#while viciously corny

[clonehub]

I have so many Thoughts on the current HEAVY conservative swing the world is facing rn and how it manifests in fandom, media illiteracy, a violent aversion to making connections between the real world and the media we consume/how we perceive it, and this very juvenile and firm divide that doesn't make sense (anti and pro) but I think the most intriguing part of it would be OP and those like them insisting that by defaulting to what they believe is the norm and then proclaiming "anyone who thinks the clones don't fuck each other all day every day is just shoving their own societal mores onto this fictional sub/species/group of people" is committing the fatal flaw being arrogant enough to think that their ideas about sex, sexuality, and family aren't absolute SHINING through their preferred ships. As in they think "(Brown) teenage boys and men Of Course would have insatiable libidos and no taught or learned guidance around sex and sexuality, and they'd have all my same values about sex and sexuality, they'd just be fucking like Animals cause That's What (Brown) Men do, Duh" is like. The normal and smart and culturally neutral take. And not the deeply milquetoast hegemonic take that's been dominating society for centuries lmao.

(EDIT: I've been told by multiple māori fans and other PI fans that clonecest is a racist stereotype. Through my own research, this is due at least in part to the fact that māori are stereotyped by racists as sexual abusers of family members)

[redr0sewrites]

ahem ahem... I saw your requests were open and i am viciously starving for arcane content sooooooo

Praise n Mommy kink w/ Service top Caitlyn x fem reader? 👀

Decent...?

🥀A/n : GRRRRR I LOVE U FOR THIS- it has a twist at the end i really enjoyed hehe, so i hope u like it too!!! gen considering making this a series...

🥀 Pairing(s) : Caitlyn x fem!reader

🥀Cw : smut, aftercare/fluff at the end, mommy kink, praise, safeword mention, pwp, Vi walks on on yall at the end, sub!fem!reader

🥀 minors dni

you hurry up towards Caitlyn's room, navigating the familiar passageways of her mansion towards your lover. you were stopping by to visit her after hearing about her return to Piltover, and you couldn't deny that you were excited to hear about the experience. she had sent you a letter in the middle of her trip, but you were practically dying for more details.

while it had only been a few days since you'd last seen her, you were already bubbling with anticipation. you had heard all about her theories and hoped, for her sake, she had caught a lead.

you had also heard about her escapades with a certain red head from the undercity, and above all, you were intrigued about the new acquaintance she had seemingly made.

as you approached the door to her room, you felt a moment of hesitation overcome you as your hand hovers over the door knob. you hope she wasn't too tired, Caitlyn had a tendency to wear herself out after long days and difficult jobs. you didn't want to wake her if she was sleeping, but your desire to see her trumps your worries.

knock, knock.

you gently knock on the door, and after a beat of silence, a familiar voice beckons you in. however, before you could enter, Caitlyn opens the door without you even touching the handle and pulls you into a tight hug.

"hey, baby.. you okay?" you ask, gently carding a hand through her hair. she releases you, a tired but warm smile on her face. "i'm better now that you're here, darling." she gently pulls you into her room, closing the door to reveal its emptiness. you were both relieved and disappointed, as you were hoping to meet Vi, but grateful for the time alone.

the room is quiet as you move towards the bed and sit down, the mattress dipping beneath you. you kick off your shoes before climbing fully onto the bed and, after a beat of silence, you broke the tension.

"soo... how'd it go?" Caitlyn heaves a sigh, flopping down beside you on the bed and groaning. she takes off her shoes and outer layers, and begins to rant. "so much happened, it was incredible, and terrible, and life-changing all at once... and even after all that we- I failed. i found the truth about the undercity, about the crystal, everything, and yet- i couldn't retrieve it." Caitlyn sighs again, and turns to press a kiss to your temple.

"i'm sorry.." you whisper, unsure of what to say. fuck, why is comforting people so hard? Caitlyn chuckles, her breath light against the side of your face. "it's okay, none of it is your fault. i'm just a bit... stressed, darling. nothing to apologize for."

Caitlyn's gaze meets yours, and your breath hitches as clear blue eyes meet yours. "y'know.. i know something that can help with stress," you tease, and shoot Caitlyn a corny wink. she bursts out laughing, lurching forward slightly and your noses brush together as you both giggle.

"oh, shut it, you!" she laughs, but pulls you into a kiss. the mattress creaks slightly as she gets onto her knees, and you follow her lead. she sits up on the bed and you follow, lips chasing hers as she ravishes you.

"mngh.."

the soft whine that escapes your lips made your cheeks heat as Caitlyn pulls you onto her lap. how is this woman so composed? her lips immediately find yours again as she pulls you in, both of her hands frame your face as you meet in another electric kiss.

even though it had only been a few days since you had seen eachother, Caitlyn was determined to make it up to you.

you struggle to ground yourself, gasping between kisses as Caitlyn gently pushes you down upon the bed. she moves to straddle you, her muscular thighs are firm against you and in the moment, you can think of nothing but her. fuck, how did i pull her? the thought evaporates in an instant as she leans down to kiss you again, her skirt riding up as your lips press together.

this kiss is more fierce, a sloppy and entrancing mixture of teeth and tongue. delicate hands travel down to your waist as your back arches off the bed, and you feel a twinge in your gut as Caitlyn rolls her hips against you. "hngh-" you gasp, and Caitlyn pulls away slightly to take in your flushed features.

"is this okay, darling?" you nod fervently, your back arches slightly as your hands find purchase on her hips. Caitlyn chuckles at your enthusiasm but says nothing, before climbing off of you completely. you almost let out an indignant whine, when Caitlyn quickly begins to undress. immediately understanding, you follow her lead, until your both bare except for your undergarments.

"your so pretty, darling," she murmurs, and kisses your collarbone. your breath hitches as her trail of lovemarks and affection travels lower and lower, until she reaches your navel.

Caitlyn presses a gentle kiss on your happy trail before hooking her fingers through the waistband of your soaked panties. her gaze drifts down to your drooly pussy, yet she doesn't move an inch.

"is this okay, my sweet?" the sight of her piercing gaze on your clothed cunt combined with her velvetty words made you tremble, and you nod yet again. your brain is already turned to mush, and both of you know that you're too far gone for words at this point. you have been dating Caitlyn for a few months, and yet you still fold from just a few simple touches. maybe you are pussy whipped.

Caitlyn removed your panties and tosses them to the side before gently toying with your soaked pussy. you clench around nothing as nimble fingers trace through your folds, gathering your slick.

"already so wet, such a good girl," Caitlyn whispers, before leaning down to press a kiss on your clit. simultaneously, she curls a finger inside you, slowly stretching out your gummy walls and easing you into a comfortable rhythm. you can't help but squirm at the intrusion, and the addition of another finger only makes your brain more fuzzy.

"thats it, that's my girl," she coos, curling two fingers against a spot that makes you see stars. at the same time Caitlyn leans down and licks a stripe up your cunt, sucking on your pulsing clit and stimulating all the places her fingers can't reach. "o-oh!" you gasp, your back immediately arching as you begin to slowly grind against her face, desperate for friction. Caitlyn chuckles against your aching cunt, and the vibrations against your pussy make your head spin.

"ffuck- Caitlynnghhg-" you mewl as she slips a third finger into your clenching heat. your slick coats her lips and fingers, and you can feel your release approaching. "m close, please please mommy-" you whine, throwing your head back as your thighs begin to tremble. your lover notices the familiar pet name and realizes how close you are, and begins to speed up her fingers' pace.

in tandem with her strokes, Caitlyn sucks harder on your clit, her tongue working wonders as it swirls over your needy bud. "mommy, please-" you keen, feeling the coil in your stomach tightening to a breaking point.

your cunt flutters and siezes around her fingers as she pushes you over the precipice. with a final, guttural moan, your back arches and your thighs squeeze around your lovers head as your first orgasm of the night washes over you.

as you begin to come down from your high, you realize that Caitlyn has stood up and is scuffling around by your bedside table. your stomach flips in excitement as you see her take out a familiar strap. Caitlyn quickly joins you on the bed, and fastens the harness.

"you did s'good for me, darling, so good. now, i need you to suck on mommy's cock n' get it all wet, okay?" your cheeks flush at her words, and you realize how lewd you had sounded before. "don't get shy on me darling, i need you to stay with me. now, open up, okay?" Caitlyn reaches out to grab your face as you lay on your stomach in front of her. your neck cranes to "taste" her silicone dick as it rubs against your cheek, and you take her cock in your mouth.

you make sure to swirl your tongue over the tip, making direct eye contact with Caitlyn as you do so. a sliver of drool slips past your lips and she doesn't hesitate to scoop it up with her thumb. the amount of trust between you two, combined with the vulnerability of your position, only makes you more needy.

Caitlyn gently pulls her strap out of your mouth, careful not to move around to much lest she choke you. her silicone cock is dripping with your own spit, and she orders you to lay back on the bed.

"relax, dear, just give me a second.." Caitlyn murmurs, crawling atop you and aligning her dripping strap with your soaked cunt. she pauses as she rubs her dick against your folds, and makes eye contact with you. "do you remember the safeword?" you nod, tucking your head into the crook of her neck and whispering it in her ear.

"good girl," Caitlyn murmurs, almost absentmindedly. she aligns her strap with your aching cunt, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your thigh while the other toys with your clit. "your so sweet for me.." she whispers, and slowly begins to push her cock inside of your cunt. you mewl at the intrusion, burying your head into thr crook of her neck as your gummy walls clamp down on her strap.

"you can take it, darling," Caitlyn purrs, and thrusts fully into your soaked heat. swift fingers continue to toy with your clit as you fall apart, crumbling even though she hasn't even moved yet. Caitlyn seems to realize this, and slowly pulls out before pushing her cock back inside of you. her strap reaches places inside of your pussy that your fingers could never hit, and your eyes roll back from pleasure.

"mnghh-ommy!" the term of endearment slips out yet again before you even have the time to think, and Caitlyn curses under her breath. her thrusts begin to increase in pace, reaching deeper and deeper inside you as tears well up in your eyes. the pleasure is mind numbing as she continues to circle your clit with her thumb, and your hips instinctively roll up off the bed towards her touch.

Caitlyn's hair slips over her shoulders, framing the both of you in an indigo silhouette. you can already feel your release beginning to build as Caitlyn thrusts in, buried to the hilt in your sloppy pussy. your clit pulses beneath her touch, already yearning for release.

"mommy, please," you mewl tearily, thighs quaking as your eyes roll back into your head. "m close-" Caitlyn shuts you up with a kiss, burying her tongue in your mouth. you can taste your own slick, and the thought only makes you needier. Caitlyn's thrusts begin to grow sporadic as the bed shakes, and you know that you won't last much longer.

as if on cue, Caitlyn breaks away from your kiss to whisper in your ear. "its okay, baby, you can cum," she murmurs, accentuating her words with a deep thrust. the tip of her cock ever so gently brushes against your cervix and you sob from the mixture of pain and pleasure. the coil in your abdomen is tightening beyond belief, and a few more wanton moans fall past your lips.

Caitlyn rolls her hips especially deep, rocking against you as the sound of skin slapping against skin and your own moans drown your senses.

"go on, hah, darling. you can cum," Caitlyn's voice slurs, her breath tickles your face as your bodies collide. all it takes are these few words for you to come undone, your back arches and your eyes roll back as you fall into ecstasy. tears stream down your face as pleasure washes over you like a tidal wave.

as you come down from your euphoric high, Caitlyn presses soft kisses across your face. "you did so good for me, my sweet, so good. 'm so proud," she coos, brushing the hair out of your face and pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. all you can do is nod, too fucked out for anything else.

"lets get you cleaned up, okay darling?" again, you nod, melting into her embrace as she scoops you up. and head towards the bathroom. fuck, she's strong, you think, nestling into her embrace as she presses yet another kiss to your forehead. you wouldn't have it any other way.

suddenly, a knock on the door startles you both and, without warning, a red haired girl barges in.

"Caitlyn! i have something to- OH SHIT" the girl turns away, face almost turning the color of her hair in shock. you rush to cover yourself with a nearby robe, flushing under the scrutiny of the stranger in front of you. Vi, you recognized internally. Caitlyn had only been able to send you one letter while she was in the undercity, but it had told you a bit about the red haired stranger in front of you.

"Vi! what did i tell you about knocking!" Caitlyn is flushed, and quickly wraps a towel around her bare form. Vi, clearly embarrassed, turns away, and you can't help but laugh at the sight of such a gruff individual looking so awkward.

Caitlyn soon joins you in your laughter, and Vi rolls her eyes. "can you two please get decent so i can talk to you?" she huffs, and you can't help but smile. "alright, alright", Caitlyn sighs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "you bathe without me, okay? i'll join you in a minute, after i get decent". she accentuates the last words in a mocking tone, and Vi grumbles again. "lovebirds.." she sighs, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

"that should teach her to knock," you giggle, and Caitlyn shoots you a look. "knowing her, it won't," she chuckles, and you squeeze her hand. you can tell she's concerned about whatever Vi had to say, and you know how important this case is to her. "go talk to her, she wouldn't have barged in if it wasn't important."

"i don't want to leave you-"

"i can handle myself, Cait. now seriously, go. i think Vi will throw a fit if you don't join her soon," you reply, kissing Caitlyn again on the nose.

"i love you, darling," she murmurs, and you watch as she gets dressed. blowing you one last kiss, she leaves the room, where you can see Vi's silhouette in the hallway. Caitlyn closes the door behind her and you enter the bathroom, relaxed and content. you knew Caitlyn would join you soon, but for now, it would be best to enjoy a peaceful shower alone. you hope your next meeting with Vi would be less chaotic, and more, as she put it, decent.

Caitvi x reader slowburn multi chapter fic... what do yall think... ummm...... these woman are corrupting my brain hhhhhh..... aaaaaaaa!!! would yall want Decent to become a series?? anyways GOSH this took wayyyyyy too long like i could NOT finish the smutty part in the middle i hope it wasn't too obvious🙏🙏🙏 i actually really enjoyed this req ehhehee- hope u enjoyed too!!!

[virginburial]

.·:*¨༺    a little death.    ♱   chad meeks-martin   ༻¨*:·.

