

Your hurt expression was a pitiful sight.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw, you were starting to piss him off. Really.

"Fucking liar," he huffs under his breath, crossing his arms with an angry grimace.

"Do you think she's lying?" Asked Namjoon next to him.

"I don't need to think it, because the evidence proves she's guilty like her boyfriend. We found her right where Jeon sells his shit," said matter of fact yoongi, making Namjoon chuckle.

"Well yoongi-ssi, that evidence isn't enough to arrest her. There's the possibility that it's a coincidence, we need more proves."

Yoongi rolled his eyes with frustation.

"My guts are never wrong and you know that."

Namjoon says nothing, just watching the girl at the other side of the room sobbing and looking heart broken.

"I'm going in, tell Mingyu to go the fuck out, he isn't doing anything useful."

Yoongi's coworker only sighs deeply, knowing how stubborn the other was.

You were alone in the room for a couple of minutes, sniffling. You felt their eyes on you, so you didn't stopped your tears.

The door of the room opened, showing a pale man with raven locks slicked back. His dark coat and the scar across his eye made him look intimidating, but not for you.

You felt a spark of curiosity at his angry scowl that was directed towards you.

Interesting.

"I- can i go home now?" You asked with a thin voice, looking at him with wide eyes.

" 'Don't think so, not until you confess." He said sharply, with narrow eyes watching every expression of your face.

You try to hide your smirk with a pout, loving the attention.

"I have nothing more to say, please let me go," you almost beg, wobbling your lips again, not breaking your blurry eyes from him.

But his face was stoic, unfazed by your tactics.

"We asked the people who worked in the bar your boyfriend sells drugs, and they all said you were a frequent client." He said with an unreadable face.

"I am! But-but i didn't knew he was a dealer, he said to me that he met his friends there, and i wanted to accompany him." Your eyes were closed with exasperation.

The raven haired man only hummed, getting up from his chair to walk forwards you, towering your body with piercing eyes.

It was an intimidation tactic, but you were kind of turn on by his closeness.

"I don't believe you," he almost spat, not breaking his dark gaze.

You made a crestfallen face, looking right back at him with vulnerable eyes.

"I wouldn't lie about something like that officer," you whispered not swallowing the fake tears.

The corner of his lips twitch a little.

"Detective," he corrected you rather harshly.

"Sorry, detective..." You paused, looking at his police badge, "yoongi."

His breath hitch for a second, but he immediately masked it with an indifferent face, but you caught it nevertheless.

Your teeth bit the bottom of your lips trying to hide your smirk again.

"What kind of girlfriend doesn't know her boyfriend sells drugs just right under her nose," he said with a straight face, but his tone was mockery.

That was a low blow, he wanted to make you look stupid.

Fine then, you'll play dumb.

"That's... so mean detective, how could i thought so low of Jungkook. He never gave me a reason to doubt," your voice broke again, diverting your eyes to look at your lap.

You felt a warm breath next to your ear, making your belly twist by his closeness.

"You're good at this, but you won't fool me. I'll be watching you, liar." He said lowly, with a very threatening voice that didn't scared you at all, it just aroused you.

"I hope you do detective, who else will protect me from Jungkookie," the whisper you let out shattered your act, making Yoongi's eyes widen just a bit.

"You can go now," he said expressionless, separating himself from your body.

You leaved feeling his piercing eyes on your back.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Yoongi accomplish his promise, he followed you everywhere. Although not enough to make himself look like a stalker but a detective.

And you never stopped going to the bar, almost like you were challenging him, letting him know that not matter what he says, you can do whatever you want.

"Brat," he said under his breath, watching you from afar dancing in the bar.

You knew he was there, his long black coat and raven locks were difficult to go unnoticed, so you throw some mischievous glances at him from the other side of the place, almost like inviting him to come closer. But Yoongi never did, he just stay sat in his chair, watching you.

You were getting bored, so you dance with a stranger.

Yoongi's eyes immediately sharpens and darkens at you, his beer left untouched. All his focus on you, just like you wanted.

You came closer to the stranger's body, ignoring his nasty and boring remarks, and brushed your lips against his jaw, not breaking your gaze from Yoongi's face.

You looked the exact moment where he clenched his jaw and narrow even more his eyes. Getting up from his chair.

A pang of disappointment took over your chest, maybe he was tired of the teasing.

You pouted pettily at the thought, now losing all your interest in the man you were dancing with.

"Get away from her," a harsh voice made you and the stranger startled.

You turn around to look at a pissed off Yoongi who has his eyes fixed on the stranger.

This time you couldn't hide your smirk.

"What? No, what the fuck is wrong with you dude," the man said back, and you watched how Yoongi smirked cynically, making a shiver run down your spine.

The raven haired detective said nothing, his eyes never broke away from the stranger. He moved away his coat a little, so the strange could look at the gun in Yoongi's hips.

You felt the way the man freeze, getting the fuck away without saying another word, making you huff. He was so easy to scare, what a coward.

Yoongi's hand on your shoulder took your attention back to him.

"Abusing your power, aren't you detective?" You teased with mirth.

"Didn't you have a boyfriend? Where did all those shed tears go? Hmm?" He asked instead, checking you out from head to toe.

And you were basking in the attention.

"Jungkookie will forgive me," you said innocently, biting your lip to stop your smirk. Yoongi watch the movement before looking at your eyes again.

"Really? He looked like the possessive type," that made you laugh hard, like if he just said the most funny joke.

Yoongi looked puzzled.

"Not at all, he fuck around with men and women, we aren't exclusive." You said, not caring if you admited that you lied to the police.

Yoongi only hummed.

"But..." You said getting closer to him, feeling his warm, "i would say you're the possessive type, aren't you? Scaring that man away so no one touch your target." The teased went straight to Yoongi's ego, making him anger a bit.

"Watch your mouth," he warns, but you didn't listen.

"Or what?"

Something dark flash in Yoongi's eyes.

"Are you challenging me?" He asked, like he didn't believe someone has the guts to do that.

"Why can i? It's fun," you said light heartedly, and half joking. But Yoongi saw right throughout you.

"Unless you don't want to regret your life choices and rot in jail, i recommend you to shut up," his words were harsh but his tone was rather calm.

You only pouted at the threat.

"But i'm too pretty and nice to go to a place like that," You whined.

Yoongi's lips twitch with a smirk, getting closer to your body.

"You're right on that. That's why i'll be kind and give you another chance," his low voice was near your ear.

His words took all of your interest immediately. You watched him with suspicion though.

"At what cost?"

Yoongi smirked.

"You'll come with me, and tell me every little secret of your so-called boyfriend," he mocked.

"And what if i don't?" You said not wanting to give in.

He grabbed your waist tightly.

"I'll find ways to take that information out of you."

Let me know if u want to be tagged to my next oneshots.

[ilaytrapsfortroubadours]

😴sleepy hug / falling asleep together for Lokius !

(I have no idea where in the series this takes place, just don't worry about it 🥲💕)

***

Loki and Mobius unceremoniously strolled back to their quarters, nary exchanging a word or even a glance.

They approached the elevator, Mobius hitting the button and waiting by Loki's side, hearing the subtle tick, tick, tick of the elevator approaching their floor.

It wasn't until after they entered the elevator that Loki shot Mobius a glance, to which the analyst returned the glance with a tired smile.

"We did good today," Loki said, trying to get Mobius to catch his eye.

"Yeah," Mobius said, eyes fixed to the floor.

"We did all we could've done."

"I could've done better."

"Mobius—"

"Just—" Mobius turned to Loki, about to snap at him, before taking a deep breath and letting it out. "—Don't. Please. Don't try to comfort me. I—" He sighed, exasperated. "I fucked up, okay? I almost got one of our guys killed, not to mention losing the variant without a trace."

"It wasn't your fault that the expulsion method backfired," Loki said, resting a hand on Mobius's shoulder. "I mean, who the hell could've known that this variant was immune to fire?"

"I could've known. I should've known."

"Mobius—"

"I should've checked his file, this is all my fault—"

"The responsibility of vetting our targets wasn't entirely on you. We had dozens of other agents that glossed over that. It was—" Loki paused, gathering his thoughts. "...An institutional failure, alright? And besides, beforehand, we were caught up in that surprise meeting with Renslayer, so you wouldn't have had time to check, anyway."

The elevator dinged, the doors opening. Mobius exited first, Loki following close behind him as they walked back to the agent's quarters.

"It wasn't your fault, okay?" Loki said, as Mobius fumbled with the keycard to his front door.

