#which is fine but its making it hard to feel motivated when there's still so much left to go :(

[emilyjunk]

imagining a world where i didn't feel the need to write a 40k one shot for every fandom i'm in

[hoahoahoahoahoa]

AU where Edward does return in New Moon but doesn’t reveal himself to Bella

By the time he gets to Bella, she’s not back to normal of course but she’s not catatonic anymore. She’s not thriving, but she’s living. Edward, on the other hand, is pretty well and truly Cracked and delusional by this point and convinces himself that it’s enough to just be around her. He can keep watch over her without being in her life. Keep her safe from outside forces and himself. That’s enough for him.

Except he’s not quite cognizant enough to actually stay completely hidden. Bella catches glimpses of him and assumes they’re more hallucinations at first, so she keeps going about her life. That is, until she sees more than a flash in the corner of her eye— he looks horrible. Still beautiful, but rough. Not like her usual hallucinations. Eyes dead, cheeks gaunt, all shadows and bruises and decay

Of course her first inclination is to believe her hallucinations are changing. That’s just more likely than Edward actually coming back. She tries not to think too hard about what the change means— is her memory of him waning? Is her mental picture of him deteriorating in tandem with her own mental state despite her thinking she’s getting better? Is she going to crash and burn again? And why does she feel a tug in her chest in its direction? How do her eyes know exactly which direction to look to see him? That never even happened before the real Edward left

Edward thinks he’s looking out for her. Keeping vigil. He can’t see that he’s haunting her.

It doesn’t break her. Not at first. But it chips away at her. She starts muttering to herself/the “hallucination” under her breath— “I’m not even doing anything stupid”, “okay, fine, I get it, I’m not okay”, “I don’t want this anymore, can’t you see this is worse?”, “he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, you know he’s gone”. She almost snaps at him a few times to leave her the hell alone, but she can never gets the words out.

Most of the time her utterances confuse Edward. Others he could swear she was talking to him, but that’s impossible. He’s a vampire, he is stealth, there’s no way she knows he’s there.

Then she starts backsliding. She can’t focus on anything— her eyes are always scanning the tree line. She doesn’t sleep because she’s up all night watching the window sill, waiting to see his face peering in when thunder lights the world for a moment. She’s jumpy. She’s twitchy. Manic. It worries Edward of course but there’s no physical threat for him to thwart, and he can’t go to her to comfort her, so he watches

When he first left, she was overtaken by a nothingness. This is different; now she’s restless, she feels like she would squirm out of her own skin if she could. Jacob half-jokingly asks her how she managed to find a drug dealer in sleepy little Forks.

Only when she’s on the figurative cliff edge of her sanity, does she realize it’s really him. She’s about to give in and let herself fantasize that it’s really him, and the mere thought makes everything click into place, and she really believes. From there it takes her no time at all to figure him out.

She tries talking to him at first. She knows he won’t let her get close, and that he can hear her. Even if she believes he doesn’t love her, she knows him well enough to know guilt and the need to protect are big motivators for him.

She can only bear to ask (plead) him to come to her for so long before she feels pathetic beyond belief. So she talks to him as she goes about her days. Tells him what she’s been up to (“not much, but enough to keep Charlie from worrying too much.”). Scolds him for the scholarship thing (“tell Esme I’m sorry about the window.”). Asks him questions she knows he won’t answer, because she is interested in what he’s been up to (“guess you’re not distracted as easily as you thought, huh? Lucky me”). She even gives him some tough love. Starts telling him about mess he left behind— Victoria, the wolves, Laurent. “I’ll give you all the intel I have if you just come into my stupid house. Wouldn’t my protection be more efficient as a joint venture?”

Time goes by. No progress is made. Edward maintains the same distance, makes no indication that he’ll give up on protecting from a distance. What’s the definition of insanity Time for a change of strategy.

Putting herself in danger summoned hallucination!Edward; why not real Edward? Isn’t that why he’s back? (God, she hopes she’s right about that). She dusts off the motorcycle— catches him glaring at her running alongside her in the trees at 70mph— but keeps his distance.

She gets bolder. Goes to Port Angeles at night, quite literally looking for trouble. When no dregs of society have the courtesy to threaten her life, she whispers a quick "heads up" before she steps in front of of moving tractor-trailer. She smiles when she hears the distinct sound of snarling as she's pulled out of the way.

He's gone again before she can get a look at him. She wonders if this is how Psyche felt, even a little bit, falling for Cupid in the dark.

Well, it worked. Kind of. She needs a way to draw him out from which he can't simply disappear after.

She remembers the boys cliff-diving in La Push.

In this universe, she's not facing the ocean when she stands on the edge. Back to the water, she watches the tree line, same as she has for weeks (weeks that felt like years). She smiles at the flash of white, before frowning at the realization that she goaded him into breaking the treaty.

So when she whispers "I'm sorry," it's not just in case he can't catch her in time.

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Rose Tinted — Boo Seungkwan

✧ Take off those rose colored glasses ✧

Plot: Picture this… you find out that your so-called best friend has been playing you all along.

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x best friend!Boo Seungkwan 🎥 Genre: big time angst 🎥 Word count: 0.9k+ 🎥 Warnings: swearing, asshole vernon, asshole kwannie (sorry y’all), brief mention of blood but not graphic 🎥 Notes: I am baaaack (hopefully for a while). I know I haven’t been posting for forever but I hope to see you all more often again ^^  🎥 Shout out: thanks to my lovely bestie @nothoughtsjustfic for motivating me to write again 💜 love you Chee! Never change pls hehehe

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

“How much longer are you going to keep this up, dude? She’s been glued to your side since that dumb bet. Weren’t you gonna ditch her like forever ago?”

Time froze as you heard Vernon utter those words to your best friend… or so you thought. 

“Shit, Vernon! Be quiet before she hears you!” Seungkwan hissed in return, which was followed by a dull sound and then a shriek from Vernon.

“Whatever. I just don’t get it. You don’t even like her. She could offer to buy me unlimited pizza and beers and I still wouldn’t be able to handle all that clinginess.”

“Fucking hell! Just get out and don’t come back until we leave. You’re going to fuck up everything,” Seungkwan snapped, his voice unlike anything you’d ever heard coming from his lips. 

“Fine.” Vernon sighed dramatically. “But don’t come crying to me when it all comes to bite you in the ass.” 

A second later, you heard the front door slam shut, the sound of which snapped you right back to the horrible reality you were now forced to face. 

You’d just been shown a completely different side of your supposed best friend and you didn’t quite know whether to cry or scream. What you did know was that you couldn’t stay hidden behind the wall for forever, even though that did seem awfully tempting. You’d never been very confrontational but this matter couldn’t be left unspoken, not if you wanted to keep your sanity. 

You needed to hear the truth from Seungkwan himself. 

With your heart nearly pounding out your chest and a million thoughts running through your mind, you forced your legs to move in the direction of the living room where Seungkwan was awaiting your return. 

His head immediately shot up when he noticed you approaching him, a smile that felt just a little too forced making its way on his face. It was almost as if you could see a sliver of disgust flash behind his eyes.

Had that always been there or were you just overanalyzing everything because of what Vernon said?

“There you are! Any longer and I would have gotten worried.” Seungkwan chuckled as he turned his head back towards the TV.

Right. The movie the two of you had been watching before that awful conversation. If only you could turn back time. 

“Y/N?” Seungkwan asked with a raised brow when you hadn’t moved at all. “Aren’t you going to sit down? We can finish the last thirty minutes before we have to leave.”

“No.” 

Your voice was barely audible but you knew that it had been loud enough judging by the way Seungkwan responded.

“No? You don’t want to watch any more? Well, we can put on something else if that’s what you wan-”

You were quick to interrupt him. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Okay?” He got up from the couch, his brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re acting kinda strange, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Without realizing it, you’d been clenching your fists so hard this entire time that your nails had pierced through parts of your skin, drawing a little bit of blood which you could feel dripping down your fingers. But you honestly couldn’t give a fuck right now. 

“Do you hate me?” you blurted out, completely catching the man in front of you off guard.

“W-what? Hate you? Why would you ask me that?” Seungkwan chuckled nervously, his hand awkwardly coming up to scratch behind his neck. 

“Be honest with me, Seungkwan.” You looked him dead in the eyes, noticing the way his eyes grew wide at the fierceness behind your words.

As if suddenly coming back to himself, he shook his head furiously. “You’re being crazy, Y/N.”

You let out a loud snort. “Me? Crazy? Then are you saying Vernon was lying just now?”

At that revelation, Seungkwan’s mouth opened and closed a few times as if he was about to say something but backed out at the last second. There was no talking himself out of this. And you were not backing down until you’d heard everything, even if it was going to crush you. 

“Yeah… I heard everything. About a supposed bet, about you pretending this entire time and wanting to ditch me. Does that ring a bell?” 

“Y/N, l-listen,” the man pleaded as he took a step forward to reach for your arm. 

“Tell me the fucking truth, Seungkwan!” you nearly screamed, surprising both yourself and him at the anger laced in your voice.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes at first, but it wasn’t long before that disgust you swore you’d seen before flashed behind his eyes once again. 

“You really wanna know what I think of you? Fine!” He threw up his hands. “I don’t like you, I never have, not then and not now. I’m not your fucking best friend and I’m sick of pretending. You’re right. It started out as a stupid bet to see if I could befriend you, but with how fucking desperate you were, that wasn’t hard. And then you just wouldn’t fucking go away so I thought, I might as well use your clingy ass to my advantage. Because who in their right mind doesn’t like free meals and free rides? All I had to do was pretend.” He chuckled bitterly. “Happy now?”

You didn’t stick around to respond, already halfway through the door with tears streaming down your face by the time he finished his cruel rant. This wasn’t the sweet and caring Seungkwan you’d been sharing all your secrets and insecurities with. This was the real Seungkwan, a mean, heartless excuse of a human being who you didn’t recognize at all. 

He’d broken your heart in a million little pieces and you didn’t know if you were ever going to recover from this. 

So much for letting someone in.

So much for not wanting to be alone. 

Boo Seungkwan, I hope it was worth it. 

🎥 Join the Set The Scene taglist: @wonuilu @choco-scoups

If you wish to be added to the Set The Scene taglist, please fill out this form. We will only add those with age indicators in their bios to the taglist due to potential NSFW material within certain scenes.

[poppadom0912]

🍰 with Conner Rhodes. Prompts ‘this isn’t up for debate’ and/or ‘are you hurt’? Congrats on 1k!!!

A/N: Thank you so much for ordering! I've been in a bit of a slump recently and I wasn't motivated to write anything till you sent this so another thank you. Please enjoy!!

🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰

"Are you hurt?"

You whipped your head to the door, immediately regretting it as the pain pulsated, head continuously throbbing and eye twitching. You took so long to recollect yourself that you missed the concern wash over your husband who instantly rushed over to you, bag discarded and coat still on.

"What the hell happened?" His voice was ever so soft, drowning in concern, his gentle fingers cradling your face, both hands providing warmth the snow outside couldn't.

"Just a small accident at work." You said under your breath, voice hoarse from all the shouting. "It looks worse than it feels, trust me."

"You look like you've been in a car accident, this isn't small at all- your hands are bleeding!"

Sighing, you were already internally preparing to give up. You were so tired after a long day at work that you didn't have it in you to be your usual stubborn self who would fight so everything would go your way.

"We're going to med." Connor said with that no-nonsense tone to express his seriousness, knowing that you were going to fight back.

Which is exactly what you did.

"Con please, a few bandages, a shower and painkillers and I'll be perfectly fine." You argued back, already moving to stand up, trying your best not to wince at the burning in your legs.

"Oh my- you can't get even up you're in so much pain." Connor said under his breath, his hands feather light as he supported you in getting up. "What even happened?"

Yeah, there was no way in hell you were telling him what happened, he'd carry you out the house to the hospital no questions asked.

He clearly didn't appreciate the silence.

"Baby please." He stopped you from walking away, his big eyes boring into yours with desperation that only made you hurt more. "Just let me help you."

Sighing, you begrudgingly told him, unable to not fold when he looked at you like that.

"We were chasing someone on the run and we didn't realise there was two of them... so I might've gotten hit by a car."

Silence

"I'm sorry." Connor laughed incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief before asking, "Say that again for me because there's no way I just heard you say you got hit by a car."

You sucked air through your teeth, remaining silent, watching as reality set in.

Nodding his head, Connor looked on the edge of hysteria.

"We're going to med." He stated, picking up your phone and going to get your jacket. "Right now, let's go."

"Con babe-"

"This isn't up for debate." He finalised, resting your coat on your shoulders.

"It's okay to ask for help, that's why I'm here - it's why you married a surgeon." A soft smile made its why to his face. "Let me do my job and look after my wife, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good." He said before sweeping you off your feet so smoothly that you felt no pain even after the sudden movement.

Squealing, you tried to keep down the laughter as not to be in more pain, you hands tightening around Connor's neck as he started walking.

"My gorgeous stubborn wife, oh what ever will I do with you." He said wistfully, making sure the door was locked behind him before looking down at you so fondly that it was hard to believe that his wife just got hit by a car.

"Ah, you'll just have to pamper her and be at her beck and call for the rest of eternity - that's the least you could do." You played along, your smile brightening as the pain dimmed a little.

"Oh no! I'm forever doomed, someone needs to save me."

Giggling, you found yourself relaxing, almost going limp in his arms.

"I'm joking, the only person who needs saving is Ruzek for not calling me the second you got hurt."

