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morganaawriterr · 21 hours ago

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˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Chapter 03;

— Your Sweet Love

Synosis: In a marriage born out of convenience and plagued by bitterness, You and Sunghoon find yourselves trapped in a cycle of cold indifference and unspoken resentment. Your quiet strength and tender care begin to reach the heart Sunghoon has so carefully guarded. Slowly, walls built from years of hurt and mistrust start to crumble, revealing a shared loneliness neither had acknowledged. With every tentative step toward connection, your hearts yearn for a closeness you’ve long denied yourself selves, leaving both to wonder if you can build something real from the ashes of your forced bond.

Navigation: Intro - 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 Pairing: fem!reader X husband!Park Sunghoon Genre: Arranged Marriage trope; Angst; Fluff; Sexual themes; Warnings: cursing, mention of pills (some are drugs); abuse; mentions of blood; sexual content; injuries; heavy themes; juicy tension ;) Music: Listen to 'nevertheless ost' and 'the trunk ost'!! Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and it does not reflect real life in any way. This story is heavily inspired by the kdrama 'The Trunk' on Netflix but with a special twist! Words: 8k - New Chapter Every Saturday!!

A/n: This chapter was hard to write for some unknown reason, but it's literally my favorite!!! It's longer than usual, so enjoy! Also, I want to warn you: this chapter talks about domestic violence and has heavy themes, so be careful. Thank you for all the love and support. It means everything to me <3

The days after your injury seemed to pass tediously slowly. With your wounded right hand, you couldn’t do the usual chores that kept you busy during the day, leaving you stuck in bed or on the sofa. Watching TV and casually scrolling on your phone were all you could manage for the whole week. To you, it felt like you were a helpless princess trapped in a tower, unable to leave or do anything to distract your mind.

Today is Saturday, and it’s the most energetic and busy you’ve been all week. Since it’s the weekend, Sunghoon is at home with you, keeping you company and keeping an eye on you. The morning passed faster than it should have as you tried to help your husband with a quick cleaning of the house. Following your instructions, Sunghoon vacuumed the three bedrooms while you slowly wiped the dust off the surfaces. It was a simple task, but it was all you could do with just one hand. After that, he continued cleaning the kitchen while you busied yourself with the living room.

Once all the cleaning was done, you could feel how wet and sticky with sweat your body was, so you decided to take a quick bath to freshen up. You informed your husband of your plan, and he nodded, making a mental note to shower right after you. The sun outside was bright, casting its warm light through the large windows, bringing a sense of comfort with it. A soft breeze brushed against your skin as you walked to the main bathroom, the open windows refreshing the air.

As you stepped inside the bathroom, Sunghoon decided to lounge in the living room, planning to catch up on the series he had been watching. He threw himself onto the long sofa, yawning from exhaustion as he sank into the comfy pillows beneath him. Though he was focused on the TV, he kept an ear out for you, just in case you called.

In the large bathroom, completely illuminated by the bright sun outside, you began slowly stripping off your clothes. The warmth of the sunlight on your skin made you feel safe. As your clothes piled on the floor, your eyes scanned the tiled room, searching for the plastic glove you had been using on your right hand to help you wash without wetting your injured palm. You spotted it resting near the gold faucet. Carefully, you slid the stiff plastic material onto your hand and secured it around your wrist with a scrunchie, making sure it was tight before stepping into the tub. The bathtub was filling up as you moved, the fog from the hot water clouding the space.

Soon, you're sitting comfortably in the bathtub, the superheated water reaching just below your chest, making goosebumps form on your skin. Your arms dip beneath the surface as you let your head rest against the tub, savoring the quiet moment. After a few minutes of resting, you reach for your vanilla body wash and slowly begin washing yourself, keeping your injured hand in the air to protect it. The atmosphere is peaceful, the warmth of the sun, the water, and the familiar sweet scent relaxing you even further.

When you finish washing your body, you close your eyes and mentally prepare yourself to wash your hair. It’s always a struggle. Because it’s long, it requires a few extra steps to get it back to its natural state, and with only one hand to work with, it’s even harder. You gradually reach for your shampoo, causing little waves to ripple around you, and pour a bit onto the head massager you bought a few days ago to make the process easier.

You’re doing an okay job brushing your scalp when, suddenly, the tool slips from your hand and slides across the tiled floor with a loud thump. You bite your lip and quietly curse at yourself, barely believing what just happened. Your mind races for solutions. Two ideas cross your mind: you can stand up, walk over to retrieve it, and then get back into the water… or you can call Sunghoon for help.

Smiling at the second thought, you shake your head. There’s no way you’re calling him to assist you. Still, your heart starts to speed up at the thought of it—his handsome face peeking in as he hands you the massager, his usual confidence faltering at the sight of your bare skin. Your mind wanders even further, imagining how Sunghoon’s slender fingers could probably do a better job of washing your hair than that stupid tool, reaching all the spots you can’t quite get to.

Knowing that is definitely not happening, you reconsider the first option. You’d probably make a mess on the floor, leaving a large puddle of water as you walked. And worse, you could slip and fall—the tiles get dangerously slippery when wet. You close your eyes again, pressing your lips into a thin line, hating that, for your own good, you have no choice but to call for Sunghoon.

The truth is, you’re afraid of the growing proximity between you and Sunghoon. You’ve become dependent on his "good morning" every day to set the tone for your day. And lately, there’s been a tension between you—subtle but undeniable. Every time you’re close to him, you can feel it, like electricity traveling from his eyes to yours, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Sunghoon has been incredibly attentive and helpful ever since you cut yourself. He’s always around—preparing your meals, helping you grab heavier things, even something as simple as your coffee cup. You’ve started to notice how his touch lingers sometimes. When he holds your hand to help you put on your shoes, his fingers intertwine with yours for just a second too long. His other hand rests faintly on your hip to steady you, a barely-there presence that still sends your thoughts spiraling. With all these thoughts running through your mind, you make a decision.

“Sunghoon!” you call out, hoping he can hear you despite the distance.

Silence. You try again. And again. You chew on your lip, hating how dependent you’ve become on him, hating that he doesn’t seem to hear you. Just as you’re about to get up, there’s a faint knock on the wooden door.

“YN, is everything okay?” Sunghoon asks from the other side, his voice slightly breathless. He was nearly dozing off on the couch when he heard your voice calling for him. Worried, he rushed to the bathroom, ready to help with whatever you needed.

“Can you come in? I need help with something…” you admit, your voice louder, making sure he hears you this time.

Sunghoon hesitates. He doesn’t know what state you’re in, and if he walks in to see your bare body, he’s sure he’ll combust. The urge to touch you, to give in to whatever this tension is, has been driving him insane these past few days.

“Should I?” he murmurs, lower than he intended, his palm sweaty as it grips the doorknob, not quite turning it yet.

“Yes…” you answer. “Please.”

The invisible restraints holding him back snap at the sound of your plea. You always manage to hit his sweet spot without even realizing it, and he hates it.

Slowly, Sunghoon turns the doorknob and steps inside, taking a deep breath to steady himself. As soon as he enters the tiled bathroom, your scent surrounds him, invading his senses and clinging to his clothes. His brown eyes scan the scene in front of him, heat creeping through his body.

You’re sitting in the tub, your body turned toward the door as you lazily rest your head on your hand, your arm propped on the thick edge of the bathtub. Your black hair is soapy and piled messily on top of your head, and for a brief moment, he can’t help but think of how adorable you look. Then, his gaze shifts, catching sight of your right hand covered in a plastic glove. His attention snaps back to your face immediately.

“Why do you have a plastic glove on your hand?” he asks, still standing a few centimeters from the door, keeping his distance.

Your eyes find his, and for a second, you get lost in the deep brown of his gaze, words escaping you. But when he tilts his head slightly, confusion evident, waiting for an answer, you finally look away.

“I can’t get my hand wet,” you explain, closing your eyes as you add, “so I put the glove on so I could take a bath. Is that so hard to understand?” You said frustrated.

“You could have asked for help! It’s not good to keep your hand inside those cheap gloves. Besides, you should be washing that hand too—carefully.” Sunghoon sounds genuinely worried as he speaks, his eyes widening to emphasize his point. His hands move along with his words, gesturing in frustration.

A small smile tugs at your lips as he expresses his concern, and despite your best efforts, the little butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter. He looks adorable like this. Still, despite his words, Sunghoon remains frozen in place, as if his feet have grown roots, keeping him glued to the floor.

“Can you pass me that?” you interrupt, pointing at the black massager lying near his feet. “It slipped from my hand when I was washing my hair.” You gesture with your injured hand while your other arm remains firmly in place, shielding your bare chest.

“Oh—yeah. Sure,” Sunghoon stutters, suddenly realizing that you had everything under control and didn’t actually need his help. It shouldn’t surprise him—after all, you’ve always been used to doing things on your own.

He quickly bends down to grab it and steps forward to hand it back to you. His figure towers over you as he moves closer. You reach out with the arm you were using to cover yourself, stretching to take the plastic tool—but before you can, it slips from Sunghoon’s hands, rolling away once again.

You glance up at him, brows furrowed, ready to scold him. But the moment your eyes meet his, the words catch in your throat, swallowed by the intensity of his stare.

Sunghoon is completely entranced, his brain short-circuiting as his gaze greedily drinks you in. Your wide eyes look even larger as you tilt your head up to meet his, your pink lips slightly parted as you breathe slowly. A warm, rosy blush spreads across your skin—from your round cheeks and pointed nose down your neck and chest.

Soupy bubbles form around the edge of the water as it touches your skin, your breasts exposed. The way your skin glistens under the soft sunlight, the sweet scent wafting from your body, and the sight of your cute little hardened nipples make him lose his mind. Your seemingly innocent aura pulls him in, making it impossible to resist.

Sunghoon feels a tingling sensation spread through his body as his gaze travels back to your face—only to find you already searching for his eyes. Maybe he’s touch-starved from being single all this time, or maybe you’ve cast some kind of spell on him. Either way, he wants to touch you, to devour you as if you were the last meal he would ever taste.

