#him and Harrow are and should be best friends

[elfieafterdark]

Different characters reactions to realizing what Harrow is doing in htn:

Magnus: Harrow you gotta let her go, she's dead and there's nothing you can do about it.

Palamedes: queen shit.

Ianthe: God fucking damn it.

[light-wrath-paradise]

1: fair point. I'll be real we kinda forgot that horses and deer (probably?) don't have the same kind of stomach. For the record, I am on book 12.5 aka Andalite Chronicles, so I couldn't be sure if we'd ever see them digest anything else than grass. But i was kinda thrown off by the whole Dr. Pepper thing, because I kinda...don't think that'd be easily digestible for a deer-adjacent stomach? So my friends and I thought that maybe in terms of digestion, their stomachs can digest at least some things that a human stomach could? But so far it's kinda unclear and honestly I doubt the books will ever tell my friends and me which exact liquids Andalites are capable of digesting. Which is sad. Because it means we cannot shitpost accurately.

2: Well, the slugs mentioned are all Yeerks. The specific Mindflayer mentioned is Emperor from Baldur's Gate 3. And the fungal hivemind is Mr. Gray from Dreamcatcher, a sci-fi psychological horror novel by Stephen King. So far I have managed to convince four (4) separate people to read or listen to it and you will be the fifth.

The novel is itself very un-King-like. I do not like most novels written by Stephen King, his short stories are fine, but the longer books tend to...well they just aren't my style most of the time. The ones I like are on the shorter side (Carrie and Langoliers). Enter Dreamcatcher: Dreamcatcher has some 500-600 pages and was written while King was suffering from a stomach flu, no doubt in horrible fevers, and it shows in the most positive way possible. Somehow, the stomach flu that was plaguing Stephen King must have altered his brain chemistry and forces unknown compelled him to write a book that is not as much about what is actually happening in the physical realm as it is about what is happening on a psychological level.

Contrary to the fact that I am reading Animorphs, aliens are usually not really my thing. I don't really care for sci-fi most of the time and alien invasions don't exactly inspire joy in me. It's just not my daily cup of espresso. But, you see, Dreamcatcher has a movie adaptation (it is not technically awful, the acting is great, but it adapts only the surface level plot and lacks all of the philosophical theme. HOWEVER. I do recommend watching it after reading the book simply because the guy who plays Gray/Jonesy does such a fantastic job at playing an unimaginably unsettling alien existence. Not sure about his voice because I've only ever seen the movie in Czech and our VA did a phenomenal job ngl. Oh also the movie adaptation sees it fit to change the ending, which is good, but it also adds an extremely ableist plot twist for no reason. Just a warning.) and I watched it a few years ago. I thought "Hm, there is an interesting concept here, I wonder if the book expands upon this." The book did not expand upon the specific concept, but, you see, I was expecting a mildly engaging sci-fi story about an alien invasion.

Dear tumblr user @xeno-bio-sociology , that is not what I got. No. I mean, yes, that DOES happen as well, but it far from the main plot of the story. Yes, there is an alien invasion. Yes, the US military are a bunch of dicks. Yes, there is a religious fanatic (in true Stephen King fashion). Yes, there is the usual weird bullshit Stephen King cannot help but write even when (presumably) dying in 40 degree Celsius fevers, such as incredibly weird random horny thoughts the characters get. BUT there is also deeply intriguing psychological warfare. There is the question of identity. Of mortality. Much of the book takes place in the characters' heads. Well, in some more than others. Mild spoiler: There is a character, one of the main cast, whose head will become the stage of much of the book's real plot, and that is all simply because this member of the cast gets infected by the alien fungal hivemind. But, very soon, we need to ask ourselves questions such as: What does it mean for a hivemind when all of its components but one die? What when a hive becomes an individual? What does it even mean to be an individual? Is someone more of an individual than someone else? Do you want to be an individual? Do you have a say in that? Do you have a say in who you are? Do you have a say in how you die? What does it mean to die? Well, what does it even mean to live? What does it mean to live as a person? What is a person? Is it horror not to be one? What if it's horror to be a person? In your nightmares, do you look into a mirror and see a beast and then wake up screaming? What if there is nothing special about that, what if humanity is the horrifying abominable-looking monster in someone else's nightmare? And what does it even mean to have a nightmare or to dream (in every sense of the word)?

Anyway sorry about that I just love Dreamcatcher. Except for like 5 sentences at the end that ruin the entire story. Ignore those 5 sentences. You'll know them when you see them. Here's a Google Drive link to the PDF and the audiobook. Good luck.

Out of all the characters (animorphs, yeerks, and literally everyone else) who would you say is the biggest drama queen? And out of the adults (aliens included) who is the biggest 'manbaby' (toddler in an adult body)

I mean, Visser Three is RIGHT THERE.

A few favorites:

He scanned the room like the Queen of Hearts, looking for someone to behead.

— #33

«Strange place to meet for our final battle, Andalites,» he said. «But battle we must.» That was pretty calm for him. I think maybe the fact that he was the size of a dandruff flake depressed him.

—#24

«You'll lose Leeran for us yet, you half-human fool!» "Like you've already lost Earth, despite the fact I handed it over to you in perfect shape?" It was bizarre. You have to understand that there was a huge, roaring battle going on between my friends and the Hork-Bajir. And I was standing there, having just punched out a Leeran. But all the two vissers seemed to care about was trashing each other.

—#15

[wayiiseetheworld]

Espresso

Summary: Robby's normal shift ends with Abbot's wife in the ER.

Warnings: Jack Abbot x OC!Wife. Established relationship. Age gap marriage.

Word Count: 1,176

Author Note: I am obsessed with Abbot, Robby, and The Pitt. Slowly going to post my stories from A03 on here. Rewatching ER and Animal Kingdom because of this show. || Not my gif.

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64238392/chapters/164875135

Prev | Next | Finale

Today was unusually calm. As much as he despised that word, it was undeniably true—there was an unexpected stillness in the chaos of the Pitt. "Quiet" was a banned term here for a reason.

Robby should have been grateful for the relatively uneventful shift he had been assigned, especially considering it had only been a week since the Pitt Fest shooting that had led to his emotional breakdown. This was his first day back since that harrowing night.

As he walked into the bay, he passed Dana, who was on the phone, frustratedly urging someone to pick up. Robby’s heart sank as he stepped into the trauma room and caught sight of the bed in the center. “Aila,” he muttered under his breath. His best friend's wife lay unconscious, surrounded by Collins, an intern, and two nurses working frantically.

“Robby!” Dana's voice jolted him back to reality. He realized she was desperate to reach Abbot. “He should arrive soon. I can’t get through to him. His shift starts in an hour, so he’ll be here any minute. The police said it was a robbery; they found her in an alleyway behind the bar.”

Cursing softly, Robby took in Aila’s condition. Collins was talking, but Robby was barely listening. Her face was bruised and swollen, likely with a broken nose. Her left arm bore fresh bruises, and there were stab wounds on her shoulder and thigh.

To put it mildly, Jack Abbot was going to flip. This was a beating.

He takes a breath, “Someone needs to meet Abbot at the lockers. He cannot walk into this mess.” He would say Langdon as those two got along, but Langdon was at rehab. 

Suddenly the woman on the bed’s eyes open, she yelps in pain before moving her head away from Collins to Robby. “Michael.” A whisper comes from Aila’s lips. Only a handful of people called him that, her being one of them. Collin, only for a moment looks at Robby in shock, how does this woman know him, is she suppose to know who she is?

He wasn’t expecting her to wake up, but Robby is now focused on her. He heard Collins say the bleeding of her thigh has stopped, the wound in the stomach though would be an issue. Robby puts his hand on the left side of her cheek when he notices her starting to panic. “You're okay.” It wasn’t a lie, Robby told himself, she was awake and that meant she was okay even if it was just right now.

Aila flinches at the touch of his hand on her skin, tears welling in her eyes. “Jack?” Confusion darkens her expression as she tries to grasp her surroundings. 

Robby feels his pulse quicken at the sight of her closing her eyes again, surrendering to the shadows. “We need to hurry!”

+++++

King took Dana's words to heart. “He seems to have developed an attachment to you. When Doctor Abbot arrives, you need to pull him aside and guide him to the staff room—it’s far from his wife. Tell him it’s urgent, then come find me. I'll handle the rest.” Dana would tell the man about his injured wife. 

She paced the locker room after Dana left her to return where the action was, her mind racing as she awaited the doctor's arrival.