The agent nodded, staring into the door blankly for a moment before scanning the card and leading Loki in.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?" Mobius said, shrugging off his jacket.

"I just need to sleep, I think," Loki said, slipping off his shoes and tie, watching Mobius as he did so. "Are you okay?"

"I'm— I'm fine. Just need to sleep, like you said." Mobius replied, struggling to keep the tremble out of his hands as he filled a glass with water.

Loki didn't believe Mobius's answer for a second, but decided not to pry.

"I'm going to go take a shower," He said.

"Okay," Mobius replied, absentmindedly.

...

Loki emerged from the bathroom, towel drying his curls when he saw Mobius. He was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, struggling to stifle his sobs.

Loki's heart sank. His first instinct was to rush over and comfort his friend, though he knew that the second Mobius knew Loki saw him, he would clear his throat and act like everything was fine.

Instead, he set the towel down on the floor and walked over to Mobius slowly, hoping that the agent didn't hear him, as that would immediately make Mobius panic and shut down.

Mobius only lifted his head as he felt the couch beside him dip, looking up to see Loki looking at him with a concerned expression.

Damn it.

"Loki, I—"

"Mobius. Don't lie to me. Please."

Mobius was left with his lips slightly parted, mid-dismissal. Loki stared into his eyes, his gaze sharp and determined, almost frightening. Love is a dagger.

"Tell me what's wrong. Please," Loki pleaded.

The agent sighed, resigned.

"I just...I can't shake the feeling that it's all always my fault, you know?" Mobius said, his eyes flickering back down to the floor. "I feel like no matter what I do, it's never gonna be enough, and I just— end up being a failure. Putting everyone at risk. Not accomplishing the one task I was set out to do."

He sighed, rubbing his neck anxiously.

"It makes me think I'm the problem. And I feel like I didn't used to be. I used to be good at this. I used to be sharp, and clever, with an impeccable track record. And now, I just can't stop...messing everything up."

Mobius felt his eyes well up with tears again, to his dismay.

"...I feel like all I ever do is let people down."

It was like a knife to his chest, Loki hearing that from Mobius, who was, in his eyes, the most clever man he'd ever known.

"Mobius. Look at me," Loki said, taking the agent's hands in his. "You are not letting anyone down, and you are not a failure. You're the smartest man in this entire godforsaken place. And I mean that."

Mobius smiled minutely, still struggling to keep Loki's gaze.

"I appreciate it, Lokes. I'm just..." Mobius sighed deeply, his shoulders drooping. "Tired. I'm so tired, Loki."

The agent couldn't keep the tears in his eyes from falling at that. Loki gently placed his hand on Mobius's cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "I know, my dear. But we're here. We're okay. Everyone is okay."

Mobius nodded, his head falling forward in exhaustion.

"Let's get you to bed," Loki said.

...

Loki pulled the covers up over Mobius's shoulders. The god bit his lip, hesitant to leave, but he turned to do so anyway.

"Wait," Mobius murmured.

Loki's heart leapt. He turned back.

"Would you— Would you wanna stay for a bit, maybe?"

Loki smiled. "Sure."

Mobius returned his grin and sat up, patting the spot next to him.

Loki crawled in next to him, feeling uncharacteristically giddy, albeit a bit nervous as well, his heart beating a bit too quickly.

He turned to Mobius, both of them sharing a bit of laughter over the absurdity of the situation.

Loki couldn't remember the last time he'd shared a bed with someone, and was unsure if Mobius ever had.

"Sorry if I'm not the best company, I'm pretty exhausted," Mobius said.

"It's no trouble. I'm quite tired, myself," Loki replied.

"Well. Guess we best get some rest, huh?"

"Agreed."

Mobius turned and switched off the lamp beside him, laying down and positioning himself so he was facing Loki.

"You know, you've been fussing over me all night, I feel obligated to ask—" Mobius said, his tone playful, albeit sincere. "How are you? You good?"

Loki felt the urge to respond as usual, with his typical "Oh, I'm fine," but Mobius had been so honest and vulnerable with him. It was only fair that he did the same, despite his instinctual reluctance.

"I'm, well—" Loki stuttered, "I've been— in an odd place, I suppose?"

"Yeah? How so?" Mobius asked.

"Well, when you found out your tormentor was at fault for your gory and untimely death, it makes one reexamine a lot about themselves," Loki said, trying to keep his tone light and joking, failing to hold back a nervous stutter at the end of his sentence.

"I can imagine," Mobius responded, concerned. "I feel a need to apologize for— well, the whole interrogation deal."

"Oh, please, Mobius, no apology needed," Loki said, dismissive. "You were just doing your job. And I'm fine."

"Are you?" Mobius said, returning the same sharp and prodding gaze Loki had given him earlier.

"...Maybe not," Loki murmured.

"That's okay," Mobius said. "You don't have to be. We can be 'not okay' together. How's that sound?"

Loki nodded, lest the tears in his eyes escape if he uttered a word.

"Hey," Mobius whispered, taking Loki's chilled hand. "It's like you said to me. We're alright. We're safe."

Loki nodded, squeezing his eyes shut at the onslaught of memories and emotions flooding his mind.

"Do you, would it help if I—" Mobius stuttered.

Loki looked up at him, inquisitive despite his distress.

Mobius lifted his other arm minutely, indicating his offer.

Loki nodded, moving to wrap his arms around the agent, his head tucked perfectly underneath Mobius's chin. He breathed in deeply, trying to replace the images in his mind with the agent's comforting scent.

Mobius smiled as he felt a sense of love and adoration flood through him, warm and syrupy sweet like honey. He wrapped his arms securely around the god.

"Thank you," Loki muttered, exhausted.

"Thank you," Mobius replied. "We're in this together, alright?"

Loki nodded, finding one of Mobius's hands and lacing his fingers with the agent's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We are."

Mobius returned the affirmation, squeezing Loki's hand as he let his eyes fall closed.

"Sorry if I get your pillowcase wet," Loki said, indicating his still-wet hair.

Mobius chuckled. "Small price to pay."

[tinytinyblogs]

🩵💕love love LOVE the 'out? I don't think so' series and was wondering if you would do a yandere ot8 x reader fic or headcannons or something where they have kidnapped reader and reader tries to escape. What will skz do when they catch them in the act? What kinda precautions would they take in the future and would they punish you for escaping? Sorry this sounds like an interview😅

Where do you think you're going, darling?

Running away doesn't seem like a good idea, because in the end, they will always come after you.

⚠️ Yandere theme, unhealthy obsession, Kidnapped and a lot more⚠️

ChanMin, BinHyun, HanLix, SeungIn

💬 Thanks for the request, darling. This is going to be a series that I'll post once a week. I hope it meets your expectations. If there are any shortcomings, I apologize deeply.

Stray Kids Masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Chan rarely rested; his obsession drove him relentlessly. He took his twisted sense of responsibility seriously, especially when he dragged you to the place he believed you belonged—his captive. But that night was different. After countless sleepless nights fueled by madness, he finally crashed into a deep, haunted sleep. That was your moment. Heart pounding, you crept through the suffocating silence, every step a prayer that the floor wouldn't betray you. The door loomed ahead, and with a final, trembling breath, you slipped through. You ran, adrenaline pumping, terror biting at your heels as you hid, desperate and trembling. The next morning, Chan awoke, disoriented from the depths of his deranged dreams. His eyes fell on the ajar door of your room. A chill ran down his spine as he pushed it open, staring at the empty space where you should have been. His eyes widened, then narrowed with a cold, simmering rage. His hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white. And that was the moment he snapped.

From that day forward, he became a relentless hunter, his every waking moment consumed with finding you, dragging you back into his nightmarish grip. You had escaped his grasp, but you had awakened the beast within him. Now, he was coming for you, and nothing would stand in his way. Chan was a smart guy—you knew that well, which was why you were haunted by an uneasy feeling as you sat in the corner of the room where you were hiding. Yet, as if manifesting your worst nightmare, he appeared. He stood there, no smile on his face, observing you with cold, calculating eyes. He closed the door and walked closer, squatting down to your level. "You know, darling, it wasn't very smart of you to run away," he said, his voice more menacing than ever. Those were the last words you remembered before everything went dark. When you finally awoke, you were in a dimly lit room, Chan sitting not far away. The scene felt eerily familiar, like déjà vu—the same sinister feeling you had the first time he kidnapped you.