“Sunghoon…” You call his name so softly it almost sounds like a needy moan. The truth is, you can feel his desire for you, deep in your bones. He’s a dangerously attractive man—tall, muscular, exuding confidence, and carrying a scent that draws you in like a drug.

“You don’t need to use those gloves ever again,” Sunghoon says, his voice low and firm. He kneels in front of you, reaching for your hand as he gently tugs at the cheap glove.

He does it slowly, carefully—his fingers burning as they graze your wrist, holding your hand still while he peels the glove away. A soft thud echoes in the foggy bathroom as it falls to the tiled floor. As he lingers, his fingertips barely ghost over your wound, his eyes locked onto your palm as if willing it to heal.

Your gaze never leaves his face as he continues his delicate ministrations, completely captivated by the tenderness of his touch. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, suppressing the overwhelming urge to kiss him. The thought of his plump lips pressing against yours, finally claiming you, makes your throat go dry.

“Can you turn around and hand me the shampoo bottle?” Sunghoon suddenly says, his voice softer now. “I’ll wash your hair for you. Just make sure you don’t dip your hand in the water—we’ll wash it after so it doesn’t affect the wound.”

His head tilts up, meeting your gaze once again. A small, knowing smile tugs at his lips before he shakes his head, silently commanding you to do as he says.

Breathlessly, you do just that—turning your back to the side of the tub and handing him the bottle of shampoo. This position is perfect. Sunghoon has easy access to your scalp, and you can finally face away from him, trying to regain your self-control, which seems to slip away with every second your eyes linger on his.

Sunghoon’s fingers slowly thread through your hair, gently tilting your head back to keep the shampoo from getting into your eyes. The confidence in his touch makes you wonder—has he done this before? Your mind drifts to thoughts of his ex-lover. Did he often wash her hair like this?

A gentle yet precise massage at the nape of your neck pulls you out of your thoughts, making your breath hitch in surprise. Your eyes flutter shut as you savor the way he works through your hair, occasionally letting out quiet gasps when he seems to hit just the right spot. His skilled hands leave your scalp for a moment as he reaches for the showerhead to rinse your hair. Without a word, you slide forward, creating space so you can tilt your head back, letting the warm water cascade down into the tub.

Sunghoon gulps at the sight before him. Your face is completely relaxed under the stream, water gliding down your hair. His gaze travels lower, catching a glimpse of your breasts—wet, glistening, and perfectly peaked. He exhales heavily, knowing he shouldn’t touch you. But God, he wants to.

Dragging his eyes back up, he checks your hair, making sure it's ready for the next step.

“Which one is it?” Sunghoon asks, his deep voice reverberating through the steamy room—and your empty mind.

You open your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze for a brief second before reaching for your hair treatment.

With a shy smile, you hand it to your husband, feeling exposed yet reveling in the way he stares at you. His gaze makes you feel wanted. Desired. But it also makes your skin burn with unbearable heat.

Sunghoon takes the small pot, scooping out just a bit of the rich formula with his fingertips as you settle back into place, awaiting his touch once more.

Sunghoon holds your hair carefully, applying the hair mask from the middle to the tips, scrunching it lightly—knowing it’s needed for your wavy strands. As his expert fingers work through your hair, your mind wanders again. He knows exactly what he’s doing, making it painfully clear that he’s done this before. More than once.

“How long do we have to wait?” he asks, taking you by surprise.

“Five minutes,” you respond, turning to face him, your lips pressing into a thin line.

Sunghoon reaches for you, gathering all your hair and placing it over your left shoulder, letting it rest against your chest.

“There,” he murmurs. “Like this, it won’t get wet.” His voice is low, almost hesitant, as he feels the heat creeping up his neck and ears under your unwavering gaze.

“Have you done this before?” you ask softly, your eyes never leaving his face.

Sunghoon looks away, as if trying to avoid the question. But he isn’t scared of you anymore. So why not tell the truth?

“Well,” he begins, settling down on the floor and leaning his back against the tub, his face now level with yours. You rest your head on your palm, waiting for his explanation.

“My ex used to come home drunk after going out with her friends. She was always a mess—barely able to move. Sometimes she would even throw up on herself. So I started helping her shower as soon as she got inside the house.”

His once-relaxed expression hardens. His brows knit together, and his lips form a small, displeased pout as he recalls the memories.

You stay silent, unsure of what to say. Sunghoon notices and turns to face you. Your lips are sealed shut, the corners subtly dipping downward. Your eyes, almost half-lidded, stare at your hand as if you’re fighting an internal battle.

Then, finally, your gaze lifts to meet his. In that moment, nothing else exists—just you and him.

Your heartbeat picks up, thudding so loudly you’re sure Sunghoon can hear it. But he doesn’t seem to care. He’s lost in the red flecks of your deep brown irises, in the way your eyes always give away more than your words ever could.

And before he can think, before logic can catch up—his body moves on its own.

Slowly, he leans in.

Your lips part in anticipation, longing for nothing more than to finally taste those plump lips of his—the ones that never seem to leave your mind. You close your eyes, hoping to feel his warmth against yours, but instead, you're met with nothing.

When you open your eyes, Sunghoon is reaching for the showerhead.

Embarrassment burns through your cheeks, and you quickly shift inside the tub, making room for him to rinse your hair once more. You bite your lip nervously as you tilt your head back, careful to keep the water from getting in your eyes.

Each second drags on unbearably as he gently caresses the ends of your hair, making sure every trace of the mask is gone. The air between you feels thick—so heavy you could probably cut it with a knife. Every moment suffocates you, robbing you of breath.

Sunghoon finally turns off the water. You pull your knees to your chest, resting your cheek against them, the sting of embarrassment and rejection making you want to cry.

Once your hair is done, Sunghoon reaches for a small towel hanging by the tub. He dips a corner into the water before looking at you.

“Can I have your hand?” he asks gently.

You let him take your wrist again, watching as he carefully rubs your injured hand, cleaning it with such tenderness it makes your chest ache. Your wide eyes remain fixed on him, feeling every ounce of care in his touch. The weight in your heart grows heavier, your emotions now as clear as water.

“All done,” Sunghoon murmurs with a small smile, turning his head slightly to meet your gaze. You hesitate before making eye contact, but the softness in his eyes eases the feeling weighing you down.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the living room,” he continues sweetly. “The new season of that basketball anime we were watching just dropped. I’ll bring the blanket and snacks.”

Then he flashes you one of those warm, seductive smiles, and it hits you square in the heart. As he walks away, you don’t move—your mind still stuck on the rejected kiss. Sunghoon notices you lost in thought.

“Come on, hurry up,” he says before closing the door, leaving you alone once and for all.

You let out a long sigh that had been caught in your throat and finally stand up, following his orders.

The rest of the evening unfolds exactly as Sunghoon had planned—the two of you sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching anime and eating junk food. You sit in the right corner while Sunghoon takes the opposite side, but at some point, without you noticing, he inches closer and closer.

Your tired eyes scan the room, burning from the bright TV lights, when you suddenly notice Sunghoon asleep, his head resting on your lap.

You don’t remember him moving this close, nor do you recall him falling asleep. But instead of waking him, you stay still for a few more minutes, letting him rest.

It’s amusing to watch him blink awake, immediately staring at you with a confused expression plastered across his face. The moment he realizes where he is, he quickly apologizes and sits up, his cheeks flushing red at the unexpected closeness.

Yawning, you also get up from the sofa and start heading toward your room, eager to sink into the comfort of your bed.

Sunghoon watches as you walk past him, his eyes never leaving your body. A part of him urges him to run after you, to pull you into his bedroom—but he knows that would be crossing a line he could never return from.

So he stays frozen in place like a fool, watching as you disappear into your room, leaving him feeling dizzy and lonely.

“You first,” Sunghoon instructs as he holds open the heavy restaurant door, leaving space for you to pass so he can follow right after.

The restaurant is busy, filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter as soon as you step inside. The rich scent of barbecue fills your nose, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

A friendly woman stands by the entrance, greeting every guest with a warm smile. As soon as she spots the two of you, she quickly leads you to a table in the back of the room. It’s a table for four, surrounded by tall bamboo plants that provide a sense of privacy.

Sunghoon steps behind you, gently helping you take off your coat. Once done, he drapes it over the back of your chair before guiding you to sit. As you settle in, you glance up at him, wanting to show your gratitude for his gentlemanly actions. Your smile is met with his own as he walks around the table and takes the seat across from you.

Hungry, your eyes scan the menu quickly, already knowing what you want to order. Meanwhile, Sunghoon is still considering his choices. Resting your chin on your hand, you take a moment to admire the way his eyes focus so intently.

It’s Sunday, and since it’s yet another sunny day, Sunghoon invited you to join him at his favorite barbecue place. At first, you were taken aback by his request—he had never done this before. But then you remembered the dinner proposal from the night you injured yourself. He explained that this was the same thing, except this time, you’d be eating out instead of at home.

You smirked as you watched him struggle to get his words out, nervousness creeping in as he tried to explain his intentions. His flustered demeanor was endearing. You reassured him that it was a great idea and that you’d love to join him. The moment you said that, he let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Stop staring at me…” he suddenly says, putting down the menu.

“I can’t help it. The way you were shaking just to ask me to come here was so adorable,” you say sincerely. His reaction is sweet again—he quickly avoids your gaze, and you notice his ears turning red.

Sunghoon then calls out your order to the waitress, who gives him a thumbs-up and a smile. Your eyes wander to the large window next to your seat, offering the prettiest view of the Han River. Outside, people stroll leisurely, looking happy as if life regained its meaning with the sunlight. Your thoughts drift to a young couple sitting on a bench, the man handing the girl a bouquet of pink tulips, and it reminds you of Ni-ki and his sweet nature.

But your thoughts are interrupted by a loud, deep voice with a heavy accent. You turn your head to see a tall, brunette guy staring at Sunghoon, his eyes lighting up with joy.