Shit. Adam was screwed and there was no one able to save him.

[factual-fantasy]

28 Asks! Thank you! :}} 🧚‍♀️

@chromchill @misscherrypie

Its been a bit stressful 😅 I've put lot of pressure on myself to get them done fast and make them look good. I'll be relieved for the short break when these last two slots are filled and done. After that I can slow down and complete a few transformers projects I have lined up :0

Thank you so much! :DD I've actually been thinking about giving the bots holoforms a lot lately. Like how Arcee has that human hologram on her back when she's in her alt mode. But make it more like steven universe gems where their holoforms are condensed light/energy and have mass to them.

I've been thinking of how they work and how the bots would get them to look like humans. If they scan cars to turn into them, surly they would scan a human to make their holoforms look like them, right? Buuuut then they'd be identical to the humans they scanned and that's identity theft...

I still have a lot of brainstorming to do <XD

🙏🙏Peace and kindness friend! ❤️

(Link in ask)

Oooooo he probably has.. :000 what an evil king...

@holly-opal-2

Right here bud! :D

So I've heard! :DD My main hope is that we get to see Papyrus and that he's ok :}}}

@neo-metalscottic (Wreck it Ralph fanart)

Thank you so much! I hope you have a good day as well! :DD

As for my requests, its going better than I thought but its still a bit stressful 😅 I cant help but feel the pressure of getting these pieces done in a timely manner and to make them look the very best I can make them. But I've been able to rake in some money thanks to all those kind folks! Which has been such a relief on depts and food. You guys are the best! 🫶❤️❤️❤️

And lastly, thank you!! :DD I'm glad you like how the piece came out! :DD Its been a long time since I watched the movie but I remember enjoying it. Although I don't think I understood King Candy's motives for making that one kid into a glitch..? Which made me not like him very much.

And I remember Ralph being my favorite character! ....annnd I also remember not liking how much dumber Ralph felt in the second move <:/

@moonwolfblogging

Oh woof. I hadn't considered all of that back then :00 poor Barnacles 💀

That depends, are you willing to eat an entire stick of refrigerated butter? 👁️👁️

My all time favorite character from TFP is Ratchet! :)) Tho Bulkhead is a close seconds by like a hair. The more I watch the show the closer to being my top favorite he becomes <XDD (Also my favorite TFP decepticon is Soundwave!)

When it comes to the movies, I have seen the bayverse movies and that one bumble bee movie. And I thiiink I can safely say my favorite bot in both was Optimus Prime :)

@mothydemons

WAAAAHHGG THATS SO SWEETTT THANK YUU AND TELL YOUR SISTER I THANK HER AS WELLL 😭😭😭💞💞💞💞💞

(Also I love those two characters! :DD They look really cool! :}}} )

(Referencing this post)

XD As long as I'm alive, so is he!

I am always stressed <:) Existing is very upsetting! ❤️ Thank you for the tea and cake tho! :)

@im-nice-but-i-dont-like-you

Yes! :DD Its been a bit stressful so far but not as bad as I thought it would be! :)) (ALSO AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD )

@chickenmilk120

Aw! :DD Thank you so much! :))

If Bash ever went fully blind it would be very hard for him mentally :( and obviously physically-

I mean, losing part of his vision was already bad enough. He lost the ability to recognize faces.. so you can imagine he's always on edge, and always nervous. Not being able to tell your friends apart from the enemy on the battlefield has resulted in injuries I'm sure..

But to go completely blind? Man.. the stress would probably kill him. Making him feel like a helpless or caged animal. Not to mention a "useless" one too..

Thank you!! 🥰🥰

@doodleclownbunny

I think I like Fantasy or Factual just fine <XD Also thank you so much! :))

@loud-kid2

With his really wide smile and unusual eyes, he seems like a lot of fun to draw in a more horrific light. Otherwise he's alright :0 my favorite of the 3 boo types is still the classic large boo with the little gold crown.👑

AAAAA YOU'RE WELCOME!! :DDD AND ALSO W RATCHET LOVER HE'S MY FAVORITE TOO 🧡🚑🧡

@florafandoms

Thank you so much!! :DDD

Also lion guard looks familiar, I swear I've seen that lion cub before.. although I've never watched it <:/

@multifandomgummybear

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD💞💞

I've unfortunately become more skeptical of Rescue Bots and any spin offs of it recently. <:(

I've gotten word that they really baby-ified the series, and broke a lot of the established canon for the sake of selling the show to kids. The best example being that they brought Optimus back to life with apparently no reasonable explanation..

The insistence that these two shows are canonically connected to Prime makes me really not want to watch them. Because its just been baby-ified and its like all of the serious tones and events of Prime don't matter at all and somethings are completely reversed..

(If I'm wrong please lmk--)

Thank you so much! :DD Also hmmm... that's a good question..

When it comes to the most pleasant experience I've had with posting fanart and interacting with a fandom, its probably the transformers prime fandom :))

@digi-vie

Ooo! :00 They both look very good! Thank you for showing me! :)))

@theintroverse (Referencing this post)

As many as I can draw I suppose! XD

@beryl-shade (Referencing this post)

XD sorry for the scare!

[arcane-vagabond]

We Abide: Chapter Three

We Abide: Chapter Three

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: It had started out as a small outbreak, but as weeks passed, it was clear there was no turning back. The disease spread quickly, and those who caught it and were unlucky enough to survive? Their minds were no longer their own, driven to hunting what was left of humanity. Your friend had gone West to help aid in recovery efforts before the world stopped, and now you found yourself trekking across the country to try and find her. You were fine on your own, only the company of your dog to help keep you sane, but your reputation catches up with you when a cocky man decides to tag along. (Apocalypse!AU)

Content Warning: Awkward moments mainly, thinking of old friends, angsty. I think that's it, but PLEASE let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 2.9k

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Playlist

It was the birds that first stirred you from your slumber, the sweet chirping filtering in through the window long before the sun crept slowly above the horizon. A quiet calm settled in the room, shadows still clinging to the corners as golden sun embraced still, morning blue. The rays of the sun danced across the back of your eyelids, beckoning for you to leave behind dreams and wander back into the land of the waking.

Mars let out a deep sigh at your side, shuffling closer to you, and you knew you didn’t have long to put off the inevitable. You let out a sigh of your own coupled with a reluctant grumble as you slowly pried your eyes open, rolling over onto your back. The room was much the same as it had been last night, though you could see the details more clearly now.

The thick comforter still lay on the floor in a heap, the intricate flowers more visible in the morning light, and you realized that the fabric must have been hand sewn rather than manufactured. You frowned at the thought, feeling bad that you had just tossed it onto the floor when so much time and care had been put in to create the piece. Mars let out a soft whine, nuzzling you with his nose as he peered up at you.

“Yeah, I know,” you grimaced, forcing yourself to sit up. The thin sheet draped over your lap as you rested your head in your hands for a moment, willing yourself to get up. It wasn’t often you got the chance to sleep in a place as nice as this. You were usually relegated to sleeping in a long abandoned home when you did manage to find shelter in a community — the smell of dust and stale water permeating your senses, though you supposed it was always a step up from sleeping on the hard ground of the outdoors or the completely dilapidated and molded homes you’d come across on your travels.

Slowly, quietly, you eased your way into standing, cautious of the creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. You paused after a shift of your feet caused the floor to let out a particularly loud protest, cursing under your breath as you listened for the sound of stirring beyond the door to your room.

You know you had been invited to spend the night, but you didn’t want to make a habit of overstaying your welcome. It wasn’t often that people invited you into their actual home, strangers wary of strangers. Not that you blamed them, not really. Not after everything that’s happened.

The Exodus Virus tended to affect its victims quickly, symptoms showing within a few days of exposure. However, it was quickly discovered that a rare, unlucky few tended to linger—symptoms remaining dormant for weeks and infecting more before symptoms ever alert the carrier to its existence.

Very few people wanted to risk their lives to house a stranger in their homes.

Which is why it was so odd that this man—Tyler—had been so quick to invite you into his. You frowned at the thought. What possible motive could he have for opening his home to you? You cursed yourself for not thinking that far ahead, but you had had few options last night as the sun had dipped below the horizon. You would need to do some hunting or fishing today to get supplies. You were running short on things to trade, and you wondered if there were any houses nearby that had gone relatively untouched.

Mars let out another whine that pulled you from your thoughts, and your head snapped towards him as you realized how tense you had become in those few seconds. You forced your jaw to relax, rolling your shoulders as you slowly approached the door. Your fingers wrapped around the golden knob, twisting it slowly as you pulled the door open a crack, peeking out into the hall.

The shadows of the evening still clung to the air as the sun slowly crept along the floor, dust particles dancing in the golden rays as your eyes swept over what little you could see. Your ears strained, listening for any sign of life within the old house. You could hear the faint clanging and clattering of what sounded like dishes coming from the left side of the hall leading out into the living room.

Slowly, you inched the door open, Mars coming up beside you as his tail swished back and forth at the prospect of being let out of the confines of the room. Hitching a breath, you pulled the door back far enough for him to slip out in front of you, a quiet huff leaving him. You arched a brow down at him, shaking your head as he side eyed you with another small swish of his tail. You eased your way out of the door, eyes darting down the hall where the sounds of the cookware and a deep timber muttering to himself could be heard.

You padded along the wooden floors towards the bathroom, Mars cocking his head as you looked back at him.

“Well?” You asked in a whisper, head jerking and arms gesturing towards the open door. “You comin’?”

Mars let out a tired sigh before easing his way onto the ornate carpet. You rolled your eyes before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind you with a click. It was still strange to you to be in a clean bathroom, a luxury you used to take for granted. The before times felt like they had happened eons ago, and it always struck you as odd the things your mind chose to feel nostalgic about.

You relieved yourself quickly, nearly jumping at the sound of the water escaping the porcelain. Indoor plumbing was something you missed dearly, and you felt an odd clench in your chest as you washed your hands at the sink, allowing yourself a couple of extra seconds to bask in the running water. Sweat gathered at the back of your neck, the humidity in the air only thickened by the growing heat. God, you missed air conditioning.

Reluctantly, you twisted the faucet off, gripping the edges of the sink to steel yourself for the coming encounter. You pushed away from it, grabbing the doorknob and twisting it before you could talk yourself into hiding in the bathroom all day. No, better to rip the bandaid off now.

The smell of food hit you instantly, your stomach growling at the prospect of another meal. You practically purred as you inhaled, your mouth salivating as Mars’s tail wagged where he still lay on the carpet. His dark eyes looked up at you hopefully and you jerked your head down toward the hall.

“Come on, then,” you mumbled at him, stepping over him and towards the living room. He scrambled to follow you eagerly, immediately skirting around you to stand by the door. The sun was well above the horizon now, and you could hear the sizzling of food in the pan as Tyler’s broad back bobbed around the kitchen. At the sound of Mars’s whine, he turned around, jumping slightly.

“Hey!” He greeted, a smile on his face as he turned to look at you. A pair of grey sweatpants hung low on his waist, the top of his boxers peeking out. An apron covered his bare chest, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as you looked away.

“Didn’t hear you come out,” he continued, turning back towards the gas stove. “Breakfast will be ready here in a second if you wanna let him out.”

You didn’t say anything in response, simply pressing your lips together in an attempt at a smile, though you were fairly sure it came across as more of a grimace. You opened the door to let Mars out into the front yard, your eyes scanning the area as he pushed past you. He chased after a squirrel, barking as it ran up the nearest tree, and for a moment you were struck with awe at how domestic the moment seemed.

Several people walked along the road, an old pickup speeding off down the street. Curious looks were cast your way, whispers exchanged about your unfamiliar face. You hugged yourself tightly, feeling exposed. You weren’t sure which you hated more—the hostile glares of some communities, or the incessant questions that came from communities like this.

You supposed you couldn’t blame them. If a stranger appeared in your community during the end of the world, you would have some questions too. You’d never been good with the spotlight, though. That was something both you and Kate shared, and a part of you wondered how she would handle being in your shoes right now.

Kate was the stronger of the two of you, she always had been. Where you were quiet and introspective, she was charming and assertive. She had a way of relating to others easily, relating to them in a way you never could.

You closed your eyes, basking in the warm rays of the sun that breached the top of the trees. A small breeze enveloped you, cooling the layer of sweat on your skin as you let out a long sigh. The summer season wouldn’t last long, and you needed to barter for some more supplies before leaving LaRue. You were nervous about where you would end up by the time winter hit. You had been lucky this past year, making it down near the Key West of Florida and waiting out the harsher months before moving on.

Florida had been kind to you, the inhabitants down in the area surprisingly helpful and laid back. They had set you up in your own home for those few months, far enough inland that you wouldn’t have to worry about the erosion near the beach. The scenery was picturesque, and a part of you had been reluctant to leave until the heat had settled in.

Mars trotted happily up to you, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted, eyes wandering around idly as he waited for you to let him back into the house. You braced yourself for the next encounter, pushing into the house once more.

Tyler had opened a few windows in the few minutes you had stepped outside, allowing the breeze from outside to flow through the house. Tyler was at the counter scraping the eggs on to three different plates. Mars made his way to the kitchen with an eager wag of his tail, ears perked as he sniffed the air. Tyler chuckled, taking one of the plates and setting it on the ground for the copper haired mutt.

“There you go, boy,” Tyler grunted, reaching over to scratch between the dog’s ears. Mars let out a snort, giving a quick sniff to both the food and hand before scarfing the food down. Tyler let out a low chuckle, straightening back up to face you.