SUMMARY: in which you have a pretty intense night terror alternatively, in which you, a friend of the core four, is stuck at a slumber party, where Chad comforts you after having a nightmare

SHIP: afab!reader x chad meeks-martin WARNINGS: explicit content (minors stay out), unprotected p n v, praise kink, sub!reader, soft dom!chad, choking/gagging, reader jealous as fuck towards Tara, ethan/chad rivalry?? for your attention, "i kIsS tHe sCaRs On hEr SkIn!1!1!!1! XD" type shit, chad is coochie drunk (and a heavy dirty talker), random storytelling/porn with a plot. fluff if you squint. TW FOR: mentions of murder, character death, grief, recovery/healing, ptsd related topics, body image.

WORD COUNT: 6.1K

SONG: a little death by the neighbourhood.

A/N: hello hotties!! i told myself "this is going to be a short one it's pretty to-the-point" but then i forgot who the fuck i was and realized i don't know chill and wrote 6K words of this. typical me behavior. this is for my shawties you love some emotional intimacy <3 chad is the actual loml, i'm shocked i'm writing for him now when i should've done this more last year lol REBLOGS, NOTES, AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED !!    

.·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

you woke up to your scream. 

It was Halloween weekend, and the news had just broke about the two murdered college students, and their film professor. You, a Woodsboro native knew exactly what this meant. You weren't just any Woodsboro native; you were directly involved with the recent Ghostface massacre of 2022. You had lived in Woodsboro for only a short fraction of your life, yet what happened there impacted everything you do now. 

You had moved from the south; Georgia-Florida-Alabama-ish. You met your current friends in your eighth grade year; coincidentally, the year one of your friends, Tara, had an issue where her sister ran from home. you enjoyed your little life there until it was viciously torn from you by your best friend and her psycho-groomer boyfriend-who you always had a bad feeling about. you were dating Wes at the time of his death, and after he went, so did all of your patience for the slasher genre. fuck the box office, fuck the critics, fuck the movie. 

when things had finally settled down, you and your newfound family decided to make the ambitious move to new york.  you were stuck being undeclared though as you slowly figured out what you want to get out of your experience at Blackmore. which all leads to now; October 30th, and the boogeyman you only saw in your dreams or in old photos of amber, was now prowling Manhattan for the survivors and fresh meat; ridiculous and fucked, that's what that is. your new friends; Ethan, Quinn, and Anika barely knew the drill. but you did. you've played this game before, unaware you were playing; now your focus could not be shaken.

Sam had suggested a fucked-up slumber party of sorts; "if we all stay together then he won't attack." "or we could be feeding him an all-you-can-eat buffet." Mindy croaks after Sam. Regardless, you knew that it was probably for the best everyone stayed together, especially the new ones. you had your suspicions about Ethan, who seemed to have taken a liking to you. the average sweet nerdy boy who's a bit corny, it all seemed a little too familiar. he would still try to get you to talk to him, stare you down, you could've sworn he stole something out of one of your drawers some time ago while looking for the restroom. you would never admit this out loud, because everyone is always so fucking uptight, but you never really cared about how he objectified you. you liked the attention. 

but he gave off joe goldberg energy, and you were more of a steve harrington girl.

it beats having to look at your long-term crush, Chad, who was falling for Tara. you always felt like the silver lining of both of your partners dying would be that he would finally look at you; but just like Wes when she first got attacked, Chad's eyes were on Tara. fucking Tara. nothing wrong with her, she was your friend. maybe you just needed to stop crushing on and dating boys who would all rather fuck Tara Carpenter than give you the light of day. but then again, you don't even think you're ready for romance to reappear in your life. last year you were manipulated, stalked, and stabbed; Tinder sex would be a nightmare. so there goes that pipe dream. 

you were sleeping in Tara's room with Quinn, Mindy, and Anika, while Chad and Ethan slept in the living room and Sam slept in Quinn's room; which was closer to everyone. It took everyone until midnight to get ready for bed, then Tara's music was too loud, and then Mindy and Anika started getting frisky which caused Tara to yell out "ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING?!" which led to Quinn screaming and laughing, which caused Ethan and Chad to rush in like knights ready to save the damsels, who were just making out. so Anika and Mindy were banished (by Chad) to Sam's room. you made a mental note to remind Sam to wash her sheets. 

you knew, despite the horrible situation that was starting to arise, that right now felt like any other night with your friends, and that it might be the last time things will ever be this way. so what had you screaming the way you are now? if not, a horrific night terror you had about how everything went down last year: the look in Richie's eyes piercing you through the mask as he violently stabs you, leaving gashes as you screamed out for the one person who can't even rescue you; Wes. this happened three hours after the last person went to sleep, making it 3 am. 

the thing with you that the others don't understand is that you had frequent nightmares about what happened. it's nearly a nightly occurrence and every night it's something different; Mindy's under the mask, Amber, Tara, Chad, Ethan, Sam, Anika, the Bodega guy, the guy who played Billy in Stab one, fucking Gale Weathers.  It keeps you up half the night, flashing your phone flashlight in the corner of your dorm and waking your dormmate. you used to sleep with a hunting knife; stuffing it under your pillow and holding it under there. you also have several cans of bear mace; you were Wes's girlfriend after all. you inherited all of his self-defense tools. 

the only one who understands is Sam. You can't believe the situation that's been happening between her and Tara; you would've killed to have an older sister who cares about you like Sam. Of course, your ID starts talking and tells you that Tara is just ungrateful to have a supportive family and Chad's attention and not want it. It fills you with envy. Sam gets it. Sam gets you. Sam tells you to try tea or get a medical marijuana card like she did, or try Zoloft like Mindy is doing. Mindy sarcastically suggests substance abuse. 

you scream, having it rip through the still silence that filled the apartment. with a flip of a light switch, the big overhead light shines over the scene of you; hyperventilating and pacing around as Tara rubs her eyes. The boys, with Mindy, rush into the room on queue as Quinn stands up from the bed. "hey! hey y/n!" she tries to get your attention, anything to break you free from the sobbing mess you were starting to become.  Tara decides to do the worst possible thing and start shaking you, she seems almost confused and pissed off as to why you woke her up. "y/n! look at me-" Tara tries to get your attention. "hey! Tara, that's not helping-" "-y/n, girl, what's wrong?" Quinn talked over Ethan.  

then, finally, Sam chimes in and pushes past everyone; shooting Tara a worried look as she slowly wraps her arms around you. you slowly sink in Sam's arms and sob as she softly pats your back. "another one?" she asked, and you nod, unable to speak as you take a harsh gasp and slowly breath out, trying not to sob more than you already have. you hated being so emotional in front of your friends, you hated being emotional in general. 

"wait so there was no one in here?" Ethan chirps.

Sam shakes her head. "no." she huffs out. "no no, just a night terror...I had one like this the other night. she'll be okay-" "-like hell she is, Samantha! I mean, look at her! she's shaking like a chihuahua!" Mindy blurts out. "I'm gonna make you tea, y/n," she announced as she went to the kitchen. Sam sighs, you could almost feel another brick weigh Sam down with the way she carried herself, then Tara spoke up. "Sorry I shook you, I...I panicked," she admits, which you knew was the truth. 

you sigh softly, your face beet red, blinking away the last of your tears. "it's f-fine-" "-it's really not, I mean, do you shake someone when they're having a seizure?" Tara lightly jokes, earning a small laugh as you sniffle. 

Sam speaks up. "I think one of us should stay here with y/n, at least until she falls back asleep. I would but I am very tired." 

"I don't mind-" "-i'll do it," Chad and Ethan said in unison, which ended with Ethan's side-eyeing Chad. then Chad spoke up again. "I can bore her with one of my old football stories, plus i've known her for years." if only you could read Ethan's mind, even when the look on his face said it all. Sam looks down at you, getting your nod of approval before glancing back at Chad. "yeah, that sounds good." 

Chad, who had come in charging with a chunky remote controller, just passed it to Ethan as he went back into the living room to grab his pillow. Sam rubbed her eye. "the girls can move to my room-" "-yikes." Mindy jingles as she came in with a mug. "I might've been sleeping there, with Anika, if you know what I-" Sam's face falls flat. "-you better be fucking joking, Mindy." she deadpans

"It's not like you're using that new mattress at its full capacity."

"okay gross." Chad gags, clutching his pillow and throwing it on the mattress. by then, Tara and Quinn already moved into Sam's room, probably collapsing at the door and sleeping on the floor as Mindy handed you the warm tea. She gives you a look that makes your stomach flip, it was almost sympathetic. almost like Mindy herself knows how it feels to be woken up like that. Mindy retreats to the room before Sam can say anything else. she sighs. "now I have an excuse to go to Target, and burn those sheets." she turns to you. "you sure you're gonna be fine here, with Chad?" she asks, Ethan, peering right behind her.

"Yeah, thanks, Sam," you tell her as she walks out, leaving just you, Chad, and Ethan. Ethan just purses his lips and gives you a weak smile before shutting the door and the lights off. you sit back down on the bed, grab the mug of tea, and sipped it sweetly, feeling the hot liquid run down your throat as Chad turns on the lamp. The room was cold, dimly lit with autumn new york air hitting your skin from the window next to you, the one Quinn cracked open. 

Chad groans softly as he flops on the messy bed. he's surprised anyone is even getting a wink of sleep tonight, especially you, with how stiff and cold you got the moment everyone left. he stares at you for a second, unable to say anything before blurting out. "...do you wanna watch a movie on my phone? it can be a funny one." he offers. "I have We Are The Millers downloaded." but you just retract even more. why? why can you just shut off whatever's stopping you from opening up? maybe it was the stark realization you never really trusted anyone, ever. 

you stayed silent, unsure of what to do; he wouldn't have offered if he didn't care a little. plus, it was only until you fell asleep. he was not going to stay with you the entire night. you turn to him, biting the inside of your cheek as you sip more of the tea. "no thanks, i've already seen it." you say. he isn't like Ethan; Ethan would just start leading the conversation with questions like 'Oh so what's a movie you haven't seen?' and whatever movie you think of off the top of your head will be the one that'll play. Chad just kind of stops after that; less of a nuisance but you were sure he wasn't at his full power since he hasn't really slept. because Chad can be annoying. 

"you know you hit the floor, right?"

you furrow your eyebrows. "what?"

"you fell off your bed, that's what woke you up. it was very loud, and woke me up," he says as he scoots over to you, sitting right next to you. "I'm a light sleeper now, it's a recent development. it's not all that fun...Tara said you were murmuring in your sleep too before you hit the ground." your face burns with embarrassment. "...how often does that happen?" he curiously asked. 

"What is to you?"

"just looking out for you. y'know, since the masked killer that tried killing us last year is trying to kill us again." his voice dripped with sarcasm. you scoff. of course. "...it happens a lot, maybe one of two times a week? it used to be every night." 

"I guess that explains your caffeine addiction."

you chuckle weakly. "thanks doctor dudebro." 

"I'm just saying, I wish you would've told one of us you were having nightmares..." he voices. "you know, Mindy used to have really bad nightmares. She would call me almost every night around the same time, just screaming and hyperventilating. it feels pretty real at the moment. then you wake up and it's not real." he mumbles towards the end. looking down a bit. you study the expression on his face, you knew Chad was more than some meathead jock, he gave you butterflies, and he seemed to be the healthiest among the survivors. he looks at you. "I'm on like 75 milligrams of Zoloft at all times so...I know what it's like, I've had my fair share of Richie-Amber adjacent nightmares," he confesses. 

your stomach churns from what comes out of his mouth. "is that why you agreed to stay here? to talk me into talking about what happened and get medicated-" you jumped.  Chad shakes his head. "no no, I'm not here to tell you what to do, or how to heal,  It's just...hard seeing you this way." you know exactly what he means, so you dropped the stubborn act. "I know none of us are really dealing with it, but now it's happening again...and I don't want to get hurt again. I don't..." he processes what he's about to say before expressing it; "...I don't want any of us to get hurt again."

"...do you think about her?" you blurt out. "liv, I mean." 

Chad freezes. you almost start to feel bad about bringing her up before he responds with. "most days." he croaks out softly. "sometimes I think if I would've just done what she wanted and went upstairs with her, things would be different." he fiddles with his fingers. "but then again, probably in the worst way, right? I don't know what I would've done if...if it was Mindy. or you." he flashes you a frail smile. "I think about her every time I hear a Paramore song, or when I see orange is the new black on Netflix or pink box dye. I hate the smell of that sugar cookie body mist that Quinn uses, it's the same one Liv had. She wanted to study 'abnormal psychology', she would've loved it up here...what about you? Do you think about Wes?"

"every night." your voice slightly breaks. "his Spotify account is still up, all the music he neatly organized into playlists for us is still on there, just collecting dust," you mumble, then, you feel pressure slowly lift off your chest as you continued to talk about him. "I deleted Spotify, though. can't be on there without seeing something he made for me or seeing his face, and Instagram too. His dad gave me a box of his things at the funeral and I brought it with me here, I can't look at it for very long without crying," you confess. "...can I be honest?"

"This is probably the most honest you'll ever get me, so shoot."

You let out a sigh, feeling your heart drop to your stomach as you stared into his eyes. "things in my life were already starting to go downhill before everything, and now...it never will feel the same, you know? I will never get over this, i'll just have to learn how to live with it when it's already happening again." Chad watches you, seeing your eyes sorrowly hang as the words spilled from you. he hates seeing you like this. you used to be so full of life, animated, and passionate; now you were just a shell. he softly bumps his shoulder next to you and gives you a reassuring smile. "...you're not alone." his voice softly spoke. "it feels lonely, but you're not alone." 

you finish the tea, setting it on the nightstand before Chad speaks up again. "what makes you say that, though?" he perks up. "that things were starting to go downhill?" he asks, maybe genuinely curious. you bite the inside of your cheek. "I had this feeling that Wes was in love with Tara. I thought I was just going crazy but after Ghostface attacked her, and I saw the way he looked at her, I knew I couldn't keep denying it anymore. I just wanted him to look at me the way he looked at her, everyone looks at her like that, but now he can't because Amber wanted to cosplay Stu Macher." you spat, your condescending tone dripping in anger. "...i've just been filled with jealousy ever since, mostly towards Tara, sometimes at Quinn...the whole situation made me feel...ugly."