“Sunghoon, it’s you! I haven’t seen you in so long!” he says happily, quickly leaning in to give Sunghoon a tight hug.

“Jake!” Sunghoon calls out, smiling. You notice how your husband’s face changes when his gaze lands on Jake. His eyes seem to sparkle like never before, and the smile on his lips is completely new—adorable.

“Oh, sorry for being impolite!” Jake quickly adds, looking toward you. “I’m Jake, Sunghoon’s childhood best friend!” The brunette bows at you, and you bow back.

“This is YN, my…” Sunghoon pauses, looking at you. “My wife,” he says softly, and the way the words roll off his tongue makes your cheeks turn red.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” you say kindly, wanting to make a good impression. But despite his smile and politeness, confusion is written all over Jake’s face.

“What happened to Jiwon?” he asks shamelessly, his gaze returning to Sunghoon. Your husband glances at you, looking cornered. His features sharpen as he adjusts his shirt.

“We’re no longer together,” Sunghoon reassures, his brown eyes soft as they meet yours, as if trying to convince himself of that.

“Thank god, man,” Jake blurts out, leaving both of you baffled. “Don’t get me wrong,” he adds, noticing your confused stare, “she used to be a nice girl, but she was crazy as hell.” Your gaze shifts from Jake to Sunghoon. He’s looking at the plate in front of him, his expression weak and sad.

Silence settles for a few seconds, your eyes still glued to your husband’s. Jake seems to sense how uncomfortable the mood has become, and he glances at Sunghoon before speaking again. “It was good to see you, man. I hope we can go back to hanging out together!” He grins at his friend and pats his shoulder.

“If you want, you can sit with us!” you suggest, sensing Sunghoon hasn’t had the chance to catch up with his childhood friend in a while. Sunghoon looks at you, a mix of annoyance and happiness on his face. He’s a little disappointed that he’s no longer alone with you, but he’s also pleased to talk to his friend again.

“Sure, I’d love to!” Jake assures, taking a seat next to Sunghoon.

The conversation that follows is comfortable and fun. Jake starts telling you silly stories from their childhood, his excitement clear in his eyes. While listening intently, your eyes are fixed on Sunghoon. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh so openly, his friend’s easygoing nature making him open up a little more. You admire his big smile, so honest and happy, and how his brown eyes almost disappear when he laughs.

“I have to apologize for something, though,” Jake suddenly says, his gaze turning serious as he fully turns to face Sunghoon. “I shouldn’t have listened to her. It was selfish of me, but I really needed that job…” Jake explains, though you and your husband look at him with furrowed brows, clearly confused.

“Jake…” Sunghoon calls in a low voice, shaking his head and closing his eyes.

“No, listen, it’s my fault. I admit it,” the brunette insists, his accent growing heavier. Sunghoon seems to understand what’s going on, but you’re still confused.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, feeling annoyed to be left out.

Jake glances at you, then at Sunghoon. “Jiwon, his ex. She prohibited me from talking to Sunghoon. She said I was a bad influence on him. When I told her I wouldn’t stop talking to my childhood best friend, she threatened me…” Jake explains slowly, watching as your mouth falls open in surprise. “Her dad was the owner of the advocacy agency I worked at the time, and she said she’d get me fired. My mom was in the hospital at that time, and I was helping my dad pay the bills,” he continues, now shifting his eyes to Sunghoon. “I regret it now because I was fired anyway. But I never stopped caring about you, Sunghoon. The guilt was heavy every day. I couldn’t even look at our pictures from when we were younger.”

Sunghoon looks down at his lap, his hands fidgeting as he listens to his best friend, his heart aching at the honesty in his words. When he lifts his head, you can see he’s holding back tears, his sighs trembling as they meet Jake's eyes.

“It’s okay,” Sunghoon assures his friend, patting his shoulder. “You’re here now; that’s all that matters!” He says with a sad smile. Jake pouts cutely before wrapping his arms around Sunghoon’s shoulders, hugging him tightly.

You’re so busy watching that you don’t even realize you have tears in your eyes, tiny and warm. A melancholic smile forms on your lips as Sunghoon glances at you, wanting to show you how happy he is. But the truth is, it’s such a sad situation that you can’t imagine how alone and abandoned Sunghoon must have felt.

Soon, the food is placed on the table, and the two friends get lost in conversation as they grill the meat, the delicious smell making you giggle like a child. Sunghoon, despite engaging in his friend's conversation, never stops looking out for you. He cuts the meat into bite-sized portions so you can easily pick it up with your fork, keeps an eye on your cup to make sure it’s always full, and watches what food you’re eyeing so he can serve it to you.

The time seemed to fly by faster than usual, and soon you find yourself at the entrance of your home. Sunghoon is on his knees, untying the knots in your heels and helping you slip into your fluffy pink slippers. You walk to the kitchen as your husband stays behind, taking off his shoes. Inside the empty kitchen, you go straight to the fridge and grab two beers, planning to head to the living room and relax.

Sunghoon seems to catch on to your plan, so he heads straight for the living room and claims his spot on the comfy sofa. You soon appear, now in comfortable pajama pants and a long t-shirt, your big glasses back on your face. When you realize where he’s sitting, you let out a loud laugh, catching his attention.

“In the middle? That’s new,” you joke, arching an eyebrow at him. Sunghoon gives you a teasing grin and pats the empty space beside him, inviting you over. You do as he gestures and sit by his side, your knee touching his. “What are we watching? There’s no basketball match today,” you ask, glancing at him.

He’s sitting in the middle of the couch, facing you, while his side is turned toward the TV. “Can we talk instead?” Sunghoon asks softly, studying your focused face.

“Sure!” you reply with a smile, turning to face him, your side now turned toward the television. He stays quiet for a few minutes, his thoughts tangled in his mind as he gathers the courage to start talking. Before speaking, his gaze drifts from your face to his restless hands, resting on his legs.

“Jiwon wasn’t always controlling,” he begins, trying to keep his voice steady. His heart aches at the thought of her, now despising how she treated him. Noticing that he wants to have a serious conversation, your expression shifts too—your eyes narrow, and your smile fades away. “At first, she was calm, loving, and patient. She was always there for me, and that’s what made me fall for her. But over time, she completely changed. She became mean and controlling, prohibiting me from leaving the house in certain clothes, and then from seeing my friends. The worst part was how she always made it seem like it was my fault, telling me that I was trying to show off my looks and that I was starved for other women’s attention. I never even thought about anyone else, you know?” Sunghoon asks, finally able to give you a quick glance. “I could only see her.”

Hearing this wasn’t easy. Your eyebrows furrow, and a lump forms in your throat, making it impossible to say anything. When he briefly looks at you, you try to convey how sorry you feel for him with your eyes. You stare into his deep brown eyes so intensely, you’re sure he can see your soul.

“When we got engaged, it got worse.” He paused, catching his breath as it became harder to breathe. “We moved in with my dad because he was so happy I got engaged and was finally ready to learn about managing his company. Since I was always in meetings and dinners with important people, she became jealous all the time. She’d call me ten times during busy meetings. That’s when she started hitting me. At first, it was pushing me with force, then it turned into punches on my shoulders and sides… Eventually, she started slapping me. Every time I didn’t agree with her or wasn’t home when she wanted, she used it as an excuse to hit me.”

Sunghoon seemed ashamed as he spoke, his gaze nervously shifting around the room. But your eyes never left his face. Tears began to form in your eyes as you listened, and before you could do anything, they started rolling down your cheeks. They were silent but heavy, your breathing unsteady, and your hands trembling. You couldn’t even begin to understand the pain and abuse he had endured.

“I started sleeping terribly by then, feeling lonely and depressed all the time. And I had no one. My dad knew everything but acted like he didn’t. My friends stopped talking to me, and my mom…” Sunghoon’s voice cracked as tears began to form in his eyes. “I was upset at my mom. She caught Jiwon hitting me and told me to leave her and make a report to the police, but instead, I got upset at her.” Without realizing it, his tears started to fall too, wetting his warm face.

Without thinking, you reached for him and cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to look at you. That’s when he noticed you were crying with him, sharing his pain as if you were feeling it too. Your small hands tried to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks, hating to see him this way.

“It’s not your fault, Sunghoon,” you muttered, your voice cracking. “She was abusive and evil, and it had nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong,” you assured him, staring into his eyes as you spoke, your heart aching as if it were being stabbed.

“I know that…” he added, a sad smile forming in his eyes. “Now, I know that.”

“I’m so sorry you went through all of this,” you added, the tears now falling like a waterfall from your red eyes. It’s so unfair that he had to endure all of this, especially knowing his father was abusive too.

“It’s not your fault. You don’t need to apologize,” Sunghoon said, gently pulling your hands off his face. He opted to hold them instead, craving the warmth of your touch against his cold skin. “I miss my mom so much,” he confessed, his sad eyes searching for yours again.

“I’m sure she misses you too. She loves you so much,” you replied, trying to smile. “I’m sure if you ran to her arms, she wouldn’t question it. She’d just take you in, because after all, you are her son.” You squeezed his hands tightly as you spoke, trying to reassure him with your words.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything else and remained quiet, watching you, completely fascinated by your empathetic heart. If he wasn’t sure of what he felt for you before, he certainly was now. Under your caring gaze, Sunghoon tugged gently on your wrist, silently conveying what he wanted. You bit your lip and hid a smile, then got up and settled between his legs, your back against his chest. Your husband quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder, inhaling your sweet perfume.

You let him do as he wished, knowing he craved closure after opening his heart to you. And to be honest, it felt good when he held you like this—his embrace was strong and comfortable. As the moon rose in the night sky, you and Sunghoon kept a familiar silence, enjoying each other’s presence.

The next two weeks pass by smoothly. Sunghoon starts eating dinner at home with you every day, always coming to the kitchen with a bright smile and a hungry stomach. You both talk and laugh about the stories he tells you about the company, and the atmosphere is comfortable and familiar. Usually, after eating, your husband helps you clean up and gather the dishes to load into the dishwasher.