+++++

“Damn.” Jack Abbot spoke into his phone, leaving a voicemail for his wife. “You must be swamped at the bar if you can’t answer my call.” He wasn’t upset; he understood she was managing the restaurant after the manager failed to show up. Earlier discussions revealed that she was juggling two waitresses, the hostess, the kitchen, and her bar, all of which had stressed her out. “I just wanted to remind you that I love you and to make sure you eat and drink during your shift. I can’t have you ending up in the ER again due to dehydration,”—it has happened more than once and now a real worry for him—“Just call me back when you can. Love you.” 

He ended the call, sliding his phone into his pocket as he approached the locker area. He froze upon spotting King by the lockers, the woman he had become acquainted with during his occasional shifts covering for Robby during this last week. Something was visibly troubling her.

“Is everything okay, King?” He stepped closer to his locker, ready to stow his bag, but King didn’t budge from her spot. He looked her up and down, before his gut told him that something was wrong.

“I need you to come to the staff break room with me. It’s urgent.” The words slipped from her lips with an air of rehearsed seriousness, he could tell. He was right, something was not right. 

“King.”

She sighed, then whispered earnestly, “Please.”

Jack hesitated, reaching for his phone once more and noticing the five missed calls from Dana. “Where is she?” His heart dropped.

“What do you mean?”

“My wife—those missed calls from Dana, you waiting for me at the lockers, her not answering like she usually does when she’s at work.” He ran a hand over his face, frustration mounting. “King—I'm asking you one last time: where is my wife?”

King stands frozen, overwhelmed by uncertainty as she processes his question. Should she address him as the husband of a patient or as her supervisor? An uncomfortable silence hangs between them as she struggles to find the right words, until the sound of footsteps approaches from behind.

King stands frozen, overwhelmed by uncertainty as she processes his question. Should she address him as the husband of a patient or as her supervisor? An uncomfortable silence hangs between them as she struggles to find the right words, until the sound of footsteps approaches from behind.

“Dana,” Abbott calls out. “Wha…”

Dana notices the recognition in his eyes; he understands that his wife is here. “She’s going to be okay,” she says gently, interrupting him. “Robby is accompanying her to surgery. I’ve already contacted Jason for you, so you won’t be able to work today.” There’s no room for debate; it’s already decided, he wouldn’t be working tonight and Abbot knows that is the right thing. As King quietly slips away from the conversation, Jack suddenly becomes aware of a tightness in his chest, as if he’s forgotten how to breathe. The intense urge to flee to the rooftop fades away from him. Dana takes a step closer to Jack, a man she deeply admires—a dedicated doctor who has faced his own struggles since returning from war. “Jack,” her voice quivers as she places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “The police told me it was a robbery. They found her alone in the alley behind the bar. She fought back—she's one tough son of a bitch.”

“Surgery?” he asks, a mix of disbelief and shock in his voice, unsure if he truly heard her correctly. She was supposed to be working - not in the OR. 

“Let me take you up.”

[muntitled]

𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫

Summary: Visiting home brings up old feelings for the boy next door…

Myung Jaehyun x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Boy Next Door AU, Non-idol!AU, Language, Mutual pining, Hyperfeminine!Reader, Childhood friends to lovers, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), dry humping, slight ddlg themes, praise kink, dom/sub themes, Dom!Jaehyun, Needy!Jaehyun, Hyperfeminine!reader, Premature Orgasm, Loser!Jaehyun, Needy sex

The lack of actual boy next door fanfic for Boynextdoor is harrowing...

You did not hate your childhood. In fact, you would venture to say that you should look quite fondly of most of it because most of it had taken place here- in a picturesque wasteland of suburbia, and as you drive through the narrow main road, staring at glimpses of childhood relics, you begin to frown. Every memory was so unequivocally perfect except, maybe, for the ones containing him.

"Can you at least try to sound like you're not going kill yourself while you’re there?" Your best friend's voice drones on from the car speaker. Her words, no matter how valid, elicit an eye roll from you, effectively stopping your journey down memory lane. "It would be awful to have to drive down to your childhood home just because you tried to kill yourself, I refuse to have that be the way you introduce your college best friend to your mother."

"Relax," you affirm in a voice groggy from underuse. Spending an entire 15 hour drive beguiled to your car without any company except for maybe of course your Destiny's Child album and a swelling sea of dread in the pit of your stomach.

This would be the first time in a year that you were visiting your childhood home since you left for college. The first time anyone who mapped the outline of your childhood, would perceive you as the budding, blossoming, depressive adult you have become. You felt like a storm coming back into your picturesque childhood neighbourhood, threatening to sweep everything away. That feeling of dread only doubles when your driveway appears on the bottom of a hill. The cul-de-sac of your childhood with all its trimmed hedges, neat fencing and constantly perfect shudders, sends you hurtling into nostalgia and once again, common ordinary dread.

"What If I just turn the car around right now, would that be bad?"

"I have never met a college student so unhappy to be home-" Your best friend mumbles, "You're going to be living the dream!? Actual balanced meals!? Please take one for the team,"

Almost immediately, her words trigger a rumble of hunger from your stomach and you groan as your car curls into the cul-de-sac. Your heart is hammering in your ear, not for the reasons anyone might think, but because of those memories locked in your childhood. As you drive, you try to keep your eye on your house. Your perfect homely house.

Your eye doesn't even stray to the house beside it!

Honest to God!

Not even once.

"Is there a reason you don't wanna go home so bad?"

"The weather is so bad," you say almost automatically, "I think the line's about to cut,"

"Bitch, you only avoid my line of questioning like this when it's about some dick-"

"Jeez, the weather’s messing with the connection."

"If you drop this call TRUST you will be dealt w-"

"I'll call when I unpack, love you-" when you drop the call, your car is parked in the driveway and your shoulders are slumped over. You contemplate waiting around in the driveway until some relative forcibly pulls you out but that thought is quickly made obsolete when you hear a harsh knocking on the door. Your stress levels gravitate to an all time high as you watch him, waving frantically at you from the other side of the glass. His smile is bright and just as crooked as ever. His wave is frantic and energetic; Jaehyun is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, so unequivocally happy to reunite with his childhood best friend.

His only friend. The return of that voice in your head is one of things you had been anticipating on this trip. Mainly because your childhood had been riddled with so much self esteem issues, your feelings practically metamorphosed into that voice you now hear now. That's all you'll ever be to him. All you've ever been, Your mind remarks in a distasteful spit of venom.

"Get your face off of my windows unless cleaning my car for the foreseeable future is a job you're actually interested in." You say coolly as you slide out of the vehicle. Jaehyun gives space for you to stretch, all while shuffling from one foot to the next, picking at the sleeves of his flannel with a dopey smile like he was one second away from proudly telling you he 'frew up at school'.

"Still as homicidal as ever." He says your name with a familiarity that nearly knocks you unconscious. You focus on lifting your arms to the air, and ironing out tje various aches in your back.

"How long has your ass been waiting here anyway?" It's Jaehyun's turn to nearly evade eye contact at your question. He finds it exceedingly difficult to follow along with what you're saying when you so very clearly have boobs now.

"Since my mom told me you'll be back,” He says before immediately adding, “hey- how long have those been there?" You drop your arms with furrowed brows as you look at him.

"What?"

You await a response that doesn't arrive. Jaehyun only points nonchalantly towards your chest. You look down at your v-neck and back at Jaehyun. "I don't know what you're talking about," you roll your eyes as you shuffle past him.

"YOU HAVE BOOBS NOW?!” He exclaims, “EW-"

You turn around to face him, pushing your acrylic nail into his sternum, "I've always had tits- sh-shut up-"

"You literally finished high school without them. I would have noticed as the tiddy connoisseur, trust me."

You find yourself embarrassed, not by his avid teasing (this is something you've been forced to deal with every single day of your childhood and adolescence,) but you find your stomach warming for completely different reasons. Your Jaehyun-obsessed brain wants to pick apart and dissect his entire statement. Maybe he's finally noticing you now? Maybe this age-old crush will evaporate and metamorphose into something else.

You cannot speak because your nail is still digging intently at his sternum and he's staring down at you, as if waiting for whatever venom laced comeback you had waiting for him.

All you're able to focus on however, is the way in which you're staring intently at each other. For him, this proximity is probably nothing, but for you... "Also when you get in there, please for, the love of God, act surprised."

The spell is immediately broken and you're once again brought back down to earth.

The cul-de-sac.

The driveway.

The afternoon sun, surrounded by a cooling breeze.

"Please don't tell me I'm about to walk into another family dinner," your eyes grew heavy with fatigue at just the mere thought of all your family dinners before. 'Family' being used very loosely because he always somehow found himself in every single one.