Chad scoffs a little, and you immediately get defensive, but the better half of you knows Chad is not going to judge you. "you? jealous of Tara?! Tara Carpenter? The same Tara in this apartment?!" he seems almost appalled. "y/n...Tara Carpenter is a mess." he exposes. "Tara shows up to class drunk. Tara got her driver's license suspended. Tara's mom dropped her after her dad and Sam left already. Tara almost died three times!! Wes was crazy for you, he loved you-it annoyed the shit out of me really but he did. Tara might be pretty but she isn't you...I know what you're trying to say, but the last person you should be jealous of is Tara." Chad rambles. silence falls on the both of you for a second as you process what he told you; he's right. Tara has some horrible luck, you needed to stop comparing yourself to her. 

"...if it makes you feel better, I get jealous of Ethan."

well, that was a shock. "huh?!"

Chad chuckles softly. "yeah, I do, I get jealous of Ethan sometimes." you can notice him getting a bit flustered. "he-he's just lucky, you know? he didn't experience what we did, so he can walk alone at night and go to bars without feeling like he's being watched...he isn't active, which annoys me so much." he raises his hands in defense. "I know I know, it's not my life, but when he does tag along and goes to the gym with me, he can work out a lot longer than I can. he can wear whatever he wants. he can take his shirt off and no one will stare at him or ask questions. he doesn't have chronic pain. he can go and date whoever he wants and not feel bad about his body, or feel bad that he's cheating on his dead girlfriend...little shit like that makes me jealous," he admits, pressing his tongue against his cheek. "my injuries from last year were so severe that I can't even play my favorite sport anymore, and Ethan just gets to sit around and play World of Warcraft with his perfect nervous system." his words stung. 

you couldn't think of anything to say, because he was right; it's not fair, none of this is fucking fair. suddenly, you can't help but slide your hand over to his, squeezing it softly. Chad studies you for a second, his brown eyes scanning how beautiful your features looked in the dark, you couldn't help but notice how clammy his hands were starting to get, he opens his mouth to say something, then he stops himself before saying something else; "...can I show you?" he asks. 

you glance over at him, seeing how close to you he already was. you could feel your cheeks heating up as your eyebrows slightly raised from his request. you were shocked that he trusted you. "you...wanna show me? you won't even show Mindy-" "-Mindy can never take anything seriously, y/n. She's gonna call me Tony the Tiger if I show her." that made you chuckle, considering one of the scars that you had also looked like animal print; or you romanticized it to the point where it reminded you of a zebra stripe. so you nod. "yeah...yeah you can show me."

Chad, noticeably nervous, sighs before lifting his shirt slightly, revealing not one, not two, or three, but four or more deep scars that dented his already chiseled chest. your face flushes, blood traveling to your cheeks as you examine his body, how his skin was still healing, how deep the valley of his abs truly was. your throat goes dry, almost like you can't process the amount of pain Chad might be going through or what he went through when he got those scars. It's almost like he sees you contemplating on what to say; if there was anything you can say to make him feel better. your lips slowly part as you lean in closer. 

"you can touch it." Chad chimes. 

you look up at him for approval, even though he told you that you could. shakily, your hand slowly grazes down his chest, your fingers running down the canyons of his chest, reminding yourself that this was the case for you too, both physically and mentally scarred. you could feel Chad's breath hitch softly, and you stop. "did I hurt you or-?" "-no, no you didn't hurt me..." he says softly, his pupils growing in size as he watches you feel him. you know the room was not well-lit but you knew he could see you blushing. before you know it, Chad's hands slowly creep over to your hips, pulling you closer in the most unsubtle way. "may I?" he asks.

you were flustered, and all the blood that ran to your cheeks ran down to your core, feeling your heartbeat slowly revive itself down there as Chad's big hands rested themselves on your lower back. you squeezed your thighs together; you've wanted this for so long, you wanted Chad's attention since sophomore year, so you nod your head. Chad smiles softly at you before lifting your shirt slightly and exposing the scar on your stomach. you blushed from the tension and the embarrassment. you could feel Chad's hot breath on your neck as his fingers slowly graze your curves, just softly skimming past the waistband of your pajamas as he looks into your eyes. "...did I mention that I get jealous of the way Ethan looks at you?... Same reason I was so annoyed with Wes-"

the desperation of having Chad's hands on you drives you over the edge as you crash your lips into Chad's, feeling how chapped they were as you relax into the kiss. you did this for your inner teenager, who's probably doing summersaults because you're finally kissing Chad Meeks-Martin. before you knew it, Chad eagerly kisses you back, one of his hands squeezing your waist as the kiss grew more and more passionate. you weren't expecting this, but thinking back at it now, you should've seen this coming. you pull away from the kiss, realizing that your hands involuntarily wrapped themselves around his neck, and your faces were just a few inches apart. "well shit..." Chad mumbles as you notice his cheeks turning a dark shade of red. 

he then grabs your chin delicately and kisses you softly, making sure you were present as his hands drop to your hips. the last person you were with like this was Wes, and you knew Chad was in the same boat with Liv. you pull away, seeing his lips chase after yours as you placed his hand on his chest. "Chad...should we be doing this?" he stares into you, his bottom lip caught in his teeth as he gnaws on it, unsure of what to say. "I would like to..." he said softly, pulling you closer. "We should make some new memories..." he huskily whispers before attaching his lips to your neck. your breath hitches as you grab onto him, and once he does that, you realized you wanted nothing more than to fuck Chad. "w-we should." you respond.

Chad manhandles you, again, pushing you back up against the mattress, grabbing your neck and jaw as he leaves open-mouthed kisses, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as a soft gasp leaves you. he hovers on top of you, his breath getting heavier with each kiss before pulling away from your neck entirely. the look he gives you is full of passion. "besides, can't watch you squeeze your thighs like that and expect me not to want you..." he mumbles softly. your heart feels like it's on crack at this point, your stomach cramming with anxiety and lust as you kissed him roughly. 

his lips felt so right on yours like they were always supposed to be there. he quickly gets in between your legs and reattaches his lips to your collarbone, his hands sliding down to your hips as you press them up against his growing bulge. a small moan escaped passed his lips as you grab his face and bring him back to your neck. every touch fills you with passion, your moans getting increasingly louder before Chad completely pulls away. "shhh." he chuckles softly, grabbing your jaw and making you look at him, squeezing your cheeks a little. "our friends are right outside, don't wanna wake them, right angel?" god he's so fucking fine. "no matter how cute you sound."

Chad delicately pulled your shirt off, revealing your tits, since you pulled your bra off before climbing into bed. his eyes could not peel away from them, as hard as he tried to focus on anything else. he gently flicked his tongue around the bud off your left tit, then slowly slides his tongue down your stomach, over your scar, and down to your abdomen. your face soured up from how different it felt having Chad kiss and suck and lick down your stomach. he leans up and kisses you. "your body is so beautiful, you know that?" he mumbles softly against your ear, and you respond by nodding, because deep down you always knew, just never affirmed. 

Chad's hands slowly found themselves sliding off your silk pajama shorts, which might've been driving him crazy all night. he slowly reveals your panties, basic cotton white boyshorts with a wet stain conveniently down the middle. he pulls you to the edge of the bed, standing up as he gets a better look. he smirks at the sight of it, you could see his mouth nearly watering as his left hand softly grazes your clothed core. his class ring hitting your sensitive nub as your hips gently jerk to the sensation of it. then, his hand softly slaps it, a soft, wet squelch coming out of you as your body jolts again. you whine as he starts to speak; "fuck...poor angel, must be very desperate, huh?" he taunts. 

you can barely think of what to say, already so desperate to feel him that you just lazily nodded your head. he grabs your face. "cmon, use your words." he says gently. it makes you feel so weak in the knees as his free hand softly caresses your cunt. "when was the last time you came, angel? you're so sensitive..." he uses his thumb to rub your throbbing clit in circles, still waiting for you to answer. "l-long ago..." and you weren't lying. it's hard to focus on yourself and your needs when you're constantly in survival mode, and it's harder to make yourself cum when the last person who did got brutally murdered. Chad gets it, considering how flaccid his anti-depressants made him. seeing you in this position, though, finally gives him the hard-on he's been waiting for. "let's fix that." 

He slowly slips two fingers into you, watching your back arch as he quickly covers your mouth, his hand taking up half of his face as he thrusts them slowly in you. he sees your body slowly adjusting to his fingers as your muffled moans pushed pass the cracks of his knuckles. his class ring hits your clit with a certain rhythm, making you twitch as you hold onto his wrist. "fuck" you mumble in Chad's hand as he starts to recklessly pound his fingers into you. his actions were so rough but his words were so sweet, causing your brain to almost malfunction; "taking my fingers so fucking well." he pants softly. 

your faint moans turned into muffled screams when Chad stuffs a third finger in there, curling them and thrusting them deeper and deeper into your aching hole. his hand clamping harder around your mouth as your screams got louder and higher. he looked so determined to push you over the edge, it's almost like he wants you to cum all over his fingers. 

your eyes flutter as his thumb grazes over your clit. fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. you wish you had the entire apartment to yourself so you can scream and moan and do Chad on the dining table. for now, you're settling with him shutting you up with his knuckles deep in your hole. you can't help but feel your walls tighten around his fingers. he drags his fingers out and glances up at you, seeing how flustered and aroused you were as he slowly pulled off your panties, shushing you gently and moving his hand away from your mouth. "open wide angel." he hums before stuffing them in there.  

you could taste how tart you were, saliva staining the panties as he slowly slides his finger down your folds, using his free hand to whip his cock out. You faintly groaned out in frustration. you haven't felt this good in so long, your skin hot to the touch as your fingernails dug themselves into his shoulder blades. your eyes pleading as they found themselves staring at his cock; you knew Chad was pretty big, Liv might've ranted a little bit about how she was 'sore' from the first time she did it with him. you weren't expecting him to be so thick either. you could see his cock tremble, his tip already soaked in precum as it glistens in the dim lighting, the lamp hitting it just right as he smirks at you. "come on, angel, show me how bad you need it." he coos softly, brushing your hair behind your ear.

you rest yourself on your elbows, staring down at that Alaskan bull worm Chad calls a penis as you imagine yourself getting nearly split in half by him. how badly your hole was begging for any kind of contact as Chad's muscular arm wraps itself around your thigh. you could see his hand slowly pump his cock as he waited for your answer, maybe you propped up the way you were could get the job done for him. you whine and try to squeeze your thighs again before he forces them open, prying them apart like a Venus flytrap as he slowly inserts himself.  His tip slowly sinking into you "o..oh-f-fuck..." he groans softly, his voice getting even huskier as he pulls down on your hips. "your cunt sucks me up so well, angel...you're s-so tight." he mutters.

he slowly starts lunging his hips against yours, sweat gleaming from his forehead as he admires your reaction to every thrust, seeing your eyebrows furrow, your mouth falls open, your eyes fluttering, all of it just drives Chad insane. "such a pretty girl..." he nearly growls as he throws one of your legs over his shoulder; it's almost like he wanted to pace himself so he wouldn't get lost in the pleasure she was giving him; but it seemed nearly impossible as his pace increases. 

your muffled moans got louder and louder, causing Chad's strong hand to wrap around your neck and squeeze it softly, your moans becoming inaudible as he starts to brutally fuck you into the mattress. you thought this whole exchange would trigger something primal in you, freak you out too much that you end up running out of the room, but it was quite the opposite. Chad leans down. "your pretty moans are gonna wake t-them up, angel." he warns her again, his tone was so sweet though, it made you melt. "how do you t-think everyone's gonna f-feel when they see you getting fucked out-mhm-like the doll you are-?" he groaned out softly, his teeth grazing your ear and tugging on it. 

pleasure began to overwhelm you, your moans and whimpers turning into gasps and yelps as Chad clapped the hand he choked you with over your mouth, again. "f-fuck baby...you w-wanna be my angel, don't you?" he mumbles softly as your body started to jolt with pleasure, you could feel the panties hit the back of your throat, the essence of your juices left stuck on your tongue as your nails scratched up Chad's back. he then answers his own question. "I know you do, sweet girl...fuck, you hear how good you're taking me?" he praises. 

your own pleasure starts to build up as your back arches, and you can't help but cry out from how good it made you feel, it almost made you regret waiting so long before making a move on Chad, or anyone else really. Chad's dirty ramblings keep you on edge: "My cock fits so perfectly inside of you a-angel...wanna be buried in you like t-this all the time-mhmfuck-" his whispers start to turn into strained statements, the sound of skin slapping echoing inside the room, if anyone else was awake in the apartment, they probably would have already noticed the intense fucking happening in that room. 

the tip of his cock starts punching your g-spot like a boxer and his punching bag, you can't contain your muffled moans getting any louder; which causes Chad to cover your mouth for a third and final time. you could feel his cock seize inside of you as Chad's own groans start filling up the room. you were almost worried that Sam or Ethan were going to charge in here and see Chad balls deep inside of you. the pleasure starts to overwhelm you as your thighs shake uncontrollably, your hot breath wafting back into your face as Chad groans out quietly. "y-you need my cum, baby? mhm? that'll g-get you sleeping-" he manages to get out before feeling your juices gush out of you; realizing you had cum all over his cock, your body jerking in response as your eyes fluttered close.

involuntarily, Chad's cock squirms before you felt the thick ropes of his cum spill inside of you. you watched as his tense body finally relaxes into your touch, his heavy breaths and soft groans hitting your neck. seeing him slowly pull out and realizing he forgot to grab a condom from his wallet or check if Tara had some, oh well, it's not like he's gonna get murdered on the way to the pharmacy and back. he notices how limp you've become as he moves his hand away and pulls the panties out of your mouth. you can't help but notice how charming his smile was. he was glad he can catch you at this moment, all worn out and lazy but perfectly content, and finally dozing off to sleep. Chad gives you a lazy, soft kiss before you finally fell asleep.

the next morning, Chad and Mindy had run out to get breakfast; you were the last one to wake up, which Quinn noted as a good thing: "It means you finally caught up to your sleep schedule." which couldn't be further from the truth. you couldn't help but think about just a few hours prior, how good it all felt, how he basically fucked all the nervous energy out of you; feeling zen before the wave of reality hits you. The news was on, still talking about the new local Ghostface killings. you weren't sure if the slumber party kept you safer from the attacks or put you right in the middle of them, all you knew was that you had Chad as a bodyguard now. and when Chad finally comes back with several bags of Dunkin' breakfast sandwiches, he gave the only sprinkled donut he ordered to you. 