Then, the old routine of hanging out in the living room follows, but ever since that afternoon, you and Sunghoon now spend more time together. He typically sits back against the sofa, opening his arms for you to snuggle against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. He then wraps his arms around you or caresses your soft hair, loving how it always smells clean and fresh.

Your hand is finally healed. Last week, Sunghoon drove you to your appointment, and the doctor removed the stitches, telling you to be careful for a few more days. You were so happy to finally be able to do your usual tasks instead of lying around all day. Today is no different. It’s almost seven pm, and Sunghoon must be close, so you finish the last touches on the meal.

Suddenly, your phone starts ringing, the loud music startling you. You check the caller ID and see Sunoo’s name. You almost forgot you asked him for a favor. You quickly accept his call:

“Hey girl, sorry for calling so late,” he greets from the other side.

“It’s okay…” you respond, noticing how hesitant his voice sounds. “Any news?”

“Yeah, that’s why I called.” Sunoo took a deep breath. “You were right. It was her who was giving him those pills. But they aren’t normal sleeping pills, YN. They’re drugs, actual drugs. My dad followed her for a few days and found out that she has a male friend who works at a pharmacy, and he provides her with drugs. He swaps them for the sleeping pills and gives her the bottles like it’s nothing.” As Sunoo explains, you feel your blood start to boil, your body temperature rising as you finally piece everything together. “We can meet another day so I can show you the evidence and explain it better!”

“Yes, of course!” Then, you hear Sunghoon’s car pull into the driveway. “Thank you, Sunoo. Tell your father he doesn’t owe me anything anymore. Sunghoon’s here, I have to go.” Just as you finish speaking, you hear him punch in the passcode and walk inside. Your fingers quickly end the call, and you try to act naturally. It’s hard to control your feelings when you first see Sunghoon. Today, he looks different—his face is serious, and his lips are pressed into a thin line.

You study him carefully, sensing something is wrong. Sunghoon steps into the kitchen without a word, circles the island, and comes close to you. He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your chest, catching you by surprise. Your hands quickly find their way to his hair, and you caress it as you wait for him to speak.

“Today was so stressful.” He whined with a pout on his lips, his eyes glancing at yours. “I feel so irritated, anytime someone talked to me today I was rude.” He explained, now lifting his head and pulling you flush against him, now your head was in his chest.

You inhale his scent, feeling your nerves begin to calm down. “It’s okay, I’m here with you now,” you say sweetly, looking up at him with doe eyes, making him feel like you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

You slowly pull away from him to guide him to the dinner table, then go to take care of the food. The jjajangmyeon is ready, and it smells delicious. You carefully place the bowl in front of him, then do the same for yourself. You sit across from him, and while you eat, you steal glances at his face. Your mind drifts to Jiwon, and you bite your lip, trying to contain the rage you feel. How could she do this to him? In addition to abusing him, she made him an addict. Sunghoon notices the way your face hardens and asks:

“You okay? You seem upset.” He asks while slurping his noodles.

“I’m fine, just frustrated, that’s all,” you explain, your eyes completely avoiding his.

“Frustrated? Like sexually, or in general?” Your mouth opens at the question, not expecting such a bold one. He sure has been a bit more comfortable with you lately.

“Sunghoon,” you call sternly, but your face betrays you as a soft red blush spreads across your cheeks.

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything else, just smirking as he keeps eating, clearly enjoying making you embarrassed. This past week, it’s been harder and harder for him to resist you. It feels like the more he gets to know you, the more desire burns inside him, consuming him every single night.

The rest of the meal is silent, except for the slurping of the noodles. When you’re done, you get up and start gathering your dishes for the dishwasher. Today, you’re eager to go to bed, not feeling very social since Jiwon keeps bugging your mind. Sunghoon soon follows behind you, also picking up his dishes and helping you load them correctly into the machine.

You try to avoid him as much as possible, feeling like you can’t be your usual sweet self. After helping you, he brings his work case to the table and takes out his laptop, wanting to work a little while in your presence. But as you try to pass by him at the table, he suddenly gets up from his chair and bumps into you, causing you to stumble onto the table. His expensive work bag is knocked over and falls open, spilling its contents onto the floor.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” Sunghoon asks, concerned, his hand reaching out for your face, but you pull away.

“Yeah, sorry I made your stuff fall,” you joke, squatting down to begin picking up everything. Sunghoon follows suit, also gathering his things. That’s when he notices the small picture his ex gave him weeks ago. He tries to grab it, but before he can, your small hand picks it up first.

“What’s this?” you murmur more to yourself, inspecting the picture. You soon realize it’s a photo of Sunghoon and his ex-fiancée, his fake smile giving it away. Then, your fingers flip the picture to find a small bag with two pills inside. “Sunghoon…” you call, dangling the picture in your fingers.

“YN, I can explain,” he says, stuttering, already knowing he’s messed up.

“You better start explaining then,” you add nervously, standing up and crossing your arms. Your eyes are heavy as they stare into him.

“She gave me that a few weeks ago… I didn’t mean to take them, ever. Look—” He says, reaching out to grab the damn photograph. “The tape is intact. I didn’t take anything.”

“How did she give you this?” you ask, your voice rising as your blood starts to boil. You close your eyes, trying to calm your racing heart.

“I met her,” Sunghoon confesses, his head hanging as he speaks, too embarrassed to face you. “It was weeks ago, before you cut yourself. She—she was upset because I stopped reaching out to her, and she asked me to meet her.” He explains, now slowly stepping towards you, his hands reaching out for you. “I didn’t want to go—”

“But you went anyway,” you interrupt, your patience running thin. How could he do this to himself? Torture himself like this? As he gets closer, you step back, not wanting him to touch you right now.

“I went because I wanted to say goodbye to her. I never want to see her again. It was my way of saying goodbye,” Sunghoon explains, his eyes wide as he tries to justify himself.

“Sure,” you add, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth. Not wanting to argue further, you turn your back to him and start walking toward your bedroom. But it seems like Sunghoon isn’t done.

“Actually, I don’t know why I’m explaining myself. You don’t have anything to do with me,” he adds, feeling bitter and rejected as you walk away. His words make you stop. You slowly turn around and look at him.

“Oh, so now I don’t mean anything?” you add, feeling more hurt than angry. You knew he was pent up from work, and it was making him say whatever came to his mind. You weren’t exactly upset at him, but he was there at the moment, and you might have poured everything onto him.

“Wait, I didn’t—” Sunghoon starts to speak, running his hand through his hair. “You can’t tell me who I can meet and who I can’t. It doesn’t matter if I have feelings for you or not!” he adds, starting to feel angry again. “We’re not even together. Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?”

As the last words leave his mouth, they pierce through your heart like a blade, and tears begin to well up in your eyes. The sour truth leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You stare at him one last time without saying anything, your hands shaking and your legs feeling wobbly. A single tear falls from your eyes, but you quickly catch it with the back of your hand, feeling stupid for crying because of him.

Without saying another word, you turn your back to him again and walk up the staircase, avoiding him as much as possible. Sunghoon soon realizes what he’s said and sprints behind you, guilt consuming him. He didn’t mean any of those words. He didn’t even know why he said them. Maybe it was the frustration of the busy day or the way you looked at him, as if you were disappointed in him. To his dismay, as soon as he reaches the top of the stairs, you walk into your bedroom and slam the door right in his face.

And so, he stands by your closed door like an idiot, his head low as he debates whether he should knock and apologize or leave you alone.

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things @nxzz-skz @saphiranishimurashan @ikeupups @yangjungwonnie @xiiaobaoo @itsuen @laylasbunbunny @mellowgalaxystrawberry @firstclassjaylee @questionsdearreader @greeyjre @en-doll @riqomi @lovingvoidgoatee @mitmit01 @miuwonis @aureliaaaa555 @han-to-my-minho @heeweenie @vixensss @ro-diares @hoonvinx @immelissaaa @jiryunn @quilevyt @vrusha01 @kkamismom12 @skzenhalove @theothernads @moonpri @nicoleparadas @fightqueen @heesunghooney @starl0ver4 @jooniesbears-blog @k1arar3 @liixly-blog @kolawnk @mitmit01 @dummyf @tender-is-the-moon

If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

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comradetoad · 3 days ago

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He's a doctor not a damsel, dammit! (A Leonard "Bones" McCoy in a Situation fic rec list)

A non-comprehensive list of fics I love where Bones gets kidnapped, left behind, stranded, held hostage, or trapped, sometimes on purpose. Mind the tags for some of them with violence and torture, but all have relatively happy endings.

Gen

Equilibrium, PSW (TOS, T, 152k): The GOAT McCoy in a Situation fic. Reads like a good TOS novel, with a compelling story and strong characterizations that emphasize how important the triumvirate are to each other.

Safe, SidSky (AOS, T, 290k): Khan escapes and kidnaps a beloved enterprise crew member (guess who!), testing both the captive and those trying to rescue him. A long but really excellent post-into darkness fic that really brings out Khan's characterization from Space Seed and Wrath of Khan, diving into the Eugenics wars, section 31, and the differences (and similarities) between the prime and kelvin universes. Gen with a focus on Kirk and McCoy's friendship.

the one with the dog, kurgaya (AOS, T, 9k): a much more chill situation for our doctor! Just involves some time and maybe universe travel to see our friends on Enterprise NX-01.

Mudd in Your Eye, Avirra (TOS, T, 61k): Harvey Mudd finds the Botany Bay instead of the enterprise, but they are still in need of a doctor. McCoy is both a badass and a damsel in this, the best combination.

McKirk

for I would throw myself into the flames that you need not burn, thesecretdetectivecollection (AOS, M, 10k): With Jim unconscious, Bones pretends to be the captain in order to protect the away team, and suffers the consequences. There's also a part 2 focused on physical and psychological recovery from the Situation, plus more sex.

Chiraptophilia, Joules Mer (AOS, T, 15k): Post-rescue, but a difficult recovery is still a situation. A McKirk get-together/feelings realization fic.