"You know how our moms can get," you did. You really did.

"Ugh," you exclaim, trudging up the house steps, "1 hour of this and I'm done." Your hand pauses before the doorknob and you turn to Jaehyun with a bored, almost questioning stare. "Aren't you gonna get my things?"

His grins a wolfish grin before clutching at the t-shirt under his flannel, "Oh how I've missed being bossed around by you-"

"Fuck you-" You chuckle out. Jaehyun only turns his torso sloppily as he continues walking to your car.

"A guy could hope!"

And just like that, that smile is gone. The moment is sour. Because whatever he meant, you knew from childhood experience that it did not mean what you wanted it to.

-

Meeting everyone all at once had been as jarring as you expected it to be. You ceremoniously heeded Jaehyun's advice, acting so completely shocked when your relatives and Jaehyun's family yelled 'Surprise' in unison. Everyone was sporting smiles that crinkled their eyes and arms open for hugs. Before you were made privy to every line of questioning surrounding school, Jaehyun's mom swept you into her arms.

"How's is my daughter in law-" there was no time for her to watch you grow tense at her words because Jaehyun who was lugging your luggage in, calmly affirmed, "She has tits now, apparently-"

"MYUNG JAEHYUN-"

The evening had progressed with all the domesticity that you lacked during college and you found yourself at immense ease throughout dinner. Home is still home. Jaehyun is still Jaehyun. Everything that once was, still is and you took a second after dinner to ruminate in the feelings of comfort seeping into your entire being.

That is until your mother ruined it by inserting a very unnecessary, wholly uncalled for fact during dessert drudgery.

"Any boys on campus?"

"It's campus," you snorted as you stuffed your face with malva pudding, "of course there are boys," Throughout the course of your dinner, Jaehyun, who is dutifully seated directly beside you, has taken to swinging his leg against yours. A provocation from childhood that you almost immediately latch onto until you are both playing a violent game of footsies under the table.

"No boys to smooch on campus," Jaehyun speaks up, petulantly puckering his lips at you. All you're able to do is try and ignore him which proves to be a dangerous feat.

"I should think there's a new boy." Your mom says before pointing at you and Jaehyun with the flick of her utensils, "The primary school crush you two had on each other has gone on for way too-"

"MOM!?"

Your mother's slip of the tongue instantly grabs all of Jaehyun's attention. He's perking up in his seat like a rottweiler at attention with his head snapped in your direction.

"Crush?" His eyes falter, scanning the side of your face as if he was perceiving you anew. All traces of a smile are gone as he dumbly asks "What crush?"

"I've been driving for an insane amount of hours," you begin by pushing yourself out of your dining chair, "I should unpack and get to bed-"

"W-Wait I can help." You glare daggers at Jaehyun, that look alone should be enough to stop him from rising from his seat.

"Don't be rude. Your best friend hasn't seen you in ages" your mother scolds, lightly prompting your hands to curl at your sides, "We'll take care of the dishes."

-

Your ascension up the stairs had been charged with tension and filled with something else entirely. You walk ahead of Jaehyun as if trying to distract yourself from his presence, but everything about him is so completely there, "I can feel you staring at my ass," you mumble, needing to fill the air with something, anything at all as you reach the upstairs landing. "Guilty," he says as he follows you into your childhood room which is much the same.

Jaehyun beelines for your twin bed, almost immediately flinging himself on the childish quilted bedspread. "This place is still the same..."

"So are you actually going to be useful, because if not," you fold your arms as you stare him down, "You can leave?"

His mouth hangs open in a lopsided grin as he reaches around to grab at the very first plushie he finds. One of many.

"You still sleep with these?" He asks instead, as if your question meant nothing at all. He plays idly with the stuffed dinosaur in his hands as he leans his head back against the pillows. Seeing him here, amongst your things, brought an avalanche of nostalgia and a wave of hopelessness. He is still so attractive, even after all these years.

You sigh, "Jaehyun if you're not gonna-"

"So was that true?" There it is. The shotgun question that had been hanging like damp washing between the two of you. With your nerves shot to hell, you decide to lower your behind on the very edge of the twin bed as you busy your hands with folding your clothes. Your back is turned to him but you can feel those piercing, smiling eyes watching you.

"Is what true?"

"C'mon, don't do that,'' there is a noise of shuffling behind you. Your heart hammers in its cage with the dip in the bed sheets and you can feel him seated directly behind you. You look down at your lap to find that he's placed your plushie there, as if to distract you from the fact that his legs were now framing yours, his front pressed against your back.

"You know what," he whispers straight into your ear, sounding as serious as you've ever heard him.

Craning your neck backwards to let your eyes fall on Jaehyun would prove to be a cataclysmic mistake. It only heightens the wobble in your voice as you say, "The crush I had on you was juvenile and childish and frankly didn't mean any-"

"Dude..." he whispers, eyes seemingly boring into every single square inch of your face, "I've dreamt about being your boyfriend since I fucking found out what a boyfriend is." His words knock the breath cleanly out of your lungs and your voice grows quiet as he lifts his hand to the side of your face. "What..."

"Yeah!"

His voice is loud and boisterous but you're still somehow locked tightly in your stupor.

"Nu uh," you mumble, your eyes daringly drifting across his lips, "You're lying?"

"How am I lying, angel?" you suck in a deep breath because his thumb is rubbing dizzying circles against your cheek now and his voice has descended a gravelly octave. He dips his head down, experimentally placing a feathlight kiss on the corner of your bottom lip. So innocent, but charged with so many expletives, the possibilities rush straight to your clit.

Still, you soldier on.

"B-Because remember what you said at our grade 6 dance?"

He's not listening. He's not listening because he's finally got a taste of you and he'd be damned if he didnt get more. Jaehyun cranes your neck until you're facing forward once more and you gasp when his lips descend on the skin between your neck and shoulder. "Enlighten me," he mumbles against your skin, placing more featherlight kisses there before he quickly grows bored and decides to stick out his tongue experimentally. You turn into molten clay in his hands and the whimper that escapes you is borderline pornagraphic. This is the stuff all Jaehyun's previous fantasies are made of.

"W-When you asked me out- you said..." your voice drifts off because Jaehyun can't help but let his right hand reach around until he squeezes your torso impossibly closer. All the pudge, all the skin, all the ways he's been dreaming about having you this close and you were there for the taking this whole time.

"Fuck, I'm obsessed with you…" He says, and he does a very odd thing. He buries his face in your neck and just sniffs. This momentary slip of weakness allows you to regain some of your senses as you say,

"Y-You asked me to be your date," Jaehyun is drunk on the very scent of you now and his cock throbs as he brings you impossibly closer against his lap,

"What else did I say, baby," he wants you to carry on talking. Anything that might distract you from wanting him to leave. Anything that might keep you here just a little longer. His cock throbs at that thought alone and it has him rubbing against your skin like a dog in heat.

"Y-You said you didn't have anyone else to go with-" you suck in a deep breath through your air as Jaehyun's hand venture underneath your shirt. He slithers his hand up in a hurry until his cool fingertips are grazing the flesh of your breasts. Like a crazed adolescent driven by his hormones alone, he pulls your bra down, all while tonguing and licking at your neck like his life depended on it.

"S'sorry," he mumbles incoherently behind you, and his hand on the side of your face cranes your head backwards so that you're facing him once more, "So'so'sorry," he places a sloppy, apologetic kiss on your mouth which immediately triggers a very deep desire that is almost as old as you are.

"I wanted you so bad-" you admit with a gasp, and Jaehyun feels your confession shoot straight down his spine. He plasters his front into your backside, pressing his hips against your ass in an apparent wave of lust.

"I've always needed you," he ventures to admit, pressing his bulge against your backside as if needing to persuade you further.

Those words of affirmation are all you need , all you've needed for a lifetime and you immediately turn until you're lumbering onto him before letting your knees frame his hips. His hands instinctively grip onto, your supple, full hips and the feeling of your softness on top of him alone is enough to have him groaning into the air as his hips stutter up at you.

While you crash your lips against his once more you lift yourself away but his hips follow, "The fuck are you doing!?" He mumbles against your lips before biting lightly at your bottom lip.

"Too heavy," you mumble, "I don't wanna be too hea-"

Your words dissolve in your throat and in its place, a yelp escapes as Jaehyun forcibly pulls you down onto his sweatpants-clad lap. "You did this to me," he says, watching you intently as if scolding you, "You did this to me and now you wanna run away?" He scoffs as his hands begins to guide your hips against his. You're both in very flimsy material. Him in his sweatpants and you in similar attire except your sweatpants were a dusky pink. "Youre so pretty grinding on me like that fuck-" he speaks quickly and fluidly as he leans backward onto your bed, making more space to watch you grind yourself on top of him.