“Ours is ready too,” he smiled, though it seemed more unnerved when directed towards you. Your lips parted in shock as he slid one of the remaining plates closer to you. You shuffled forward awkwardly, cursing yourself for how stiffly you moved. You sat at one of the stools along the counter, shifting into a more comfortable position as Tyler offered you a fork. You took it with a muttered thanks, embarrassment clawing at the back of your neck as he tried to offer you another smile, this one coming off a little more forced.

A frown tugged on your lips before you schooled your features into neutrality. You weren’t sure what to say as you took a small, tentative bite of the eggs. You let out a contented sigh as they washed over your tongue, the taste almost foreign in comparison to the nuts and jerky you rationed out while on the road. Your stomach gurgled, and heat found its way to your cheeks once more as you shifted in your seat.

“Any good?” Tyler asked, tone teasing as an easy smirk quirked on his lips. You glanced at him, nodding quickly as you took another, larger bite.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he grinned, scraping at his own plate. “I wasn’t sure how you liked your eggs, but I figured scrambled was a safe bet. And, everyone likes bacon, right?”

You didn’t respond. Conversation wasn’t exactly foreign to you, but you weren’t used to the easy conversations Tyler seemed intent on having. Most exchanges you had those days were brief back and forth trades of information, but Tyler didn’t seem to want any of that upon first glance. You studied him for a moment, the way he seemed so at ease. As if he was used to having company in his home.

“It’s nice to have someone around for a change,” he offered, as if somehow reading your mind. He seemed to mull over his next words. “You know about my aunt, but I had friends who grew up around here too.”

A beat of silence passed.

“I miss them a lot, you know,” he continued, a sad smile twisted on his lips as he moved the eggs around on his plate. His eyes seemed far away, as if he was reliving better times. “We used to go out on the road for about half the year chasing any storm we could find. We’d rig up our trucks and vans to go out and do some crazy shit, laughing the whole time...”

He trailed off, pursing his lips and clearing his throat as he shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. You watched him for another moment, the grief that rolled off of him all too familiar to you.

“What happened to them?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. Of course, you had a fairly reasonable idea as to what fate befell his friends, but you also knew that sometimes it was cathartic to speak it out loud.

Tyler met your gaze, chewing on his cheek before answering. “Lot of’em got wasted by the damn disease, buried in the cemetery just outside of town. Boone left not too long into it all to go take care of his grandparents out in Nevada, and I only heard from him a handful of times before the cell towers and everything went dead. Dani and Lily migrated down towards Dallas after everything went dark. Thought there’d be a better chance in a bigger city, and I’ve got no idea if they even made it.”

“There’s a large community of survivors down there, I’ve heard,” you said, looking down at your plate. “Haven’t made it to Texas yet, but I’m headed down that way. It’s possible they’re down there in that community.”

Tyler didn’t respond, and after a moment’s silence, you chanced a glance back up at him. His face was unreadable, green eyes studying you so intensely that you shifted in your seat and focused back on the food in front of you.

“When?”

Your eyes darted back up once more, confusion knitting your brows. “When what?”

“When do you think you’ll be heading out?”

You blinked at him. You had planned on leaving as soon as possible, not wanting to overstay your welcome in a given community, and especially not wanting to take advantage of Tyler’s kindness so far. But, of course he would be wanting his house back soon, the oddity of having a complete stranger staying in your house must be unsettling.

“I was hoping to leave in the next day or two,” you shrugged. “I need to barter for some supplies, but it shouldn’t take me too long to get some fish or squirrels I can trade.”

You had some more valuable pieces in your pack, but you would keep your lips sealed about those. You didn’t want to chance the possibility of someone stealing them or trying to needle you into bartering. No, you would save those pieces for the bigger communities—the places with more to offer in terms of supplies. Some fish or a squirrel could get you some new clothes at the very least. You looked down at your attire, having forgotten you were wearing a borrowed outfit from the man who stood across from you.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat as a light shade of pink dusted his cheeks. “Cathy came by with some clothes for you. Said they’re a bit out of fashion, but they should hold up just fine for you. I put them in your room when you stepped out.”

Your eyes widened in surprised. The small act of kindness was unexpected, but not unwelcome or unappreciated. You made a mental note to repay her in some way before you departed, and an ache tugged at your heart so hard that it nearly knocked the wind out of you. Tyler studied you once more as he rested his hands on the counter, a faint smile on his lips as you finished the last bite of bacon.

“You’re not used to kindness, are you?” He asked finally, arching a brow in your direction. You made a noise in your throat, avoiding his gaze as you looked down at Mars, the mutt resting his chin on your knee as he licked his chops. You shrugged as you scratched behind the dog’s ears, shoulders sagging slightly.

“You don’t really see a whole lot of it anymore,” you murmured, slipping off the stool and padding down the hall.

A/N: And we're back at it again, folks. Please interact with me, I get bored shouting into the void.

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[woongisi]

Hot & I Hate It // Park Sunghoon

power struggle but eventual sub!Park Sunghoon x dom!fem!Reader // SMUT

WC// 4.1k

Synopsis// Park Sunghoon is the thorn in your side. The really hot thorn in your side. An "apology" visit changes your view on him for good.

Warnings// arguing, unprotected sex (use protection please xx), drinking, name calling (slut, whore), pain play (smacking), dacryphilia

Author's Note// I've been sitting on this baby for so long and finally got the motivation to complete it. Idk how I feel about it but I hope you all enjoy. ☺︎

---------

7:16 pm

“Sunghoon. I'm so serious. I need you to stop talking before I shove this pen into your throat.”

Your best friend, Sunoo, being part of a band had its perks, it was hard to get hit on by greasy strangers when you're surrounded by 7 men you, for the most part, trust. It had its cons too… the biggest being the existence of Park Sunghoon. He was cocky, always made fun of you, and seemed to make it a point to push you to your limit. The only positive you could think of was that he was, at the very least, eye candy. Unfortunately for you, he was still part of the band, and he was still one of Sunoo’s closest friends. There was no changing that.

You'd only been out to dinner for around half an hour. Jake had found some pizza joint with drinks and cheap food. In that half hour alone Sunghoon had made fun of your height, and your choice of clothing, and bumped into you a few times which you assumed was on purpose. The food hadn't even made it to the table. Whatever the reason, you especially weren't in the mood for his shit today.

“Aww, I'm so scared.” Sunghoon leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. “You gonna throw a hissy fit, huh?”

“You know what.” In one quick movement, you shoved your chair backward and slammed your hands down onto the table as you stood up. “Fuck you, Sunghoon. I'm going.”

Grabbing your purse and heading toward the door, Sunoo called after you. “Where are you going?! At least tell me where! You didn't even drive here!”

“Anywhere that isn't with that asshole!” You slammed the door behind you.

“Damn. What's up with her? I thought you were just joking around.” Sunoo murmured and shoved his face into his hands. “I should go after her. It's not safe to be out around here alone. Sunghoon, you're coming with.”

“What about the pizza-”

“Get up.”

“Fine.”

7:23 pm

In the meantime, you'd slipped into some grimy little dive bar a few streets down. The cleanliness was questionable, and it smelled concerning at best, but you supposed they didn't serve food. Perhaps the standards weren't so high. Fighting back tears, you slapped your card down on the counter and waved for the bartender.

“Give me something strong. I don't care what it is… Please.”

Thanking the man and tossing your head back, the shot burned the entire length of your throat. “Shit tastes like motor oil… guess I got what I asked for.” You sighed and ordered a cocktail. Something fruity, something to lift your mood.

A man took the bar stool next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Did you come here all alone?”

You hesitated, feeling uncomfortable already. “No… My friends are in the bathroom. They'll be back in a minute.”

“Playing hard to get? I watched you come in. Not a soul following you.” He pulled the thin strap of your shirt and let it snap back against your skin.

“Fine… You got me. Can you just let me be? I'm not in the best mood.” You chuckled half-heartedly and swatted his hand away.

“Aw, this kitty has claws. What's the matter? I just wanna talk. I can cheer you right up.”

By the time Sunghoon and Sunoo made it to the bar, you were a few too many drinks deep and desperately trying to convince the man to leave your side. They'd checked every building in the area, asking if anyone had seen a girl yay high in a black crop top and long black pants.

You heard a set of footsteps approaching you from behind, clutching your purse and preparing to have to fight.

“Leave her alone, shithead.” Sunghoon’s voice rumbled over the snide comments of the stranger. “She's not into you.”

“Who are you? Her boyfriend?” He scoffed.

Sunghoon cringed slightly at the suggestion he'd ever date you but gave the man a shove all the same. “What's it to you? What? You can't get some pussy so you creep on lonely girls at the bar, huh?”

“Why you think pretty highly of yourself, huh? How about we take it out b-”

Taking note of the commotion, the bartender waved over security who grabbed the dirt bag by the collar and dragged him away, much to his displeasure.

“Thanks…” You muttered and stirred the ice of your cocktail with your fingernail. Your heart was heavy, a predator replaced by the most insufferable man you'd ever known.

“Don't mention it.” Sunghoon stopped and for a moment you thought you might've misjudged him. “I just did what Sunoo told me to do.”

“Oh? Great to know you care about me soooo much.”

“Don't get your panties all in a twist, jeez.”

You shot a razor-sharp glare to Sunghoon and stood up, moving behind him to cling to Sunoo’s arm.

“Sunghoon, get your act together and apologize when you can bear to act nice.” Sunoo sighed and pulled you into his arms tightly. You were crying into his shoulder now, staining the dark orange fabric of his sweater.

Sunoo was a constant for you, you'd known him for years. He was always there to support you and the familiarity was something you needed far too badly.

“Come on,” Sunoo tapped your lower back with his finger. “I'll pick up some drive-thru and drop you off at your apartment. Sunghoon, go back to the boys. I'll meet you there in a few.”

8:00 pm

The drive back to your home was quiet. You didn't say a word, staring absentmindedly out the window. Sunoo hummed along to the songs on the radio which provided you some small amount of comfort. Walking you up to your door, he brushed the hair out of your face.

“Stop crying, alright?” He smiled and wrapped his arms around you again. “Get some rest. I'll talk to Hoon… call me if you need me.”

“Thanks. Love you, man.” You nestled your head into the crook of his neck for a moment before pulling away from him, then you slipped into your apartment. You peeked your head out the door until he reached his car safely and then collapsed on the couch.

8:37 am

You awoke with a start, jumping out of your skin to the sound of someone knocking firmly on your door. You threw on some modest pajamas and opened the door, immediately pissed. Sunghoon. At your front door. Admittedly he looked incredible. His long black coat was double-breasted, adorned with silver buttons, and taken in at the waist to compliment the shape of his body. His pants were just as well tailored, and his shoes well polished.

At some point in the night, it had snowed and was continuing to snow now. Sunghoon’s ears and cheeks were flushed pink by the biting cold. Fluffy white snowflakes decorated the black hair that landed so naturally to the sides of his face and more landed on his lashes before he quickly blinked them away.

“What do you want?” You avoided his gaze, shuffling your feet and feeling defeated.

“Sunoo thinks I'm here to apologize.”

“So you aren't?”

He simply shrugged and questioned if you were going to let him in.

Reluctantly agreeing, you sat down on the couch with him clear on the opposite end. Neither of you said a word, but you could feel him staring at you even while you looked away.

“I was just messing with you, y’know.”

“You know I don't like it.”

“I know you overreact.”

You snapped your head to look at Sunghoon in bewilderment.

“You know what I know? I know that I hate your guts.”

“You gotta learn to calm down and take a joke.”

You were standing in front of Sunghoon now, annoyed at the way he lounged back on the couch and man spread like he owned the place.

“Honestly, Sunghoon. If you just get out of my fucking house you can tell Sunoo you apologized, and I'll even back you up. I was sleeping pretty peacefully until you got here. To be entirely truthful, I could die happy if I never saw your stupid hot face again! I could live my whole life without seeing those dark eyes or the little moles that dot your face and be-”

“Hot?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m hot?”

You stared at him stunned, not even realizing what you'd said. You opened your mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. Those same deep brown eyes you'd thought about more than you'd ever admit were now resting heavily on your form.

“Shut up.” You hissed and crawled on the couch, straddling Sunghoon's lap and crashing your lips against his.

He gasped, processing what was happening, before grabbing your waist with his large hands. He attacked back with vigor, forcing your bodies closer together. Despite having spent time in the freezing cold, his body was searing. He tasted like bitter coffee, the scent of it lingering on his breath and mingling with the scent of your perfume.

“You know I wanted to like you,” You tugged on his bottom lip with your teeth. “I've always thought you were so fucking fine, but every time you open your mouth I pray to whatever higher power that you shut up.”

“You seem to like me plenty right now…”

“Stop talking. Please.”

Sunghoon made some sort of acknowledging nod, allowing you to settle back in. Your chests were pressed firmly together, your hands tangling through his silky black hair. Heavy breaths filled the surrounding air, panting against each other's faces with lewd strings of saliva connecting you.

“Hey,” Sunghoon’s voice was laced with need that made your stomach swirl. “I-I'm gonna be honest. I'm getting really hard here but if we're going to go farther I need to know if you really want to do this or if it's just the heat of the moment you'll regret later.”

You smoothed Sunghoon's hair back and pressed a kiss against the tip of his nose. The tenderness of your action made his train of thought falter.

“I mean it when I say I hate your guts,” You growled. “That unfortunately doesn't mean I hate the way you feel against me. Please make yourself useful, I want it.”