Even in the darkness, his eyes felt like lasers burning into your soul. "You scare me, you know that?" His voice dripped with a chilling mix of anger and relief. He took a deliberate, menacing step closer, then sat on the bed where you lay, utterly vulnerable. "It's not so nice of you," he hissed. He gripped your hand with brutal force, his fingers digging in painfully, as if trying to meld his fear and fury into your flesh. The intensity of his emotions—terror, rage, relief—poured out, overwhelming you. You couldn't hold back the sobs; crying was the only thing you could do. Through your tears, you noticed the sinister changes in the room. The window was now fortified with thick iron bars, turning it into an impenetrable cage. The door was covered in multiple locks, each one a new barrier to your freedom. The room had become a twisted fortress, a stark testament to his obsession with keeping you captive. For several agonizing days, he kept you tied to the bed, the ropes cutting into your skin, a constant reminder of your captivity. His paranoia and rage transformed your existence into a living hell far worse than before. Every day, he would stand over you, his eyes burning with a mistrust so intense it felt like a physical force.

He made it clear with every look, every word, that he no longer believed a single thing you said. His touch, once merely controlling, now turned brutal. He gripped you with a force that left bruises, his actions driven by a volatile mix of fear and anger. It was as if you had unleashed a monster within him, one that thrived on anxiety and dread. He couldn't stop thinking about what could have happened if he hadn't found you. Every terrible scenario played out in his mind, feeding his obsession and deepening his madness. He stopped sleeping properly, too consumed by the thought of you slipping away again. When he did sleep, it was right beside you, his body a constant, oppressive presence. He kept one arm draped over you, fingers twitching even in sleep, as if he feared you might vanish if he let go. The room became a fortress of his making: the windows barred with thick iron, the door secured with multiple locks, each one a testament to his desperation to keep you contained. You felt his breath on your skin as he slept, each exhale a reminder that you were never alone, never free.

His nightmares became your reality, his fears and anxieties shaping every moment of your existence. He would wake up in a panic, shaking you awake just to make sure you were still there, his eyes wild and frantic. And through it all, you cried. Your tears were the only outlet for the terror and despair that consumed you. But even your cries seemed to fuel his madness, making him grip you tighter, hold you closer, as if your pain validated his twisted need to keep you under his control. His love had turned into a prison, and his obsession, your endless nightmare.

Minho

That day, Minho's arrogance reached new heights as he seemed to believe you had succumbed to his control entirely. He underestimated your resilience, assuming you had resigned yourself to the grim fate he had imposed upon you. But in the moments when he was absent, when the oppressive weight of his presence lifted just slightly, you saw a glimmer of hope—a chance for escape, however slim it might be. Clutching the hairpin you had managed to keep hidden since your last captivity, you meticulously worked at the lock with trembling hands. Each click of the mechanism felt like a victory, a step closer to freedom. Finally, with a soft snick, the door swung open, and a rush of adrenaline surged through your veins. You moved swiftly, silently, every instinct screaming at you to flee, to put as much distance between yourself and Minho as possible. The hallway stretched out before you, a dark labyrinth of uncertainty, but you pushed forward, driven by sheer determination. As you ran, the memories of past escape attempts flooded your mind—the fear, the desperation, the agonizing uncertainty of what lay beyond the confines of your prison. But this time felt different. This time, you refused to let fear paralyze you.

With each step, you felt a surge of defiance, a newfound strength coursing through your veins. You were no longer the helpless victim Minho had made you out to be; you were a survivor, fighting tooth and nail for your freedom. The hairpin remained clutched tightly in your hand, a symbol of your resilience, your refusal to be caged. You used it to overcome every obstacle in your path, picking locks, jimmying windows, anything to put distance between yourself and the suffocating grip of Minho's control. And as you finally broke free from the confines of his lair, you vowed never to look back. When Minho returned home, plastic bags dangling from his hands, he dropped them unceremoniously to the floor the moment his eyes locked onto the front door. With a sense of urgency, he rushed inside, scouring every corner of the house in search of you. But his efforts were in vain; you were nowhere to be found. His frustration boiled over, his hand clenching into a tight fist as he slammed it against the wall with a primal scream. Blood trickled from the wound, but he hardly noticed, consumed by the overwhelming sense of failure.

He became consumed by the hunt, forsaking sleep and sanity alike in his relentless pursuit of you. He tracked you tirelessly, driven by a desperation that bordered on madness. Each passing moment without you felt like an eternity, a torment he couldn't endure. Failure was not an option; he couldn't bear the thought of losing you again. And then, one fateful night, as you lay sleeping, unaware of his presence, you opened your eyes to find him sitting beside you, his gaze fixed on your slumbering form. There were no words exchanged, only the weight of his silent observation hanging heavily in the air. "Do you sleep well?" Minho's voice was as cold as ice as his hand grazed your cheek, leaving a chilling trail in its wake. There was no warmth in his touch, only the stark reminder of his possessiveness. "Are you sleeping well without me?" he asked again, his words laced with a bitter edge. It was almost as if he couldn't fathom the idea of you finding solace in slumber without him by your side. His grip tightened on your chin as he continued, his voice a venomous whisper in the air.

"I can't sleep when you're away. It's time to go home, darling, back to where you belong. And I swear, this time there's no way out." The determination in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, a premonition of the ordeal to come. He dragged you back to the place he called 'home,' though to you, it was nothing more than a prison of your own making. As he threw you into the room with no window, the darkness enveloped you like a suffocating embrace, leaving you gasping for air. With a roar of frustration, Minho unleashed his fury upon the room, his hands becoming weapons of destruction. Objects shattered against the walls, the sound of breaking glass echoing through the empty space. He didn't care if his own hands bled in the process; all that mattered was his need to exert control, to assert his dominance over you. You cowered in the corner, your body trembling with fear as you watched the chaos unfold before you. The air was thick with tension, every breath a struggle against the suffocating atmosphere of fear and despair.

After what felt like an eternity, Minho's rage began to subside, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he surveyed the wreckage he had caused. Slowly, he approached you, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his own anger. With a brutal grip, he seized your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "If you ever run away again," he hissed, his voice dripping with malice, "I swear, I'll break your legs, darling. I hate the thought of hurting you, but if it's necessary, I will." The threat hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over any hope of escape.

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Bad Batch': The Outpost

As per many people's requests, I've collected a series of texts and Facebook messages from Doug when he watched certain episodes of everyone's favorite Copy Paste Boi show.

Some he was quite pithy on ('Ryan-from-Accounting goes fast but not fast enough to get away from the Bitch Wife Laura'), and others...well, he got excitable, to put it mildly.

Here's one of the more deranged ones, Season 2, Episode 12, 'The Outpost'. Or as Doug calls it: "The Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special."

CW for Language like you wouldn't believe. Doug says "you'll need a permission slip from your momma to read this, I guess."

-----

Daddy Warcrimes is waiting by the Empire's equivalent of a windowless van, because comfort is just not his thing and he really wants the experience of smuggling cocaine across the border one of these days.

Some bitch who looks like she works at a bank is telling these clones that their extended warranty is up. I wanna bring her a bag of pennies and make her count it before I deposit it because I'm sick like that.

So here comes in SOME BLOND JACKASS. Mother of Hell do I hate this guy. Can I just tell you how much I hate him? I hate him like I hate the Crimson Tide, like I hate February, like I hate my mother-in-law. Hate hate hate. 

So Daddy Warcrimes, SOME BLOND JACKASS, and some homies get into Floating Probable Cause to lay waste to an unsuspecting Third World country or whatever.

Well, I was wrong! Looks like Elsa and her frozen fingers took over this dump. Disney owns both, so why not. The cold never bothered them anyway. Nope, they’re at somebody’s nasty old storage shed. Why does this remind me of visiting my sister in Wyoming?

Oh, who is this no-frills, salt-of-the-earth, son-of-a-bitch? Is that tanned Kurt Russell? No? It’s Sassy Park Ranger! I like him already. If he was my boss I’d actually show up to work on time and sober, or late and hung over, either way, it’d be a good time with the man. He just seems cool and chill and a nice dude. I bet he’s got homemade beef jerky in his locker and his beard always smells like cigar smoke. 

OH SHUT UP STUPID BLOND JACKASS, Jesus Christ I’ve never wanted to hit someone with a folding chair so hard in my life. CALL HIM COMMANDER.

Aw, Sassy Park Ranger’s being nice to Daddy Warcrimes, maybe Daddy Warcrimes will share the Columbian nose candy in the back of the van with Sassy Park Ranger, and Sassy Park Ranger won’t ask about the sobbing family Daddy Warcrimes is probably holding for ransom in the back. It’s all about understanding each other. 