His attention is utterly intoxicating and so you do nothing but listen when he says, "Take your top off, baby-"

You peel the item of clothing off, unclipping your bra with all the speed and sloppiness that came with your lust-filled fog/ Jaehyun doesn't help. He's all too focused on guiding your hips against his, watching you face contort into pleasure.

"Pants," he says, needing to see more of your open-mouthed moans, "Take your pants off," he whispers, "Make a mess on me," he swallows thickly, "Please,"

You lift yourself to momentarily push your sweatpants, Jaehyun lifts himself momentarily to grab at your stuffed animal.

"Whatre you-" When you straddle him again, you're completely naked while he's fully clothed. The juxtaposition only elicits another wave of lust. "Hold this while you ride me," he stuffs your plushie against your chest, watching your mouth hang open as you lower your clit onto his bulge,

"O-Oh my fuck, Jaehyun-"

"Just like that, angel, fuck,' he throws his head back momentsrily stumped by the weight of his pleasure. He's trying to be dominant for you. He's trying to keep his control for you, but you're moving your hips against his, with his bulge between your legs, using him for absolute filth. It ruins him entirely.

His voice cracks when he lifts his head to look up at you and say, "Oh my god, you feel so fucking good, oh my god," When Jaehyun curses, your cunt only presses down harder against him, prompting a needier response out of you.

Jaehyun swallows thickly, "Use me, baby," he says, "F-Fuck, just fucking use me," his hips stutter upwards and his hands on your sides grip you so tightly you know it'll leave marks. "Doing s-so well for me. Youre doing so fucking well-"

He watches with an open mouth at your tits, so pillowy and full, bouncing as you rub yourself against him and he completely loses it.

"Fuck- p-please cum, I need to cum so bad-" Jaehyun gasps, wracking another torrid moan out of you as you descend almost immediately into your orgasm. Jaehyun watches with an open mouth and half lidded eyes, unable to stop himself from fucking up into you. He wraps his arm against your waist and buries his face in your chest. You rake your fingers through his hair and he shivers

"No way you just made me cum in my pants," he is so incredibly overcome with embarrassment, he dreads having to look up at you.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"No, Jaehyun, its-"

"I mean about not being honest sooner. That was bad of me, he mumbles into your chest and you chuckle at his petulance, "I'm sorry,"

"Apology accepted for making me wait so long..."

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[yanderemommabean]

Yandere Choso X Reader fic

(Quick note! This was a com, who ill keep anonymous, but I was told this was A-Okay to post and share! I hope you beans enjoy! The premise is Choso being affected by Hanami's flower in a sex pollen sense, and it goes from there! CW: Dub-con, but con at the end, chasing through woods, random guy gets obliterated for talking to reader, and reader is female/has AFAB language! Its a bit of a read of 3,500 or more words so get cozy!)

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His skin feels like it's incessantly itching. His eyes glean more dilated and red than usual as he looks around his room, pacing the floors like a beast caged. Choso can’t explain it, honestly. He would just feel better if you were here, safe and sound by his side like you should always be-- Especially after how harrowing that fight got when he was slammed into Hanami. Flower buds burst open when Choso’s body  brutally collided into the curse, and thankfully he was able to take the brunt of what followed, but you…

He clutches his hair a bit, not wanting to think of what could happen if you were any closer than you were. To think anything could happen to you at all made him feel shaky and uneasy and he knows that can cascade into a pit of despair if let to simmer for too long. It’s a bad habit of his; he’s had it for as long as he’s been the eldest brother. It’s never really let up, in fact he’d say it’s worse now since he’s been given people to care for again. He can’t be fully blamed for that can he? After coming into this world, you and Yuuji were really all he had to get him by. Loss hurts. He’s so tired of that aching loneliness.

Going from adversaries to allies was the least of what anyone expected though  he wouldn’t have it any other way. You managed to bring to life what he thought was dead and buried. He’d been so sure he’d strangled it with his own hands.

Choso couldn’t ask for a better friend, yet… Lately he’ll admit, he’s been craving more than just  that. When he gets a glimpse of you, he has to force himself to behave and not gather you into his arms, insistent to press his lips to yours and drink in the taste of you. It’s all he’s been wanting these past few days, picturing how your voice would go weak as you beg him for more. 

Dear god, he wants to give you more. He’d give you anything your pretty beating heart would desire, simply as long as you only called his name; only ever allowed his fingers and lips to explore your body. 

Before you, Choso never once considered looking for a lover. He was sure your kindness could only stretch so thin, denying him anyway. Alas, he was contempt in letting you radiate the sunshine in his life as he loved from afar. After that Hanami incident however, he isn't so willing to sit and wait anymore. 

“Cho?” Your voice calls out, poking your head into the room as he paces like an animal being caged. His eyes dart to where you stand, mouth acting before his brain could catch up. “Where the hell have you been?” 

You’re both stunned by the coldness his usually warm voice held. You stay still, eyes rounded as you decide to fully enter the room to ask just what the hell his problem was. He’d been aggressive before, sure. You’ve seen him be rough and ruthless as he fights, spewing venomous words and poisoned blood to pry open curses like pistachios. Though, never has he had that sort of cold and demanding tone with you. 

“I'm sorry…” he utters, delicate and tired as he walks over, embracing you tightly. You hug him back on instinct, pressing your face into his chest as you feel him play with your hair; pressing his face into it as he breathes your scent in to calm his nerves. Oh dear god, it does the exact opposite. That sweet scent only lets his blood rush south and his mouth goes dry; his fingers start to shake as they brush through your hair and do their best not to yank your head back to force his lips on yours. 

You have to be fucking with him. You have to be. Teasing him with every movement you make as his sanity trickles from his ears and he comes closer and closer to just giving in and sinking his teeth into you. Maybe even in a literal sense with how desperate he is to mark you up and keep others away. Or to show you off and to taunt the other, lesser men who thought they could ever get ahold of a gem like you. Pathetic, really. 

Those vermin need to crawl on their knees and beg for his forgiveness when he gets ahold of them. 

“Look, you’ve been cooped up in here for a while, Choso” You say as you begin to pry away from his tight embrace -was he always this hard to pull away from? “I think you should come with me on a little walk. I know you hate the town so the woods should be fine, right? Fresh air, no paranoid thoughts, you’ll get to see that everyone's ok! I mean, I know how you get when you worry too much…” It’s nothing like that. Though, how can he tell you that? How could he shatter this image you have of him etched into your mind’s eye? How could this beast look at such innocent prey and tell them he’s about to devour them? 

He’ll hide that for now. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is all because he’s gotten sick from Hanami and needs to just let the air and the sunlight heal him. You had never led him astray before.

He trusts you to lead him; guiding him away from the solitude of his living arrangement as he follows dutifully beside you. His body becomes flushed and red as your scent only grows more and more enticing. Do the people walking by not sense it at all? How delectable you smell? How you desperately need to be stuffed to the brim until your voice is broken? 

A deep breath, and the curse composes himself. Breeding you in public wouldn’t be ideal anyway. These sick humans would want to taint you, take you away, try to have a piece for themselves, and he wouldn’t hesitate to level a few buildings to make them scatter like the roaches they are. 

“Hey, is there anything else you’re not telling me? I mean even in messages you seem, I don’t know…Off '' You ask, stopping mid walk to turn and look up at him. His long hair was down from his usual pigtails and in this light his eyes held more of a dark, dare you say hunter-like aura; it only added to the man's beauty. His scowl seemed to grow as he watched more people walk by, getting way too close to you-- way too comfortable with your personal space. 

The woods was just another five minute walk away, and yet it felt like an eternity trying to get there. 

“Well, some troubling thoughts have been arising” He admits, while rather harshly yanking you closer as the sidewalk turns into a path that leads into the trees. 

“These people need to get away from us. I’m about to strike down the next one who gets too close, I swear.” He grits out, teeth showing in a snarl as he looks over his shoulder, watching as the last two people he hoped would be on this trail were leaving. 

You aren’t sure what to even say, you’ve never seen him this high strung before. That’s honestly saying a lot with what you’ve seen Gojo and Yuuji  put him through. But in all seriousness, you were beginning to feel uneasy, like something dark was bubbling beneath the surface. You are starkly reminded that he is in fact, a special grade curse.