He let out a breathy “fuck” and lowered his hands to your ass, urging you to give him some kind of friction. He sheepishly heeded your warning of getting too greedy, you reminding him this was out of the kindness of your own heart. Sunghoon latched onto your neck, his sharp canine teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. Something was too good about the warmth of his mouth with the slight pain of his bites that was soon soothed by his plush lips.

“Sunghoon,” You moaned softly. “Bra. Take it off… if you even know how.”

He was quick to oblige, grabbing the hem of your nightshirt and aiding you in slipping it off. You donned a sports bra, one that closely matched your skin tone and featured a zipper up the front. You insisted they were more comfortable to sleep in and easier to remove this way.

The confused “ah?” that escaped Sunghoon was almost cute. He took the zipper in his shaky hands and unzipped it almost painfully slowly, biting his lip at the sight of your tits suddenly being free of their confines and spilling out.

“Damn…” Sunghoon muttered with wide eyes, making you feel suddenly vulnerable.

“So now you like what you see? Men. All the same.” You looked to the side in an attempt to hide the deepening blush on your cheeks.

Only after sneering, Sunghoon happily took your tits into his hands, squeezing lightly. His tongue swirled around your nipple, purposely avoiding the bud itself. Your hand rested on the nape of his neck so you could encouragingly (or rather, impatiently) dig your nails into his skin so he'd cut to the chase. Sunghoon harshly sucked your nipple between his teeth, tugging and swirling it in the process.

Sunghoon felt he could stay in this position forever and be completely content with his decision. He shuddered when you scratched his nape softly, trying to get his attention.

“As nice as this is… I didn't agree to this so you could use me like a stress ball.”

He considered making a snarky remark but thought better of it. The sight of Sunghoon’s flushed face and furrowed brows almost stressed you out, praying he couldn't feel the pulsing of your cunt against his lap.

“Alright, I'm sick of this…” You sighed, smirking at the way Sunghoon’s face twisted into a pout. “I think I'm going crazy, just get your dick out.”

The two of you scrambled off of the couch, removing most of your clothing in a hurry. You kept your panties on at first, allowing Sunghoon to rip them off of you as long as he bought you a new pair, a pair even nicer than the ones he'd ruined.

Settling back down on the couch, you lay on your back with Sunghoon moving to hover over you. Sunghoon freed his cock from the confines of his briefs and gave it a few languid strokes for good measure. The sight of him nearly stole your breath. He was of pretty average length, but girthy with a pleasant curve to the left.

Feeling precum drip onto your thighs, you huffed and pulled Sunghoon into a brief but harsh kiss. “I've been insulting you and treating you like shit this whole time, yet you're leaking all over the place. You like it when I'm mean to you, hm?”

“I… I guess I can't deny it at this point.”

“Slut.” You murmured, which caused Sunghoon to gasp in protest.

“I'm not a slut, what the hell?!”

“Yes, you are. Why else would you be so worked up from me degrading you? Say it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Sunghoon. Say you're my bitch or I'm putting my clothes back on right now and kicking you out.”

“Fine… I'm… I'm your bitch.”

Sunghoon despised the electricity that shot through his core when he heeded your demands. What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to be the one in charge, the one calling you names. Yet, the humiliation that burned his cheeks clouded his mind with hazy arousal.

You reached down, wrapping your hand around Sunghoon’s cock so you could guide the tip to your entrance, rubbing it in small circles against you.

“Are you ready?”

“As I'll ever be.”

Sunghoon's reply came across so softly, whining when you urged him to finally push into you. Every inch of him stretched your walls so intoxicatingly.

“Oh, fuck,” Your breath hitched once his hips finally pressed against your skin. “So good, Hoon, so good.”

“Ah? I haven't even done anything yet. That's all it takes to-”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Sorry…”

His thrusts were slow at first, too slow. You could tell he was absolutely relishing in the feeling of your walls around him, this would have irritated you if it didn't stroke your ego so well.

“Sunghoon,” He hadn't moved in a minute. Just staying in place with his eyes screwed shut, panting heavily. “Earth to Sunghoon. Speak to me or I'm shutting this whole operation down.”

Sunghoon’s eyes shot open, his pupils blown wide with lust. His hand moved to grab your own tightly. “W-wait, I'm ok. Promise. Just… so tight. Please.”

A moment later, Sunghoon seemed to regain his icy composure. Every slap of his hips against you brought a low grunt from him. Yet, every so often he faltered with a whine. He was trying his best to maintain some dignity though deep down he knew he was slipping.

Suddenly, your phone rang. Blasting some shit default ringtone you never bothered to change. You groaned as you reached for your phone, squinting at the brightness of your screen. It was Sunoo.

“Keep it down,” You warned. “It's Sunoo. I gotta pick up or he's gonna show up at my door.”

Sunoo sighed in relief when you greeted him. You sounded awake which was enough to convince him that Sunghoon had come to apologize like he instructed. You told him it had gone fine, that Sunghoon apologized and left, though you still hated his guts. Hah. Ironic, given he was in your guts at the present moment.

Snap. Sunghoon had apparently grown sick of waiting and granted a particularly rough stroke that slammed into your g-spot. You just about dropped your phone, doing your absolute best to stifle the noise of pure shock and pleasure that you let out.

“Y/N… you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry. Just stubbed my toe.” You feigned pain quite well to try and pass off the aforementioned moan as an unpleasant one.

You found yourself gripping Sunghoon’s hair tightly and pulling it angrily. Unfortunately for you, Sunghoon did not try to hide his reaction. Not that he had much of a chance to process how good it felt.

There was radio silence over the phone from you and Sunoo both.

“Y/N was that Sunghoon?”

No reply.

“Y/N.”

“I gotta go, I’ll call you in a bit. Byeee!”

“Woah, hold on, wait a sec-” Sunoo was cut off by you ending the call and practically throwing your phone across the room.

“Oh. Oh we’re screwed aren't we?”

Sunghoon’s voice speaking meekly sent a wave of ire through you.

“Oh. Oh we are. Guess what? It's your fault too.”

You sat up, causing Sunghoon to slip out of you. Grabbing the silver chain he'd so foolishly left on, you yanked him toward you, causing him to lose his balance for a moment and hurriedly try to settle on his knees.

“Oh, fuck!” Sunghoon's breath caught in his throat as you tilted his head upward and smacked him square across the face. He was trembling visibly.

A realization hit you with horror and intrigue. He was loving this.

“Oh my God! You really are getting off on me treating you like shit!” You smacked him again, this time with more purpose and calculated force. “You're no better than a common whore!”

“Don't stop. Please don't stop!” Sunghoon was absolutely desperate. He'd tried to explore this aspect of his sexuality before but hadn't had luck finding a girl willing to indulge him. He absolutely couldn't lose this now.

Pushing him into place so that you were now hovering over him in turn, you closed in on Sunghoon like he was your prey.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? Is this why you dedicate your time to getting under my skin?”

Sunghoon, at this moment, thought he could die. How could anyone be so indubitably hot? He felt vulnerable under you. Powerless. He was always the dominant one. Not just sexually. Tall, hot, imposing, and a man that people generally didn't want to mess with. You weren't scared of him. Sunghoon didn't understand why, but somehow he trusted you. Finally, he granted a reply. Perhaps it was time to give in.

“Yours. I wanna be yours.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “If I knew we'd end up like this I would've pushed harder. So, take it out on me. Whatever you want, I can take it.”

You could not believe your eyes. Your ears. Any of your senses. This wasn't an opportunity you were going to give up. You took a timeout to establish any hard boundaries and a safe word. You hated him (did you?), but he was still a person at the end of the day.

Sunghoon sat on the bed with his back against the headboard. You bound his wrists together with white rope that was specially designed with this in mind, then tied them to the posts of the bed. Normally it was being used on you. He looked gorgeous with the snowy bindings contrasting beautifully on his tanned skin. You cupped his cheek in your hand.

“Look at you.”

You forced your thumb into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue so that he'd open up, spit pooling before running down his chin. You always did appreciate his sharp canine teeth and now was no exception.

“You dirty boy. Park Sunghoon, all at my mercy.”

Sunghoon flinched when you took tight hold of his sore cock. You kept your grip tight with every deliberate stroke, causing him to whimper and buck his hips up against your hand. You released him only to place a firm slap to his shaft which you followed with soft soothing tugs. Sunghoon yelped, slumping over helplessly. He'd become so pliant for you, so obedient.

“So this is all it takes, Hoonie?” He whimpered at the pet name. “Just needed someone to boss you around to crack you open.”

You spent god knows how long teasing and tormenting Sunghoon until his cheeks were wet with salty tears. Eventually, you felt like you were torturing yourself with how needy you were with your pussy clenching against nothing. You untied Sunghoon’s wrists and granted him permission to touch you again. He took you up on this eagerly, his hands roaming your body mindlessly.

“Be a good fucktoy and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

A choked moan ripped from Sunghoon’s throat when you finally sunk down onto his cock. He was even more sensitive and jumpy than when he'd first entered you, and you were even wetter. One hand placed on his abdomen, you felt his stomach distend and shudder along every pathetic sob. Sunghoon's stomach was well toned, not rock hard, but sculpted. He had a noticeable happy trail that drove you absolutely insane.

Sunghoon clung to you like he might lose you, allowing you to ride him to your heart's content and doing his very best to thrust up into you at the same pace. The more overwhelmed he got, the more he struggled to keep up. His head was buried into the crook of your neck, drooling and whining against your soft skin. He really has lost all his will to maintain his attitude towards you. It almost made you melt.

“Sunghoon,” You softly raked your fingers through his silky black hair. “You doing ok, hm?”

“Y-yes, love your pussy, wanna cum-”

Your pace slowed down to a consistent level. You held Sunghoon as close as you could. He’d entrusted himself to you and you felt the need to keep him secure.

“Alright,” Your voice was soft in his ear. “Cum for me. You've earned it.”

Sunghoon let go with a high-pitched cry, his thighs shaking underneath you. His cum flooded your walls in warm spurts. Your orgasm followed soon after, squeezing each and every drop of semen from Sunghoon’s twitching cock.

The two of you were quiet for some time, clinging to each other and coming down from your highs. Once you pulled off of him, his cum spilled from your pussy down onto his hips. Though he clearly wasn't completely clear headed he was already making moves to get his clothes on and go.

“Where are you going?” You frowned.

“Uh. Home… I figured you would just want me out of here as soon as possible.”

“Sit down, Sunghoon. Just sit down.”

You tossed a loose t-shirt on and hobbled to the bathroom with a groan. Your legs were already this sore? You were so fucked tomorrow. Cleaning yourself up quickly, you proceeded to wet a cloth with warm water and make your way back to Sunghoon.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this, Y/N? Why aren't you kicking me out?”

“It's aftercare, Hoon.”

“I…”

“I know. It's ok. You deserve it just as much as any of the girls you've slept with in the past.”

In the midst of you wiping the tears off of his face, Sunghoon looked up at you so weakly and did his best to keep himself from crying on the spot. He never expected you to let him be so exposed, never mind how sweetly you were treating him now. You handed Sunghoon his briefs and a throw blanket.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For being such an asshole. Everything I’ve done for you was willing, even if it was Sunoo’s idea. I actually couldn't stand the thought of you being alone in that bar with strangers. It's just… when our reputation for fighting is so strong it's hard to let you know I care.”

“It's alright. I accept your apology. I think I should say sorry too, though. For refusing to let you in. You trusted me to watch over you in your most vulnerable state and I… I don't know. It will take time but I think we can really be something.”

Crawling into bed, you invited Sunghoon to stay awhile. It was still early, after all. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his strong, steady heart. He hesitantly grasped your hand.

“To new beginnings?”

“To new beginnings.”

[idciminlove]

FIGHTER.

Part Eight - Like

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Kang Dae Ho x f!reader

warnings- themes of PTSD, father issues, mention of overdose (but not an actual overdose), grief, etc.

You make some new friends, and some old ones too.

Dae-Ho could still feel the warm press of your body against his. It wasn’t until he had you in his arms that he realized how small you were. Your presence was so strong, making you larger than life, like an angel or a goddess, but when he held you, you felt real. Like something attainable, something human.

You wanted to push him away at first, he could feel it. Your body tensed up, and he almost let you go, but then he felt you relax. Felt your head rest on his chest and your arms wrapped around his back, soft and gentle, as if you gripped him too hard, he would break.

You were like fire..all different kinds. A forest fire, wild, untamed and dangerous, burning anyone that got close, but also a fireplace, warm and inviting, comforting on a cruel, frigid night.

You were truly something else. He had never met anyone like you.

“Is everything okay?” 001 asked, bringing him back to reality. All of his other teammates were looking at him now, concerned from his unusual silence.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just got a little lost in thought, I guess.” He grinned, shifting his focus on their conversation instead.

–

Dae-Ho introduced himself (Dae-Ho - Dae as “huge” and Ho as “tiger,” of course) and listened to their names and the meanings behind them. He knew 456’s name was Seong Gi-Hun, since he had been called that by the other men. But he didn’t know the rest. There was 390, or Park Jung-Bae (meaning twice and righteous) who supposedly lives twice as righteously, 001, which was Oh-Young Il, his name coincidentally meaning zero one, (maybe that’s why they gave him the number), and Miss 222, Kim Jun-Hee. She didn’t know the meaning behind her name.

As they talked, he couldn’t help but gaze over at you, letting his attention drift once again. You were sitting on your bunk, all alone. He knew you probably preferred it, knew that you could handle yourself just fine, but it didn’t sit right with him, especially after the two of you had made up. Everything was okay between you two, so why couldn’t you join him?