This is truly the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas special, snow and friendship and stuff. I hope this doesn’t end up with Daddy Warcrimes 86’ing Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer from the sky, that would traumatize the children. But this is the same studio that produced Bambi so who knows. Didn't he try killing a kid the first episode?

Oh man, Sassy Park Ranger’s lost a lot of his men, that’s real sad. Only two left, Jesus. SHUT UP BLOND JACKASS SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

(I won’t repeat it, but the amount of times that SHUT UP was texted was….something else- Dr. MM)

Sassy Park Ranger’s taking Daddy Warcrimes on a hike around the place in the middle of a blizzard, probably going to say hi to the yeti hooker they all frequent and show him how to write his name in the snow with pee. He’s such a good guy. If they go sledding I’d be so happy.

Oh, shit! Daddy Warcrimes remembers that he has a job and proceeds to cop some poor bastard in the leg so he can follow the trail of blood in the snow. What in the Fargo am I watching here, does Steve Buschemi show up at one point now. No sledding in this one, I guess.

Well there goes Sassy Park Ranger and Daddy Warcrimes on a heartwarming romp following a crippled burglar in the snow as he bleeds to death. Kevin McCallister would be so proud. Well, now, they found a dead body already. You know, at this point, if Daddy Warcrimes capped Santa in the head this show wouldn’t be less wholesome. 

Aw shit Daddy Warcrimes stepped on a landmine, but Sassy Park Ranger watched his training videos that HR made them sit through and disarms it. They’re having a nice convo, I really, really like Sassy Park Ranger. If he dies I’ll be so freaking mad. 

(I said nothing, FYI - Dr. MM)

Aw shit, they found the bunker of crazy white people with guns in the snow. It’s confirmed: the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special takes place in Wyoming. Are Daddy Warcrimes and Sassy Park Ranger facing off my brother-in-law and his branch of the VFW near Laramie? Those guys need hobbies besides doomsday prepping and getting drunk in the snow. It ain’t right. 

“After all we sacrificed”…man. I feel right here. Is this the child friendly version of Enemy at the Gate? Shit. Please these two bastards need to survive. I need a beer and I wanna hug my wife.  

Dr. Meat Muffin, please don't tell me you're letting your babies watch this show. They need that dog from Australia who has fun with her daddy, not this.

Oh shit, avalanche! 

Oh no, Sassy Park Ranger. Oh no, oh no. Oh, Daddy Warcrimes.

Thank Christ they made it! They’re gonna save him! They’re gonna save him.

Wait. What. 

WHAT THE FUCK, BLOND ASSHOLE. 

I HATE THIS JACKASS SO GODDAMNED MUCH, SOLDIER OF THE EMPIRE, I WANNER SHOVE MY SOLDIER UP YOUR EMPIRE YOU STUPID DICK. 

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Yay! Daddy Warcrimes finally took out his gun and 86’d that FUCK. CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY!! YAAAAAAY!!!!!

Man...I hope this ends okay for Daddy Warcrimes. I hope his brothers aren't just dicking around somewhere warm while he and the other bros are out dying.

Guess that'll be next episode?"

....Doug snapped SO HARD watching 'Pabu'. Brace yourselves.

[tillthelandslide]

Insufferable Arsehole Part 15: You

A/n: hi everyone! Feels so surreal to say but this is the penultimate chapter of insufferable arsehole *cries*. I love this series so much so please feel free to send in any requests you want to see from these characters. But the main series is nearly over *sobs*. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I love you all so much and thank you for all your support <3. I want to give a massive shout out to @ughgoaway and @justanamesstuff for loving this series as much as I do. Without all of your support (but especially my loving ia stans) this series would've been over a long time ago. I love you guys so much. Hope you enjoy <3

Extra note: I wrote all the little poems in the notebook part of this series. They're all original (whether you think they're shit or you like them) please don't copy them.

Previous Part

Series Masterlist

Matty’s POV

The sofa I'm lying on feels way too comfortable, the warmth of it making it hard for me to get up. It’s soft beneath me and it lures me into closing my eyes.  I have things I need to do, I have people I need to call, meetings I need to attend, friends I need to make sure are okay, set lists to read and adjust. A wonderful and loving girlfriend who I need to show my love for. But lying here, listening to the soft strum of the guitar she's playing has my closed eyes fluttering and my body weighing down on the sofa. I don't fall asleep, I just lie with my eyes closed, letting her voice drift over me - consume me.

I had moments like these, moments where I felt... Numb. But she pulls me out of them, or at least fills my body with something other than numbness, she touches the parts that can't usually be persuaded on days like these. These moments were few and far between with the presence of Lou in my life and somehow it makes this time worse. I feel guilty for feeling this way, for feeling low, for slipping into a dark space. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, I had a wonderful girlfriend, I was finally with the girl meant for me. And I had friends, great friends who were more like family. I had adoring fans and I did what I felt like I was meant to for a living. Life was perfect… So why did I feel so unworthy of it all?

It had started earlier this morning when I had snapped at one of the music techs, I hadn't meant to and I felt guilty as soon as I did it. Her warm hand clamped around my shoulder almost immediately, telling me to go lie down and so I did. I heard her apologise for my actions, explaining that I was 'tired'. I felt thankful she didn't tell the guy the real reason. The guys understood it, maybe even more than Lou, so when she spoke to them before she came back to me, they got it. Jamie had once described me as someone with a huge ego but no self worth, in moments like these, I had to agree. 

The sound of the guitar stops and I hear her set it down, I hear the shuffle of the foot stall, feel a light bump against the side of the sofa, feel her soft hand drifting up my back, up to my neck and then my head, pushing the curls away and making my eyes flutter open.

My heart beat falters, my breath matching it, her beautiful eyes look down at me, soothing me. It was hard to describe them, they were ever changing. I wouldn't say they were green, but they weren't blue or grey either, it was as if those colours alone weren't enough for someone like Lou, they weren't special or unique so whoever created her (I don't believe in God but some greater being had to create a person like her) decided to make a new colour, a combination of all things beautiful. They had hints of grey and specs of yellow and sometimes the sun made them look piercingly blue but the sun could also make them look like emeralds. They were perfect, one look into them and I can feel myself slipping from the dark spaces of my mind. 

"Hi my sweet boy" it surprises me that I don't have to tell her what I need from her in times like these, she just got it. As if she had access to all parts of my brain, able to peek in and see what I needed and having the ability to just give it to me without a shred of hesitation or an ulterior motive. It shouldn’t surprise me, not anymore, not when I knew she was it for me, the only one I ever want to be with, to spend the rest of my life with. The person who was mine and I theirs.

"Hi" I don't recognise the voice that comes from me, a low, deep grumble of a sad man. One that felt like a distant memory, the voice of someone I used to know, not the person I am now.

"I want to show you something" she says and I find myself nodding, she places her black leather notebook in my lap and I find my heart beating three times as hard as I look at it. She had never shown me this before, showing someone this is like showing them your deepest thoughts and emotions, baring your soul to them. I had watched her scribble in it countless times, I had watched as she wrote lyrics that pulled her lips up at the corners, I had watched as she scribbled down angrily, tears falling from her eyes and coating the pages. 

I remember the only time I had come close to reading the lyrics, pinning her down to a hotel bed in some forgotten location, tickling her sides until the book slipped from her fingertips, holding the pages above her head just out of reach as our laughter was all that could be heard. I remember the way she begged me to give it back, of course I would never have read it without her permission. I remember her pleas made me drop the book and bury my face into her neck. She made me forget about the lyrics easily, too wrapped up in her to care about them. 

"Are you sure?" I ask, sitting up slightly so my back is against the armrest of the sofa, pulling the book towards me and playing with the frayed edges. She smiles at me, her hand resting against my jaw, her thumb running over her bone, making my eyes flutter momentarily.

"Sometimes I think you forget how much you mean to people, you forget how much people love you... And not just me, the band and the crew, your family, my family, the fans... Of course I can only speak for myself... So I want you to read this" she speaks, voice soft and delicate. Beautiful.

I want to speak. To tell her I love her. To thank her. I want to smile. To press my lips against hers. But my eyes won't leave the book.

"most of them aren't finished... They're not songs... They're just things I wrote, little poems" she says and I nod, looking up from the book.

"I love you Matty" she says, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to my forehead before leaving me. It takes a while for me to open the book, scared of what I'll find. My shaky hands eventually separate the cover from the first page.

I find a few I recognise, like the one she posted on Instagram, the one I loved:

"I'd stay with you here forever, you with those dark eyes and darker hair, the epitome of beauty, you put Adonis to shame, with the way you paint my brain, with everything that is you, you with those dark eyes and darker hair. The epitome of beauty."