“L-let’s just calm down and get to the woods before we vent ok?” You say with a forced laugh, feeling the energy shifting even more as a jogger comes running up the way, and stopping to catch his breath. He hunches over, hands on his knees as he lets his lungs get in whatever air they could.  With a wipe to his brow, he began smiling up at you two with what Choso saw as a flirtatious smile while you only saw a friendly one. “Careful out there” he says between breaths, standing up fully. “It’s getting dark. You know how those trails get when you can’t see as good. Hate for a cutie like you to get lost…” he says, looking like he was moving in to press closer. “Especially with someone like him-” he whispers, gesturing vaguely “-are you safe with him? Do you trust him?”.

After that question, you feel as though a snap of electricity went through the air. 

That’s when it all goes downhill. The warm splash mixed with the thudding of a now headless body hitting the ground, you can’t comprehend what you’re seeing for a few horrifying seconds. It's silent somehow. That’s the worst part. It’s like the world isn’t aware that a man was just beheaded and killed before your very eyes, his lifeless body now bleeding out on the dirt before you and the curse who did the horrible deed. 

“He touched you” Choso spits, eyes holding a viper-like stare as he wipes his cheek, a blood streak following his knuckles as he spits at the man's corpse. You act on instinct. You rush forward, your feet carrying you like your life was about to end, and for all you knew, it was. There wasn’t any semblance of the Choso you knew in those eyes as he struck down the innocent man who wanted to check on you. You can’t even begin to process the words Choso is throwing at you as he chases you through the rocks and trees, the sun beginning to fully set as the hunt begins. 

You feel like a deer trying to sprint away from a predator. Every flicker of your eyes shows his face, still blood speckled as he runs after you. Every twist and turn you take only makes your heart beat faster as you look for any possible hiding spots, anything to shield you from whatever wrath Choso has had buried within him these last few days. Why? Why is he doing this? He seems so evil and terrifying! You almost let out a sob, hunching over behind a large tree so your breath could come back to you. “Don’t you dare show feelings for someone like him” Choso snarls, but it’s far away, his voice sounding strained as he tries to speak. “Don’t you get it? I did that to protect you! All these people, they…They don’t want what's best for you, they want to hurt you!” Hurt you? Telling you to be safe was hurting you? No, Choso’s just lost it, he’s gone completely crazy! 

“Y/N…You know I’d never hurt you” His voice pacifies, coming closer and closer as you fear trying to flee from the tree you’re behind. Oh god please, please don’t let him find you. Don’t let him kill you! “I’d never forgive myself if you were hurt” He continues, stalking closer like a large cat as he follows your scent. “I just want to have you safe. To be pampered. To be mine as I lavish you in my love and adoration” he seemingly purrs, voice dropping an octave as he stalks closer and closer, knowing exactly where you were hiding.

“To have you bear my own children…have you love me as I love you. To taste you. Feel you. Have your body molded to fit mine as we breed like rabbits” he chuckles, dark and sinister as his fantasies seem to take over and spill from his lips. “Tell me, Y/N, are you a gentle lover? Or do you need me to bruise you a little? Rough? Soft? However you need it, you know I’ll give it to you until your pretty little head is empty and only full of thoughts of me.” 

That voice, that sultry purr, was this some sort of sick thrill for him? 

You don’t get much time to dwell on his true intentions. Once you feel his presence behind you, it’s too late. In a blink, your hands are being pinned, and your mouth is covered by his hand. Your eyes meet beautifully dark ones, staring at you like you were a meal he couldn’t wait to devour. 

“Gotcha.” You whimper, shaking your head as Choso simply stares for a moment, soaking in your scent and salivating at the intensity of it. There’s no way he’s not getting a taste of you. He’s even worked up the appetite for it. Once his hand pulls away, you openly sob, shaking and terrified. “Please, please don’t kill me! I-I thought we were-” He clicks his tongue, grabbing your face roughly as he pulls you into an intense kiss. It’s abrupt, unplanned, but he doesn’t care anymore. He’s had enough of these feelings building and building with no release. He’s taking what he wants, and he’s going to be sure you enjoy every bit of what he plans to ensnare. 

You find yourself melting into the kiss. You’re confused, and admittedly turned on at the same time. The panted breaths shared between you are hot and primal. He knows how to suck and bite just right to get your lips to open, allowing his eager tongue to slip inside and taste you, dragging the tip of his tongue over the pad of your mouth while his hand goes to your hair, pressing your face closer so he can kiss you deeper. 

The deep moans Choso makes as his tongue curls around your mouth, they’re deep and hungry, making your thighs clench together even more. Fuck, are you actually into this? You can’t even feel the amount of shame that you think should as the kiss becomes more feverish, both of you panting and moaning into one another's mouths as he tugs and paws at your clothes. He’s so close to just tearing them off if they keep denying him contact with your warm skin. 

He needs you. He needs to feel you pressed against him, bare and naked. He won’t let you get away until his cravings are satiated; your body decorated in his teeth and nail marks. “Choso wait-” You breathe, light headed and confused as you press at his chest, tears still drying on your face. You needed a second to breathe, to think! Everythings happening too fast and too much and- “Say my name again.” he demands, low and carnal as his hands tear off your bottoms. In one fell swoop your wet panties came off with the shorts you wore to make walking easier; showing Choso that at the very least, your body was enjoying this. Who were you kidding? You wanted this to keep going. That fever pitch was only rising and that desperation was filling you too. You wanted to see what he could do to you. Despite being terrified for your life, you knew you were safe. Well, as safe as one could be with a rabid dog like Choso had become. A collared beast isn’t a threat to their owner though, yeah?

“I said-” he barks, pulling you forward to steal another heated kiss, one hand coming to shuck off his own pants. “Say my name again.” 

There was no room for arguing. Decorum had left the moment the chase started. You look up into his eyes, kiss swollen lips parted as you both press forward into an embrace. There was a beat of silence, like you both were caught in admiration of one another. The forest waits on baited breath before you reach your hand up and wrap around his neck, holding yourself up as he wraps your leg around his waist. “Choso.” It sent a visceral shock down his spine hearing you say that in such a way. So needy, begging for him to keep his body against yours as you both find yourself kissing again, his hand coming to cup your ass and hold you up until you’re backed against the same tree you were just trembling and crying behind. Everything blurs after that. There’s clothes coming off completely, possessive phrases being moaned into your mouth or bitten into your skin as he falls apart, greedily taking in whatever he could of you as you two go at it like animals. You swallow, deep and nervous when you feel his cock pulsing against you. Where the hell was that thing hiding? Is that why he wears baggy clothes?! He doesn’t let your mind wander for too long. His fingers grip your face again, tilting your head upwards to meet his lust filled eyes. In this moon light, he looks even more inhuman. A true monster who got what he wanted. A death painting. Part of you feels like you want to see him like this more often. Hopefully with less murder involved. 

“Eyes on me baby. Only me” he commands, holding you still as he guides himself into you, inch by thick inch. Your entire world was on tilt, feeling him enter you while your legs trembled and struggled to hold onto his waist. How was he so strong? Holding you up this easy, it made your mind race and trip over itself with imagining what all he was holding back on, how he could manhandle you as he pleased. 

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good. Just like that.” he praises, and fuck, it goes right to your core, making you pulse and throb with arousal as he begins to pump into you. You feel yourself go taut as he decides to press you into the ground, his cock angling even deeper inside of you as he has you in a damn near mating press. 

“To think I waited for this-” he groans, deep and guttural as he begins to grind into you, over and over, long and languid strokes to drag the pleasure out of both of you. “-Ngh, to think I wouldn’t have you, begging for me and my cock, moaning for me like a good little whore.” “Ch-Choso!” You gasp, choked and stunned as he begins to speed up, the haze only growing as he holds his hand to your throat and buries into you over and over again. “You should have been mine since I fucking laid eyes on you! Fuck-I should make you my pretty little mommy, breed you like your pussy craves until we have more kids than I have brothers.” he rambles, tensing up and manking sure his angles were just right, stroking every bump and ridge inside of you. Your toes are curling at this, being used like some flesh light while Choso babbles away about how he owns you, how he wont let anyone even breathe near you, all while his massive cock carves its place inside of you. It can’t be helped when you scramble for any sort of purchase, grabbing onto his arm and clawing at his skin, drawing blood as you clench your fingers. 

Your mouth falls open, heat flooding your system as you moan louder than you’re sure you ever have when you used toys or had sad experiences with other dates. It was so much, it was too much. You hadn’t known you’d be so turned on by this; how possessive Choso was, never even considered it until now. 