          .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

buy me a coffee ૮⸝⸝> ̫ >⸝ ა

[amethystina]

I've been making many comparisons between Hannibal (Series) and TDJ, so I need to know if you have ever watched Hannibal and if you also saw any similarity between the two or if I'm just going crazy 😞

I have watched it, yes! I binged it in a matter of days (several years ago now) and, BOY, was I loopy afterwards. I had to call a friend and legit go: "I have to talk to someone about something that isn't Hannibal because I feel like I am losing my mind a little."

(Which sounds corny but, uh, I have a tendency to sink really deep into the feelings and mindset of the characters I watch — not unlike Will Graham, hilariously enough (which is also why I'm so good at writing them, I guess?) — and that makes any show a bit of a journey but Hannibal even more so. It was NOT good for my mental stability x'D)

Anyway! Yes, I can see it, at least to some degree. There are definitely a couple of similarities but, in my opinion, honestly more differences, at least when you start looking at it a little deeper. For me personally, it's easier to compare Hannibal to a drama like Strangers From Hell than The Devil Judge.

Like, say what you will about Kang Yo Han and his habit of manipulation, gaslighting, and lying (which I do, very frequently) but it wasn't anywhere near Hannibal or Moon Jo levels of viciousness and depravity. Though I admit that's a very low bar.

Congratulations, Yo Han — you're less despicable than two cannibalistic serial killers.

That's not to say that what Yo Han did was good (he is, by definition, a mass murderer x'D), but the framing is completely different. Hannibal does it for the heck of it — to see what makes Will tick — and also because he wants Will to join him and become his other half, a.k.a. his murder husband. Meanwhile, Yo Han is looking for a useful accomplice to help him avenge his dead brother and, if he happens to get a husband out of it, that's just a bonus.

Hannibal does it for his own amusement and enjoyment, while Yo Han has a purpose behind his actions that's actually connected to his love for someone else. And while his actions DO hurt Ga On on more than one occasion, he's by no means as flippant about Ga On's life as Hannibal is about Will's.

Adding to that, Ga On was a lot more willing to be seduced than Will Graham, probably because Yo Han is by no means as wicked as Hannibal. He's got a lot of soft sides that Hannibal just... doesn't. Which alters the tone of their story and turns it into something quite different.

So yes, on the one hand, there are some similarities in the concept of an older, dangerous yet suave man trying to tempt a younger, idealistic man into committing crimes with them, but the lengths which they go to, the methods they use, and the motivation behind it are too different for more than a surface level comparison for me.

And that difference is honestly one of the reasons why I never wrote Hannibal fanfics. I was tempted, but I soon realised that Hannibal is too rigid. He's pretty one-dimensional in the long run and while the show does make a point out of showing that Will could change him at least a little bit, it's still too little to make him fun to write for me.

But, more importantly, when it comes to ships like these (i.e. the morally grey ones) it's never the dark one that will make or break it, but the other party. For me, a pairing like that only works if the softer/weaker/brighter/whatever you want to call it person is, on some level, in on it. And sure, Will does eventually end up being Down With Murder, but he didn't start out like that. He truly was a good guy at the beginning and the only reason why he ended up a murderer was through emotional and psychological osmosis — which he struggled against every step of the way until he eventually gave up.

Compare that to Ga On who, clearly, had a lot of darkness even before Yo Han showed up and pulled it to the forefront. Like, he dove headfirst into it after a while because he'd clearly been waiting for someone to tell him it was okay to do so — he wanted to come along for the ride Yo Han invited him on.

Or Jong Woo from Strangers From Hell, who had violence and anger-management issues long before he met Moon Jo and got pulled into becoming his murder husband. Or Pete from KinnPorsche, who clearly had a dangerous and kinky side long before Vegas showed up and... uh, made him embrace it?

Sometimes, it hinges more on the other person, is what I'm trying to say. And that can totally change the tone of the story being told. Like, while I am 100% certain that Hannibal loves Will in canon (or as much as he is able while being who he is) I can't say the same for Will. He's attached, sure, but love? Not sure. But what I am sure of is that Will would be better off without Hannibal. Without a doubt. Yeet him off a cliff (pun entirely intended). There's just too much violence between them and while it is fascinating to watch, I don't really want to see them as a couple xD

Yo Han and Ga On, on the other hand? There is genuine attachment between the two of them, and a genuine desire to see the other safe and happy. And while Yo Han definitely isn't the easiest person to live with — and much too vicious and dangerous for things to be entirely healthy between them — he does give Ga On something that, arguably, very few can, by embracing Ga On for who he is WITHOUT trying to change him. Like, the very core concept of their relationship is different from Hannibal and Will's.

Basically, while Hannibal turned Will into a killer to make them more compatible — sawing off the pieces of Will that didn't fit and tacking on new ones where he pleased — Yo Han and Ga On kind of fit from the beginning, because there was already a darkness in Ga On that called out to the darkness within Yo Han. They just have to figure out which way to approach each other for everything to fall into place but, once they do, the puzzle is easy to solve.

So, in essence, they're the opposite of Hannibal and Will. Will is forced to become someone else for him and Hannibal to work, while all Yo Han wants is for Ga On to accept and embrace who he truly is. Yo Han doesn't have to change Ga On for the two of them to work, they just need to love each other, flaws and all.

(which they do, in my subjective opinion)

... that became a lot longer rant than I had planned. I'm so sorry x'D

TLDR: Yes, there are some similarities but, on the whole, they're surface level in my opinion. Their dynamics at their cores are too different.

[corvidcrybaby]

12, 22, 69 (lol) for the fanfic ask game 👀

SCREEEEEEEEE HERE WE GO

12. Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

It's an even fifty-fifty. I outline my fics when I begin to have a lot of plot elements, narrative threads or allegorical references I want to work into it - if I don't, I'm liable to forget something relatively important and have to either shoehorn that thread in later, or do the Edit Of Shame where I go back and include something as a throwaway line. If you're curious as to what they look like, here's an example from when I was working on Formulas Fatal To the Flesh:

Some of these beats ended up in the final cut, while others didn't. I usually try to break it down based on "okay, what is The Moment I want Character X and Character Y to have together" and from there I build backwards and forwards. How they got there and where it takes them - I'll often keep a "scrap heap" of ideas or lines of dialogue (especially with Zemi since I entertain the fuck outta myself with writing her inane bullshit one-liners) on a spare sheet somewhere that I will pull from to weave into the story. This does look a bit like a mad scientist's scrawlings, and I like it that way! My trick is to outline and be thorough about it but not get too rigid. This is why I typically only plan fics in chunks at a time, with general ideas of where I want the story to go. Stories morph and evolve as one writes them, and I am the type who KNOWS that if I make the outline too demanding and rigid I'll get all up my own ass about it. Outlining too hard and trying too viciously to stick to it tends to shoot me in the foot so I avoid it.

Additionally, I particularly enjoy structuring stories based on conversations. Dialogue is often the first thing I write, and the rest comes after that. This comes from my background studying theatre - a thespian scholar bitch like me knows better than anybody that you can build a whole world around little more than a few words between two characters, so I like to let the rest of the work bloom from that organically. Not always, but these are common methods I use.

22. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process?  How do you come up with titles?

Fuck yeah so glad somebody asked this one. I develop titles for chapters after I'm done writing them. I make it a point to title pretty much EVERY CHAPTER I WRITE for everything I've written publicly so far based on the title of a death metal track or album. I'll branch out into other genres like black metal and whatnot but I try to stick to death metal specifically. This mostly comes from my personal annoyance that there's so little decent media content based on extreme metal. Part of why I love Hellsing so much is just based on the fact I think it gets the closest to the aesthetic of the deepest bowels of extreme metal in its art style, themes, visuals, and so on. So when I need a new title, I deadass will just leaf through my music catalogue and pick a title I think fits the themes of the chapter in some allegorical sense - ditto for the little lyrical blurbs I put at the front of each chapter. Is it corny? Fuck yeah, man, but so am I. Sometimes I just say "fuck it, I'll put TWO songs names in the title, who will stop me?" When it comes to the entire fic titles, I put more thought into it and play process of elimination until I settle on one I think rolls off the tongue best. See: Formulas Fatal to the Flesh (Morbid Angel), Lesions of A Different Kind (Undeath), etc.

69. What are your favorite fics at the moment?

Aw shit man, puttin' me on the spot as I've been off my fic reading game for a minute but I'll plug what I can remember!

First off, shout out to the homie @neet0 with their work Revelations. Absolutely love this piece, I reread chapters from it a lot and feel like I learn something new about writing every time.

I'm also really into this My Hero Academia fic, In The End (We Are Left Bereft). Only halfway through, and some of the elements may not be for me personally, but first of all, anything that examines Bakugo as a closeted trans woman is gonna make me come running because I just ADORE that as a concept. Second, the issues this take on Bakugo deals with regarding identity and belonging, being touch-starved and alienated, etc? A bitch relates, what can I say. Good MHA fics are so hard to find in my experience so this one has been a delight to read thus far.

I also eat up almost everything that BirdOfHermes ever does. Because, listen mate, sometimes a bitch just wants that sweet, sweet cheesy wish fulfillment with fictional men. That, and their writing is so easy to read for me that it hooks me into stories about characters from series I haven't even watched or read. Never thought Harry Dresden would be hot to me, but, oops, they made it happen. Also, forever awaiting the glorious day they decide to finish Tame. One of my favorite Alucard/Reader fics of all time, I've reread it probably a dozen times by now.

Beyond this, I've been in a bit of a fic rut as of late, so if you got recs, send them my way!

Thank you so much for the ask it made my day for real <3

[neynhi]

While there are some celebrities that are genuinely bad people and understandably receive a lot of backlash,it's weird when that same venom is given to famous people who are just a little corny or boring or popular for no reason other than they make palatable content.

I see comments like "Yall glazin him too much." Or viciously attacking someone's looks or (often cheerful) personality.

Like people should only be allowed a certain amount of positive comments,a certain amount of recognition before its simply too much "niceness".

Is it envy? Are these people upset that they're not popular too? Or that they're not the ones receiving an abundance of love and appreciation? (that's kinda heartbreaking) Why is it so annoying to see others being kind? And why question the authenticity of that kindness, too? What's the real problem here and why is it so important?

I guess I can make an argument about parasocial relationships and being concerned people are being too obsessed with the image the influencer/celebrity is projecting but that's so limp and doesn't apply to what I'm asking. I'm talking about those who are disturbed by the AMOUNT of people being appreciative. I see this often and it's odd to me.

Oh well. This is just a passing thought and I'll likely forget about it in a day or two. I just wanted to yap.

[skullz-chamber]

Bfs oldest had a run in with what it's like to " take too much" she was apparently feeling sick from taking a perc. Her mom hysterically called everyone while refusing to take her to the hospital. ( Managed to ask for money during this ) We find this out 20 mins after finding out the mother is also refusing to take the youngest to the dentist. ( Which we'll be paying for in cash )

She has insurance. She just knows that when the dentist sees 6 teeth with fuckin craters in them, they're not gonna be happy.

I'm just looking at my bf like damn foo no wonder u drink.. the fuck kind of woman is that

And she's crazy dude. She viciously wants her children. Just to fuck them off.

Not to be corny but I'm genuinely considering becoming a foster parent just so I can have custody.

She blackmails my bf with alleged evidence from something in his past so his hands are essentially tied unless CPS deems her unfit.

And CPS only rips kids away from immigrants. Not dope heads.

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Fastest fight in history #mma #ufc #heavyweight #boxing" on YouTube

You said code to get him out of the fight he said you're like Chris said no he's not I don't want to fight you don't want to help because I have a parallel and he is condescending and for real. So he goes ahead and says that says you like him in a way that you don't want to fight but you're starting fights and you're going to get one it says screw you while he's leaving the ring and since you don't know what you're talking about and stuff like that it's packing some stuff with your corny Lions you little loser and that was it so that's it my piece I don't have to say stuff, he got gang signs in gangland where boxers training you training gang areas and he's been known to probably what he wanted was you to leave before you get hurt now he can go to jail for that he's got other people do what they should do so you can do some stuff and let's face it this train is out of control so he got that message and he went to the boxing commission said he's saying this and he's saying that out loud and you have it on tape and he's issuing gang signs during the boxing match which is illegal and he's telling me I don't have a chance and that kind of stuff he's threatening my life and he has been knocking out people recently viciously so he submitted it and they said no and it no on it and then he said yes and he said why and they said where getting a call I said good so he said I'll accept that and said this is pugilism this is not a sport for ruffians in real life they looked at them smiled a little smiled back and said you're correct it's a sport and they told them told him to stay their phone you're going to call him to rain the other guy and they arranged him like 20 minutes later and he was thankful he didn't have to sit there again caught himself what just happened a lot and they went in the court and they found the guy guilty and they bring him to jail and he's yelling and screaming those ways to get the idea he goes law and order the TV show you keep cramming in her face or he's having us do it because you keep craving it in his face and having him do it so he got real personal and he got mad and said he'll get the data he said you don't worry about that bud and it's sat down it's just so good and he knows I should find you but you know she's having a hard time okay this guy is a holocausting people and blaming others then he said there's a reward out on him for a different character he says I won't collect that but I will collect all the rewards and so we can give you a few and it goes I can buy the new track cuz I don't have time to build them and we can send you a little wagons gorilla wagons... He said no and the gorilla wagons so you got the money and he bought a whole bunch of these strikes for his people to escape with to do work with and people are starting to get it

Thor Freya

[iznsfw]

The Flower Never Withers

BLACKPINK's Park Chaeyoung (Rosé) x Male Reader Smut

I'M BACK BITCHES!! I told you guys I'd be back. Hell, with the Ssamkkura news and Esper, how could I not make a return?

But for now I'll just put out this Rosé quickie. She's been on my mind too much lately. Enjoy!

You immediately recognize who she is when the scent of lavenders invades your nostrils. Although she is named after a different flower, the color of the flowing dress and its powdery smell all point to the purple wisps.