Once again, he was standing in front of the group. He gestured to you. “Would it be okay if we had her join us?”

“I don’t know. She kinda seems like trouble.” Jung-Bae mumbled. “She got into a fight on the first day, and she doesn’t exactly seem popular around here. If we have her on our side, it might be harder to convince people to change their vote. How do you even know her, anyway?”

“She saved me in the first game. Of course, Gi-Hun was very motivating, but she was the one who really got me through it.” Dae-Ho admitted, slightly bashful.

It was the truth. Without you, he didn’t know what he would’ve done. He was in a bad way that game, with all the gunshots, blood, and screaming bringing back memories he had so desperately tried to repress. His hands were all shaky and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and then you took his hand, and guided him through it. You truly had saved him, and he still doesn’t know why. All he knows is that he owes you one. The least he can do is look after you.

“She helped me too.” Jun-Hee chimed in. “She was the one who told me to join your group. She gave me the confidence to do it.”

Gi-Hun and Young-Il traded glances. Young-Il was the first to speak. “Sure, why not.”

Gi-Hun didn’t say anything, just nodded his head in agreement.

–

You could feel their eyes on you. Thanos and Nam-Gyu, glowering at you, watching you like a hawk watches its prey, circling like sharks in blood thirsty waters. You tried not to pay attention to them, tried not to show your fear because you knew the moment you did, they would win. So instead, you lied on your back, staring at the bunk above, gazing at the metal fixtures, and counting down the minutes until the next vote.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Dae-Ho’s head popped up from the side of the bunk, standing beside it, below you. “Hey.”

“You scared the shit out of me!” You practically jumped out of your skin, startled. You were so surprised that you almost hit your head on the bottom of the bunk above you.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you heard me.” He offered you his hand.

“What?” You asked, gazing at it hesitantly. What is this about? What does he want?

“Come with me.” It wasn’t like you had anything better to do, so you took his hand, letting him carefully help you down from his bunk. You expected him to let go of you once he had done so, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept holding your hand, leading you over to the group, the team he had been with in the pentathlon.

He finally let you go once you reached them. “You should meet my friends. This is Seong Gi-Hun, Oh Young-Il, Kim Jun-Hee, and Park Jung-Bae.”

You bowed politely. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Aren’t you going to tell us your name?” Jung-Bae inquired.

“Oh, yes, right.” You hesitated for a moment, gazing at Dae-Ho. He gestured to you encouragingly, a bright smile on his face. You took a deep breath and told them your name.

Jung-Bae repeated your last name. “Wait, like the famous MMA fighter?”

“Yeah. That was my Dad.”

You watched the older men’s expressions change, watched as it clicked. Who your father was, who you are, a major piece in the puzzle, falling into place. It all made sense to them now.

“Ah, the heavyweight champion, The Dragon. Gi-Hun and I were big fans. We would bet on his fights all the time.” Jung-Bae remarked, pumping his fist. “That explains how she’s so tough. Yeah, I can totally see the resemblance.”

You smiled softly. It was always such a bittersweet feeling when people recognized you and your father. There was always the awe and amazement, and then the pity. Your father had kept his family life private from the tabloids, so most didn’t know about you, and you liked that. You’d rather gain your own fame through blood, sweat, and tears, working your way up the MMA rankings instead of being known just for being someone’s daughter. What little information was known about your father was his death, rumors of his overdose spread like wildfire, whispers of him being a junkie, using during his career, when they didn’t know the true story.

No, they didn’t know anything at all.

“It was a shame what happened to him.” Jung-Bae added, pity and sympathy clear in his voice. Young-Il nodded in agreement.

Gi-Hun spoke, soft and quiet. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You nodded, looking at the ground, unable to meet their stares. In your periphery, you could feel Dae-Ho’s eyes on you, and see his hand move, as if he wanted to reach out to you. You heard those words time and time again, so much that they lost their meaning. It’s a shame. I’m sorry. Like that would bring him back. Like it would make you feel better. You’re so tired of hearing it. You’re so tired of the pity and the guilt. You’re so, so tired.

Before your conversation could continue, the guards entered the room, thankfully shifting the focus to something else you had to worry about. They congratulated you on getting through the game, and clicked the remote. The piggy bank lit up and the bills fell in, the amount of money going up on the chart while the number of players went down.

20.1 Billion Won. 78 million won each.

The players around you complained. It still wasn’t enough.

The front guard tried to appease them. “Your concern about the prize money is completely understandable. However, we always leave the door open for you to explore other opportunities.”

A shiver went down your spine. You looked over at Thanos and Nam-Gyu. Nam-Gyu caught your gaze, a snake-like grin crossing his lips.

Two guards brought the voting podium into the front of the room. Everyone got into their lines. You sighed softly.

The cycle continues.

[etoileee]

GUYSSS IM SORRY I FORGOT MY DAMN PASSWORD LMAO

I’m here and I’m gonna give you guys some pjo shifting motivation because I think some of you need it 🫶🏼

i think a lot of people love and find comfort in percy jackson because a lot of us do struggle with adhd and dyslexia (I myself am one of them) and see ourselves in these characters. struggling with feeling like nobody gets you, like you don’t belong, that you’re dumb… its definitely not fun but these books had provided an outlet that made me and a whole lot of others feel seen.

when I came back from my percy jackson dr for the first time I didn’t think I was gonna get so emotional, but I did. I speak for a lot of us when I say we’ve grown up with these characters and MEETING them is something absolutely mind blowing. not only because they are so loved, but because all of us had gone through similar struggles. to this day at my big junior in high school age I don’t know what the fuck 9 x 8 is, the words still seem to rearrange themselves when I try to read…

I guess what I’m saying is yes, when you shift, you’ll meet the characters you love so so much, but you’ll also relate and connect to them in a way that you probably can’t even imagine.

I think a lot of people haven’t shifted yet because they think that shifting is like dreaming, that it’s something that will slip through your fingers, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I’m sure a lot of you are thinking “but I do believe in shifting?” but I think some of you have a hard time actually wrapping your mind around it.

look around you right now. notice the temperature, the textures, the colors, the sensations, the smell, the sounds. notice how you are not dreaming.

THIS is EXACTLY what shifting is like. it is not like dreaming, because it’s NOT a dream it’s REAL.

look around you and imagine that you had shifted into where you are right now. its a bit trippy, isn’t it? looking at the world around you as if it isn’t your cr.

for example, look up from your device and imagine percy jackson in front of you right now. how does it make you feel? are you shocked? happy? afraid?

I really do believe that some people haven’t shifted yet because they think shifting will be like dreaming, and when they realize it isn’t like dreaming they are afraid of it subconsciously.

I’m here to tell you that it’s not scary at all. sure, you may wake up in your dr and start crashing out (which is totally understandable) but its not something you need to FEAR. please remember everything you desire will be there. it will be PERFECT and more than what you could ever imagine.

If you’re still worried you’ll start tweakin once you do shift, I find that scripting you’ll be calm and that you forgot you’ve shifted helps a lot. sure you’ll feel massive shock when you get back to your cr but initially when you wake up in your dr if you have those two things scripted you should be fine.

good luck to all you, sending so much love and good vibes. 🤍🖤✨🌊

[slippinninque]

📚Scene Break 📚

In which a books do their job

Fontaine x blackfemreader

warnings: None! Fluff and books, really! Some cursing, short fic

A bit stunned by the lines you’ve been reading, you let the book flat-open onto your stomach. You looked up past the cover of Fontaine’s sudoku to the blue sky above you. 

“What’s that face?”

“This book…sort of got me stuck.”

“Hm?”

As you flipped back a few pages, Fontaine put his pen into the pages of his own book, touching the pages together and looking out into the yard as you caught him up regarding the character you were reading about who was visiting a library’s reference desk. 

From the book’s description, there was apparently something else this woman needed aside from the career centric texts she went in for. 

You explained it all to a patiently listening Fontaine, thinking that the job she had at the department store wasn’t good enough and she wasn’t meeting expectations. Not that the young woman had many for herself, she wasn’t very motivated and even felt guilty about that….

“That so?” 

“Anyway, after she told the lady about her job and kinda gives herself shit, the librarian goes, ‘You managed to find employment, you go to work every day and you can feed yourself. That’s a fine achievement’. The woman said she’s never heard it put that way and, as simple as it was said…I feel the same.”

Closing the book again, you tapped the edge of it to your lips as you tried to put your feelings into words.

“I didn’t realize how hard I am on myself until recently. Focusing so much on work and trying just…make things happen, you know? Nothing too big just...keeping up. I have to be doing good ‘cause I’m not where I was and I’m not anywhere worse. That’s just as good, right?”

“ ‘Course it is. Doing what you can, when you can–that’s how you build. In anything. Goin’ too fast might make some shit happen but you can’t keep on like that.”

You heard what he was saying, but why was that so hard to get a hold of? To just accept? To be disciplined and to know when to jump on a possibility. It just looked easier for everyone else.

Fontaine moved the book aside and wrapped an arm under you, cradling you in his arms as he looked at you with a soft look of fondness. 

“There is more to all this shit than work. A job is a job, it ain’t your ticket to deserving your life. Enjoy your days how you want to. That’s what that book was saying to you, right?”

You listened to birds chattering overhead, a fussing yorkie a few doors down, the fade-swell of sidewalk chatter. In the arms of the only man in the world who could read minds. Probably.

“I...guess it is, huh? I can’t believe I forgot about what reading a book can do to me. There are a lot of things I have to get back to, really. I don’t even know if there is a place to start to get back to it all. 

“There’s always a place to start, baby.” Fontaine gave you a little shake and you were touched at how sure he was of you, “Here, now. Tomorrow, the day after–bit by bit and as much as you want. I know you. You’ll get there.”

Bird by bird…

Maybe books are the answers to your problems right now. The feeling of restlessness, of numbness, the sick-sweetness of visiting apps only to feel unfulfilled or bored still.

As soon as the simple cover of Anne Lamott Bird by Bird caught your eye from its forgotten place on your nightstand, the urge to feel it in your hands was surprising.

It was yellowed a bit and curled along the edges but it was in good condition over all. The sort-of fuzzy textured pages reminded you of those wide coloring books that scattered across the playmat of your childhood bedroom. Reading through Lamott’s teaching the rules of writing and life, it steadied you and for the first time in a long time–you caught a streak. 

A streak that led you all the way here. To the moment you would revisit in your heart when it felt like hope had run off again.  

You nodded, unable to find the words and stretched yourself more into his lap. Still mostly on the blanket you’ve brought out to the back porch. The weepy feeling in your chest rounded out to something warmer now. 

Fontaine picked up the sudoku again, one hand settled on your back and you took in small stacks of books the two of you brought outside to entertain yourselves with.

“Y’know what, you’re right and it’s easier now that I have my trusty assistant.”

“Who’s an assistant?"

You couldn’t hold in your laugh at Fontaine’s tone, he made it seem like he was going to push you away but you clung to him.

“I only mean the sexy man who worked so hard helping me move all those heavy books! Looked so good doing it, too, mind you.” A few kisses really sealed the deal and Fontaine brought you close again to use as a board for his book. 

That seemed to appease him as he resettled, flipping open his sudoku once more.

“I take other forms of payment,” He said haughtily, “Since I’m the assistant and everything–tell you what, I prefer other forms of payment!”

If Fontaine’s numbers were wobbly in their boxes, it was his own fault for making you laugh. 

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

💕taglist💕: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @miyuhpapayuh @cardierreh15

✨ending notes✨: a little something while I had the time! believe me when I say everyone should grab a book! Just hold one in your hands, smell the pages! 🤸🏾‍♀️📚✨💕

"What You Are Looking For Is In Th Library" by Michiko Aoyama is what I'm reading right now and it's so good! tell me what you think, thank you for reading!

@mcondance @thadelightfulone@mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful

@8ttached@thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker

@longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @harmshake @notapradagurl7

[aranarumei]

What do we thing of the few and far between Niibashi and Hirano interactions?

[ask me about any two ssmy charas and i'll give my thoughts on their dynamic, real or imagined]

he’s so relatable. If I knew my friend was crushing on someone I’d already feel weird meeting them. if I knew the extent of the wildness of hirano to kagiura I would be unable to function normally. niibashi’s a trooper.

so basically I think he’s overly conscious of hirano! which is kind of neat because he usually seems like a guy who’s like. blunt and self-assured and cool. it’s hard for him bc kagiura talks about hirano SO MUCH, so he’s got this whole perception of a guy that he doesn’t know, and he’s aware its colored in some sense, but he also doesn’t know exactly what hirano’s truth is. and that’s confusing for him because I think he’s got a sense of responsibility of like. I must not let kagi get caught up in daydreams. 1) he’ll get hurt and 2) they’re roommates and that could get so badly complicated, so let’s make sure hirano’s comfortable. but a lot of that second point is also motivated by like. kagiura likes him SO MUCH, I’ve got to treat him well. a biased self-interest towards wanting kagi to be. successful / happy etc. what a wonderful friend he is.

but because of this Awareness, there’s also a sense of embarrassment and avoidance. it’s almost like. if I met a celebrity I’d talked about I’d get so embarrassed like. HELLO. You’re not supposed to know me!!! let me analyze your thing in peace. I’m not for you to look at. You see this when niibashi jolts at hirano’s presence and then gets the hell out of there after giving him the sewing kit—he’s cheering on kagiura, but also he doesn’t want to touch that with a ten foot pole bc it feels weird to intrude on their space? third-wheeling is awkward. I mean u see this in ch 24 when kagiura runs off and niibashis like DON’T LEAVE ME HERE??? in his head and then hirano also steps out and he’s like what the fuck do I do. I’m not gonna start up conversation w/ whoever this guy (sasaki) is. and then he just heads to the gym. speaking of, there’s a bit there where he sees hirano scolding sasaki and is like. THIS is the “super kind” hirano-san? guy was probably envisioning a blond angel at first so I think that adjustment to reality is messing with him.  

so if they interacted For Real, I think at first it would be hard and awkward bc niibashi would be put off-kilter by KAGI’S HUGE CRUSH hanging over them (basically the current state of affairs). after kagihira couple up though. I think niibashi would say something like “you guys are so annoying” and then get extremely embarrassed that he did that in front of hirano. bc its normal to nag at kagiura like that but not so normal to do that with a senpai. he’d be the type of guy who’d wanna be careful around hirano and then get embarrassed if he was naturally harsh or blunt in the kind way he is. and that wanting to be careful makes him unsettled. probably with enough time he would get comfortable, but I don’t think he & hirano have like… similar interests or demeanors, so I don’t really think anything like “oh my boyfriend is better friends w/ my friend than I am” would happen? still, at the end of the day they’re both thoughtful people who love kagiura. they’ll do fine.