Hold Me Tight (I'll Hold My Breath), laughter_now (AOS, T, 30k): Jim and Bones are in a shuttle crash, trapped in a dangerous, high stress situation while awaiting rescue. Very gripping as a reader!

To the best of my ability and judgment, Time_that_is_given_to_you (AOS, G, 98k): post into-darkness, former section 31 agents kidnap McCoy, wanting his cure for death. The search, rescue, and aftermath are full of complicated emotions for bones and Jim.

Fortunate Son, mardia (AOS, E, 51k): an excellent and unique take on Tarsus in the Kelvin universe, with Bones in a Situation in the present and in the past via flashbacks. Also some cool andorian culture world building! Recently established McKirk.

without retention or restraint, periphery87 (AOS, T, 19k): another entry in the 'Jim has to rescue a brave McCoy and they both realize some things' genre, with some cool mind meld stuff and Spock being very supportive.

Spones

For What They Are, stealthestars (TOS, E, 9k): a must-read Spones fic, it's tagged with both TOS and AOS, but the character dynamics and physical descriptions are very much TOS. McCoy finds himself at the mercy of a local warlord and Spock is Not Happy about it. Bonus mind meld sex at the end, too.

sing for the damage we've done (and the worse things that we'll do) and i speak in smoke signals (and you answer in code), flibbertygigget (TOS, T, 2k and 6k): Technically gen but the Spock and McCoy vibes are strong and in my heart they are in love. McCoy faces an ethical dilemma, and Spock helps when he has to deal with the consequences of his choice.

Left Behind, sleepymccoy (TOS, T, 37k): Bones is trapped on a primitive planet with the Enterprise in orbit, unsure if they are able to hear his transmissions as he tries to survive. Recently established Spones, plus some lovely original art!

McSpirk

do you love your neighbor (is it in your nature), Muir_Wolf (TOS, T, 20k): McCoy really suffers on a temporary assignment gone sideways, but also is not a helpless damsel. Lots of comfort to make up for the hurt, too. An all time favorite I've re-read many times.

Approximation, liadan14 (AOS, E, 15k): Bones is prevented from returning to the ship by a genocidal colony leader, and Jim and Spock do not handle it well. Lots of interesting world building, some academy era McKirk, a bit of angst, and a smutty ending. A great dynamic for the AOS triumvirate!

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek aos #mcspirk #spones #mckirk #bones mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #fic recs #who else wants to lose themselves in a story and feel emotions and not think about the world? just me?

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uncleasriel · 3 days ago

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I would argue that those modern editions still struggle to deliver on 'narrative' in the same way that, say, a robust 'narrativist' (Ugh, old Forge speak) game of Fate RPG would - or better yet, a game like Kagematsu would.

Looking at 5e D&D - it does make the characters more survivable, so you can create your won little OC and have them act out their own little stories. (A smart-ass comment story I once told a was "I min-maxed my character so they could survive combats long enough to talk about their feelings".) But that very survivability dilutes what earlier editions were good at, and doesn't add many mechanics in concert with it.

But when you look at any other mechanics, they're kind of haphazard - a Background might grant Skill bonuses, or starting equipment, or some Bonds, or even a Special Feature to push (When the Folk Hero uses Rustic Hospitality, the player can get a Safe Place to rest among the Common Folk). But while those are nicely grafted on, how often are they employed? How often do all of these function mechanically? Realistically, how often do folks use Backgrounds for anything other than Skill Proficiencies? Wouldn't it be more narratively compelling if the Bonds had some mechanical benefit (Gain a Hero Point/XP/etc if they cause problem for the character or the GM uses them to Compel the player or Intrude on their plans?)? Wouldn't D&D reward that kind of play more if the Dungeon Master's Guide had a guide on how to effectively set those up? Would is still 'feel' like D&D if it did?

I question whether it was Older D&D Editions proper, or some soft of variation on the Six Cultures of Play that cropped up over time. I think OSR in particular has embrace the 'naturalism' of the environment over concerns like game balance, and reinterpreted into new approaches using older versions of the rulesets (or remixes thereof).

I would personally say that ThyDungeonGal is mostly complaining about how the loudest voices in ttrpg culture of the past 10 years have been through D&D, that most people assume D&D (and its ilk) are the be-all, end-all of TTRPGs and struggle to conceive of ways of playing that aren't implicitly colored by the quietly assume "D&D-isms" like Combat Balance, having to do Lore/Perception/Skill checks to accomplish a thing (instead of just getting the information from the GM), prioritizing mechanical invocation over creative description of actions ("I want to make a perception check for footprints" vs "I check scan the room to look for hidden signs of the suspect's passage"), or the like.

D&D, especially under the age of Streaming Actual Plays, have tried to sell itself as "The Play Pretend With Your Friends Story Vehicle", when the mechanical support for them really isn't as robust as it ought to be. I would argue from as far back as the 2000s (when I got into D&D) folks tried to play it that same way because "it was the game for that" - a core assumption shaped by the availability of what titles you could find at the local game story, most of whose options were either d20 3.5 sourcebooks or White Wolf supplements. Where I am living now, most folks tried to do the same with with Palladium books - forcing them into the shape of "play pretend games" and using some kludges of half-assed homebrew the best brains in the highschool AV club could cobble together.

The point I'm slowly circling is that there are so many more diverse diverse RPG titles and game systems that can emulate specific genres or modes of play, and folks just aren't discovering them because D&D'smarket dominance sucks up all oxygen in the room. There are titles that can do so many more wild and crazy things, from violent crime thrillers like Hollowpoint to playable love stories like The Romance Trilogy to presteige TV simulators like Dramasystem or Prime Time Adventures. There are settings and systems that cover things like Victorian Monster Hunters, Humanistic Occult Horror, Victorian Pulp Adventurers, 1930s Pulp Heroes of various sorts, space opera ... and still so many people entering the TTRPG Space can only ever concieve of things through the lens of D&D. Even half the titles I listed still have many "trad" gaming assumptions, and don't really push what the genre can do.

At the risk of coming off like a grumpy old Marxist...D&D is a cultural hegemony that quietly places limits on what "playing pretend with made-up rules" can be, and most folks don't really question it, or know how to question it.

Well, that's my long, rambling, unformed answer. I hope that was coherent and not too asinine!

One of the funnier manifestations of gleeblor is Pathfinder players: I'll make a post about how D&D will color people's expectations of what RPGs can be like and create a very narrow set of expectations about the medium, and inevitably some Pathfinder player will be like "haha yeah those D&D players should really broaden their horizons, Pathfinder fixes all of their issues," and my friend. I'm sorry to say this but you are not immune to gleeblor and in many regards where it comes to expectations of playstyle created by the game, your favorite game is in fact just another company copying D&D's homework and slightly altering the wording.

#dnd #D&D #d dungeond & dragons #dungeons and dragons #pathfinder rpg #ttrpgs #indie ttrpgs #ttrpg discourse #ttrpg discussion

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checkeredflagggs · 1 day ago

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Febuwhump Day 1: Vocal Cords

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 1,183,932 others

y/n_rb: Bahrain here we come! This is gonna be our season!

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user1: you’ve got this girl!

↳user2: represent! So incredibly proud to be able to support a woman in f1!

↳user1: it’s been so long…

oscarpiastri: glad to have you here!

↳logansargeant: not sure I’d go so far…

↳y/n_rb: wow logie just say you hate women then!

↳oscarpiastri: yeah that’s not very feminist of you

↳logansargeant: I’ve been cursed by the universe

↳logansargeant: LET ME BE CLEAR — I DO NOT HATE WOMEN

↳logansargeant: it’s just y/n_rb is every intrusive thought you’ve ever had with a dash of no impulse control or thought-to-mouth filter

↳y/n_rb: hey!

↳oscarpiastri: no that sounds about right — just add a dash of no media training too

↳redbullracing: oh no…

↳y/n_rb: I have a contract! You ain’t getting rid of me so easily!

↳redbullracing: we’re scheduling media training sessions right away

↳logansargeant: good luck!

maxverstappen1: it’s great to have you on the team!

↳y/n_rb: oh my god it’s Max Verstappen!!

↳maxverstappen1: …we’ve met before?

↳y/n_rb: still!

↳user3: it’s not even the start of the season and she’s already bullying both her old F2 competitors and her teammate 😆😆

user4: proud y/n fan here! Having followed her since her F3 days I can say with full confidence that I’m so glad we’re gonna have a new grid terrorist again!

↳fernandoalo_oficial: 🤨🤨🤨

↳user4: besides you of course Mr Rookie sir

fernandoalo_oficial: ¡Hola! ¡Me alegro de verte finalmente aquí! hello! glad to finally see you here!

↳y/n_rb: Mr Fernando sir I’m a big fan! Do you have a couple of minutes to answer a few questions?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: Sí?

↳y/n_rb: score!

↳maxverstappen1: oh no

↳logansargeant: no no no

↳oscarpiastri: please don’t

↳redbullracing: the training book doesn’t have a chapter on what to do now…

↳y/n_rb: smile and wave boys. Just smile and wave

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, liamlawson30, and 2,197,284 others

tagged: y/n_rb, redbullracing, pierregasly, alpinef1team

f1: contact between redbullracing’s y/n_rb and alpinef1team’s pierregasly turned dangerous when y/n flipped! She was quickly freed from her car and airlifted to the nearest hospital. Still conscious during the crash and waving to the fans while taken to the helicopter, no further information is known on her injuries.

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user5: oh my god that was so awful

user6: I’m still sat in shock

maxverstappen1: Based on the text messages I’ve received in the last 10 minutes, she’s fine.

↳logansargeant: how many did you get? Cause I’ve gotten 82 in the last 3

↳maxverstappen1: 187 in 10 minutes

↳oscarpiastri: 23 in the last minute

↳liamlawson30: too many for the group chat. It broke my phone

↳user7: not even on the grid and still terrorizing them 😂 liked by y/n_rb

user8: why did they have to play her radio though…

↳user9: no that was fucking awful

↳user10: I don’t think I’ll be able to forget her screams

↳y/n_rb: skk food bsny!!