She settles beside you in the backseat and closes the door. And from there on, the limousine takes a detour so you could enjoy her more tonight—or maybe it doesn't; maybe it is still taking the right route to the concert. Either way you couldn't tell; Chaeyoung's lips are intoxicating you too much, while her rocking hips take another ride besides the vehicle: on your thigh.

You could feel her slim legs and arms wrap around you like a ribbon does to a birhday gift. You relish the warmness her body makes your own feel, kissing her back with probably even more excitement. While closing the door of the limousine shows you a different side of Park Chaeyoung, setting back her blonde hair from her shoulders show you something almost as good: her pale delicious neck.

You almost feel like a vampire when you sink your teeth into it, licking the sweet skin that she loves to give everyone a glimpse of. And although you'd hate to admit it to her, with the way the dress hugs her figure and shows her milky arms and legs, you actually do like a good show.

So you take the opportunity to show yourself more of her. You slightly pull down the top of the dress so that you could capture those pretty breasts for your own. Swirl your curious tongue around one nipple and she lets out the first gutteral cry of the night, a sign that what you are doing is one of the things that succeeds in getting her there. Chaeyoung tugs your head closer while her head throws back, eyes closed and her fingers pulling at the blunt strands on your scalp. Her wetness begins to make a mess on the leg of your pants, but you don't mind at all; you even flex your thigh further, aiming your knee for her clitoris to keep her stimulated.

"Hmm, daddy."

She purrs these words as you steadily rub the core of your knee on her sensitive nub. Grateful for the ministration, she makes her own by raising her hips and settling back down onto your leg needily, all while her fingers trail down from the back of your head to your broad shoulders.

Then Chaeyoung looks you straight in the eyes in a way that almost intimidates you if she weren't pleading. "Please," she says, "I need it."

She squirms herself onto the mast struggling beneath the fabric of your pants. She whimpers quietly as the wetness in her core increases and drips down onto your lap, indifferent to the fact that more heat is beginning to develop in your core because of the sheer friction her pussy causes.

Her whines and begging only rile you up further to give it to her. Unable to hold back anymore, you pull her closer and start viciously attacking her lips. The taste of her lips is lovely enough, but even a sponsored expensive lipbalm could never come close to how delicious Chaeyoung's mouth is. You love how you could feel her moans vibrate against your lips and her tongue curl around yours, but you take a break from that to press kisses to her jaw and neck.

You nibble softly at her jaw. One of your hands rests behind her neck while the other caresses her squirming thighs. While you watch her sigh and moan, you lick the back of her ear and whisper to her: "You know, Chaeyoungie, I've always loved this perfume."

"That's why I wore it today, daddy," she answers cheekily. God, that accent of hers never fails to turn you on.

"Well, I like it, baby. But what you shouldn't be wearing right now is this dress of yours."

Corny, you know, but it doesn't sound like that at all to Chaeyoung's ears. She giggles even, giving you a kiss before caressing your cheeks with her thumbs.

"You know I can't, daddy," she tells you patiently, closing her eyes as you begin to caress her collarbone and neck with your lips in hopes of convincing her otherwise. "You know that… hangh, I have a concert to do. And it took a long time putting on this dress."

"Hm, fine."

"It's alright, daddy, I'll make it up to you after the concert, okay? But for now…" She pulls up the lavender dress and winks at you. "The dress stays on."

"And I stay in."

You surprise her with a quick thrust of your dick inside her. With all the talking she has done, she gave no mind to you springing out your rod and giving it a few quick pumps to prepare yourself for her. So now after a high-pitched gasp of surprise, she buries her face in your neck, squealing in its crook while her contracting walls fail to properly adjust to your length and size.

Rosé is still as tight as ever. Her sultry moans may be hot, but they don't distract you from how slick and tight she is. Her walls squeeze you tightly, the velvety feeling massaging your cock while you slip it in and out of her.

"Hangh! Oh my god!" Chaeyoung cries out as your rod penetrates her continuously. While there is pain because of the way you stretch her out, she can't deny the heavenly feeling of your mushroom head rubbing at her sensitive spots. Each stimulation of one of them guarantees a rush of juices, making it easier to thrust into her.

Is it inappropriate to fuck your fiancé before her concert? Yes. Oh, and while in the presence of the poor driver who probably wants nothing to do with this? Definitely! But you can tell that it's the boldness, the danger that makes this so arousing for her.

You can see it in the way her eyes constantly dart to the driver, as if wanting to know his reactions; the increasing volume of her pretty moans, the hardened force of her bounces on your erection so that the obscene sounds of coitus can be heard more clearly.

Park Chaeyoung loves a good risk, and you are about to aid her in this particular one.

Grinding into her delicious wetness, you raise your hips to meet her steady bounces. Her cunt tenses but her mouth parts to let out a well-needed scream. It continues—a string of curses and cries riddled with a moderate Australian accent—till you partially silence it with your lips pressing against hers.

It's all tongue and scream and teeth. Your hands curl through Chaeyoung's blonde strands while your teeth gently bite down on her lower lip. Meanwhile the bounces of your thigh assist her in her own riding. With it, your cock is able to slide into her tight hole from tip to base, filling her up completely.

"Almost there, almost there!" she cries out loudly. Chaeyoung slams herself down on your lap, urgently grinding herself onto you and clenching as hard as she can. "A-Almost there, daddy, please!"

Your mind is too dazed by sex and lust to wonder if she is talking about the nearing location of the concert venue or her own orgasm. But what it registers is that, either way, you have to go faster.

Eyes fixated on Chaeyoung's face slowly being overcome by pleasure, you pound her even faster till it becomes difficult to do so because of how hard she is clenching around you. Even so, you push and pull out furiously, the two of you becoming two sinners in the night, whose selfish, dirty minds are set only on reaching your highs.

The air-conditioner does a poor job of cooling the heat that envelops the two of you. Another coat of slick covers your dick, and soon all you could sense is the loud sounds of Chaeyoung's shrill cries, the subtle bounce of her boobs from behind her dress, and the dizzying smell of her perfume.

Lavenders and roses are always a good combination.

There's a certain thing in the way Chaeyoung cums that has you hooked even as your own climax hits you. Is it the look on her face—wide eyes, parted lips letting out screams? Hm, maybe, but not quite! Or is it how her pussy becomes the tightest you have ever felt it hug around you as she milks you of semen, urging you to paint her walls white as a secret not even her concert-going fans could know?

Perhaps.

Either way, you diligently fuck the wetness dripping out of Park Chaeyoung's cunt back inside her. She whines a little, the waves of her orgasm still crashing onto her. But what also adds to those waves is a creamy white color as the vice-like grip of her pussy around your member forces you to spray yourself inside her.

The flower shivers in the night, covered by both the showers of rain and snow. But she never withers, not once—and her sweet smell will linger in your mind forevermore.

That is why you love her, after all.

The car comes to a pause beside the sidewalk of the venue. Outside, flashing cameras and adoring fans wait almost impatiently to see their idol, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rose in lavender.

It is a good thing the limousine windows are covered by a curtain; if they had not been, Chaeyoung's fans would probably have been horrified at the sight of her post-orgasmic state, all while seated on the lap of a mysterious lover.

But they don't get to see that; only you do.

Chaeyoung makes a heavy sigh. The sound from her is caused both by nervousness and the pleasurable feeling of your flaccid cock still tucked inside her, but the former seems to be the overbearing reason.

The driver turns to you and Chaeyoung. Although the neutrality of his face makes him seem unfazed by what has just violated his poor ears and eyes, the redness in his pale ears gives it all away.

You chuckle a little; you've got to give it to him for keeping himself focused on the road and not on the moaning lady reflected in the rearview mirror.

His unfazed demeanor doesn't fade even when he glances at Chaeyoung. You expected him to break character upon speaking with the Park Chaeyoung, Golden Voice of Korean and global popstar. But seeing that he did not, you begin to have some sort of respect for him now.

He bows his head slightly to Chaeyoung, before politely inquiring her, "Ready to go, Ms. Park?"

Chaeyoung turns to you with slightly turned-down pink lips and scrunched eyebrows, showing you the answer to the question instead to the driver, the one who made it. And in her face you can see every question running in her mind: "Can I do this?"; "What if they notice something wrong?"; "What if I do something wrong?".

And with a stroke of her hair and a soft smile, you give her the answer to her own questions:

"It'll be alright, Chaeyoung-ah. You'll do great."

You wrap her in a tight, loving hug. And you like how now there isn't any lingering lust or obscenity in it; just concern and unbridled love for the one in between the other's arms.

Your hand rubs her back for what seems like eternity. But the wait is worth it, for when she lifts her head and looks you in the eyes again, you see a renewed confidence in her face, a renewed belief that your words are true.

This girl is not any different from who she truly is, but by the smug smile that settles on her lips, you come to know that Rosé has arrived at the scene.

Blackpink's all-rounder and reknowned soloist Roséanne Park faces the driver and flashes him that same smile she gave you, but this time, wider. "Ready when you are."

The driver exits to open her own door, as formality requires. And although you can't tell the future any more than a clock decides which way its arrowed hands could go, you could tell from the moment her heel meets the road that your flower is going to bloom even more this very night.

[venusstorm]

Strawberries & Cream

Jake has a very special birthday gift for you

Warnings: 18+, corny gift giving, sexual themes, frosting in places that shouldn’t have frosting

Masterlist

The house was abnormally silent as you walked in. Typically you'd hear the roaring noise of Jake Jensen yelling through his mic or viciously tapping his controller while he played a game. You'd always drop off your stuff and make your way to the couch, sinking down into his lap as he pressed soft kisses onto your forehead— eyes still locked on his game.

You didn't mind. After all, the moment the round ended he'd shut off the console and ask you all about your day as he wrapped his arms around your body.

But tonight was different. There was no shouting, no arguing, not even the sound of his controller buttons being pushed until they fell off.

"Jake!" You shout. "Are you upstairs?" When no response came you began trekking your way up the steps regardless. You listen closely for the sound of the shower running, but even that was silent. Reaching the top, you head for your shared bedroom. “Maybe he went out…” you mumble.

But he couldn’t have. Not when it’s your—

Your thoughts are silenced by the sight of Jake sitting far too casually with a bright pink box in his lap. “Happy birthday babygirl,” he grins.

“Jake….”

“Yes?” He smiles innocently.

Wearily you step into the room and shut the door. “What’s in the box?”

He jiggles it roughly, whatever inside shifting around. “Your birthday present of course. What else?”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you walk over to peck his cheek before slowly opening up the box. You already knew by the flushed look his face what you’d find inside.

“Baby…”

He looks up at you proudly. “Yes?”

“There’s frosting on your dick,” you snort.

Jakes face flushes red as he gazes down. “I must’ve shook it too hard,” he grumbles. With a pout on his face he closes the lid. This was supposed to be romantic and instead he just made it all seem like a joke. It seemed like a great plan in his head. Sure it was a little stupid but he just knew you’d love it. 

Noticing his faltering smile you flip the lid back open and roughly press your lips against his. “Wonder what flavor it is," you smirk, sinking down onto your knees before licking a long stripe against his shaft.

Jake audibly groans, his cock twitching as you licked every bit of frosting off without a second thought. 

You lick your lips, a wide smile on your face.

"Strawberry. My favorite."

[gale-gentlepenguin]

im sure you've been asked this before but what are ur top 5 episodes

My top 5 favorite episodes?

Well I did do a top 10 list a bit after season 3 hit. But I think I can update that list now. 

This isn't rated on objective goodness, but overall personal enjoyment.

5. Evillustrator

At one point this was my favorite episode of all time. And I still do think it is one of the best episodes of season 1.

But comparing it with other episodes that come out, and that I am viewing objectively, it needed to get bumped down a bit.

I still think this is peak Akuma design. It also has one of the more creative battles on the list. And of course, the Marichat is top tier.

Evillustrator was the first akuma that really demonstrated complexity (and is still one of the most fascinating akumas in the series.

The problem is that they never build on it and Nathaniel’s characterization goes from interesting to non-existent to Jerk to Pandering.

I still go to this episode to cheer me up and remind me of the good times

4. DarkOwl

Having revisited this episode. I can't help but just love it more. It is the best written episode of season 2. It takes someone that was considered a joke and made him the closest akuma to taking down the two heroes. (thats right.) Truth is, I didn't even watch this when it first came out, I had taken a break from the fandom. When I came back and was trying to catch up did I actually SEE this episode. And honestly, if I had seen THIS episode after Captain Hardrock. It might have brought me back into ML earlier.

The set up for the akuma is also pretty fun to watch, especially when it wasn't even malicious. Ladybug and Chat noir wanted to help Mr.Damocles be a hero so he would stop getting hurt.

Of course the internet got involved and mocked him VICIOUSLY. Like I felt legitimately bad for this principal. You can't even really be mad for him WANTING to do good. Its a cliché premise but its executed better then most.

Dark Owl’s design is not as cool or scary as I would like, but it is still pretty good, and when he almost gets the Ladybug miraculous a SECOND TIME. Its interesting.

3. Gang of Secrets

(Spoilers for Season 4 episode 3)

I expected not to like this episode. It has so many things I am not crazy about. Rehashed akumas, Misunderstandings, the cliché friend break up/ make up, and the weight of the world on one’s shoulder’s bit. 

I was wrong. The Gang of secrets (the 5 akuma group) were amazingly done. They were coordinated, they had a solid reason for akumatization, they also had such solid chemistry that it made their antics amazing. I Loved watching the fight against them.

Ladybug’s manic state was not played too corny or too subdued. It really made the viewer understand her emotions. Her emotional moment at the theater was something else. This was one of the few times the writers showed just as much as they told. Even without the rant, we could feel Ladybug’s state of mind. We want her to have something to help her ease into things.

This episode also did a lot to correct the issues with season 3 Alya, and I am glad to see it. This was the Alya from Sapotis that Ladybug trusted. Alya breaking free from akumatization (while being akumatized) was so RAW, it was such a good scene and I loved it.

Alya finding out Marinette is Ladybug.

A LOT of people are not fans of that. And I get it. I do.