Her handwriting is delicate, cursive and, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. I'm not surprised because everything she does is beauty. She is beauty.

I flick through the pages, little photos taped to the corners or wedged in, the photos make my heart swell. Photos of her and G, one in particular making me smile: a photo of Lou sitting on George's shoulders, looking as if she was scared to fall down, but she's laughing and so is George and his hands are clamped on her thighs that rest around his head ensuring she doesn't fall. A picture of her and Ross, pulling funny faces at each other, they both look younger, Ross’ hair is short and Lou’s is too, I wish I had her like that back then, even now, even still - I regret the time we lost.  I find a picture she took of me, her thighs resting either side of my waist as she takes a photo from above, I feel like a different person than the one smiling up at me. I see another one taken in a photo booth, one where we're kissing, it makes me smile.

I read on, my heart slowly being refilled with love and beauty and kindness and feeling.

I could bask in you for endless days and endless nights. For you are the sun that shines and glistens. For you are the one that warms my once cold heart and bones.

You're the sun in winter, warming up bones and creating smiles. You're rain on a summer's day, soaking the sweat away. You're all things good and kind and lovely. You're love and sex and beauty. You're the definition of passion. Cigarettes and coffee and fresh and home. You're my favourite scent. My favourite sound. My favourite sight. My favourite thought. My favourite feeling. You touch me and I feel you everywhere. Burying into my being. You're mine. My favourite scent. Cigarettes, coffee, fresh, home. My home.

I loved the complexity of some but simply adored the simplicity of others. Reading the ones which don't hide behind metaphors, they're purer somehow.

Pain engraved my brain. Hurt twisted through my mind. Envy soaked through my eyes. You appeared , all those emotions vanished. I began to love the way you loved me. I found myself loving you more. I used to hate you, I hated hating you. I love you now, I love loving you and  I love you loving me.

I smile, a huge smile and I feel it seep through my bones, warming my cold body, feeling finally flooding back in.

Red lips and brown eyes. Black curls and tattooed skin. I'd like to paint in you in my mind so I could have you here forever

The few words are the only ones on this particular page, the rest is filled with pictures of us, a picture of the M necklace I gave her, a picture of my marked neck, her marks. There's a picture of us kissing, ones in which any other circumstance would cause my skin to heat up and my blood to rush south. There’s sweet pictures too, of us in Rome, our hands intertwined, pictures of our tattoos we got together. 

The ropes within unwind under your command. Just say the word and I'll follow you to the ends of the earth.

Matty is sun kissed cheeks on summer days, cherry blossom on withered ground, swirling clouds amongst technicolour skies.

I turn the page and a larger piece of paper falls out, I unfold it carefully, taking my time in reading the words I find on the page:

Dear George,

I’m writing to you from Rome. Seems a bit weird to be writing you a letter knowing I’m going to be seeing you soon. Was feeling nostalgic I guess… Remember the days when we were both on tour and we’d write these big long letters to each other from wherever in the world we were. It was such a pain trying to make sure they were sent to you before you left that city or town. I remember us arguing one day because Jamie had complained about the amount of money he kept having to spend to retrieve the letters when had arrived a little too late. Grumpy sod.

Anyway, you’d usually write about how the tour was going, how Matty had been getting on your nerves. I always wondered whether you just said that to make me feel better for not getting on with your best friend. You’d send me pictures of you with Ross and Hann and I’d send you pictures of me and the girls (usually receiving a text from you or Macdonald after that made me want to hit you around the head - pervs)

Strange how different things seem now. Like now for instance - I'm writing this, by the pool (this place is fucking huge, you and Charli would love it here), Matty’s napping next to me. He’s sleeping with this dopey grin and… I love him George. So much. Please don’t try to cringe too much reading this. His skin isn’t as pale anymore. Shock right? Our pale boy has a tan!

 I want to thank you G. Thank you for everything. You’ve been the best friend I could have ever asked for… but thank you for bringing me him. Matty is everything George. The way he loves me is nothing I have ever felt before. I know now that everything up until now is worth it because now I have him.

I can’t help but wonder how I ever could have hated him. He cares so deeply for every one G… sometimes I wonder if it's too much, if he’s going to get hurt in the end. But that’s okay. Because he has me. And he has you and the boys. And together we love him deeply (still probably half as much as he loves us). I’m going to spend every day of my life proving to him that he is worthy.

So thank you George. He’s the love of my life. He owns my heart, now and forever. 

Your best friend - Lou x

My heart picks up in my chest, I love her, more than anyone I have ever loved in my life. I feel tears fall from my eyes, coating my cheeks. I swipe them away before they have a chance to hit the pages. 

But you... It was different with you

That's my favourite, my fingers find the page and I carefully tear the page out, I fold it gently and tuck it into my pocket.

I stand from the sofa, feeling weightless now, feeling love for her in every fibre of my being. I walk around the venue, trying to find her. I find George who smiles at me widely.

"glad to see you perked up a bit" he says with a hand to my shoulder.

"Where's Lou?" My abruptness takes him back but it doesn't stop him from answering. I appreciate that.

"She's with your mum in the kitchen, they're baking" George clearly sees my shocked face and he chuckles "yeah your mum is here" I hug him tightly before I leave him, heading for the kitchen.

My legs move too quickly for my brain to register but I don't care, I need to find her. My mum spots me before Lou does and she smiles widely.

"Hello Matthew, feeling any better?" She asks, Lou looks up at me as she finishes speaking.

"Explained to your mum that you were feeling a little tired" Lou explains and I nod, smiling at her.

"Much better mum, thank you" I say leaning down to place a peck against her cheek.

Lou's hands are covered in flour and it makes me smile. I squeeze past my mother with a gentle "excuse me" . My hands find Lou's waist and I hitch her up, making her smile.

"Matty put the poor woman down" my mother scolds me but I don't stop. Lou's hands find my shoulders as she feels like she's going to fall.

"I've got flour on your shirt now idiot" she says but she's still smiling. She looks down at me and I see everything in her eyes, every emotion, every indication that she loves me. I love her, god do I love you. 

"I don't care, come here" I say, one hand finding her chin and lightly pulling her towards me.

"Matty, your mum" she says, eyes flicking over my shoulder to my mum who giggles to herself, busying herself with the baking..

"I. Don't. Care" I say with the widest smile I think has ever graced my features.

"What has gotten into you?" She asks, smiling widely. Her eyes sparkle. God she's beautiful.

"I love you Lou, so much, you're everything. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you, if that's okay with you" I say, I hear my mum coo behind us and Lou smiles above me, her legs wrapping around my waist to support herself more.

"Fine with me Healy" she says, leaning down to press her lips against mine finally. The kiss is kept short to save my mother seeing us in a compromising position.

"But you, it was different with you" I repeat her own words back to her and she nods.

"Yeah..." She says and I see her eyes well with tears, I feel myself copying her, placing her back on the floor but moving my head down to kiss her again. I hold her to my side as I turn to my mother.

"I'll leave you both to bake," I say, pressing a firm kiss to her cheek, smiling at my mother. .

"Okay" she says with a smile. I hug my mum tightly before I walk out, but I don't miss my mother's words

"That boy is obsessed with you, I've never ever known him to love someone as much as you" she says.

"Trust me, the same goes for him. I'd do anything for him" Lou's words make me smile and so I continue walking.

I find George again, happy to find him with Hann and Ross.

"Good you're all here" I say, drawing their attention towards me.

"Everything okay mate?" Ross asks and I smile as I nod.

"I need your help"

"Anything," George says.

"I'm going to ask Lou to marry me" they all smile widely at me, I like that. My eyes flick to George’s. He seems expressionless for a second.

“If that’s okay with you” I ask, I see George’s lip quiver slightly and his fingers grip his bottom lip as he nods. I see tears coat his eyes as he steps forward, grabbing my hand in his and pulling me forward into a hug.

“Fuck yeah” I find myself crying too. I feel two more sets of arms wrapping around us. I smile.

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @promocodesorry75 @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx @k4tie75 @insidemymind19 @zzzhealy @maybeiwouldlikeyou @at-her-very-foreign @not-alien-girl-v @sinarainbows @friedlandblog @momentum2023 @youlooklikeshitandyousmellabit @Inhalerbea (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊, those with a line through are the ones i couldn’t tag)

[pong03]

Kaito character analysis

Let's start light before I get more into the conspiracy theorist ramblings. in nsfw stuff I have read I feel like he is commonly misunderstood. I have read a lot where he is hasty, unemotional and self-serving... although I can see where hasty and lazy may come from but, think about: Kaito towards MC focuses on making her happy and although not always successful it is his main goal, BUT to write him as UNEMOTIONAL.