[call-me-copycat]

BNHA Spoilers:

(Also this is just a complaint post, I'm not very good at explaining my thoughts so please don't try to argue :⁠-⁠( Feel free to add on thoughts but I can't argue )

I have to say I'm not too happy with the leaks, which is hard for someone like me to admit!

As an AceAro person, I was thrilled with the original ending and the fact that no ships were confirmed nor denied, because it left enough for the fans to work with while not shutting anyone down outright

I'm not really a fan of ships, I'll be honest, and I don't really like romance in anime (hard to avoid! I know!), but I never really saw anything wrong with people and their ships and whatnot, and I never minded analyzing some of them for some friends - it was all in good fun after all!

The pairs in the leaks felt like something out of character almost, it didn't feel very... Horikoshi Style I suppose

I do enjoy getting extra MHA content, I always always will, but it isn't a good feeling to me seeing these characters in this anime that focuses on motivation and inspiration and becoming Heroes eventually getting together and dating - I'm not sure, I guess it's the unfitting themes? Something about it unnerves me

I don't know, I've always been adverse to romance my whole life, I always preferred plot and writing instead of two characters getting together (if the plot and writing lead up to two characters getting together? I'm fine with that)

I've seen people saying Uraraka and Deku are canon and I have to say... I don't really feel comfortable with that

I can see it as cute, yes! But I feel that he didn't have as deep a relationship to her as he did with Bakugo (they're always themed around each other, and I found whatever relationship they have with each other very profound, as it ran very deep for a very long time)

Same goes with Toga and Uraraka - it happened over the course of the series, I got to see them learn and struggle together, I got to see them talk about their problems and desires and it felt overwhelmingly different than when it's Deku and Uraraka

I may be biased in the end, I have friends who ship Deku and Bakugo and I have friends who ship Uraraka and Toga, but I've seen some very informative takes that explain it a lot better than me why I think they're such good parallels to each other

I like that Deku and Uraraka are good motivators to each other, Uraraka inspired him in the beginning when he really needed it and he returned it to her as well - but I can't really see it as romantic? Then again, ignore that because I can't see anything in MHA as romantic

I dunno, I feel the romance really overtook the whole plot away from the ending and I'm devastated - that's all what everyone's talking about right now, no?

Deku and Uraraka

Denki and Jiro

The rumor of Bakugo being married (?)

Kinoko and Kuroiro are dating

That's not even all, there could be more that I easily missed

It feels very unsatisfactory, it makes it seem like Love was the entire meaning of the series My Hero Academia when it was not! I'm a big full-circle person, I would have adored a call-back! Something that alludes to the beginning of the series, like what they did with the cover

I want to see how Hero Society is, I want to see Deku and how he coped with the loss of OFA, I want to see Aizawa, I want to see Present Mic! How is he doing, I want to know if he's okay? Is Nezu still the principal? There are less demand for heroes since there aren't as many villains, I want to see that change and its effects! I want to hear more about Vigilante Heroes, and I want to see other Underground Heroes, I want to know more about the Quirk Doomsday Theory, and more about what the world was like when quirks first formed, and I would like to see Hisashi Midoriya! There's so much, see? I would rather talk about that and more over who's dating who ( ･᷄ὢ･᷅ )

It has its good moments, I will always love seeing the (former) class interact with each other, and I really liked seeing the new Hero Rankings, especially with some of the aged up designs for the characters - I can feel how much love Horikoshi has for these characters no matter what's going on in the series

I don't know, don't take me too seriously because I am a biased person after all - I've dropped one of my favorite book series as a kid because my favorite (the most competent) character died, and then every person in the book had gotten together with another person - it was a similar disappointment because it ignored the plot (it was a post-zombie apocalypse series) in favor of looking towards romance once more

Fairy Tail recently came out with their 100 Years Quest, and I know I dropped the anime early on as a kid (in favor of MHA ironically), but coming back to it only to see almost (if not) all characters together in a relationship, some with kids? I know, don't go near anime if you don't like the tropes, I've been told that before - I'm just complaining a little because I didn't expect to see it in MHA so I'm a little shocked

Nevertheless, I'm still looking forward to seeing the rest of the epilogue, I'm always a fan of Horikoshi even if I don't like some things (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）. It's still a treat for me to get more MHA content, I love the art and I love being a part of the fandom -

I'm sure some time in the future I'll even miss the shipping wars that went on lol

[buttered-milky]

So how does Messmer's story interact with a theme of autonomy?

OMG FUCKING FLAPPING MY HANDS SO HARD AT THIS ASK GLAD YOU FUCKING ASKED ANON 💞✨💞✨💞✨

Okay, sorry it took me one grillion years to get this posted, but it is basically an essay and I also have Many Life Events that prevent me from getting a chance to sit down and write. I have many thoughts. I will put them under a read more.

When I say Messmer’s story is about autonomy, I mean this specifically in relation to disability.

To me, the base serpent functions as an allegory for some sort of disability. We know the base serpent feeds on Messmer’s flame—this is his curse, to have this eldritch thing gnawing at his soul.

Now how is the base serpent treated by those around Messmer? And how does it affect his life? (Answer: negatively)

Let’s start with how the serpent itself functions as an independent agent. For a moment please forget what I said about it being a disability metaphor—it still is but that’s a mystery mouskatool for later. Right now we’re gonna talk about it as a living entity of its own.

As I pointed out, the serpent feeds on Messmer’s flame, and this harm and how intertwined it has become with Messmer’s existence limits Messmer. It has affected his view of himself to the point it limits his choices in life. How to present himself—with or without flame? He associates his flame with the serpent. How to fight—with or without the serpent’s power? It doesn’t seem to hurt him to use the serpent, but it does make others uncomfortable.

The harm itself of the serpent using Messmer as a food source is also a very basic imposition on Messmer’s autonomy. Of course he doesn’t want an eldritch snake gnawing at him like a chew toy, but the serpent is not going to leave him alone. It does not give him his own space and freedom.

Messmer tries to remove his flame not because the flame itself is a curse, but because it attracts something which is. That’s deeply fucking sad. He’s trying to remove parts of himself—to change himself fundamentally—just to get basic freedom and autonomy.

Now let’s also look at how others see the base serpent. For example, Marika.

Listen. She tried her best with him but I do wonder when the grace seal happened. It seems (to me at least, though we have no confirmed timeline) to have been done early in his life given the language used to describe the serpent. This was urgent. Marika was very worried about this wicked serpent and what it was doing to her son! This is important, by the way—that she does these things out of love.

Marika is also, however, deeply concerned with her own ideals. For example, light, the source of her own grace and of Messmer’s power. Messmer seems to scorn those “devoid of light” as he puts it. Darkness in itself is a curse under the Golden Order. Perhaps she wants to save the flame within Messmer for this reason, although there is definitely the motivation of that is her son.

The dual motivations, to both protect someone and to enforce our ideals of what is “best” is what hurts so many disabled folks. Sometimes “normal” is not attainable—and it doesn’t have to be! What disabled people find normal or doable or comfortable is fine, and they should have the agency to say so. That’s where I see autonomy really coming into Messmer’s story as an important motif.

Messmer is unfortunately born into a society that, at least to Marika, seems prejudiced against the strange. He is born into a world that would hate him for having the base serpent (though that is no fault of his own). And instead of trying to change this faulty thinking in others, Marika changes her son.

Her healing is…a mixed bag. The blessings Marika makes for her son seem alright. That’s non-invasive medicine, and it’s not like she’s forcing these down Messmer’s throat. But the grace seal is more iffy. Like I said, I’m not sure how I feel about the grace seal and whether that’s really accommodation. It does send a certain message that, uh, a core part of Messmer deserves to be locked away for eternity, which is not healthy for anyone to hear.

But I can understand why Marika did it, too. She thinks she is healing/accommodating her son and making life livable. And maybe she is! The base serpent we see in the second phase of the fight looks painful. But that is also a manifestation of something that has been repressed for centuries and is boiling over.

I wanna know what the base serpent was like when he was born! Was it truly “wicked?” Did it want to hurt others, or just go after Messmer’s flame? Both? Was the base serpent just something Marika was uncomfortable with, because it took light from her son? How necessary is that light? I wanna know how necessary the grace seal was!

We know Marika had Messmer after her apotheosis—he is a demigod, after all. So at this point she is already being affected by the Greater Will and ideals that will become the Golden Order. I do think Messmer of all her children probably had the least of this Order forced upon him, but that isn’t to say he had none. He was in the Lands Between at some point, based on the fire giants and Impaler’s Catacombs. He did have to conform to some degree to be accepted.

He definitely had to conform to be accepted in Leyndell. People in the Shadow Lands may be accepting—we see Hornsent and no one gives a damn—but the Misbegotten and Omen in the Lands Between (who look a lot like hornsent, mind you)? Treated like absolute shit, because of the Order. There is no way Messmer was escaping such treatment, no matter if he was a demigod.

The grace seal could be accommodation, but it is also a manifestation of Marika’s and the Order’s ideals and the pressure to conform—to give up autonomy for safety (which is really no choice at all).

Above all, what Marika and/or Messmer do to “heal” him does nothing to fix societal prejudice. Nothing here fights for autonomy or freedom. Not the blessings, not the seal—I mean it’s a fucking seal, a lock.

And it only hides the base serpent, instead of actually fighting it, which in the end leads to destruction.

It is not necessarily a kindness to try to treat or cure a disability if you are not also working to undo the prejudice against said disability and provide accommodations. It is not necessarily a kindness to try to cure a disability which doesn’t need curing. And it is no kindness to demand disability be swept under the rug because it is not palatable enough to you.

This is where we see loss of autonomy.

Messmer is such a walking tragedy. He’s just doomed from the start. Marika is trying, but she’s not fixing the world, just continuing its cycles of violence. And even if she didn’t give him the seal, the base serpent would’ve been spurned.

As a last aside/point, I wanna discuss how Messmer deals with his own situation as a disabled person (and more generally a minority class) because it reflects something in the real world.

Messmer accepts the verdict that part of himself should be hidden, and that being what he is is bad, and he goes on to further this notion. He destroys the people his mother wants him to destroy. He commits genocide for many reasons, but one of them is because it guarantees a scrap of power under the Order. He preserves the status quo instead of fighting against it, and he tries to be “one of the good ones” to save himself as much as he can within a system that hates him.

He is someone who is not good enough for the order, and he is lightless, but at least he is denying himself to try to be like the oppressors.

Which gets you nowhere by the way. Being one of the good ones is never enough, and it will destroy you in the end.

[decaying-words]

The Innocent

All chapters Jonathan Crane x Reader • 18+ Explicit • 4.1k words TW & tags: NonCon, fear kink, masturbation, awful everything AO3 • All my stories

"She whimpers audibly, her scent turning acrid and pungent now; fear, she reeks of fear. I pant, a hundred meters behind her, putting enough distance to remain a formless creature while still appearing very much real in the dim light. The soft tremor turns into heavy shaking when she turns her head behind her shoulder, as if to convince herself that this is just a dream, just like the others she’s had. Then she screams, oh! she screams…"

The Innocent

Foreign music notes of a perhaps forgotten song vibrate in my dry throat in low hums, barely covering the insistent scratch of the fountain pen darkening the cream coloured papers splayed on my antique desk. The watch which delicately sublimes my bony wrist with its dark brown Italian leather and finely carved metal hands indicate three hours and fifty-six minutes in the afternoon; I still have four whole minutes, I realize with a palpable excitement that is most unwelcome in my line of work. My patient is, without a single doubt, already waiting in the other room; I will not greet her before the time has come, for it is absolutely crucial to not reveal any ounce of delight or impatience. In fact, I must remain perfectly professional, detached and clinical, or else I am taking the risk of exposing my ulterior motives and intimate desires. 

Four minutes is exactly the amount of time needed to adjust my tie (dark brown as well; a color not too contrasting to my marble pallor and which makes me look distinguished and inspires confidence, a key component in my profession), inspect my impeccable tweed vest made of Irish virgin wool dyed an exquisite amber color, and delicately clean the lenses of my round glasses with a microfiber cloth. Three hours fifty-nine; the last notes fade on my chapped lips when I leave my cognac leather armchair and direct my wiry frame to the door, spidery fingers holding the brass handle which feels pleasantly cold against my tight skin. 