Some of you wanted Chat noir to find out first. (which I understand because I did as well. Because ‘Us Against the world’. Totally understand. And also Lovesquare stans and shipping goggles)

Some of you wanted Luka to find out first. (It made no canon sense however ya want to twist it. but hey, shipping goggles am I right? Cant say I blame ya.)

Some of you even wanted present Alix (Which I actually was surprised to hear, but it made a lot of sense considering future alix)

I can understand some of the criticism lobbed at this episode. But honestly, watching the series as a whole makes this whole bit make more sense. We do forget that Alya knew marinette longer then Chat noir and Luka.) Alya had helped Marinette in so many ways. Even as the ladyblogger, Alya is someone Marinette trusts and I think thats important. This ALSO causes a lot of potential drama down the road which I will look forward to seeing.

2. Oblivio

It shows Adrien and Marinette at their core, they fall in love in like 10 minutes, and their banter is adorable.

It was a high stakes episode, the only drab thing was the akuma’s design was boring. But it still did a LOT.

Yes, I am shipping trash. But season 4 actually helped me appreciate this episode even more. Its the episode that helped me stick season 3 out till the end. It reminded me WHY I loved the love square so much.

If you need a reminder of WHY Adrien and Marinette are wonderful together. I highly recommend it.

1.Origins Part 2

Umbrella scene

[mileapokp1677]

Three Steps to Win You (CH 23)

Title: Three Steps to Win You

Rating: M

Pairing: Daddy Chan/Tankhun, Kinn/Porsche, Vegas/Pete

Category: M/M, AU Nerd-Jock

Summary: Accidentally, scientist Tankhun Theerapanyakul embarrassed footballer Captain Chan "Daddy" Knight in front of his coach, teammates and fans. He had to fulfill three tasks from the captain before his apology was accepted.

Chapter 23

(Chan POV)

Saturday Evening -- the Dinner. 

"I can't believe you made me do that," wailed Tankhun, as soon as the waiter left the table after taking their orders. "They even replayed it on the big screen in the stadium over and over."

Chan just chuckled a little while looking at Tankhun fondly. He looked so damn cute when he ranted like that. 

"I scored a hat-trick for you, Doctor, the least that you can do is blow me a kiss," teased Chan, who was still chuckling in amusement. "I should have asked for three kisses, you know, for every goal that I scored."

"In your dream, mister! Just once is embarrassing enough, thank you very much," said Tankhun firmly. "It’s so fucking corny, Chan. We’re not in a teen movie, and for God sake, stop laughing!"

Chan laughed even louder.

“Chan! Stop it!” hissed Tankhun. "People are looking at us, and I've had enough of the limelight today."

Tankhun looked so agitated, and Chan didn't have the heart to keep teasing him, so he stopped.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I didn't expect you to be this bothered," Chan said apologetically. "I thought we were having fun."

Tankhun let out a very long sigh. 

"I know it looks like I enjoy being the center of attention, and that's probably the result of my own doing, for intentionally posing for those assholes," said Tankhun viciously. "And I admit that I enjoy making fun of those paparazzi. However, I did all of that because I know for sure they have malicious intentions towards me, at you-know-who's behest. But, the people in the stadium, including my Pa and Kim, the boys, and the people at home who are watching the game... that’s a totally different matter."

Suddenly Chan felt his back freezing. He had lost someone very important to him once -- his ex-fiance, because she couldn't stand the constant feeling of being under scrutiny due to her relationship with him. This was not exactly the same case, but close enough. 

"I think, being in the stadium today, watching and hearing thousands of people chanting your name with my own eyes and ears... I just realized how famous you really are, Chan,” added Tankhun. “Frankly, it’s overwhelming.” 

No, no, no... God, not again… 

The thing that got them involved in this fake date scheme was that Chan didn't want to lose to Anna. But, if he had to choose between losing his pride and being made fun of by Anna, again, or losing Tankhun, Chan would definitely choose to lose his pride without any second thought.

"Should we call it off?" offered Chan to Tankhun, "If this troubles you this much, or makes you feel so down, I would rather we stop here. Moreover, this is not your problem in the first place. I shouldn't have involved you."

“No, Chan, NO,” replied Tankhun decisively. "There's no turning back now, too many people involved already, and I don't want to hurt Pa. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to hurt the boys too. Can you see how happy they were at the stadium? We have to end this charade according to plan, after the award ceremony.”

Well, if it depends on me, baby, it won't end... ever. 

"I was too impulsive back then, and now you're affected like this. I'm really sorry," apologized Chan to Tankhun again.

"Hey, it's not entirely your fault. I agreed to do this at that time too, didn't I?" retorted Tankhun. "I even asked for your help to trick Kinn. We're in this together."

"But, still,-"

"Shh... listen to me. I think what I need is time to overcome the guilt," Tankhun cut in. "Right now, I'm still in shock and just fully realized the scale of this thing. I thought this was just a small project where I just had to trick Anna and Kinn and have fun with it. Piece of cake, I was so sure I could do it easily. I forgot you weren't an ordinary person."

"I'm sorry."

“Would you stop saying sorry already? If anyone overheard this conversation, they'd think I was a mean boyfriend,” jested Tankhun cheekily. 

Did he just crack a joke? 

Chan was so relieved that he blurted out, "That's my sassy baby. How I missed you."

"O~h? Is that also the reason why you hugged me so tight in the dressing room?" asked Tankhun casually. 

“It was," answered Chan firmly. "... and for the kiss too."

Tankhun froze. It was the most suitable word to describe Tankhun's expression at that time. He didn't look angry or objected or afraid. He just looked a bit stiff and hm... maybe slightly awkward?

Are you sure you're not putting too much pressure on him, Chan Knight!?

Chan suddenly remembered Porsche's warning the last time they met. 

'P' has a habit, which Kinn and I believe he did subconsciously, of running away when things got too serious.'

Fuck me!

Chan panicked and started to get unsettled. 

"And of course, it's also a good opportunity to convince everyone that we're ‘dating’, I couldn’t possibly miss that chance, could I?" asked Chan as he wink at Tankhun. 

********

(Tankhun POV)

Ah yes, of course… 

At that moment, Tankhun only wished that his facial expression didn't change much, or even if it did, at least not to show his disappointment, like at all. For a moment there, his hopes soared high. Fake dating or not, Chan's hug at that time felt so damn good and right. Not to mentioned that kiss...

Too soon, Tankhun, remember? Please keep that in your head so you don't forget…

"A~h, I think that was also the reason why you asked David to give me your anthem jacket, correct?" asked Tankhun, as calmly as possible.

Hm, Chan's facial expression changed a bit, were his words too sharp? Why didn't he answer?

"Kim told me that the jacket you gave me is not sold at any BSFC stores because it's an official jacket that's only meant for players," added Tankhun. "I guess, there's nothing more insinuating than this if you want to truly convince everyone that we're 'dating', huh?” 

It seemed that Tankhun's voice wasn't as calm as he wanted it to be, since Chan seemed to be getting more and more alert.

Or was his facial expression more inclined to confusion?

Chan was about to open his mouth, but Tankhun didn't give him a chance. He had not done talking.

"It has your name, your number, even that letter C on the chest. Fuck, Captain, now that I think about it, this is so~ high-school. I remembered all the cheerleaders back then, who were dating the jock, wearing their boyfriend's letterman jacket." 

"Tankhun, did I say something wrong? Did I somehow upset you?" Chan asked, in a confused tone. "I gave you the jacket, because I wanted you to have it. That’s all."

"Not because Anna was also in the VIP box?"

Chan was so flabbergasted by his question. 

"No! I didn't even know she was watching today's match."

Tankhun's feelings were slightly better after hearing Chan's words just now, though he didn't know exactly why he felt that way. To tell the truth, even Tankhun himself didn't know why he was suddenly acting like this. All he knew was he was feeling a little hurt, and he wanted Chan to feel the same as him. 

"At first I thought, it’s because you wanted her to see me wearing your jacket. That's why you gave me the jacket, you know, on purpose," said Tankhun.

Was his tone too accusatory just now? Chan looks so offended.

"And how did I know she was coming? I've never been in contact with her again," Chan replied. "The last time I saw her was at the penthouse, and you were with me then, remember?"

Of course Tankhun remembered! How could he forget about that damn day? It was the cause of all the chaos in his life now. Tankhun Theerapanyakul never acted borderline crazy like this before (over a fake boyfriend!!!), especially because he felt hurt for some unknown reason. Fuck, he absolutely hated shit like this. But he needed to know. He might not have understood 100% of the reason yet, but he wasn't a fool. He had an idea of where this was leading.

“She’s not alone there. According to Kim, she’s with someone from the Football Federation, I forgot his name.” 

“You mean Peter!?” inquired Chan, sounding so furious all of the sudden, his jaw tensed. 

Tankhun once again froze, and the hurt stung so bad this time. He did his little experiment and his hypothesis was proven correct. Chan still hadn’t moved on from Anna. 

Pride was the only thing that kept Tankhun from leaving the fancy restaurant, for he would not give that satisfaction to anyone. Tankhun would make damn sure that Chan would never know what he was feeling at the moment, maybe for the first time in his life.

Jealousy was a bitch.

TBC

[star-shard]

Ever wants to see Elvis fanfiction written by a psychopath made into an 80s family movie?

Heartbreak Hotel (1988)

Lemme just say this one is bad folks, not in a 'so bad it's good' way but, just, yeah just bad. Due to the stranglehold EP media has on me I checked it out, but I hope I'm the last one to do so.

From gaslighting Elvis into believing the reincarnation of his mother has come back to him, to kidnapping him into what I can only assume is eventual stockholm syndrome. Ya kno, fun for the whole family...

There is both some kind of 'love' and hate for the king in this one, let's talk

Okay, this movie is something... the premise being that a high school boy kidnaps Elvis Presley for the purpose of dating his lonely mom. Right off hijinks must ensue.

Let me give mild praise where it's due, (and I do mean mild.) The soundtrack is good, you got some of EP's best songs. The hotel in which the movies takes place in is named 'Flaming Star', nice nod. Seeing the fight scene from Loving You recreated in an 80s/50s style diner is directed pretty corny but theres something like admiration there.

And that's it, thats the only good words I'll give this one.

So. The main kid's plan to kidnap Elvis, is to use a local pizza maker to look like the man's dead mother, giving her a black wig and 50s styled dress, addressing EP with a letter from 'Satnin', and hint throughout his concert that his mother is reincarnated and come back to see him. Which. Sick. Come on now, that's sick. And then our lead proceeds to drug and kidnap him. It's briefly addressed for half a second by the other characters but then quickly forgotten/forgiven/never addressed again.

Dude some trashy writing is one thing. But this was just bad and weird. Come on, now...

From there 'Elvis' only fights back briefly at being kidnapped and then gets guilted to staying a while, all the while his 1970s persona is viciously mocked for being 'uncool'.

If it went full on insanity maybe it could at least be seen as that, but then it devolves into just a run of the mill family flick, just EP going full domestic with his kidnappers. Teaching a little girl not to be afraid of the dark, rocking out in a talent show with the teenaged boy that kidnapped him. Which is 'cute' here and there but considering the context, that devalues those scenes a smidge.

Naturally he has some friction with the teen boy who thinks Elvis is lame, EP throws out all of the stuff in the hotel to make it look like Graceland. Cause... yeah, that makes sense.

I wish I could say it was laughably bad. But the movie is convinced it's a heartfelt family romp, which just makes it a bit of a mess.

The movie keeps referencing the dad that left the main family and you think a more weighted moment might come to tie that plot point up with a bow but no, at the end Elvis tells everyone goodbye, gets on a plane, he bounces and the credits roll.

I get that a lot of people look down on his 70s run, it's only recent that people look on it with admiration or empathy. But jeeeeeez, this one is uncomfortable.

As for the Elvis performance, yeah lackluster as the rest of the flick. The actor isn't awful, but it's your run of the mill impersination.

It's nuts because Jerry Schilling was a consultant on this.

Idk, a ball was dropped by someone.

Skip it.

[arinbelle]

A Court of Witches and Warriors

HELLO! I wrote a thing. I wrote a couple of things actually but this is the only sfw stuff that I’m not embarassed to share. This is one of my first times writing fics so..yeah. Anyways. I wanted to write a fic of basically all the random HCs I have of the plot of ACOSF. Feel free to read and leave comments-please! Yes I am aware the title is corny but it felt wrong leaving it title-less. Okay. I’ll stop now. Enjoy (hopefully)

Masterlist link here

Trigger warning: some suicidal thoughts

Tagging: @moe8

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Chapter 1-Nesta

The humidity- that was the first thing she noticed about Illyria. No matter how hot it got by midday or cold it got my nightfall, the incessant moisture in the air never let up. Nesta had grown up near the wall, in the northern region of the mortal lands. There it was mercilessly cold, but at least the air didn't sit heavy on your head and lungs and make it difficult to breathe. She already found it difficult to breathe- she didn't really need anymore of this added on. This being everything really. The camp. The exile. The queens. Him.

It wasn't really an exile. Perhaps if it were a true banishment for her own sake, she could have accepted it better. It would mean Feyre did care about her. That she wanted Nesta to feel better or healthier- not that she and the bastard mate of hers needed to prepare for a new problem and needed her help. No- those bitch queens were the problem.

"They're coming for you Nesta. They left half of the sentries on our border dead, viciously killed. They left one with the message that you're next." That's what Feyre had told her right after their little intervention. The only bit of explanation as to why she had been heralded here to the edges of the mountains. Winnowed over by her prick mate, Nesta's pale arm limp in his, Cassian holding onto the other.

The first few weeks he didn't do anything. He left her alone while he oversaw training with the legions as the preparations for the Blood Rite began. Let her stay in the spare bedroom of his house, content to leave her be. But no drinks. That had been his one, irritating, rule. He had thrown out, or hidden at the very least, all the alcohol he had to have, considering how he and Mor drank through the night when the Inner Circle partied.

The house was nice. In fact, it was beautiful. Rich and dark oak wood made up the panels of the walls, the floorboards a lighter mahogany echo of the same patterning, and all in all, it was cozy. Warm. It was a home. And it wasn't outrageously large like Feyre and Rhysand's estate had been- no matter how homely they had managed to make that third beast of a mansion as well. There was something about the simplicity of Cassian's home that sent her heart yearning- for what, she didn't know.