↳logansargeant: and that’s the concussion typing 😆

logansargeant

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, oscarpiastri, 2,284,469 others

logansargeant: “Tell that frenchie that I lived bitch!”

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user11: oh thank god

↳user12: that was one of the most harrowing crashes I’ve seen

user13: if that’s not a Gen-z response I don’t know what is

↳user14: I’m just glad she’s ok

pierregasly: 😑😑

↳pierregasly: well I guess I’m glad she’s ok

↳logansargeant: “JUST SAY YOU DONT LIKE WOMEN FRENCHIE!”

↳pierregasly: I LIKE WOMEN

↳y/n_rb: qe kniw TROPID$$$ SHIILS CSKL TJE PILICE ON U

↳logansargeant: I’ve taken her phone again but she meant “we know TRIPOD!!! SHOULD CALL THE POLICE ON YOU”

↳pierregasly: oh so she’s good

↳logansargeant: as good as she’s ever been

oscarpiastri: glad to see she’s ok!

↳logansargeant: some pretty shredded vocal cords and a nasty concussion but yeah she’s fine

↳oscarpiastri: ouch! Sending a gift basket!

↳logansargeant: “if that thing has a stupid apple in it I’m gonna save it and stuff it down your throat you stupid Aussie!”

↳oscarpiastri:…🫣🫣

↳maxverstappen1: apples?

↳oscarpiastri: don’t ask

↳logansargeant: don’t

↳liamlawson30: do not bring up that trauma again

↳logansargeant: “🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻”

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @mxm47max @angelluv16 @voidvannie @justaf1girl

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00valentina-writes00 · 3 days ago

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✞⛧Vi x a terminally sick girlfriend✞⛧

✞⛧ Vi is a fighter, through and through, but loving someone terminally ill breaks something inside her that even her fists can’t fix. The helplessness gnaws at her constantly.

✞⛧ She spends countless sleepless nights sitting by your side, watching your chest rise and fall, terrified that one day it won’t. She forces herself to stay awake even when her body begs for rest, just in case.

✞⛧ You’re her anchor. The thought of losing you makes her feel like she’s drowning in an ocean she can’t punch her way out of.

✞⛧ At first, she doesn’t handle your diagnosis well. She storms out, her knuckles bloodied after hitting the wall repeatedly. She doesn’t cry until she’s alone, in some dark corner of the Lanes, where no one can see.

✞⛧ Despite the rage and sorrow, Vi vows to make every single day you have left as perfect as she can. She plans little surprises—a flower picked from some forgotten corner of Zaun, your favorite food (even if it takes hours to find), or just a quiet walk.

✞⛧ She starts working herself to the bone to afford medicines and treatments, even if it means taking dangerous jobs. The bruises and scars she brings home mean nothing compared to keeping you alive a little longer.

✞⛧ Vi softens around you in a way she doesn’t with anyone else. Her tough exterior cracks when she’s with you, and her voice drops to a whisper when she reassures you.

✞⛧ The guilt eats at her because she can’t save you. She’s supposed to protect the people she loves, but there’s nothing she can do except watch you slip away.

✞⛧ When the illness leaves you bedridden, Vi does everything for you without complaint—feeding you, holding you when you’re too weak to sit up, tucking you in when you shiver from the pain.

✞⛧ She gets fiercely protective when anyone brings up your condition in a way she deems insensitive. One wrong word, and her glare alone silences them.

✞⛧ Vi refuses to cry in front of you. She wants to be your rock, your strength, even if she’s breaking inside. She waits until you’re asleep to break down quietly, her hand gripping yours as tears streak down her face.

✞⛧ Despite her stoic front, she often sneaks glances at you when you’re not looking, memorizing every detail of your face, every line, every laugh, terrified she’ll forget when you’re gone.

✞⛧ Vi starts keeping a journal, documenting every memory with you—the way your laugh sounds, the way your hand fits perfectly in hers, your inside jokes. It’s her way of holding onto you forever.

✞⛧ She asks Ekko to help build small, practical devices to make your life easier—like a self-warming blanket for cold nights or something to help you breathe easier.

✞⛧ Caitlyn offers support, but Vi struggles to let anyone else in. This is her grief, her pain, her love for you, and it feels too personal to share.

✞⛧ You tease her about being too serious sometimes, and for your sake, she tries to crack a joke or two, even if her smile feels strained.

✞⛧ On your bad days, when you’re in too much pain to talk, she sits beside you in silence, holding your hand. She whispers promises you can barely hear—that she’ll never forget you, that you’ll always be with her.

✞⛧ Vi learns how to braid your hair when you’re too weak to do it yourself. She spends hours perfecting it until it’s just how you like it.

✞⛧ She tells you stories of her childhood, even the painful ones, just to make you smile or laugh at her antics. She’d give anything to see you happy, even for a moment.

✞⛧ When the end grows near, Vi becomes a shadow of herself. She’s quieter, more withdrawn, and the only time she speaks is to you.

✞⛧ You make her promise not to let grief consume her, and though she nods, you both know it’s a promise she won’t be able to keep.

✞⛧ The day you pass, Vi is holding your hand. She whispers that she loves you, over and over, as if saying it enough times might keep you with her.

✞⛧ She doesn’t cry when you take your last breath. She goes numb, her grip on your hand tightening as if she can will you back to life.

✞⛧ Vi spends hours by your side after you’re gone, refusing to leave. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs, her head bowed, but no one dares to approach her.

✞⛧ For weeks after, Vi walks through the Lanes in a daze. Her fists itch for a fight, but even throwing punches doesn’t bring the release it used to.

✞⛧ She avoids Caitlyn and Ekko, pushing everyone away. The weight of her grief feels too heavy to share, and she doesn’t want their pity.

✞⛧ Vi returns to the journal she started for you. She writes letters to you, filling the pages with everything she didn’t get to say, everything she wishes she could still tell you.

✞⛧ She keeps something of yours—a piece of jewelry, an old sweater—and carries it with her everywhere. It’s her way of keeping you close.

✞⛧ Vi finds herself visiting the places you loved most, sitting in silence and pretending you’re still there beside her.

✞⛧ The nights are the hardest. She reaches for you in her sleep, only to wake up to an empty bed, and the ache in her chest feels unbearable.

✞⛧ Despite her grief, she keeps her promise to you in small ways—helping kids in the Lanes, being kinder, trying to be the person you saw in her.

✞⛧ Sometimes, Vi talks to you when she’s alone, as if you’re still there. She tells you about her day, her struggles, and how much she misses you.

✞⛧ Your memory becomes her driving force. She throws herself into protecting the people she loves, determined not to lose anyone else.

✞⛧ On the anniversary of your death, she visits your grave with flowers. She sits for hours, talking to you as if you can hear her.

✞⛧ Vi never stops loving you. Even years later, she finds herself looking for glimpses of you in the faces of strangers or hearing your laugh in a crowd.

✞⛧ Your absence leaves a permanent mark on her, but she carries your love like a tattoo on her soul—painful, beautiful, and everlasting.

✞⛧ Vi finds peace in the fact that, even though she couldn’t save you, she gave you everything she could. You were her greatest love, and she’ll carry that love with her forever.

✞⛧ In her quietest moments, when the world slows down, Vi whispers your name like a prayer, her heart aching but grateful for the time you had together.

#vi x y/n #arcane #arcane x reader #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi imagines #vi league of legends #vi headcanons #violet arcane #vi x you #vi angst #arcane angst #arcane headcanon #arcane imagine

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minteagalaxea · 2 days ago

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blood . line (p. two) | jy.u

jey uso . part two

genre: smut (minors dni) . a modicum of plot content warnings: oral sex (male receiving) . unprotected sex (please use protection) . daddy kink . dirty talk . afab reader (she/her pronouns) . mild manhandling/strength kink . panty ripping (and keeping) word count: 2.52k inspiration: the concept of a glucose guardian/sucrose supplier . the accountants in the john wick series . the concept of friends with benefits . songs: do i wanna know by the arctic monkeys (slowed and reverb instrumental) (x) . love scene by baekhyun (slowed and reverb) (x) read also: "hot . line" (x) notes: thank you again for everyone who has been supporting the first part! i hope you guys are able to enjoy this part, too! special shoutout (again) to @lov3rla03 and @spiicii for endorsing my insanity <3

she was starting to look forward to her weekly…meetings with jey. she really was.

the routine was simple: every friday, after she finished her work, handling everything she had to for her boss, she would go home, settle and get comfortable, call the bloodline, greet quynh, and then get redirected to have a hot and heavy conversation with jey for about an hour or so. and it wasn’t a routine she was too keen on deviating from, given that her entire work life revolved around schedules and rituals to keep her from losing it whenever changes happened.

hence why she took it strangely when after her call with jey, he asked her to stay on the line, and transferred her back to the main line, where she heard quynh’s steady contralto.

“quynh…what’s going on?” from what she had gathered, any interaction with quynh beyond their initial greeting wasn’t generally good. lex, who gave her the business card, did tell her some horror stories: quynh holding you after your session could be anything, and if you got redirected to roman of all people without requesting it, then it generally meant one was fucked.

fortunately for her, quynh wasn’t giving her a warning, at least not in the traditional sense. “so, it’s been a few sessions, and i trust they’ve been going well?”

“yeah, it has, thank you for asking.” she wasn’t sure about why she sounded so formal, though quynh took it as it came as they explained.

“anyways, i was hoping if you recalled our initial conversation, about in-person interactions.”

her breath hitched at the realization, humming an assent so that quynh could finish the sentiment with long-suffering affection, “this is a bit unprecedented for me, but jey has requested an in-person session with you.”

speechless. that was what jey reduced her to. and apparently, that’s what he reduced quynh to. okay, so she didn’t know quynh that well, but the fact that this was unprecedented was enough. and so, naturally, she accepted.