Within my aging ribcage are percussions worthy of Ravel’s Bolero; intense in nature and laced with the fruitful musicality of controlled nerves. The entrance is methodical, natural and restrained, with a smile, polite enough to be welcoming but faint enough to remain professional, and soft crow’s feets rolling in a pleasantness that seems genuine. There are no emotions in my eyes; yet, dissimulated behind my glasses it might be hard to tell. My voice is warm and comforting, despite the crystal-like brokenness of its undertones which has been forged through the years.

Her smile, painted in a shiny coral red, is wide and transpires a heavy relief. She has been looking forward to our session all week long, I am sure; she reminds me of a teapot in the way she lets her worries fester until they turn ugly and make her completely dysfunctional. Her fingers cross and uncross nervously on her lap, as if incapable of knowing what to do with her own body, before she stands up, flattening her perfectly ironed marine blue pencil skirt, and retrieves her matching blazer jacket. I hold the door open and she penetrates my office with a footstep so light it could have belonged to a ghost; I notice the floral notes of her perfume, horrifyingly sweet and childish.

Through the nine sessions we had together, it is worth mentioning that her outfits are always delicately picked, colors matching and completed with a set of earrings (one on each lobe), a gourmette bracelet with her name engraved (a baptism gift, I reckon), and a now very familiar pearl necklace which I abhor passionately. Her hair is always impeccably styled down and her face painted just enough to be womanly without looking like a whore; something important, I suppose, for it matters greatly to her father. She reminds me of a ventriloquist’s doll, carrying a fabricated superficiality that betrays the profound emptiness of her soul. I am not certain she likes her appearance very much, the short heeled suede shoes, the old-fashioned manicure or the vulgar pearl necklace; but rather that she likes the simulacre of control on her life this shows on the outside, especially to her father, a figure we never cease to talk about.

My patient does not sit down until I instruct her to, the anxiety to pick the wrong choice and disappointment still viciously anchored in her childhood; an emotionally absent and academically demanding father tends to create such complex insecurities in the younger hearts. I would know. As always, we will be talking about it; and as always, she will unravel the same pointless secrets in an uninteresting logorrhoea that could very well bore me to death if it weren’t for the topic of her recurrent nightmares, cautiously sprinkled in her stories and immensely more fascinating —from a clinical point of view, of course. 

I am taking place in the armchair in front of hers, crossing one leg on top of the other, not dissimilar to two long and pale sticks enveloped in soft and tasteful fabric. My elevated ankle reveals the smallest ounce of marble skin, adorned with arched tendons which roll and disappear beneath the dark Egyptian cotton of my socks. I sense her heavy gaze following the slender silhouette of my legs to the tip of the deep brown leather of my derby shoes; a rosy tint blooms on her cheeks and my lips twitch in amused curiosity while she plays nervously with the pearls of this dreadful necklace which she is, in my humble opinion, either too old or too young to wear. She feels desire for me, despite being a couple of decades older than her; an expression, I believe, of her yearning for a paternal love, approval and affection.

My notebook lays graciously on my lap, angled in such a way that makes it impossible for her to see what I will be writing down, my treasured pen already in my hand. Adjusting my glasses on the long bridge of my aquiline nose, I offer her yet another muted smile, a silent invitation to begin the session; she appears flustered, blushing some more as I seem to have interrupted her train of thoughts —probably too vulgar for the image of herself she is desperately fabricating. I wonder if she is a virgin still, having spent the essential of her miserable life catering to her father’s needs and putting aside her own intimate desires; this would explain the subtle perfume of her throbbing sex floating in my office.

I find myself more than passively listening to her most uninteresting week in a way that freezes my nerves and makes me question my career choice, gently guiding her back to the heart of her confusing weaving as she wanders and rambles incoherently. None of her anecdotes are of importance to me, subtly urging her to open the can of her anxieties and core reason for her very presence on my couch; her recurring and unexplained nightmares. 

A couple of months ago, this patient reached out to me in an attempt to exorcize her most intimate thoughts and find a more peaceful slumber. When asked the nature of her night terrors, she confessed, with great difficulty and restraint at first, having this peculiar dream for years now in which she finds herself wandering around the unknown alleys of a surrealist city reminiscing of a dark and sterile-looking maze. She can never tell where she is, every window and every door looking the same, every turn sensibly similar to the next, the streetlights aggressively cutting harsh shadows against the smooth walls of the buildings. 

As her journey progresses, she notices a shadowy form following her every step and which does not make a noise aside from an ominous buzzing that makes the lights crackle; though it has not touched her yet, its presence alone is dreadful and suffocating enough to make her survival instincts kick in. She runs through the maze-like alleys in a vain hope to escape the figure, never successful in her doing; the shadow creeping at every corner, slipping through the cracks of the building like a liquid void, looming over her like a toxic cloud, and always watching her with empty eyes and whispering incomprehensible and otherworldly things in a gnarly voice resembling a sinister borborygmus.

She wakes up screaming, in tears and drenched in sweat before it can seize her.

There is an obvious answer behind her anxiety, one draped in the cloak of her oppressing father; and yet, despite the last few unproductive sessions and unfruitful attempts to take in my hypothesis, she rejects all and any idea of daddy dearest being the root of her misery. My poor sweet girl. Through her almost touching callowness if it weren’t laced with pungent naïveté, I find great intellectual pleasure in studying her profound fear; sometimes, when the moon hits and soaks my office in a creamy light, I dissect my numerous notes, each scribbled word reminiscing me of her giant doll-like eyes turning glassy with emotion, her painted lips aquiver with wretched anguish, her neatly cared eyebrows knitted in visible despair. She reminds me viciously of a newborn deer, frail and fragile; a sight so delicious it never fails to make my turgid sex throb in interest. I have learnt since to keep my legs crossed in front of her, of course.

Her fear is at the image of her personality; carefully crafted by her visceral fantasies which she struggles to control, as if her fabricated identity would cease and disappear if she knew how to confront it. There is something delectable in her innocent emotions, something exquisitely cruel in how laughable of a person she is, and I find myself morbidly curious to see her façade break and release her true self, dying and being born again. It is exhilarating really, the prospect of witnessing her weak mind shatter and rebuild itself, morphing into something pure and liberated, surpassing her ugly cocoon.

Fear is the most sublime emotion, a capricious mistress that transforms all beings into primal creatures; there is a beast inside all of us, I firmly believe, a döppleganger, infinitely mightier and profoundly fascinating, that only fear can free and liberate. I based my entire life on understanding the beauty of fear and how to elevate and transcend it, achieving our most glorious form; prying at people’s most intimate insecurities and feeding them the putrid fruits they truly do need to alter their mind irremediably, for their own benefit, I am certain. As such, it is past the clinical need but rightfully with a voracious desire and spiritual intention that I wish to see and unravel my Innocent’s breaking point. 

The sound of her trembled sob wakes me from my contemplative state, and I realize with great indifference that I missed her last couple of sentences, which I believe gave her yet another heartache. My occulted gaze devours the sight of her pained face, glassy eyes crying perfectly round and warm tears, her bunny nose reddening; I do not care much for her grief, an emotion I find particularly repulsive and grotesque and which she seems to feel quite frequently; this might be why I find her so unpleasant to be around. Instead, I hand her the tissue box that she politely accepts, wiping her tears and runny nose. 

The corner of my mouth twitches in disgust when I see her nervously touch her pearl necklace once again. This abominable pearl necklace that embodies everything about her that I hate; her child-like appearance despite being well into her thirties, her synthetic demeanor forged by an unyielding desire to be loved, her emotionally incestuous relationship with her undeserving father and her complete and total lack of self-esteem. 

Today’s session comes to an end and I am afraid we did not progress much, to my great dismay. I offer her the same frigid smile in which she always seems to find comfort when I open the door and shake her hand, a stark contrast to the warmth and subtle stickiness of her skin. She thanks me profusely and I nod in return, wishing her a pleasant rest of the day; I will be seeing her next week.

My simulacre of a smile fades as soon as she exits my office, a boiling irritation tinting the tip of my ears a crimson color, akin to a single rose in a snowy garden. I take an involuntary peek at my reflection in the window as I run a wiry hand in the dark feathers of my hair, silvering at the temples, a few gray strands adorning the generally brown mass. My thick eyebrows are knitted together in profound frustration, collecting today’s notes and sitting at my desk to study them. I cannot be satisfied with the glimpse of her unfledged anxieties, our exchanges do not nurture me professionally or otherwise ; slumping heavily in the leather armchair, a deep sigh swelling my tight chest, I lose myself in the labyrinthic corners of my mind, all the while ignoring the aggressive hardness of my sex, its throbbing feeling like the greatest treason in this precise moment.

I will not bring myself to completion tonight, for I find her fear vulgar and unworthy of my seed, a womb so barren it feels utterly meaningless. I will not even touch myself, I decide, denying her the attention and importance she desperately yearns for, refusing to besmirch my pride for such an insensitive mind. She is spoiling the sap of her soul in a way that is perfectly unacceptable to me and makes her look profoundly hideous; and I refuse to harvest the rotten fruits of a putrid heart. Instead, I will spend the night lost in my thoughts, with deep indignation for sole company.

It took me a complete day to recover from my turmoil and hatch a plan I deem satisfying, and four more to establish a detailed inventory of her nightly habits; following her at a reasonable distance in a now familiar fashion, carefully noting down any information of importance, I managed to know exactly when she finishes work, which Café she frequents, where she goes grocery shopping, which metro she takes home… During the day and in between two consultations, I conscientiously study the map of her neighborhood, carving in my memory every alley, every path, every building until I have a clear representation of my hunting territory. Victorious is a word that comes to my mind after such rewarding labor.

Tonight is the night. I am wearing my real skin, flesh made of burlap and soiled rag, fur made of dry straw and rotten thread stitching my articulations together. The used rope rolls like tendons around my throat, the noose loose enough to breath but not enough for it to be comfortable; a simple pleasure that will leave bruised memories on my neck like a passionate lover would. I caress my clothed form, the sensation unpleasant and rough to the touch and yet so deliciously stimulating, a sensation that never fails to make me hum appreciatively, heartbeat inappropriately lively for a Scarecrow .

It is ten hours and forty-five minutes on a Thursday night; she has been to the library tonight, devouring romance novels with her third cup of herbal tea –something horrifyingly fruity, I assume. An activity she indulges frequently, seeking refuge and comfort in the elegant place, something I cannot blame her for, considering the depraved state of the rest of Gotham, in stark contrast to the magnificence of the old architecture. This habit will also work in my favor, draping myself in the thickness of the night, my elongated figure barely noticeable in the corner of the street; at best, two glowing orbs pierce the obscurity, reminiscent of an animal of some sort, or better yet of an unsettling monster.

I hum the broken notes of an unknown song, a simple habit that feels right, lured in the dark and waiting for her to penetrate the first alley; I recognize her ghost-like footstep, short heels clacking subtly on the pavement, naive and unaware. Oh, my sweet girl.

She does not sense me for the first two hundred meters, her oblivious demeanor both entertaining and frustrating. There is something viscerally exquisite about seeing without being seen, teasing a very particular part of me; an almost erotic melange of power and impunity. I came to realize with age and experience that hunting is not dissimilar to foreplay, and therein lies my current problem; foreplay is not endless teasing, for I am neither patient nor interested in maintaining myself on the edge of my pleasure. And when I am being ignored for too long, I cannot help but feel somewhat insulted; ultimately, I want her to see me.

My fingernails tap and scratch the cold bricks, an abominable gurgling noise escaping my fatigued throat. She freezes instantly, and my sex twitches in sensible interest which I attempt to calm down, a feverish excitement pooling in my stomach. I distinguish the tremor in her silhouette and her breath hitching ever so slightly, a subtle perfume floating in the air, one that I know by heart now and makes my mind sing and mouth salivate. She does not look behind her, a wise choice I would say under more normal circumstances, her pace quickening in the narrow alley right between the first and third street of Gray Avenue. 

I inhale the acidic perfume of my body; I would like to say that my entire form is impregnated with the residuals of an old chemical toxin I’ve developed decades ago, but perhaps it is simply my own essence, now corrupted to its very core. I am certain that the delirious effects of these quasi pheromones will soon hit her as well and change her like I expect her to.

As she navigates through the almost pitch black alleys, fingertips grazing at the walls to help her find her way, I wheeze a wretched noise from within my ribcage, dreadful sounds I have been practicing since I was born and which never seems to get old. My poor girl is sobbing earnestly now, an arm wrapped around her middle section as if to seek comfort, almost running away from me, her short heels making a music akin to a typewriter in the night of Gotham. I am fully aware I have her complete attention, but I wish she would just look at me.

I run after her, vomiting more guttural gibberish from my distorted voice, fingernails hitting and scratching every surface in a pleading cacophony. She whimpers more frankly, I can tell how delicate her nerves are at this very moment. In her panic, she picks the wrong turn. Exquisite.