With the way your body tensed, a splash of your cum coating Choso’s cock and dripping down to the forest floor, there was no denying it. You were perfectly ruined for this man. The white hot pleasure came rushing behind your eyes, your back arching off of the ground as you cried out, spasming and writhing as your orgasm wracked your frame. 

Choso watches, enthralled and beyond turned on as he watches you fall apart. His hand comes to press right on your abdomen, feeling how deep he is inside of you as his thrusts refuse to cease. “That’s it. Good fucking girl, Y/N. Feel how deep I'm going to breed you? How full I’m going to make your womb? Fuck, you’re going to be so pretty round and soft with our babies.” He’s lost in his animalistic thoughts, his pace picking up as he sloppily kisses you, chasing your taste with his lips and tongue as his balls slap against your ass, his orgasm coming to its peak. “Going to mark you from the inside, make you mine.” he growls, only getting your weak and worn out whimpers in return as you watch how his cock enters you over and over, knowing he means every word. He steals another desperate kiss, his hips suddenly stilling as warm fluid empties into you, fucked deeper and deeper into your core. You shudder, feeling like an aftershock of pleasure leaves you as his cock slips out and his load begins to follow. You two sit there, panting and catching your breath. Choso seems so much more, how do you say, soothed? Subdued? Pacified? Whatever it is, he seems so much more calm than he had earlier as he admires how his seed leaks from you and lets his fingers play with your soaked and swollen hole. “Hmph. I love how you jerk and twitch from this. Sensitive aren’t you?” he chuckles, crawling on top of you again, admiring every bite mark that was now swelling and welting. “I think this is a good start.” “T…To what?” you ask, head more clear as you try to once again process everything that’s happening. “Our family” he says, like he didn’t just rearrange your guts. “I'm going to make us a family. A big family. A loving one unlike the one I was brought up with.” 

He smiles, soft and amused as he plays with a few strands of your hair, like you weren't covered in dirt and sweat. “I’ll give you a few minutes before we get started again”. 

((I hope you beans loved it! -mommabean))

[shy-writer-999]

How many dreams to say "I love you?" (iv)

Summary: Zoro can't keep his feelings bottled up anymore. They've got to come out sooner or later. Will he be able to bring himself to confess how he feels, or will you beat him to it? ~5k words.

Part 4 of 4. (read part 1 here!) CW: Afab reader (w/gendered language, she/her pronouns). Reader gets drunk (sorry to those of you who abstain!), pining, tension, heart ache! (and... kissing). This is sfw but other parts of the story are very much not.

Part 4: "So, there."

Have you ever had a dream that was just emotions? No images, concrete thoughts or concepts, just raw, harrowing feelings?

The night after the encounter with the hostile pirate group, Zoro had one of those dreams. His sleep was fitful, distorted by intense feelings of worry and anxiety. He woke up early in the morning, sweating and distraught. He felt sick.

Unable to go back to sleep, he started his day. An ice-cold shower to distract himself and rinse off the stress from his dreams. He ate a sparse breakfast and sat on the deck, looking at the peaceful sea as the sun rose.

It was high time to get this over with, Zoro thought. He was tired of feeling scrambled in the head and tired of feeling guilty for evading being truthful to you. As your crewmate and best friend, you deserved his honestly. The mental gymnastics needed to end, and he needed to get this off his chest—the fact that he was in love with you—as soon as possible.

When you broke the thick chains and opaque brick concealing and masking his capacity for love (placed there by trauma and years of regret) you freed feelings that boiled and festered for many months. Your presence in his dreams and the workings of his subconscious slowly forced him to come to terms with this part of himself. The part of himself that was very much capable of love, that wanted it, and wanted you. He was forced to become acquainted with this aspect of himself, to sit with it, and to speak with it.

The self-realizations were at the same time elucidative and perturbing. What else about himself had he yet to become aware of? What else was there inside of him that he needed to recognize?

His stoicism thus far was nothing more than a farce, he told himself. To reckon with and control himself he had to be self-aware. Truly self-aware.

Zoro knew that ignoring your persistent presence in his mind and heart wasn’t going to solve any problems—it wasn’t going to aid his control over his emotions, wasn’t going to clear his head, wasn’t going to make himself feel better, and damn well wasn’t going to make you feel better. You were lodged in his heart and brain like a splinter that he couldn’t get out.

So, it was settled. Out with it. For better or for worse, it needed to happen.

The following night, the pair of you finally had drinks together and talked. You grabbed a couple bottles of sake and asked Zoro, “So, where do you want to go?”

He shrugged. “Crow’s nest?”

“That’s what I thought you would say. You love it up there.” When you smiled at him, Zoro felt like he couldn’t look at you—he was worried you see how tortured his eyes were, that you could read everything in his face.

The feeling was mutual. The tension in the air was palpable, as much as you tried to tell yourself that you were imagining it.

You were exhausted. Not from lack (or quality) of sleep, like Zoro, but the combination of the battle yesterday, your (actual) wound, and your lovesickness were crushing. Resigned and at your wits end with this man, you told yourself that if Zoro asked you the right series of questions, he would find answers for himself. You were at a breaking point.

If he prodded you for more information on why you felt like shit, he’d crack open something that should be left alone. You really didn’t want to share more about the fact that you felt alone and empty the past few weeks. But… you had a feeling that Zoro wanted to dig into the topic again. You dreaded it.

You climbed to the crow’s nest with Zoro around sunset. Opening the windows, you let in the golden rays of the setting sun and a cool breeze.

“It’s gorgeous out,” you observed, relishing the sea air that drifted in, salty and familiar. “Wow.”

The pair of you sat on a bench parallel with the row of windows. You were facing each other, straddling the bench so your knees almost touched. This was a sort of routine for you two—you used to do this frequently together, but it had been a while.

It was the early hours of sunset, right when the sun started to descend, and the horizon was stunning shades of pink, orange, and indigo. Zoro took a second to admire you as you stared out the window. Tendrils of sea air brushed your hair back, shining a heavenly shade of golden that reflected in your irises and off your cheek bones.

The make-believe you from Zoro’s dreams—the fantasy version of you that he spent every night with for the past two weeks—paled in comparison to the real you, radiant, material, tangible, and true. As he gazed at you, his heart twisted a bit.

“I love this type of sake.” You smiled once again, filling in the silence that took over the air as Zoro gawked at you. After a beat, Zoro opened the bottles, handing you one.

“It’s my favorite,” Zoro replied.

“I know it is.”

You raised your bottle for a toast. “Cheers to finally catching up after far too long!”

Your eyes flashed and Zoro’s heart did a flip. This sensation of being flustered felt so out of character, but he was caught up in the fact that tonight was the night he was going to confess.

The conversation started upbeat and friendly. You laughed together—you were one of the only people who could make Zoro laugh so hard he cried. You were making each other feel better, too. Spirits on the ship were a little low since yesterday and both you and Zoro felt it. But as you spent time together, Zoro felt a bit better because he missed you and wanted to be close to you, and he didn’t know it, but you felt the same.

You talked about Zoro’s new weight-lifting routine, some crazy dance move Usopp pulled out the other night, and the delicious soup Sanji made the other day (Zoro admitted that the shit cook’s soup was delicious, but he could only say that to you, no one else). The conversation wandered to sea kings, silly interactions with Chopper, and Franky’s new shirt (it was neon orange and camouflage, quite the attention grabber).

Your giggles made him feel like he was floating, and his smiles felt like home.

Zoro wished he could pause this moment in time and save it—that it could last forever, or that he could return to it sometimes when he wanted to. All of it was picturesque. He couldn’t believe how many of these nights you’d had together, nights that he never appreciated like he should have.

He had been in denial for months, egregiously so. He had been blind to the love for you that was brewing within him. Now that he could see his emotions for what they were, now that he was jolted and rocketed out of the opacity that locked his heart up, he could see that his love for you was plain as day. It was screaming at him, begging him.

 He was in agony, and you had suffered far too long.

Zoro’s thoughts raced while you told him some cute little story. One part of him was laser focused on your beauty and the rays of setting sun that lit your eyes up. It was breathtaking. Another part of him was trying to keep up with what you were saying, but he was distracted. And a third part of him felt intoxicated. Everything you did overwhelmed him. It was like he was being hit over the head with realization after realization—a sequence of memories flashed in his mind.

One night, two or three months ago, you two were drinking. You had gotten far too drunk and you were on the verge of falling asleep somewhere random on the deck. Your shirt rode up a bit showing your stomach, the strap of your tanktop fell down one shoulder, and your eyes were sleepy.