“excellent, sweetie. since these work a little differently than your usual sessions, you send the session payment as a sort of down payment. i’m sure you know that there’s a bit of an upcharge.”

as she worked through the payment process with quynh, she found herself excited for the upcoming week as she notated the details—the same time as her usual appointment, only this time with a high-end restaurant and luxury suite to match.

it didn’t take her too long to settle on an outfit when the appointment approached—a warm gold dress that hugged her just right and had her undertones glowing, and a smokey eyeshadow and dark nude lip to match the mood of the evening. she felt powerful, pretty, and perfectly excited as she took the taxi to the restaurant downtown, letting the waitress lead her to her table.

and then, naturally, her jaw dropped when she saw the man in front of her.

because there was no way that whatever higher beings decided to bless him with a voice of crushed sin also decided to give him the same blessings to his entire existence like he was some fucking sex god—or well, he probably was, given his line of work. the wolfish, cheerful grin, the messy charm of his hair, and his voice. holy fuck, his voice sounded even more heavenly and hellish now that there wasn’t a phone line separating them.

she felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she shook his hand, admiring the casual outfit that did wonders to the tattoos she saw along his arms with the rolled-up sleeves and the texture of his beard when he went to kiss her hand, his lips warm against the cool sensation of her rings as they took their seats across from one another.

“so…thank you for taking me out,” she started, nervous as she took a sip of her water, “from what it sounded like, this normally doesn’t happen.”

jey responded, voice dripping with silk and poisoned honey, “i thought it would be nice to meet the woman who’s caught my attention these past few months.”

oh, how her skin flared in heat with that comment, internally loathing how she was progressively getting more delusional, falling for his words that may or may not be a reflection of reality. yet, she played along, “it is nice…getting to meet the man i’ve been calling ‘daddy’ for the past month and a half.”

if he noticed her nerves, he made no point to acknowledge it as he requested a bottle of champagne to celebrate after they placed their orders. upon the waiter’s departure, jey started questioning, “so, mamas, what do you do to afford phone calls and fancy dates with me?”

she laughed, his candor refreshing as she explained her career to him, working in her high-running career as a personal assistant to one of the most demanding bosses in the world (in her completely biased opinion). though, he did make an empathetic jest about her struggles as he quipped, “mamas, i work for and with my cousin. who’s also kinda my uncle.” she had never laughed harder as he jested, made her laugh over wine and deconstructed meals that she didn’t understand the premise of.

“waffle house might be more fun next time, mami. i think you’d like it if we went at the right time,” jey remarked casually, and she raised an eyebrow. it wasn’t inherently a bad suggestion, but perhaps, in her view, that it was even a suggestion in the first place.

“daddy, we haven’t even finished this evening and you’re already planning for another one?” she teased, voice incredulous as she tried to mask it with a sip of her champagne.

his response was as smooth as the pen she used to sign off on the receipt when the check came, “well, mamas, you make good company. and now that i’ve seen your beautiful face, i don’t wanna stop seeing it.”

oh fuck, if he kept saying shit like that, she wasn’t going to keep herself (or her body) in control. “daddy, you’re gonna make me delusional thinking you’re like this with just me,” she whispered as they both rose to their feet, his hand on her waist and heated like an iron brand as they strolled towards the fancy hotel a couple blocks away.

and just for him to nail the point home? jey had the actual audacity to whisper in the elevator on the way to the suite, “i am just like this with you, mamas. nobody else.”

her heart fluttered in her bones at the admission; by the time they entered the suite of the evening, she took the man by the shoulders, shoving him down on the bed to straddle his waist. perhaps with the same audacious nature that seems to waft off of the man like his delightful cologne, she inquired, “really? does that mean you’ve been coming every time we talk?”

jey didn’t have to even say anything to confirm her curiosities—the smolder, the firm grip to her derrière was confirmation in droves when he tangled his lips and tongue in a kiss so dizzying that it made her head swim in hues of gold and his scent. she could taste the champagne on his lips and the raspberry on his tongue from his cheesecake as her hips swiveled atop him.

licking off the string of saliva connected their parted lips, she moved down, kneeling on the ottoman at the end of the bed, unbuttoning his trousers and yanking his briefs down in one fell swoop. “shit,” she marvelled at his length, “this is so unfair.”

it was unfair, because this man had to be blessed with a dick as beautiful as he was, pretty and leaking and hard as steel at this point. she couldn’t stop herself from running her lips up and down his cock, whiny and needy as she started to suckle on the tip, wanting to make this excursion worth their while. and as she worked, tongue swirling around the tip and with gentle pressure around the shaft, she got to coax those sounds she became so attuned to over the phone in real life.

she was definitely correct in her thinking that he was going to sound so much more beautiful without technological obstruction. his groans sounded of concentrated lust and voracity, his hand holding her hair firm but not yanking as she attenuated to his cues: how his hips would buck when she ran her tongue along the underside just right, how his sounds grew more pronounced each instance she took him all the way down her willing maw, throat flexing at his girth.

it wasn’t difficult to get him to burst, even though he continuously warned her. however, she knew it was an empty threat of his, with how his lips wove words of absolute filth, about he was right. “knew you were gonna look so pretty on my dick, mami. so fucking good to daddy.”

the praise made her pussy so much wetter, propelling her to work harder to earn those sounds, his praise, because he was—quite literally—fulfilling her fantasies with him. and she nearly came on the spot when jey did, spilling his seed into her mouth with a fervent, heady grunt as he kept her nose brushing his navel, “take it all, mamas. make daddy proud.” she swallowed with pleading eyes, melting into his deep and warm gaze as she milked him for everything he had; subsequently, she let him swallow all of her sounds when he tugged her off of his shaft and slammed his lips onto hers when he deposited her back on his lap.

“shit, mamas, you’re so good to me, made me cum so hard,” he crooned against her swollen lips, one raking through her hair and cradling her close and the other already going down to hike up her dress and fucking yank her drenched panties off her frame. her gasp echoed in his ears, especially when he winked at her to shove them in his pocket before unzipping her dress, letting it pool at her hips before proper extrication. she could only gasp again when he lifted her up so effortlessly and deposited her on her back while he made haste to get all his clothes off, with the additional knowledge that her soaked panties now have a home in his pocket for perpetuity.

in the frantic, fervent pace of their fucking, jey offered a moment of respite, one desperately needed for them both to try and prolong their fun as he pressed his already-hardening length against her slick petals. she supposed there was a massive benefit of sleeping with a man with nearly no refractory period and all energy. “jey, daddy, you gotta fuck me, please,” her voice breathed into his mouth as he slicked himself with her wetness, “i’m clean, just put your dick in.” “i know, mamas—fuck, you’re so wet for me. all that from sucking my dick?” he teased, starting to nudge her opening with a finger, just to stretch her just so she could take him, though with how wet she was, she knew this would be easy.

her voice fell into gentle whines when he slipped in another finger, scissoring her walls, “it’s fine, i’m ready, i’ve been ready since forever.” and, she supposed, begging did give her everything, because when jey retracted his fingers from her heat, he brought them to his lips and licked her arousal off like it was the finest dessert on the planet—and to him, it was.

jey made that message clear as he slid that rock hard cock inside, sheathing himself into her receptive walls as he mused with no shortage of want, “shit, mamas, knew you were gonna look so pretty wrapped around my dick.” wrapped around him she did, hooking a leg over his shoulder as his cadence started deliberate, uncharacteristically slow in the grand scheme of how she’s always known him and his dirty talk.

“fuck, you’re in so deep,” she breathed, back arching into the hand he splayed there and the mouth he had on the junction of her neck to imprint marks and bruises onto for posterity. her hands latched into his hair, yanking and mussing up those soft strands with each powerful thrust of his, gasping with the perfect angle, the perfect amount of pressure from his mouth on her neck, the swipe of his tongue on her breasts when he ventured lower.

her cunt clenched around him with each of his strokes, her moans escalated into a wanton melody of his name, “daddy”, and begging in some combination, breathed against his lips when he swallowed her noises when he kissed her like he needed oxygen. it occurred whenever he ventured lower to deprive himself of said oxygen by burying himself in her chest and suckling and swirling that skilled tongue over her nipples until they prickled with sensitivity and perked with surrender.

“daddy, i’m so close,” she groaned hungrily, the recipient of his increasingly fervent thrusts and their sounds matching in passionate harmony as jey’s growls grew more guttural, becoming a symphony of carnal sex as he ramped up the filth in his words, “come inside.”

her walls clasped around him like a vice when he spewed out. “come for me, babygirl. you’re so fucking hot like this, gonna fill you up just right, mamas.” he punctuated each word with a stroke that felt like it was getting deeper and deeper inside of her, “gonna look so pretty gushing out my cream. so fucking tight ‘round me, gonna cum so hard for me, aren’t you?”

jey was right, as he generally had been throughout the night, when he rubbed her neglected clit and got her to fucking scream in what was supposed to be a respectable hotel room, staking his claim about how damn well he was making her feel as she came, lips parted and body arched into a tapestry of luxury and avarice as her pussy clamped around his cock without any opportunity for movement. that, in turn, triggered his own release, spilling inside with that long groan she had memorized from all their weeks of phone sex. yet, hearing it in person, with no barrier, just did something to her, had her walls squeezing around him like no tomorrow, prolonging their highs as long as possible, shattering them into new precipices of pleasure.

as she panted for air when his hips stilled and her eyes met his with utmost fondness as he pulled out, letting his essence trickle out of her core, she kissed jey again because she could. jey helped clean her with a damp towel, sparing no shortage of adoration in the form of kisses and sweet nothings of “mamas”, “mami”, and “babygirl” that left her floating on golden clouds of warmth and sugar. while she rested into his chest, their whirlwind excursion wearing them out in the best of ways before an undoubted next round, she allowed herself to savor how all those weeks of the phone crystallized into a night of explosive bliss

and another. and another.

taglist ⇢ @yana3sworld . @roseydoesypoesy . @fearlesschimera . @theusotwinzcom

#jey uso #main event jey uso #wwe #the bloodline #jey uso x reader #jey uso fic #jey uso smut #jey uso imagine #wwe fic #wwe x reader #og bloodline #wwe fnafiction #wwe imagine

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whereispearlescentmoon · 2 days ago

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Genuinely the best thing I think we can do as a fandom is not give Shitfuck and the people stupid enough to believe him our attention. I can only imagine he did this on purpose to slander the hermits (real irony considering he’s claiming to have gotten the police involved for that reason). And to make himself seem like a victim.