She looks around her with agony and confusion, persuaded that she would be welcomed by a bridge crossing the river of the Old Street; instead, she is met with a damp and sinister dead end. She whimpers audibly, her scent turning acrid and pungent now; fear, she reeks of fear . I pant, a hundred meters behind her, putting enough distance to remain a formless creature while still appearing very much real in the dim light. The soft tremor turns into heavy shaking when she turns her head behind her shoulder, as if to convince herself that this is just a dream, just like the others she’s had. Then she screams, oh! she screams…

Her crystalline voice breaks and shatters, pure and visceral, high pitched and perverted with terror; I am so hard I could hammer a nail in raw wood. I move in a dislocated fashion, long limbs akin to spider legs, the nightmarish look making her trip and fall on her bottom and crawl back, fingers desperately digging in the cold pavement until a nail breaks, curling her form into a ball in a damp corner. She cries so hard her face turns ruby red, smeared mascara leaving dark streaks on her puffy cheeks, glistening saliva bubbling on her screaming lips – oh, how beautiful she is, my sweet girl. My cock feels heavy in my now awfully tight pants; under different circumstances, maybe I would have offered her a different fate. 

She hides her face in her arms, fingers grabbing ferociously at her hair as if trying to wake herself up, but she doesn’t, no, she doesn’t wake up, and the reality is sinking in, especially when I am standing not even five meters in front of her. There is a bitter, stinging smell in the air, and a recognizable warm golden puddle underneath her shaking body that glistens beautifully under the moonlight; I purr in between two groans, witnessing her weakest form dissolve and collapse into the void of her mind that I have conceived. I want to create her anew, an abomination made of flesh and terror, and she will recognize me as her cruel Creator. My low distorted voice echoes in the muted alley, inspired and impassioned.

Are you afraid, child?

She screams louder, screams for help, screams for her life. But no one will save her, not here, not in Gotham, not this pathetic piss soaked girl . I mock and taunt her, towering over her as she chokes on her own sobs, desperate and painfully lonely. Why won’t anyone save me , she must be thinking. Why did Father lock me in this cell, she must be thinking. Why did Father abandon me in the cornfield. My laugh sounds more like a croak, sinister and penetrating, while she begs me for her life. 

Do you know who I am, child?

She does not. I blame it on her delirious state, on her body pumping her full of adrenaline, and most probably the toxins my body produces and which she’s been inhaling. This will not do, however; I want to ruin her in a way that matters, and for that to happen I need her to know who I am, what I represent. 

I crouch in front of her weaker form, barking her name and demanding she looks at me, which she does, obediently so; I reiterate my question, my hands hunched like claws scratching the walls around her. She cries harder, but her body produces no more tears, exhausted and drained; she screws her eyes shut and so I have no other option but to grab her hair viciously, forcing her to look at me.

And she does, oh she does , giant glassy eyes that lost their innocent spark and instead glow with a fury only trauma could forge and terror could sublimate. She sees the humiliation and the absence, the neglect and the judgment; she sees what she could have been if it had not been taken away from her. She does not say it but she mouths it, the two syllables of her misery.

Father.

My cackle is nothing short of demoniac, entire body jerking wildly enough to remember my turgid sex still leaking its filth in my ruined pants, heartbeat frantic as I am slowly but surely reaching my peak; release is not only needed but deserved , I believe, as my hand crawl inside my pants and free my cock, seizing it in a vicious grip that is mostly pain under her terrified and disgusted gaze. I take in her beautifully wrecked face as I pump myself with vigor and intent while croaking heavy moans, my eyes devouring every single wrinkle, every tear and tremor, swallowing the sight of the tense tendons of her throat choking on her sobs until I hiss in disgust at the repugnant pearl necklace. 

She does not need it anymore, I believe. And so, in a movement aquiver with lust and desire, my knotted fingers slip under the chain akin to a snake closing its embrace. She shrieks in pain when I pull tightly, a most needed evil I am afraid although ephemeral, the horrendous necklace eventually giving in to my brutal punishment and breaking. I hear the clattering of the pearls falling and rolling on the pavement, hand still tightly locked around my cock as I fuck my fist earnestly in deliciously wet noises; she caresses the skin of her bare neck, as if understanding something, her terrified eyes turning back at me and begging me to let her go. Oh, my sweet child, be certain that I will miss your honeyed pleas…

My orgasm comes quickly, long spurts of milky cum spilling on her throat, the soft flesh now adorning a unique, more appropriate and beautiful set of pearls. A generous gift, one she will remember fondly, I am certain. Her lower lips tremble as more tears roll down her cheek, although not a sound comes out of her mouth. I understand, it is a lot to process. Therapy can be difficult sometimes.

I left her alone to collect herself. Once home, and after a quick yet invigorating shower, I became busy writing down in great detail tonight’s experiment and, one must admit, its most triumphant outcome.

The day before our scheduled appointment, she informed me that she would not be able to come, pretending to have a cold. I understood, of course, and asked her if I would see her next week then. She said that she wasn’t certain, and that she would call back. She never did.

[whoreanghae]

water ; joshua hong

genre - protective shua, fake dating kinda?

word count - 1.1k

disclaimers - mentions of alcohol / being drunk, unwanted attention, lowercase on purpose, no proofreading, fic under the cut

a/n - just a short fic, nothing special just shua being very protective :) been finding it hard to get motivation to write lately so this is just something from the back of my brain. enjoy!!

“next rounds on you, jeonghan! i can hear my bank account crying from my pocket!!”

going out with the guys after an especially long string of promotions was the perfect way to blow off steam. they always chose the best, fanciest bars to occupy. plus, there was an added bonus that if coups gets drunk enough, you can convince him that he agreed to pay for the next round of shots.

after having a couple drinks that were definitely stronger than you anticipated, it was time for you to make your way to the restrooms. minghao stabilized you as you stood up and less than gracefully made your way to the other side of the room. when you got into the restroom, you stood and looked in the mirror. as the room spun around you, you realized that maybe your limit has diminished as you’d gotten older. you do your thing and head back out, making a stop at the bar first to get yourself a glass of water. at least drunk you was still capable of making somewhat rational decisions.

as you stood at the bar, you half fell over but caught yourself on the counter. a man walked around you, hooking his arm around your waist and holding you up. you didnt think twice, assuming it was one of the guys just helping you out. but, as you looked towards the table they were all sitting around, the only empty seat was your own. now you’re filled with confusion and discomfort. you try to pull yourself away but the man tightens his grip on your side. 

“now now, we both know you’re not as stable as you think you are.”

you try to make your voice as stable as possible as you make an attempt at pushing him away or getting someones attention, whichever you can manage first.

“im fine, please let me go.”

the man leans closer until you hear a voice from his opposite side whichs makes his arms tense, but slightly release you at the same time.

“babe, everything ok?”

joshua?

“not really..”

joshua steps closer to the man who has now completely let go of your waist. he lowers his tone and his voice becomes raspy and powerful as he speaks.

“i don’t want to sound like a douche or anything, but i can have you kicked out of here faster than you could leave on your own accord. so i would suggest that you make a decision before i have to.”

the man mutters apologies to shua as he steps back and hurriedly leaves the bar. at this point, you are completely depending on the counter to hold you up. shua puts a (much more welcoming) arm around you, making you feel secure. you lean into him with your head on his shoulder as the bartender comes over and shua asks him for a glass of water. the bartender hands him the glass as the two of you make your way back to the table. the guys shift down so you can take the seat next to joshua, and you sink into his side as he feeds you the glass of water.

at this point your night had been ruined, and the guys noticed that too. shua offers to take you home which you gladly accept. you both say goodbye to everyone as you head outside and find a bench to sit on while you wait for your taxi to show up. you babble into shua’s shoulder as he scrolls on his phone.

“thank you, shua.”

“hm?”

he put his phone in his pocket as he turns his full attention to you.

“thank you for getting that man to go away.”

“i knew you were uncomfortable, i just did what anyone else shouldve done.”

“but this is better.. cuz its you…” 

shua chuckles as he rubs your arm, making you snuggle further into his side. when the taxi comes, joshua practically carries you to the car. you settle in and he makes quiet small talk with the driver as you slowly fall asleep on his shoulder.

when you get to your apartment, you pass shua your keys and rub your eyes while he unlocks the door and ushers you inside. he picks out your pajamas as you sit on your bed, watching his every move. he passes you your clothes as he leaves the room to let you get dressed.

you call out for him to come back in when youre in your pajamas, and he passes you another glass of water. you groan but he laughs as you take the glass anyways. he grabs your makeup remover wipes from your bathroom and sits on your bed next to you, lifting your legs and moving you to face him. his hands are warm.

when you’re all ready for bed, you crawl under the covers and watch as he puts everything back in its place. he makes everything look beautiful, elegant. even the simplest of motions are incredible when it’s shua. he pulls out his phone to book another cab to his place, but you sit up half way in your bed.

“shu?”

“yeah?”

“maybe it’d be cheaper if you didn’t get a taxi tonight and i could take you home tomorrow?”

“are you suggesting i stay here tonight?”

you give him a pleading smile as you pull back the covers and he playfully rolls his eyes. most of the guys have left miscellaneous clothes items at your house from other occasions, so he digs through the drawer and finds some pajamas to change into. when he comes back into the room, you watch him again. beautiful. thats the only word to describe him.

he slides into the covers and smiles at you as he leans over you and turns off the lamp on your bedside table. the night fades away, as you both fall asleep after mumbled ‘goodnight’s into the dark. 

when you wake up, the bed is empty. you stumble out of bed, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in the right side of your head. the smell of breakfast enters your nose, as you get to the kitchen and see shua cooking at the stove. you walk to him and rest your cheek on his back. 

“good morning, party animal.”

his eyes are fond as he gestures to the counter behind the two of you, where he has two ibuprofen and a glass of water sitting out, ready for you. 

“another glass of water, ive never been so hydrated in my life.”

shua laughs.

“thats not a bad thing, is it?”

he walks towards you and looks into your eyes as you drink all the water and lay the glass down with a smile.

“no, not at all.”

[theallianceofcelestials]

Ello, seems im a bit late for this week’s Yap session haha. Some family stuff came up in the past couple of days and I just didn’t have the energy for the internet, sorry bout that my dears :P

Anyways, let the yapping commence /silly

-Sigma Anon

Welp I'm gonna start this cuz Sunray's currently not here, so this'll be answered a bit late, so sorry for that loves

This week has been spent with me being sick. :P Currently my nose does not wish to be used for its intended purpose, breathing, so I'm suffering with no air. But that's fine.

I'm also almost done in my current hell! Only like 1-2 weeks!!! I'm so goddamned happy, even if I'll still have a bunch of real hard exams right after which I'm very, very anxious about

I've also been trying to work on the second chapter of Embrace the Deep, but it's slow going with my head being full of static thanks to illness. Also, Sunray's birthday is approaching, so I should finish that up so I can work on his gift. Hopefully I'll manage somehow lol

And yeah, the doctor was mean to me too :( She's one evil female dog, who apparently doesn't believe in 21 year olds being too sick to walk the 15 mins it takes to get to her. When said 21 year olds are dizzy. And have opened the phone call with that information. That she then forgot. And then she broke my neck, and it went kachunk :(

So yeah, I'm dead now. Very sad and tragic.

I hope everything will get better for you! ^^ I'm always happy to hear from you, though I don't wanna seem pushy or something which is why I never contact you. Wish you the best tho! :]

If there's anything at all that you wanna talk about, privately or otherwise, feel free to approach us, or just me specifically on Discord! Even if I don't respond instantly I will. Once I'm awake or back home or in front of the computer :P

Anyways, now this is gonna sit here for a while, because my dear old friend, who's still the account owner despite my takeover, is not home yet, and also may want to play Cuphead (we got to King Dice yippeee) so it's gon take them a while

But yeah, good to hear from you again Sugars

Hey, Sunray here! Sorry this took so long to get answered because of me, but the past week has been very emotionally and mentally tiring. I may have mentioned here or on the Discord that I'm looking for a job, and on Thursday last week got some calls from 2 places, so I attempted an interview on Monday (and fumbled, the interviewer even dipping on me, which I'm pretty sure was just a nice little lie to "not hurt my feelings"), and checked out 2 potential positions from the second place on Tueasday.

Then on Wednesday I called back the second place to inform them I made a choice between the 2 positions, then went back there to get a whole bunch of paperwork I haave to fill out before I could start working there, and do a lung screening to see if I have TBC or something like that, and got a lab referral (for blood tests and all that jazz, which I'll be going back to do this upcoming Monday) cause it is a position in the healthcare field. So I'm currently procrastinating on them paperwork, because the wording of it is so confusing, I hate these official forms. Why can't they just write everything down very simply so that silly little entities such as myself can understand them. The secretary lady who gave me the "homework" also didn't really help with clearing stuff up while word vomiting at me and not letting me make some notes with the speed she was talking at.

So yeah, I'm currently crying about that and Moongleam is threatening me with us only watching Bee Movie for the rest of our lives if I don't do it, aswell as my mother ending me if she realises I'm not already done with them yet. So ya know, just end my suffering, haha.

On a brighter note, my (maybe) future colleagues were very sweet so far!

And on another note, I really want to continue writing my work in progresses, but simply lack the motivation to actually write. Just this morning I was bothering Moongleam about rambling about cat genetics, because of my Warrior Cats TSAMS AU, because I want Ruin to be a chimera cat, so he could have funky colouring (regular and dilute calico/tortoiseshell with white spotting, since I think those colours would fit him) aswell as having a mix of short and long fur (long mainly around his neck like a mane, and on his tail, and the rest of him short or medium furred).

And also have been thinking of my MASM fics that are collecting dust in my phone's notes app, and those stories do not deserve that. Also recently reread some of my brainings as I like to call them about a story from a previous fandom I was in, and since then distanced myself from, and I really want to write that story too, because it deserves to see the light of day, and I put so much thought into the stuff I have for it, Moongleam also helping with it, so yeah.

Anyway, it is your turn to Yap now, so do so, please! ^^