“Zoroooo,” you mumbled. “Wanna go to bed.”

He looked at you, tutted, and pulled his hoodie off. He then helped you put it on—it was a chilly out and he saw goosebumps on your skin. You murmured out a thank you and slumped into his arms. He sighed and scooped you up, carrying you to your room.

He liked how you felt in his arms. Your weight. Your warmth. The way your head rested on his chest. The look of you in his hoodie. How close you were. Back then he tried to ignore it.

Zoro then tucked you into bed. You looked like you were out cold, but when he pulled the covers up so you would stay warm, you opened your eyes, half-asleep. You lifted both arms up and looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Zorooo,” you slurred out your words, blurting them carelessly. “Wanna hug.”

He leaned over the bed and into your arms, clasping you into an embrace. You hummed and didn’t let go for a few moments. When he pulled away, you petted his hair for a second, mumbled out a “night night” and went to sleep for good.

Looking back at the moment you asked him for a hug, Zoro realized that his heart had done that twisting thing; it was butterflies. He recalled that he just stared at you for a second. Your face was peaceful, eyes heavy, lips pouting. When you petted his hair, his heart did the thing again. He ignored it.

The next morning you had been sheepish, possibly because you remembered the affection you gave him, the hug and the hair pets. You thanked him for his hoodie and he said, “no problem.” That was that.

Another memory flashed into Zoro’s mind.

Some day, months ago, you and Nami went shopping. When you came back to the boat, you both tried on your new outfits and showed each other, fashion-show style. In passing, Zoro got a glance of you in a white dress. He had to stop himself from staring. It complemented you perfectly.

Sanji practically screamed, “MY LOVEEE~ You look absolutely ravishing tonight!” Then he got down on one knee and kissed both of your hands. Zoro remembered that something about that interaction pissed him off. He remembered thinking who does that shit cook think he is, fawning over you like you were a piece of meat.

When Nami very pointedly asked Zoro what he thought of your white dress, all he said was “suits you.” Looking back at that moment, Zoro kicked himself. The dress didn’t just suit you, it was made for you. Sanji had a point. You looked ravishing. He tried not to muse on it.

Another memory blitzed into his mind, a dagger to his heart. You were having drinks in the crow’s nest just like this, many months ago. You had looked at him earnestly and said, “Zoro, I like you. I really like you.”

Was this your attempt at a confession? You continued. “I could be around you all the time—I think we make a great pair.” You had that sweet smile on your lips.

Zoro had nodded and raised his glass. “To good friends!” He didn’t really notice it then, but now he realized that your smile faltered.

Looking back at that moment, he saw that you may have been alluding to something else. He unwittingly, cruelly, friend-zoned you. It was sort of brutal. When it happened, he shrugged it off like it was nothing, hadn’t had a second thought about it. Now he wondered how deeply that must have wounded you, if you felt any sort of way about him.

The final memory that his brain threw at him (while you were in the middle of giving him your story) was the moment when he first looked at you. It was a simple moment, insignificant until he realized that he loved you.

He felt drawn to you, from day one, immediately interested in you. Right off the bat, he thought you were beautiful, brilliant, and hilarious. When he thought back on that twisting feeling, the butterfly feeling, he could tell that it happened back then, too. Something fell into place that day, whether it was fate or luck. That day, he had you and you had him.

Zoro already came to terms with the fact that he loved you, and these memories further enforced the realization that he loved you all along. He just didn’t know how to express it and never thought himself capable of that sort of emotional depth. But you changed that. You flipped a switch in his mind. It was you all along.

“Zoro?” You asked, shocking him back into the present. “Are you okay? You looked like you zoned out there for a minute.”

“Fuck, sorry. I did. What were you saying?”

You smiled, told him no worries, and the conversation continued. His eyes were glued to your face, his heart and brain felt all shaken up, and he only knew two things—he knew that he loved you, and he knew that he wanted you to know that. No matter the consequences, it needed to come out. Preferably now.

The sun set by now. The horizon was a dark purple, the stars were starting to shine overhead, and the golden rays on your skin disappeared. There was a lull in conversation. Zoro took his chance.

“How have you been feeling since we had our lunch on the deck? I remember you said you were feeling down?” He attempted to ask with casual ease though his heart was racing. He was going to get to the bottom of it. All of it. Now. The privacy was perfect, you were perfect, the setting was perfect, all of it was perfect.

Your answer was reluctant. “I’ve been okay...”

“What’s up?” Zoro avidly watched your every movement. He inspected the way your eyes fluttered and the way your lips parted.

“Ugh.” You groaned. So it was going to be like this tonight. As you expected, he wanted to revisit the subject. “I don’t know, Zoro. I’ve just been feeling weird recently.”

“How so?”

“Hmmm. I guess I’ve been feeling a bit lonely. And empty.” Your lips were pursed, looking out of the window, at the sea. You could see the moon in the reflection of the waves. All was quiet except for the sound of the sea lapping the hull of the Sunny.

“Empty?” Zoro feigned surprise. He knew you were lonely. He overheard you sob about it a couple weeks ago.

The painful truths that you had been trying to keep bottled up when he was around? They started to shake inside. They wanted out of that bottle, stat. And you could only ignore those feelings for so long before they’d fucking explode. It had to come out sooner or later.

If Zoro pressed you any more than this, you might start losing it. The explosion was imminent.

“I know it’s going to sound ridiculous because I’m surrounded with people all the time, but I just feel empty. Like…” you hesitated, “I feel like I’m missing something. Someone. I just feel so lonely.”

“Oh?” His heart was pounding. You averted your eyes for a second and he thought you looked bashful. He took note of that.

“Sometimes I just wish I had someone by my side all the time. Like someone I could share everything with? If that makes sense.”

Zoro paused. “Yeah, that makes sense. It doesn’t sound ridiculous at all.”

You took a deep breath and exhaled. He could see it now, glaringly, a sadness that lingered in your eyes. He could see it and his heart ached.

"It might sound absurd, but I’ve been craving a sort of… Well, I don’t know. A sort of company? Love, maybe?” Your voice was strained. Zoro’s breath hitched at the word ‘love’. “I just get so sad thinking about it sometimes. Like I have this profound emptiness inside. And it feels so out of reach, like that love will never happen for me. And maybe that sounds ungrateful because I have company, and I’m surrounded by my best friends all the time but… I just want a different kind of company. A different kind of love.”

You looked at him and frowned. If you said any more than that, you were worried you would start crying.

More silence for a few moments. Zoro was trying to figure out what to say.

“Why do you feel like it will never happen?” He prodded. He meant well, but that was enough to send you over the edge.

You were emotionally distressed and recently it felt like it was all coming to a head. You had been trying to flirt and send signals to Zoro for months, to no avail. Any time he was near you, you felt like you were suffocating. And now that he was asking you these things, trying to get answers or explanations out of you, you felt like you would fall apart.

The problem himself was in front of you, asking you what was wrong and why you felt like love was out of reach. You didn’t want to say anything and ruin your friendship and you were convinced he would never see you that way. It was just a blatant reminder that he didn’t care about you the way you wanted. He seemed unphased by the whole conversation—he was cautious and curious but that was nothing new.

As you started to get overwhelmed, tears welled in your eyes. What the fuck were you supposed to say to him? The risk of altering the dynamic between you two, along with the pressure of possibly altering the dynamic of the crew… You started to catastrophize. The pressure was too much.

A hot tear escaped one of your eyes and ran down your cheek. The emotions were starting to erupt, and his presence was agitating that.

“Hey, are you okay?” Zoro was concerned with your silence and frown. He hadn’t noticed the tear yet, and he thought you looked like you were about to start crying.

You shook your head and turned away from him as more tears started to flow out. Now that the tears started, they wouldn’t stop until the sadness was gone. You were trying to put a cork in that bottle of sadness, but it wasn’t working.

A moonbeam landed on the side of your wet face. Zoro realized now, catching the glint with his eyes, that you were crying. Did you just make her cry? He berated himself. You wanted to talk about love with her, and you made her fucking cry?

“Sorry, Zoro. It just gets me worked up sometimes. Hurts really bad.” Small sobs started to wrack your body.

Zoro stared at you. His heart was actively breaking—he couldn’t bear seeing you in pain like this. He had only witnessed you crying once before, on the deck when you had the conversation with Nami that started all of this.

He scooted closer to you on the bench and your knees touched. His voice was hushed and gentle. “Hey.”