Three weeks of peace. That's all she was given- although it wasn't really peace puking up her guts each night and having headaches throughout the days. Most days she was content to stay in bed, reading under the covers from the books Cassian would silently leave outside the door. Books that she had forgotten how much she loved- never having the stomach for it to spend her coin on anything besides liquor and misery in Velaris. As for the food...

She still couldn't keep anything down. Not really a surprise but still, a small part of her brain was telling her that it wasn't good. Nesta silenced that part of her brain. The rational one. The one that looked at the reflection in the mirror and pointed out how thin she had gotten. Wasted away. The sunken in eyes, the hollowed out cheeks- a ghost of a woman.

Female. Not a woman. Not anymore.

She wondered how long it would take for her to wrap her mind around this new identity. Would it take centuries to finally stop referring to herself as a human woman? She didn't think she would ever, could ever, stop- if not for anything except pure spite. Just because she had to live out the rest of her immortal existence as this, this creature, sure as hell didn't mean she needed to accept it.

The three weeks of days bleeding into nights into days and back into nights passed too soon. Too soon she had finished the books he left for her- varying degrees of romance novels from sweet first loves to the filthiest erotica enough to make even him blush- if he ever read them. Not that she read those sections anymore either. No, she was more than content to skip over the smut in the novels that Cassian gave her, even if the rational part of her brain told me he wouldn't figure out just how bothered it made her. Damn Fae males and their sense of smell- she'd die a thousand deaths before letting Cassian smell her arousal.

She missed the sex though. She missed the feeling of something, anything, even if sex wasn't a permanent fix. At least it made her feel something.

The drinking...well that was funny. The drinking made her feel nothing when all the memories rushed up. It let her get through the night and keep the nightmares at bay. Most days even. But they wouldn't get that. No, Feyre and her sickeningly happy circle was content to play their part in being just fine after an entire fucking war. She wondered sometimes about Feyre- how she had divulged to her once on how she couldn't stand small spaces. The trauma of what she had endured at the hands of that other queen leaving vicious reminders in her brain. It was the same for Nesta- the reminders. The fire that sounded like breaking bones and snapping wings. The tub that felt like the Cauldron swallowing her whole once more, searing her flesh as it ate away at her mortality. She wondered if Feyre remembered her own reminders and then thought about her sisters- if she wondered how Nesta was coping just as she thought of her. Probably not. But it was a happy thought to have sometimes- that Feyre cared about her, not a sister that was ruining her image of High Lady to her people. That Feyre worried about her not because Nesta needed to be trained for a war that might hurt her and her mate and her family that Nesta was obviously not a part of-but because she was genuinely concerned for her sister.

That morning the sunlight was much too bright as it entered through the bedroom window and painfully roused her from a fitful sleep. Illyria had been completely blanketed by rainclouds for the past week and so the illumination from the sky, although beautiful, was unexpected and not appreciated. Especially since it didn't serve as a good source of heat. Something about the wards on the house, she assumed, made it so nothing could penetrate through properly- not even the heat of the sunlight. And it was freezing. The mountains in the middle of the winter were downright brutal. Cassian had left logs and a box of matchsticks to burn and keep warm. They were still untouched. She had no plans to deal with that problem anytime soon.

Three hard raps on the door broke her away from morbid thoughts of what could happen if she just lit a match and kept on lighting- would an immortal Fae body withstand fire to that degree? Did she want to find out? That would have to wait. So would Cassian, Nesta deemed. If he wanted to bother her so early in the morning, fine, she would just take her time getting up and opening the door. Something about him had been irritating her these past weeks, even more than his presence already did. His silence for one thing. Ever since meeting her, the one thing Cassian had proven incapable of doing was shutting the hell up. And now...nothing. No biting retorts, no flirty innuendos. A void. A raging, howling, empty chasm had split between them from the day she had ignored his attempts to talk that one night after dinner- when she had still been living at the House of Wind. She hadn't gone down to eat with the others- naturally. But Elain had and that had hurt. He had clambered up the stairs an hour after the rest of the merry crew had retired to the lounging area, and knocked three times, just like he had just done this morning. He had asked softly through the door if he could come and talk to her. Then he had pleaded when she did not respond.

"Sweetheart, please. Let me in. I just...please."

But Nesta had not opened the door. No matter that she had wanted to- twin instincts within her battling viciously. One part wanted to scream at him to go away- leave her be to rot and fester like the wound of grief that had already begun to decay in her breast. The other part wanted to break through the door, launch herself into his arms and never leave them. Naturally, she did neither and stayed silent and still until he left.

She moved out the very next day and ever since then, that space between them had slowly but surely increased. He was loyal though- she would grudgingly admit that. It didn't matter that she drank into oblivion each night after moving into that part of the city. It didn't matter that she fucked male after male after male after male. He was always there- hovering above the roofs of the Velaris apartments, silently following her home from above. He never came down to her level and spoke to her. She never looked up and called for him to take her up with him. But she knew he was there- in fact she tended to know where he was almost all the time, unless he got too far out of the territories. And even then, that tug between them was always there. She felt him deep within her bones, the fabric of her very existence seemingly forever entwined with his.

After grabbing a robe, she tiptoed over to the large door and wrenched it open, it's sides sticking being a testament to how unused this room had been before her arrival. Perhaps she would always be just that- a dissonant, unmoored being that created discord everywhere she went, disturbing whatever small peace that may have settled on Cassian's home at one point. And there he was, in all his glory, staring down at her through narrowed hazel eyes.

So he's already on edge. Well then, if it's a fight he wants...

"Good morning," he told her, absolutely no expression behind the words. No genuine emotion- but also, no spite. Maybe he wasn't in the fighting mood then. Too bad she was.

"It would be if you weren't set on bothering me so damn early in the day," she bit out.

His teeth clenched and for a second she knew she had him. Then his face smoothed over and broke out into a roguish grin, just the way he knew would set her blood boiling. It would seem the General had his own masks to employ against irritation. His just happened to be more palatable than Nesta's ire-filled one.

"And miss seeing your beautiful face in the morning light? It would be a wasted opportunity sweetheart," he told her simply, that infuriating grin still stuck on his stupidly beautiful face. She tried to feel something besides anger- she really did. There had been a time once when her heart would jolt at his nickname for her, and she would duck away muttering about idiotic bats, just to hide the flush his words raised in her cheeks. But now...nothing. Just anger. Sometimes irritation. Sometimes even annoyance at busybodies being unable to keep their opinions and questions to themselves. Nothing more though. Not for some time.

"I know I'm quite a view today, as I am every other day, but maybe you can answer my question before going back to your admiring," he told her, a small smile curving his lips showing a flash of teeth before settling to a calmer grin.

A question? She had missed it. She hadn't been listening to him, hadn't even realized she had tuned him out to let the racket of her own thoughts take over her head. She didn't say anything. It was too early for anymore words from her. She just raised one brow at him, giving him a look she had perfected to send weaker men cringing away. But Cassian was not a man. And she was pretty sure Cassian had never been weak a day in his life.

He didn't respond. Instead he crossed his arms over his muscled chest, fabric straining, and leaned one hip into the doorway.

Oh. He wanted to waste her time? Very well then. She could be just as petty. When had her vengeance decided to direct itself at Cassian rather than those that actually deserved it? She didn't know. She didn't particularly care to think too deep into such intrusive thoughts at the moment anyways. With an impatient sigh that bordered on a hiss, she shot out an arm and grabbed the heavy wooden door, moving to slam it shut. If he didn't move, that was on him. Of course it didn't work. He was a warrior, trained for centuries before her existence had even been a thought. Those reflexes were much faster than her anger-honed movements, even if the Cauldron had granted her that Fae strength she could never have dreamed of having as a mortal.

His hand grasped the door right above hers and she came face to face with his tan arm, gripping the side with far more tension than was needed to overpower her. Interesting. So he was bothered by something. A brief flicker of curiosity arose in her, before fading into the familiar cold of numbness.

She asked him then, in a clipped quiet tone, if only for him to leave her be. "What is it then?"

He slowly let go of the door first, before answering. "You're coming to train today."

Of course. He'd left her to her misery in her room, without booze and males for entertainment and she was surprised it had gone on for as long as it had. Because that's why she was here. Not because she could hardly stand to eat one proper meal over the course of a few days. Not because she looked and felt completley hollow. Not because she was lost- she had been for a long time coming but still... that wasn't it. Nesta had painstakingly agreed to this little experiment.

She recalled one of the last conversations she had had with Feyre, before whisked away by Rhysand to the cabin.

"Go to the camps, Nesta. Learn to control your powers before this war happens. Train with Cassian, please. I know...I know...you two aren't on the best of terms but he's really good at what he does and he had me properly trained for battle in a matter of weeks."

She didn't tell Feyre that she hadn't actually fought in battle. That just because she could wield a sword through some novice soldiers didn't mean that she could hold her own on the killing fields that Cassian and his legions had fought on. And just because Feyre was a warrior did not mean Nesta had to become one. But she kept her mouth tightly shut, lips pressed in a thin line, while Feyre helped pack what few clothes she had as well as some personal items Feyre thought Nesta might miss. Never mind that besides books that she no longer bothered to read, Nesta did not care for any other worldly possessions that may have taken up storage in her apartment. And then she was gone- far, far away from the city of starlight.

And now here she was, facing the large warrior in front of her, who seemed to be fighting a battle within himself, rather than on the outside grounds where the clash of swords could be heard deep in the house. She wanted to shoo him away. Leave her to the new nothingness that had come to inhabit her heart. There was something different to this emptiness, without the sting of liquor or warmth of a body atop her to chase it away. She was alone with her thoughts too much now, which had always been an unkind place even before everything that had happened.

"Now?" she hated how small her voice sounded, feeble even to her own sensitive hearing. So she decided to cross her arms in an attempt to gain back some power. She may not want to join the clamor of the outside world, but he didn't need to know that.

"Is there something particularly important your Highness was doing? Because if that's the case, by all means, I won't bother you."

She scowled. She had never met anyone who could insult so easily with veiled words. Except herself. She did it all the time to others and she didn't appreciate it coming back to bite.

"Shall I come in this then, or would you like for me to properly train considering I don't get a say?" His nostrils flared as he took in her nightgown, eyes resting a little longer on the swell of her breasts before snapping back up to look her at her face, a light red staining his cheeks as he pointedly made eye contact.

He replied, "I have clothes for you to train in but you aren't going to be doing anything today. You're going to watch, so if you'd prefer one if your dresses," he stopped for a moment before softly adding, "if that's how you'll be more comfortable, then do that."

She didn't reply, a slight bit of shock registering at the kindness in his words. He didn't want to push her too far- it was thoughtful of him.

Because he's on orders from his High Lord and Lady, Nesta. Stop reading into it.

Right. That was enough of that. She waved her hand at him, flapping nondescript motions, but he seemed to understand and moved away, giving her the room to shut the door and latch it. She heard a small sigh through the door before he moved away to his own room down the hall.

Nesta decided on an ash colored gown that had once clung to her curves so tightly, she was unable to wear it in proper company without feeling lewd. Now, it hung loose on her shoulders and hips, but at least she was fully covered. A few of the Night Court's...clothing had been bestowed on her by Feyre when she was packing but they remained untouched in her closet. Nesta had not cared enough to mention that besides the fact that she had no interest in dressing in her sister's fashion, it was completely impractical to wear half-cut tunics and almost sheer pants in the frigid Illyrian mountains. She braided her hair into a tight coronet that pulled at her eyes and would no doubt bring on a headache to last through the night. At least this way, she'd be in too much pain to fall asleep and suffer through more nightmares.

When she opened her door, he was waiting for her at the end of the hall. He didn't make any comments on her dress. On how she'd probably freeze within a few minutes of venturing outside. No he just grabbed a thick fur-lined coat from a hook and silently handed it to her. She debated refusing it outright, just to spite him. If she got hypothermia maybe she'd be left alone for three more weeks. But she knew deep down that while it was cold and uncomfortable, it would not kill her new Fae body anymore. How she had longed for death in their old cabin, when the bite of the cold in the air nipped any exposed skin to rawness, and even the covered parts were left covered in goose flesh. She had practically prayed for it- that she just die one day. Simply never wake up. Perhaps then her father would get up and help Feyre and Elain. He wouldn't do it for her, certainly not when she was alive, so perhaps her death would spur him to change because of her. Ironic that the opposite ended up happening. Except Nesta had not changed for the better when her father died. She'd gotten worse. So much worse. 

At least no one could say Nesta Archeron did anything halfway.

[fishmongeringstudies]

forty seven: ten deer theorem

every once in a while i'm struck with the feeling that i'm on the verge of something. sometimes it's an astronomical revelation about my plans for the future like how if i ever get a nine to five desk job i will definitely die within three days; other times it's the edge of the train platform which i, busy tapping out a response to a friend who just sent me yet another breeding-related tweet, wandered towards like an idiot. usually it's nothing at all. just another ripple i mistook for a wave, had hoped would become a tsunami, packed up all the chopsticks and the hot water bottles for only to discover that the weatherman had lied. drama is fun. life is very little without the self-inflicted salt sprays. so i flap my arms and make spelling errors in my emails.

there's very little i'm self-conscious about these days and my anxiety-fueled skin picking habit is one of them, but more importantly an anxious skin-picking habit means one is always lacking in the meat coverage department, which means i have at least three band-aids on my person at any given time and you are absolutely entitled to ask me for one if the need arises. hands are one of the few parts of the human body that are frequently brought into contact with other human bodies, at least in a pre-pandemic world. in some cultures you shake hands. in others you make promises with your pinkies. you kiss knuckles. you high-five. you read the future.