Y'all he is the most emotional of any man in the whole series. especially, in a first time headcanon post he should not be written as unemotional... we all know he would be crying and being like "MC you're such an angel boo hoo" and "I'm so glad I had my first time with you." he might be quick to finish but I think he would very guilty and put effort towards making it up to MC as soon as he was physically able. ALSO one thing I read he just was written as giving no aftercare,,, sorry am I the crazy one to say Kaito (most of frostheim) would be the most into aftercare?? His grandma always told him blah blah blah.. to him sex wouldn't even parallel to the aftercare experience, and tbh dude would be the one to need it the most. Tell me he wouldn't do everything the MC told him too and if was even slightly degrading to her he would be SOBBING afterwards all like "I'm sorry I said all that mean stuff, I know you asked but I don't believe any of it. You're SOOO NICE." You can't disagree with me yk I'm right. Okay.. I'm like trying to keep this part short but kind of failed. Obviously your head canons are what you're entitled to... just I feel like a lot of people admit to struggling to write him so maybe they'd preesh a post like this. HML if you want Kaito advice ig okay, admittedly this second part is a bit in-depth... like could be a reach but I have A LOT of evidence so hear me out. We all know Kaito hates being a ghoul and is considerably weaker willed than the other ghouls, he is also raised by his grandma. We can assume this because she is the ONLY family member he talks about (on the home screen and in the story) and the process of becoming a ghoul is intense right? Something that would be surprising if he regrets becoming one and is the big ol baby that he is. I think that Kaito's parents are the ones who made the deal, and they didn't survive. He was born to a poor family we know this because he talks about it all the time. SO my personal thought is he was born to a single mother who didn't have any funds to raise him even with the grandmother's help, so she wishes for greatness for her baby, and makes a deal with a devil to protect her child. Because we know he doesn't have the academics to get in Frostheim and he probably was not open about being a ghoul, it's a hoe-scaring quality. So I think he's basically got assigned-plot-armor-at-birth. and basically the demon could be kind of like how luca's monster is possibly his brother, and his mom's soul in entwined with a demon's (like a ghoul's would be) and basically they co-parent him which would explain why his stigma is so weak comparatively to other ghouls. this is more exploratory, but what I truly BELIEVE bare bones is: Kaito's parents are the one's who made the deal. That's it that's all I truly believe in and everything else is speculative. I just think it would be cool especially because I think the process of becoming a ghoul is left especially vague for this purpose. Hehe let me know what you think about this and other things that you personally think about kaito! I'm really curious about other fan's thoughts.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

what would carmy do for y/n’s birthday??

*doesn’t have to pertain to the series you wrote for him

Birthday girl

Oh, he would go all out. I just think he would be so excited to treat you like a queen. Because you usually grumble about him getting you things or paying for your stuff. So this is his time to shine and, believe me, my boy is not holding back.

He wakes up at like 3 am. Kisses your forehead a couple of times before carefully slipping out of bed. Even if he would love nothing more but to hold you for the rest of the night. After closing the door to the bedroom he quickly throws on a pair of joggers before walking to his car to pick up all the goodies he had stashed there so you wouldn't see them.

Carmen starts blowing up balloons in your favorite colors, hanging and throwing them all around the apartment. Hanging up a garland that says happy birthday, boo. Moving to scatter the fake light candles too - safety first. Then comes the flowers and honestly trust him to know your favorite ones and it's not just one bouquet. Oh, no, you no longer have free vases when he's done putting them all around. He moves to frosting your birthday cake, that he had made a night before. It's heart-shaped because you are his heart and he loves you, and he loves being this cliche with you. The last addition would be him blowing up those helium balloons and sticking pictures of you two to the strings and he's quietly bringing them into the bedroom and placing them all around the bed.

When the time hits about 9 am he would slowly wake you up with soft kisses. No rush. But he also can't hold himself back from kissing you all over. And man, he's tired and would love to nap but the desire to watch you see all that he has done is way beyond that. You blink a couple of times, a lazy smile on your face as you nuzzle into Carmen. "Morning, birthday girl", he says quietly and you finally open your eyes to look at him. Just your attention is stolen by the pastel color balloons and the pictures. You let out a gasp, "Did you... did you do this?", you sit up, covering your naked body with the sheets as you reach for the string closest to you. Carmen only hums, fingers brushing against your naked skin. "Am I still dreaming or...", you rub your eyes, trying to shake the sleep away. "No, my lungs went through that", Carmen jokes, this happy fluster taking over his lower belly.

"That's us in Italy", you mutter reaching for another picture, biting your lip as your eyes get hazy. You turn to your boyfriend biting your lip so you wouldn't start sobbing. "Oh, love", he breathes out sitting up properly so he could wrap you up in his arms. "You're so freaking sweet", you inhale sharply, "When did you do this?", "While you slept", and suddenly his messy hair and tired eyes make so much sense. "Carmen...", you breathe out, "You didn't have to lose sleep over this". Leaning closer you brush your lips over his a couple of times and Carmen returns the gesture eagerly, "Well, I wanted to. Now put my shirt on, this is not everything".

You give him a confused look, "But I haven't even looked through all the pictures", you say, reaching for another string. "You'll do that later. Now close your eyes", You barely managed to pull his hoodie over your body before he gently pressed his palm over your eyes as he led you out into the living room. "Berzatto, what have you been up to?", you ask him, sensing the freshly baked pastries and a whole English breakfast. But he says nothing only counts to three and drops his palm. And there, right in front of you is everything that he's been crafting for hours prior. A cake on a table that's surrounded by presents and cards. Balloons. Flowers. A record player that's very softly played an old cover of Happy Birthday.

Your hand clasps your mouth. You just stand there. Looking at it all. And for a moment Carmen starts getting worried. Maybe you hate it? Maybe he got your favorite flowers wrong? Is it the cake? Did he do too much? Too little? But then you practically launch into him as a sob slips past your lips. "Carm", you breathe out, hiccuping. "Baby, you're not supposed to be crying, now", Carmen mutters, trying to see your face. "But... this is so... no one has ever done something like this", you say through the tears as you hug him as tightly as you possibly can. Carmen lets out a relieved chuckle, reaching for your thighs so he can lift you. You don't protest as you wrap your legs around his torso.

"You're out of your mind", you breathe out into the crook of his neck. "Only the best for my girl", Carmen states proudly, "You want to look through all of it?" But you just cling to him tighter. Still in absolute shock and disbelief. Yet full of so much love. "You're the best", you pull away cupping his face. Carmen only smiles at you, "You deserve to be treated like a queen. You're the love of my life". You rest your forehead onto his, "I love you even without all of this, you do know that?", you question, "Bab, I don't doubt it. But it's your birthday and I want to make it special", Carmen nuzzles his nose against yours. "You're still absolutely insane for doing all of this, Berzatto", you sigh looking around.

[aszles]

since my first pinned post had a tierlist of csm characters, i decided to redo it as a tierlist of Fujimoto works instead! (i had only read csm when i made this sideblog) it's a lot less ever-changing so i feel a bit safer keeping something like this at the top of my blog lol...

within the tiers there is no specific order, they're just the things i happened to put in first. if you wanna make one here's the template! (made by yours truly)

because i'm a nerd you can read my opinions about each work below the cut~

S TIER

Chainsaw Man - i mean, csm is just awesome. in all honesty, this manga has changed my life. i KNOW that sounds silly and corny but it's genuinely true. i have been able to get past a lot of my struggles and develop so much as a person since starting this manga. as a fun bonus i feel like i've finally started improving my art again (or at least changing it enough to feel fresh) after like 3 years. i can't really describe how much csm has done for me, but if i had told myself from 2021 that this would happen i would never believe it (especially because i had written off this series for some personal reasons...lol) but yeah. i think i'll forever be grateful for what Chainsaw Man has done for me.

Look Back - i think Look Back is seriously the best piece of media i have ever experienced. i don't think i have ever seen a story so beautifully crafted as this manga, it made me sob when i read it. i remember having to move the manga away from myself so i wouldn't get tears on it. at the time of writing this i am SO SO excited to watch the movie, whenever that will be. i will cry and throw up watching that thing LOL.

Nayuta of the Prophecy - ok maybe i don't TECHNICALLY believe this is an S tier work, but Nayuta is just such a lovable character that i can't possibly rank her any lower. Fujimoto was right to adapt her into csm because she deserves it!! however despite that, this oneshot is the only one that i genuinely wish he would make a sequel to. i think oneshot Nayuta and csm Nayuta are pretty different, so they still don't feel like the same character - i would love to see oneshot Nayuta's personality and relationship with her brother continue to develop!