To be clear: His supporters don’t care that he didn’t show any evidence for his claims. They don’t care that people who brought allegations against him DID show evidence. They don’t care that there’s holes in his story (he contacted the police and got legal council within an hour and half even though he “had no idea what the allegations were”, he claims the screenshots were edited without showing proof of the original chat logs but also that even if they weren’t it’s fine because it’s between two adults anyways, etc). They don’t care that something doesn’t have to be illegal to be morally bankrupt.

If you see these people in comment sections, don’t try to argue with them. They know all of what I just said and it doesn’t matter because they want to parasocially believe Shitfuck can do no wrong. They want to believe that 25 people who were shown the screenshots and who had been friends with this guy for nearly ten years just randomly decided he must be a horrible person with no proof which, idk if you’ve ever had a friend turn out to be a shitty person, but it takes a lot more than that. They want to believe the VH dev team is extorting him for money instead of wanting him out so they can continue to work on something they love without his name connected to it. They want to assume the worst in everyone but him.

And last thing, fuck you to Shitfuck’s best friend who I wanted to believe was maybe just taking time to process. But no, she believes him. She’s PROUD of him.

#iskall situation #rambling #discourse

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moanz111 · 2 days ago

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i stumbled upon this while scrolling and it's such a well-written post that i just had to share my thought on this too!

first of all, i've been a fanfic reader since i was very young so i know what it feels like to be on the other side. i've been anxious and nervous to reblog or write comments and have never even thought of messaging the authors i read and liked just because i was terrified of being perceived. but trust me, writers are so incredibly grateful for every little interaction they get. i know it can be nerve wracking but you will never be judged for what you have to say! every single piece of feedback and opinion i get means the whole world to me and every time i get a comment, a reblog or an ask makes me so happy, it seriously makes my whole day.

i've been on the writer side since summer 2023 and a couple of months ago i came back after an extremely long hiatus and was so scared and worried because almost a year had passed since i had last promised updates yet i had failed to come back due to many reasons. but then i saw that people still cared and even though i lost most of my readers from back when i first started writing, i was so happy to see that new people were getting interested and were actually willing to talk to me and share their feedbacks. so thank you, to those who have been doing that <3

i don't judge people who decide to stay silent but trust me, there's nothing to fear! writers don't bite, we're human too so of course, naturally we thrive off interactions too, just like anyone else. there isn't a barrier between the two groups - all of us are fans of the same things and share the same interests, this is always a two way relationship.

writing is my hobby and something i like doing but sometimes the silence is killing me especially after coming back from a hiatus 😭 i don't write for notes, i do it for my own enjoyment but still, hearing something nice about your works always feels good and validating!

and about the genres - i see too what's more read and what's popular but it's so sad to hear that authors force themselves to write something that they don't originally really want to just to have someone read their stories. every story is worth giving a chance and authors shouldn't be required to fit themselves into certain boxes just so people pay attention. no one can be forced to read anything of course but my whole point is to be kind to authors and give them a chance because sometimes you can find such gems when you least expect it.

of course, there will always be genres that are more generally liked but we need diversity too so please, writers do what you want and what you love - the right people will appreciate it.

and on that note...i've been mostly writing smaus/texts so i feel like like sometimes it's even harder to get feedback and i think these are not as read as before but i still think it's worth keeping even this genre alive just because it's so fun (at least to me).

i just hope our community here stays alive for longer and starts thriving because it's so sad to see so many people leave :(

just be brave, interact and encourage others to do so too! support your favourite writers because they all are amazing and deserve all the love in this world!

to a dying? atinyblr

i don't usually speak about these things, but a lot of blogs (amazing writers) are leaving this platform or taking time off bc of lack of engagement which serves as a big demotivating factor. especially and specifically in this atiny fandom, some things have come to my attention and i just want all readers and writers to take a look at this post and refresh some reading and writing etiquettes, as well as revive the essence of being a part of this fandom.

feedback:

i understand that there are a lot of silent readers on here, but since tumblr is dying and our fandom is not very huge, the least you can do to show the writers some support is like the post.

which brings me to the point that the like function didn't even exist in the past. this site still runs on reblogs. as readers, to show your favourite writers some semblance of support, you should be reblogging with tags. a simple ‘#ateez x reader’ or ‘#ateez fics�� is enough. it's literally not asking for much– reblogs are the only way writers can get reach.

if you cannot do that bc of your blog's aesthetic or whatever, side blogs exist. if you still cannot do that, a simple anon ask appreciating the writer sometimes saves them.

also, what has happened to the quality of reblogs? readers consume years of writers’ work and efforts in mere hours and don’t even leave any feedback? art in general in all forms is very underappreciated and with all sorts of problems like plagiarism, ai writing and everything, true art and writing is dying and needs to be appreciated now more than ever. we’re literally the last generation witnessing ai take over in all fields of arts. appreciate content creators before it’s too late, don’t be a content glutton!

updates and requests:

asking writers for updates when they specifically mention that they would prefer posting at their pace is wrong for so many reasons– we all have a real life. you, the reader, do too. just like you don't always have time to read, writers don't always have time to write. do you ever see the writers asking their readers 'why have you not read my latest chapter?'

most of the times, writers mention in their bio/faq post or elsewhere that they do mind being asked about updates. respect your writers, please, and do a little scroll before you send such demanding asks (also, sugarcoating when asking for updates does not make it any better!)

if you are only asking about updates, it demotivates a lot of writers bc these same people will disappear when it is time for feedback. writing is a form of art. we can write, artists can paint, musicians can compose music, but all of it has no meaning unless it is shared with an audience and appreciated. readers are just as important as the writers but there is no way of knowing fics are valued unless feedback is given.

the same goes for requests. you can only send a request when the requests are open, which is usually mentioned in the writer’s bio/faq post. it’s literally not that hard to check if requests are open and it’s basic decency to not send a request when the writers specifically mention that requests are closed. when sending a request, please be courteous. a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ are examples of being courteous when sending requests.

the fanfics in atinyblr:

i understand that you can read whatever you like, but why is it that in the atiny fandom, fics that do not contain smut hardly ever get attention? as a writer, i enjoy writing and reading smut, and while i am not specifically a smut blog, i have noticed how fics containing smut get far more reach than fics that do not contain smut– not just in my case, but other amazing writers as well.

there are such amazing fictions in this fandom. all fics are crafted with dedication and care, yet stories without smut often get sidelined. writers are not able to express themselves in their writing freely anymore and they simply conform to a genre they know readers will consume, as they are forced to consider adding smut to their stories so they can get more reach in this fandom. i have heard accounts from a lot of writers who were inclined to add smut to an otherwise smut-free fic just for reach.

this is by no means hate to the smut writers. i am also not placing blame on them. smut drabbles have always been in this fandom, and there are amazing smut writers out there, doing their thing. it is the readers here who are failing the writers. readers are quick to talk about the lack of ‘good fics’ or ‘plot’ yet will not even bother searching for these works. there used to be a good balance and appreciation for all genres alike.

i know that smut is what's hot and trendy these days, and drabbles in general, no matter the genre, are easier to read when you want to take a short break. but there is such a lack of longfics in this fandom, especially as of lately, and as someone who has personally witnessed the ratio of longfics decrease exponentially, i felt the need to point this out. appreciate all writers! appreciate all genres! longfic writers need as much validation and encouragement as drabble writers, and vice versa! don't be too harsh on longfic writers for not pumping out fics at the same speed as shortfic writers.

and on that note, smut drabble writers experience a lack of quality feedback despite the high engagement, so readers, please don't hesitate to point out exactly what you liked about a fic, even if it's a short drabble! be kind to those writers, give them time to write and be kind when sending requests! they may post more often but they, too, have a life.

tags:

this is specifically for the people who will post a very normal picture of a member, no caption, but tag it something like #ateez smut, #ateez hard hours, #ateez x reader. and for the people who tag their asks with irrelevant tags– literally learn to tag your post properly, and stop crowding the wrong tags. you're just proving the point that if you don't tag a post with the smut tag or something similar, it won't get reach. if you've posted with a caption, that makes sense (though it still doesn't warrant some of the tags being used there).

as for writers, also learn to use your tags appropriately. fics that do not contain smut should not be tagged with smut related tags. believe in yourself. i get that there is the problem of reach but do not overcrowd tags with irrelevant material.

disclaimer:

this is by no means about me. if i cared about the notes, or lack thereof, i would have stopped writing a while ago. while it is challenging to be a writer here, especially as of lately, i still enjoy posting whatever i write no matter the genre or the word count. but it's a bit disappointing that my planned out fics get much less attention than a simple smut headcanons post that i wrote in the heat of the moment with my friend in literally a few hours as a joke (which has reached almost 10k notes btw in a span of 2 years). sure, it has exposed my blog to new readers but that's about it.

this post is for all the amazing writers who have left, are thinking of leaving, or are struggling to voice these problems because they are afraid of being marked as 'problematic' or a 'hater' or something worse. i am not afraid to voice my opinion on here, and if you think that i am wrong, feel free to interact with this post and correct me because i am not claiming that i am right about this.

these are just the observations i have made as someone who has been actively writing on this platform for about 4 years now, and since i have a decent number of followers, i hope this post gets more reach. do not be afraid to reblog this if you agree, and even if you do not, reblog this so someone else gets educated. i may have missed some points so feel free to add if you want too.

#i feel like this got super long and i'm just rambling but yeah #thank you to everyone who shows support #yall mean the world to me and i'm seriously so grateful #feedback really does save me because sometimes even writing can get tedious and can burn you out #thanks if anyone even read this 😭 i talk a lot

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