'sorry about my fucked up hands,' i said once in the spring, like the protagonist of a corny young adult novel about loving yourself and the world around you and most importantly the dark brooding love interest who sits in the furthest corner of the classroom and eats really messed up subway sandwiches. 'you don't have to touch them if you don't want to.' looking back i'm not even sure who i said that to but i don't remember what i was told in response so i suppose it wasn't very important. everyone was superficially interesting but there aren't many i want to keep now that it's all over. increasingly i'm finding myself remembering only my half of conversations. as if the words i was given weren't heavy enough to stay on the ground, and floated away with a passing summer breeze.

summer. this afternoon it rained again and a lady in the condominium across the street propped up an umbrella outside her door. was she drying it? was there something underneath? what are you hiding? i stared and stared, but my eyes couldn't fabricate what my brain was ready to turn into reality and in the evening she opened the door, closed the umbrella, and walked back inside. if i had to bet, i'd say there was something underneath.

summer. i've spent my whole life complaining about summer in singapore, which lasts forever, but suddenly i'm unable to articulate why. there was something i hated, viciously, with a passion, for the last twenty years of my life. it haunted me, slept in the sink, stormed through the unlit hallway while i slept in my grown up all-alone bedroom. now, twenty years later, i stand at the end of that same hallway with my phone in one hand, and find that there is nothing there.

a trick of writing is that everything out of reach becomes a little beautiful, by which i mean no aspect of my past is unsalvageable regardless of how hopeless i felt when it was my present. building on this, might it not be better to live each moment as though it is the best moment you have ever had? it will be, after all, if you just give it a little time. so you may as well start right now.

a friend's spotify playlist. tang yuan with peanut paste filling. a dream where i befriend a cat and take her home. it's the small things which happen to you constantly, traveling down the long twisted track with you as you wipe sweat from your brow and send an angry text to a stranger. they make you feel alive. they remind you there's still something to lose, and something to remember.

07.09.21

[wrightaboutthat]

Unnecessary Yearning ~A Narumitsu One-Shot~

Summary: "You should have heard him talking about you after the Steel Samurai case! He kept saying 'Wright...Wright...Wright' over and over!"

Stricken with new feelings, Edgeworth attempts to carry on with his work and make do. Only, visions of a certain attorney lead to methods turning a little less than professional.

Written from Miles' POV.

Tags: Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Longing, Arousal, It's what the kids call, Denial, Mr 'I'm saddled with unnecessary feelings' Edgeworth lol like YEAH OKAY SIR, How's that going for you, Canon Compliant, Yearning

Additional Notes: Hello everyone! This is my first work in the Ace Attorney fandom. Glad to be tipping my toes into the universe, and super excited to finally be writing the boys. Thank you so much for reading! <3

You can also read the work on AO3 here [x]

It’s going to be a long night. My brain feels utterly thick and heavy from all which weighs down on me: evidence to sift through, cases to win, and losses to be recuperated. The latter two earn a stiffening of my figure, bits of bitter venom surging through my veins to match. I try not to mull over them too much however, what with all the deeper implications they carry. No; far too complex and far too unnecessary.

I instead focus on the present, focus on the current matters that await within my office. My silver gaze momentarily scans the various files atop my desk, before drifting over to my stewing tea. I straighten a bit, attempting to hone in on the delightful fumes, the tantalizing call of work to be done..

...But still, does my mind feel oddly muddied. Unsurprisingly, a scowl furrows my face as a result. 

Walking to grab the warm tea, I momentarily turn my attention towards the world beyond my window. The lights of the city below glimmer and flash as activity bustles on. The last bits of setting sunlight cast dramatic colors upon the horizon. Unfortunately though, as I continue to stare, something else tantalizingly flashes within the reflective sheen. Or someone else, rather.

Him. Him.

Ahh. The man who rose from the ashes of my past. The man who viciously inserted himself back into my life. The man who dared to make me question my own reality. So he’s to blame. He’s the culprit. He’s the reason behind the present strangeness. He was indeed the trigger behind previous emotional oddities, so it only makes sense that he’s tormenting me now.

...Or does it?

My frown grows- particularly when the swirling imagery doesn’t fade away. In fact, it grows all the more detailed, all the more vivid. It’s like my brain genuinely teases me for a few fleeting moments, letting me see him and all that he is. That sickeningly corny grin on his face. The way he sheepishly runs his fingers through his hair. The image of him behind me, slamming us into the very surface providing such visions...

I startle something terrible, backing away with a bubbling mixture of revulsion. How unexpected and heinous. How dare he. How dare he affect me so. How dare he insert himself into my workplace where he’s not welcome. 

And how ludicrous that I let him.

I clench my jaw and walk back to my desk, fingers knotted through my hair. There’s work to be done. There are matters to attend to. There are things that call for my attention. And none of them should deal with him.

But they do. Dammit, of course they do; with my subconscious stumbling from their presence, they scream the loudest of all. They dare to surge to the forefront. Because while case papers are visibly scattered before me, while knowledge swims within, he’s there in front. Flashing before my trembling vision, waltzing to the tip of my subconscious, and settling in the worst possible manner between the apex of my thighs.

No...

This cannot be happening. There’s no possible way this can be happening. I try to think of something else, anything else. All the work that needs to be done. That vile security guard from our case prior. But I can almost hear him chuckle at my lackadaisical efforts. And thus, does my strangely bewitched body mewl in delight, persuading me to hopelessly swell further.

I fume and begin to walk around the room, hoping to shake it off. Perhaps laps will serve me better. Perhaps getting my blood flowing will pull it from more problematic locations. But alas, I see him, I hear him, I feel him. I begin to bulge something terrible against my pants, the tight fabric no longer comfortable. It’s painful even, especially with all my movement, chaffing and rubbing atrociously.

But I don’t want to give in. I don’t want to fall into such vile acts. I don’t want him to hold such power over me.

And yet...

It’s like he materializes behind me, his hands gently yet firmly grasping my hips. He stills my furious stride, before I can practically feel his breath against my ear.

“You’re a mess, you know that?”

I grit my teeth. I want to argue. I want to deny it. But when I feel his hands starting to guide mine, when I’m lead to the fly of my pants, I really have no objections to his point. I can feel his grin against my neck then, and I can’t help myself; I shudder despite the rampant denial.

I still try and stop. I still try and hesitate. But the more I wait, the more painful it gets. The more I stall, the more vivid the visions become. A confusing and overwhelming mixture of emotion bubbles up then. I’m furious, but desperate. Appalled, yet curious. I consider things just a second more...

And then I’m deliciously coaxed; with my back facing the window, with my body towering over my desk, I unzip myself and allow the product of his doing to spring free.

The typical groan of relief departs my throat, but it’s hushed, captured as I bite my lip. A second later, my brow furrows something fierce, continuing to dance between enjoyment and revulsion.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” I can picture him saying, leading to a furious blush and stronger swell. Would he say such a thing? I cannot be certain, yet all rings clear within my subconscious. So much so that I growl at him.

“Shut up, Wright...”

“Yeah yeah. Now shhh,” he murmurs back through reveries, “Just enjoy yourself, Miles.”

Miles.

My name, so rarely uttered, growled off his lecherous tongue...

My eyes roll, and I grasp myself then. I wrap my fingers around the taut, soft skin. I firmly grab the stiffness was as he likely would. And it takes every bit of my power to not release a growling groan into the quietness of my office.

My office.

My eyes, slick with both a furious and midnight sheen, fly back open at the notion. I stare at myself in horror, stare at how utterly erect I am. All because of him. All because of him. 

I grit my teeth; how long will this dreaded back and forth go on? And which side will come out on top? Naturally, I careen for the reasonable, for the chaste maturity. But unfortunately, and unbelievably, my mind is no match for my body. My mind is no match for his spell. Because just as my grip lessens, he manifests behind me once more.

“I worry about you. You work way too hard, Miles,” he subconsciously murmurs in my ear, his vocals deeper and more honeyed than usual.

“Wright...”

“I like you saying my name like that,” he chuckles, and I can almost feel the flick of his tongue against my earlobe, “But I like you putting all your troubles to the side even more. So relax, dammit. Don’t be such a hardass...”

His tease, his care, his sultriness...It’s all too real. It all feels too real. I release another growl of frustration, but feel myself being tugged into the rabbit hole further. I begin to relent, begin to cave, allowing his very image to guide me down and down and down.

And so when I finally begin to move, when I finally begin to pull and tug, it’s entirely his essence.

He works me. He strokes me deeply. He topples my body towards the awaiting mahogany desk. Though I wish to deny it, though I wish to bellow in protest, it feels...utterly incredible, like it never has before. It’s intense, and electrifying, and unbelievably arousing. Once more are my eyes rolled away from view, noises of pleasure circulating around my chest. I have to fight against them, swallow them down, but yet again, does the attorney come out on top. The vision of his fingers, of his work, naturally pulls a centered vocalization from my lips.

“Wright...” I growl, “Wright...Wright...”

I’m rewarded with his voice in my ear once more. “Just like that...Fuck, Miles...”

My stomach clenches; would he even stoop to such naughty vocabulary? Would he even dirty his softer tongue so? Hearing it feels forbidden, yet so very divine. My hips practically buck, riding the reverie and falling deeper.

“Wright...Wright...Wright...”

The passes become harder, faster. His name grows louder, deeper. My mind falls grayer, darker. But of course, similar patterns are followed. Of course, the tug-of-war that is my reality is suddenly yanked in the opposing direction once more.

Because a series of loud raps on my door yanks me far harder than my own hand, startling me something terrible. My head whips up towards the mahogany barrier just in time to hear the reason, the culprit.

“Mr. Edgeworth, sir?”

Magma still burns in my veins. Evidence still twitches betwixt my fingers. His voice still moans in my brain. So very quickly, despite it all, do I bellow back to the damned detective.

“NOT NOW.”

Despite the fire I’m standing in, I can feel the saddened deflation on the other side of the door.

“B-but, sir...”

“PAYCHECK, GUMSHOE,” I snarl, attempting to instill as much threat and as little waver as possible.

He whimpers like a gloomy pup, before finally, thankfully, backing away.

“Y-yes, sir...”

His footsteps depart, but a bit of my fantasy is stolen along with him. It’s like pieces of foggy bliss are yanked out the door and down the hallway, loosening my grip on myself and the situation. Am I safe? Am I free from them?

As if to taunt, I feel myself twitch, and he manifests once more. I feel him again: the heightened movements of his panting chest against me, the ragged groans in my ear, the twinge of his teeth against my neck...

No. Safe from Gumshoe’s interruption perhaps, but still locked deep in the throes of Wright’s intrusion. How utterly strong he is. How much of a hold he has on me...

“Nngg...”

I groan in both frustration and persistent arousal. I want to stop. I want to latch on to the interruption and calm back down. But I can’t. I’m transfixed. He has me.

“Accursed attorney...” I growl through my teeth.

Right on cue, I can see that smug grin of his, sending droves of new warmth barreling down my body. And thus, does the cycle begin again. It only takes a few strokes to fully get back into it, but then I’m unimpeded, unshakeable beneath his spell. The angry, shaky breaths manifest once more, and my hips are coaxed back into movement.

I’m what they would refer to as “pent-up” I suppose, everything zinging to life at the thought of that damn man. His energy, his confidence, his very essence...

My lips curl into a snarl, coupled with the tightening of my hand. Anger and disgust towards the situation does no good; in fact, it only serves to amplify. And as such, I’m thrown into an endless loop, the fiery emotions driving me higher and higher. The more I push away, the more he pulls. The more he pulls, the higher the inferno roars. I’m practically jerking, practically trying to fight against the inevitable. But it’s no use.

I can see myself furiously pounding him into the very desk I’m leant upon. I can picture him folding me over the couch and having his way with my sorry form. I can imagine my angry body knelt before him, marveling in what I’m about to consume...

My entire lower half gives a mighty quake, and I tighten in a plethora of places. I’m going to finish. He’s going to make me finish. My ebony-soaked eyes reel about my surroundings, before flashing with a realization. I need to capture the evidence. I need to halt its sullying path. I need to be utterly inconspicuous about this.

So in perhaps the last allowed second of logical thinking, I snatch a handkerchief off my desk and blanket it over the incrimination. And there I hold as I utterly plummet into flames. My face wretches, my muscles tense, and consequently, comes a most forbidden hiss.

“Phoenix!”

And out it all spills. My anger, my deeper complexities, those wretched feelings...It floods against my fingers and into the handkerchief, my vision flashing white with every sharp burst. My jaw clenches something terrible, the temptation to yell through the release so very tantalizing. But I stay hushed. I manage to keep it contained to shivering grunts and rolling snarls. Instead, my body takes the brunt, my hips jutting with each intense crest. My legs begin to liquify, and my form begins to shake, so with a final spurt, do I collapse forward on my desk with a hand, the wretched evidence in the other.

I heave and gasp through the aftershocks, straining for normalcy to return. I claw my way down from the mountain, trying to get away from the outrageous act. It’s very difficult to do so when I can picture him stroking me into utter completion, whispering lecherous praises and deeper affections into my ear...

I straighten myself and slam my hand on the desk, disgust desperately surging through my veins to block it all out. One look at the soiled handkerchief and my equally dirtied hand amplifies this, my face contorting into a deep scowl.

I was really just enraptured by my urges like some hotheaded grade schooler. I really just turned my place of work into a place of dirtied fun. I really just pleasured myself because of him.

Because of Phoenix Wright.

Damn him. Damn him damn him damn him...

My clean hand comes to capture my face, my fingers harshly grasping my temples. I take a moment to hide away from it all, perhaps in a better attempt to deal with the rampant feelings flowing through. Regret, disgust, anger...But where the icy emotions exist, as do the fiery still, to my dismay. Deeper desire, longing, yearning...

I’m no better off from such an act. The more primitive urges are satiated, yes, but I’m still atrociously in limbo, atrociously in the middle.

I tuck myself back in, clean my hand with tissues, and throw the wretched handkerchief away. I focus on adjusting my attire, on straightening my cravat, on re-composing myself...

...Yet I still find myself unable to do much else than stand with both hands leant against my desk, deep in thought and emotions. I heave a harsh sigh, trying so hard to make sense of it all.

How did this happen? Why did seeing him after all these years lead to this? How could I be so foolish? I doubt we’re really even considered friends, and he’s certainly not...mine.

My eyes widen at the mere thought, before I force further bile to manifest. No. He’s not. And he won’t be. He’s my rival, if anything. Nothing more. Perhaps I was simply carried away by the excitement of our banter, the passion brought to the table. Perhaps my body simply craved an outlet for stress and tension. Yes.

But despite the logic that presents itself, despite the perfectly sound explanation, I still can’t move. I still can’t put it aside and simply get back to work. Nor can I rid my thoughts of that idiotic, passionate, absurd, torturous man.

Dammit indeed.