A TIER

Sisters - one of the few other works i had heard anything about before i started exploring Fujimoto's other stuff, and i definitely felt apprehensive about it. but wow, the fact that Fujimoto is able to take the concept of "girl non-consensually paints her sister naked and it gets displayed on the school wall for everyone to see" and NOT make it weird is crazy! a sweet oneshot that i enjoyed, and love the nuance that was able to be created in such a short amount of time.

Woke-Up-as-a-Girl Syndrome - a really cute take on a silly trope that can often be handled... oddly. i love how much the characters in this really feel like teenagers, doing stupid things but being completely earnest all the while. (Spoilers) i really like how it ends with Toshihide being adamant that he is still male, and also Rie still loving him as he is. very sweet!

Love is Blind - it's no wonder Fujimoto won an honourable mention for this, it's such an adorable and funny oneshot. i was giggling the whole time reading it! i don't really have much to say about it, but i definitely enjoyed it.

Fire Punch - i don't really know where to start with Fire Punch, but wow. it is seriously so impressive to me how good Fujimoto is at tackling such sensitive topics, not shying away from them while also clearly not glorifying them. i also think a big place where Fire Punch shines is character relationships, especially Agni and Togata. they fucked me UPPPPP. it goes off the rails a bit near the end, but i also never got the feeling that it WASN'T what Fujimoto intended with this series. i may not quite get the ending, but it didn't ruin anything for me and i think the rest of Fire Punch is really good at what it does. plus the art is AWESOME ?????

B TIER

Goodbye, Eri - ohhh people might not like me for this one... i'm sorry guys, i just honestly didn't get this manga. i'll definitely reread in the future (me and my sister still haven't finished our sticky notes to read it blurry/clear) but for now i can't rank it any higher. i didn't feel much reading it, and the ending definitely confused me a lot lol. love the art though!

Shikaku - this one's interesting! i thought the story was quite cute, and Shikaku herself is completely adorable. though Yugeru is ummm... not my type let's say. i also do wonder if Makima took any inspiration from Shikaku - she looks similar to her, which to be fair for Fujimoto works probably doesn't mean much (as a lot of his character's look similar to each other /pos), but a clearer comparison is both characters presenting eyeballs they stole from people. (also... if Makima is inspired by Shikaku, is Barem then inspired by Yugeru? yuck) anyways just my speculation, back to the point. the reason this doesn't make its way into A tier is because to me it doesn't really feel like a Fujimoto work? i'm not sure why, but yeah.

C TIER

Mermaid Rhapsody - this one's definitely cute, but as a result of Fujimoto trying to create a "normal story" it unfortunately loses all of the charm of Fujimoto works!! i want it to be weird and fucked up damnit!!!!! though he did succeed in his goal of creating a normal story, so i can't complain too much lol.

Sasaki Stopped a Bullet - i don't have anything against this oneshot, but i think it just doesn't particularly appeal to me. unfortunately nothing in this story grabbed me

D TIER

A Couple Clucking Chickens Were Still Kickin' in the Schoolyard - it's no real surprise this is here, considering it's Fujimoto's first work. overall it was pretty cute, but i'm not all that into aliens..? not much to say lol

if you read all this then thank you >_o

[hyuuukais]

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ SUNSHINE AND STRAWBERRIES

pairing ☆ lee felix x fem reader

synopsis ☆ Y/N is a new streamer. after months of planning, and her best friend & now fellow streamer han jisung convincing her, she makes a twitch and youtube account. thanks to jisung giving her a shoutout to his own huge following, she gains some unexpected overnight fame. but what was more unexpected was waking up to see her long-time favourite comfort streamer _sunshine.bbokari_ following her.

warnings ☆ swearing, negative self talk

[TAGLIST -> CLOSED]

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

☆ partially written chapter, 8 screenshots ☆

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT ☆ T-REX

Kai is at your door in ten minutes.

You used your safe word, "trex" to let him know you needed him right now. All the guilt and fear sat heavily on your chest; you couldn't even cry. Pain settled in your weary body, your eyes falling on the mug you knocked onto the floor and couldn't be bothered to pick up.

First Jake.

Then Han.

Seungmin, Jeongin.

Felix.

You inhaled sharply, barely containing a dry sob. Of all people, he affected you the most. Your feelings did nothing but grow stronger by the day, and now he was gone.

You fucked up.

"Y/N?" A knock at the door, then a creak signaling Kai let himself in. "Oh, Y/N..."

Taking a few steps forward, Kai took in the sight of you. Your hair stuck to the side of your face, blanket drawn up to your chin. He kneeled beside you, taking the hand that was clutching the couch cushion for dear life in his own, his thumb rubbing your knuckles. The simple gesture broke something in you and the second you locked eyes with your best friend, the tears wouldn't stop.

"Kai I-" You choke out, gripping his hand tightly. "Why am I like this?"

Next thing you know, you're enveloped in the warmest, most loving hug, forcing you to sit up just a bit. You could hear Kai soothing you, one hand rubbing your back, the other on your head. He knew one way to calm you down was by a simple hug, reassuring you he was there.

Once you could breathe and the thunderstorm of emotion was a mere drizzle, Kai pried himself away from you, looking you in the eyes with a firm expression.

"Y/N I can't say none of this is your fault," Your heart sank. "But everything with Jake? That started all this?" He shook his head. "Yeah, maybe saying you had a boyfriend wasn't the greatest move... no buts. Jake needs to learn to deal with his feelings, and if space from you is what it takes, then so be it. Sometimes you are the problem."

"I fail to see how this is supposed to help, Kai." Sitting up now, you cross your arms at him.

"General you, use your brain." Now you can't help but smile at him, sniffing and wiping your nose with your sleeve. "The point is, you can't please everyone all the time Y/N, and you're not responsible for other people feelings and how they deal with them. The only thing you're responsible for is how you react. Sometimes people hurt you, sometimes you hurt them. Right now, you need to acknowledge the pain you've caused and apologize."

You look down.

That's something you love about Kai-- he tells you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear, no matter how hard. He tells you when you mess up, but he'll also be your shoulder to cry on. He was your closest friend.

"Can I use your phone?" You ask.

"Why, yours not working?" He rolls his eyes with a small smile

"It is," You playfully smack his arm. "I just don't think anyone will pick up if they see it's me."

notes ☆ i am so mf tired yall but HEY !! new chapter!! i love kai and y/n. i love this story. i love ynlix and need them to be happy together again. also i can't believe it's been almost a month into this series???? which also means almost a month of having this account OH ALSO BEFORE I FORGET i probably should have said this way at the start, but u can pretty much ignore any timestamps!!

taglist ☆ @marcillfll @toplinelix @neri-ner @tfshouldidohere @imasimplol @samvagejkflxhrt @yennifersgeralt @aestheticsluut @cherryuqii @tenebrisirae @roseidol @veryjeongintxtkid @amara-mars @nobuttpics @bmnyy @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @ellelabelle @gini143 @mrsseals16 @veedoesntknaur @channiesstars @daydreamer5006 @luvvvash @amesification @skzswife @blamemef0rit @soulphoenix1618 @lovingmny @stvrfir3 @boo-ven9eance @adestayskz @rag-iii @enchantedgrunge @mytherapisttoldmenotto @strawberry-dreamland @oh-my-fancan @lucktales @cookielino @fantasyaddict123 @sleeplessmin @alexxxxxthebitxh @flirtyskzbutterfly @vixensss @hannahs-docx @hash2013 @jellsxox @sserafimez @theblindhag @httphans @hannahhbahng

pink means i can't tag you

[jolapeno]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LATE NIGHT TEXTS

god, where do i even begin? if you follow me, you know I'm emotional about 99.9% of the time anyway, but today is another one for me. so, I'm likely going to ramble and be teary all day, but forgive me.

lots of you will know what an emotional journey it was for me writing this series. before it, i had dabbled in romance, but not to this extent, not for years anyway. a mix of bad health, a difficult time and some other personal things.

but, when i messaged @guyfieriii (yes, she deserves the tag and the credit for telling me to do this and meet aish haha) and said "I've got this insane idea to do a text fic with javi," she was the one who held my hand and urged me to write it.

what was supposed to be a handful of chapters, became a series.

and crossword and javi wormed their way into my heart, as they eventually did so many of you. i still cannot wrap my head around how beloved this pair are. how happy they make so many of you. and how, for lots, it's a thing you read over, and over, again.

without late night texts, i wouldn't have believed in myself to write many of the things that have followed. and that is down to you. you built me up from being knocked down, gave me the strength to be true to me and write the things that make me happy. and there's no price or thank you i can ever put on that.

so thank you.

thank you to the first-time readers and the repeat readers, the ones who followed each weeks and stuck behind and the ones who are just discovering it now. thanks to the friends i made along the way and to those who are new but have become so integral to my life.

and even if he has no idea about my tumblr, thank you to my husband who doesn't question when i tell him i need to go write. when on tuesday's I'm flapping because I've noticed a spelling mistake, and for gifting me my words in a book form.

he always told me i'd write a book.

and i think for him, on tuesday, it was as emotional for him as it was for me. his voice going "you did it" still makes me well up even now.

now, before i sob more into my keyboard, I'm going to go enjoy a slice of cake and go hold this baby in book form*. and if you ever wonder if you should celebrate things like anniversaries or get cake for big things, here's your reminder to DO IT.

it isn't easy what we do. but god do i think it's worth it.

lots of love, jo

*if you don't know what i'm talking about, please go see my husband's surprise here [honestly, still emotional]

i've been so fortunate that so many have made me lovely things, and they deserve another spotlight:

moodboard - made by anon

moodboard - made by @ghostaholics

post-epilogue pretty - made by @scenaaario

moodboard - made by @agentmarcuspike

collage/wallpaper - made by @joelsgreenflannel

gifted moodboard - made by @missredherring

[besaya-glantaya]

Thoughts on Alex being wrong and loving it

Red White and Royal Blue (2023 movie)

Remember the little quip Henry makes about admiring Alex's willingness to admit when he's wrong? It's such a great moment of foreshadowing, especially since Henry has no idea just how right he is.

Alex prizes himself on being someone who is skilled at reading people, at seeing the person beneath the surface, but he's never come across anyone quite like Henry before.

Alex must be used to people hiding who they truly are - he's been steeped in American politics for years - but he probably isn't expecting anyone from such a legacy of historic power and entitlement to be, at their core, an actual cinnamon roll.

Their initial meeting also comes at a time in Henry's life when any chink in his armour reveals only pain and anger, leading Alex to assume that what lies behind the carefully controlled façade isn't pleasant.

This assumption is only reinforced by further antagonistic interactions, fuelled by Henry's attempts to balance civility while protecting his heart as Alex consistently pulls Henry's metaphorical pigtails.

The fallout from cakegate forces them into extended periods of proximity and we see Alex start to glimpse pieces of the real Henry beneath his bland public persona. Each further piece that's revealed surprises and delights Alex and it's a joy to watch Taylor Zakhar Perez bring those moments to life.

Allow me to ramble about some of these:

1. Alex's pause of panic followed by surprised relief as Henry suavely responds to the interview question, "How did you end up on the floor of Buckingham Palace, covered in cake?" Alex's relief is two fold: he was floundering with no idea what to say (shouldn't have rebuffed Henry's request to prepare for this interview, Alex...) and Henry's answer is not at all what Alex was expecting. Henry could easily have attributed the event to clumsiness or tomfoolery on Alex's part - even just by subtle implication. That wouldn't have been out of line with some of Alex's answers (e.g., "Three words to describe Henry? Um... White, blond and British.") but Henry chooses a more protective route, deflecting attention from Alex, which comes as a pleasant surprise. [Of course he can't show this, so instead retaliates with something as annoying as possible. Cue side eye from Henry.]

2. Alex's big-eyed expression of sympathy as Henry tells him the Palace insisted on parading him around while he was grieving for his father. It's the key moment Alex realises he's built a lot of assumptions on a misunderstanding and has probably treated Henry rather unfairly.

3. Alex frowning at Henry talking and laughing with the little girl in the hospital bed. He's seeing Henry through a new lens and realises this picture doesn’t fit with a lot of his previous assumptions.

4. Alex shaking his head at Henry's joking attempt to decline an invite to his NYE party that most people would kill to get. "That's perfect, you kill me and then I won't have to go." It's the first time Henry uses his sharp wit to share a joke with Alex, rather than directing it at him in a fit of pique. It's an olive branch and I don't think Alex was expecting such easy forgiveness.

5. The sublime series of text based interactions where Alex is surprised and charmed by Henry flirting (under the guise of gentle ridicule).

6. The iconic "I can't believe how wrong I was about you," while he and Henry are as close as two people can get.

7. My all time favourite: Alex's reaction to Henry pointing out the yellow roses on his tie. Henry employs this in a sweet distraction during a moment of all encompassing anxiety for Alex. It's enough to bring Alex out of his fog, to realise how much strength he draws just from Henry being there to support him. The way Taylor says "Oh my god. I'm so grateful you are here," is perfection.

I'm a gooey mess thinking about all the future moments where Alex is surprised and overwhelmed by Henry's kindess.

[Sobs]

On a related note @mulderscully has a great post titled: Alex's headshake of Love™, which captures several of these moments, and more, in perfect gif form.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

what would make yves and montgomery go crazy? crazy in the sense of awooga wowowoa sexy hot and bothered yknow what i mean??? i bet it would take a lot to rile yves up but i would like to as a precursor to the tooth rotting sweetness of his love making! - 🌷

Tw: discussion about sex, dubcon

Montgomery is a horndog, he gets horny just about anything and would paw at you to get some juicy pussy, dick or nonbinary genitals. Just bat your eyelash or lack there of and there's already a banana in his pants. If you're dominant enough, stick a finger up his ass and he's going to cum buckets instantly, whimpering and crying on the ground.

It does depend if you're a dom or sub. If you're like the reader depicted in It Was Only Supposed to Be a One Night Stand series, he would act more like an obedient dog that is desperate for a release, yet sob in agony when he's overstimulated. He would cling onto your arm and look up to you with big, adoring eyes.

But if you're a meeker person though, he's going to be grabby, touchy and a piece of shit who wholeheartedly believes that you're simply playing hard to get and you secretly wanted him to insist harder.

For instance, when he's spooning you from behind at night, you can feel his hard member pressing up your ass. The only barrier between his dick and your hole are clothes. Montgomery would slide his hands down your pants and fondle you until he eventually falls asleep. Your 'no' means 'yes please, take me now and don't stop' at worst, 'definitely later' at best.

If you don't like penetrative sex, he's more than happy to use his tongue. For a tall guy, he sure loves to make himself a lot shorter, usually to your crotch level.

Even your scent gets him aroused. The only difference is that he will act upon it if you're a sub, he will wait for your touch if you're a dom.

On the other hand, You have to go through a ninja-warrior-esque obstacle course to get some from Yves. You have to technically act as the "man" for a bit, planning dates, trying to pay things out of your pocket, being extremely attentive to him and generally be super romantic. In other words, attempt in your own way to match up to what he brings to the table, have a binder full of his information, log his habits, take note of what he likes, etcetera etcetera.

Try your best to make it an elaborate surprise, but he will know about it anyway because he's Yves. The more effort you put into this wonderful gesture for Yves, the more likely he is going to initiate sex. However you're going to have to be patient, you're going to have to check yourself.

If you're too pushy and borderline coercing him to have sex with you, he's going to be upset and tell you off. All of your work would have been for nothing if he thinks you're doing this to get some dick.

If you're too passive, Yves will not reward you with lovemaking. But he will still remain the same affectionate and caring man.

His willingness to bed you will come unexpectedly, usually during times where you're kind and loving towards him without expecting anything in return. Your intent and motive matters very, very much, you can't lie about it because Yves can see right through you.

To you, it's like a random event. You cannot predict when Yves is going to indulge you in his sexual proclivities, there is no rhyme or reason to it. But if you pay close attention, it usually happens when you're doing things out of love for him or from the kindness of your heart.

It is highly unlikely he will agree to sex if you explicitly ask. It does happen, but it's rare. You still don't understand what factors control the outcome.

You could get it as much as you want only if you share the same views on sex as him. But if you truly share the same opinion, you wouldn't want to participate as much in the first place. Yves sees it as something tremendously sacred and special, it shouldn't be done too frequently lest it loses its significance.

However, if you have depraved fantasies you would want to fulfil, he will play the part and let you experience your own heaven and his personal hell once. Just once. And never again.

Overall, both have very different ideas on sex. Personally, I think Yves would be a much better candidate. He respects your space, but he expects the same respect for his boundaries in return.

If you're more sexually charged though, Montgomery would be a nicer fit. He never seems to run out of spunk and could go at it for days.