Reaching a hand up, the ran it softly down your shoulder to your upper arm, a tiny movement. He repeated it, petting you, trying to give you some solace, to show you that he was there. His touch was delicate, so unexpected from him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he continued, “and you can cry all you want. Don’t bottle it all up. I’m here for you.”

That note of sweetness you always saw in him was now bold, in full force as he comforted you. Your stomach flipped. He had never touched you like this before or seen you this emotionally vulnerable, nor you him. He said he was here for you, but how much did he mean that, and to what extent? You told yourself for the thousandth time that he would never be there in the way you needed.

“There are some things I have to bottle up, Zoro.” Your voice was almost a whisper. You were in anguish, and though your tears had stopped momentarily, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Not if it’s eating you up like this. It’s not worth it.” His hand went still.

If Zoro told you to not bottle things up, if he comforted you like this, then you might as well just fucking confess, you told yourself. But before you could force the words out of your mouth, he was one step ahead. The silence was too much for him.

His mouth went dry. Fuck it.

“You said you wanted someone to share everything with? Someone to always have by your side?” Zoro asked. “I wonder if I could do that?”

He was painfully close to you. Your knees still touched, and his hand rested on your arm. Your heart skipped a beat.

He must not have heard you right. There’s just no way. You were convinced that the situation was hopeless.

“Oh Zoro, you’re sweet, but I didn’t mean it in a friend way. I meant it in a romantic way. Like I wish I had someone to hold hands with and kiss and stuff.”

“I know.” His words hung in the air. You were dumbfounded. “How do you feel about me, really? You won’t screw anything up. Just please tell me how you feel about me. I’m going crazy.” His tone was urgent, and he leaned closer. Every inch closer made you feel dizzy.

You were immeasurably caught off guard, too stunned to speak. Meanwhile, Zoro didn’t really know how to handle himself. While you silently collected your thoughts, he started to blurt out words. When it came to this sort of thing, he didn’t have the most tact.

“I’ve been having dreams about you. Really intense ones. It’s been fucking with my head.”

“Dreams?” You asked, again not sure if you heard him right.

“When I look at you, I start to feel weird inside, like something is twisting in me. It’s driving me crazy. It’s been weeks at this point. I thought I was sick, or something, but I think it must be something else so, please, please, just tell me how you feel about me.”

“Zoro…” Your tone was cautious. He was acting weird—the comment about dreams was particularly odd—and you were too caught up in emotions to really process what he just word vomited at you. But if he was asking you questions this desperately, then he would get an answer. Might as well. Especially after what he just said.

“I feel things about you,” you began. “Intense things. I know you just see me as a friend, but… I just—my feelings are intense. It’s okay that you don’t reciprocate, and I never said anything because I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“Don’t reciprocate what?” He pushed further.

More silence. You were trying to decide how to it into words. Your mind raced.

“You won’t make it weird,” he continued, pleading. “Just tell me, really, how do you feel about me? What’s intense about it? Help me understand.”

Ugh. You didn’t have the energy to play it safe or coy right now. If you regretted it, then so be it.

No longer would this eat you up inside.

“Zoro, I’ve loved you for a long time.”

The realization hit him like lightning.

So it was him. In the conversation he overheard, where you were talking about love with Nami, you had been talking about him. You said it was hard to be around him.

It was so obvious now that his ignorance to your advances slighted you; his overt neglect to recognize to your love, his insistence that he didn’t have the capacity and could never find it—it must have hurt you deeply. Now that he knew how he felt, now that he was so sure of it, he hoped he could make it up to you. He would do anything.

You continued, your voice taking on a hurried tone. You needed to get it all out and explain yourself before he had the chance to say anything. “I know you don’t feel the same. I’ve picked up all the signals, and whenever I’ve tried to… I don’t know… flirt with you? It bounces right off you. I get it. We’re close friends and crew mates and I know we aren’t destined to become any more than that. So, there’s no need to apologize to me or anything. It’s fine, really, that you don’t see me like that. And I don’t want to make things weird, and I’m sure you don’t either, so whatever those dreams were then that’s fine. I’m happy just being your friend, you don’t need to be anything more than that, especially if it’s just out of pity. So that’s it basically. I’ve been lonely because when I spend time around you I just wish that—”

Each word you uttered pulled Zoro forward just barely. You could hardly get the words out, rambling to make the awkwardness go away and help him understand. But he cut you off mid-sentence, pressing his lips onto yours.

You went rigid, eyes open wide as he brought a palm to cup your cheek.

The kiss lasted a handful of seconds, brilliant fireworks of confusion and exhilaration coursed through you both.

You melted, easing the rigid tension of your body slowly, leaning into his lips that were softer than you could have imagined. The warmth of his palm on your cheek was comforting, familiar, and welcome.

When he pulled away, he was crimson. “Did that help at all? Did any of that loneliness go away?”

He started talking before you could answer him.

“I already said it but let me be clear,” Zoro said, “I want to be that person for you. I don’t want you to be sad anymore. I want to be that person you share everything with and always be by your side. You said you’ve loved me for a long time? I have, too. It just took me a bit longer to realize it. You’re always on my mind, even when I’m working out, or asleep, or eating... I-I count down the minutes until we talk again and your smiles just… They make my heart feel funny. I’m in love with you. There’s just nothing else these feelings could be. So, there.”

“So there?” You asked incredulously. The sudden deluge of emotions felt like a smack in the face. “Zoro, what?”

He didn’t know what to say next. This conversation didn’t go as he rehearsed it in his head and you were so shocked that you thought you’d faint.

“I said I'm in love with you. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. I’m sorry. But hopefully I didn’t confess too late—and since you feel the same maybe you’ll let me, ah, fuck, I don’t even know how this works. Like, let me hold your hand… or something? Fuck. I’m so bad at this.”

He started to get redder, turning his face away from yours and taking his hand off your shoulder. This was a whole new side of him. An innocent, sincere, earnest side. A loving side. A side you dreamed about for ages.

If that was really how he felt, then you would welcome it with open arms.

This time, you brought a hand to his cheek and softly turned it towards you. His skin was hot, his brows were furrowed and he was doing a sort of grimace.

“Zoro. You’re something else. Are you absolutely sure you feel this way? Like, are you sure sure?”

He nodded and you cracked a grin.

“You should have told me earlier. But, if you’re certain…” you trailed off and held a hand out to him, palm up.

“What?” He looked at it, confused and clueless, and you pushed it towards him again with emphasis.

“Give me your hand, Zoro.”

The swordsman reached his hand out and placed it on yours. You moved your wrist a bit and threaded your fingers together with his, giving his hand a squeeze.

“You said you wanted to hold hands. So, there.” You smiled at him, and he squeezed back, turning even redder somehow. His hand was large; it felt strong, rough, and calloused. You had wondered for many months what it would feel like resting in yours like this.

In an uncharacteristically suave move, Zoro gently dragged your hand forwards, pulling you closer to him. He brought a hand to your waist and pressed his lips on yours again.

His hand felt heavy and strong on your side and his kiss tasted faintly like alcohol. He smelled just… manly and musky. But (surprisingly) clean. He must have showered today.

How was any of this real? How long had he known that he loved you?

Would you tell the crew?

What sort of relationship would this turn into?

You tried not to get lost in the details—those could be worked out later. For now, you needed to focus on how his lips felt on yours.

When Zoro pulled away from you, he kept his face close. “No more feeling lonely or empty, okay?”

You nodded, blown away by the delightful turn of events. Never in a million years would you have guessed that this is how the conversation would go.

“If you say so. Now,” you ventured, “before we get any further, tell me more about those dreams of yours.”

< previous part | masterlist >

taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996 @theilluminatidragonqueen @becca-oak @my-name-is-heartache @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @adamwarlockislife-blog @olasz-2003 @kyllium @chibinasuu

a/n: this is how i feel posting this last part. FINALLY. i was stressing hard with this one because i wanted it to feel authentic. also what is that, eleven dreams and some change for zoro to realize and confess how he felt? on another note, thank you so much for reading this and for being patient with me. love yall so much and i cant wait to write more for you soon!

[ddarker-dreams]

what would make the husband rotation genuinely mad and would they act when theyre mad?? bad vibes for everyone

upsetting chrollo is an arduous endeavor.

he values control, whether it be over himself or others. creating the troupe would've been impossible if he was easily agitated. ironically, by muting his emotions for so long, he's set himself up for failure. when they do escape the fortress he built to contain them, they're wild. their repression drained any civility chrollo pretends to have.

regarding what it takes to get to this point... a third party revealing his criminal affiliations to you would do the trick. especially if the evidence they provide is irrefutable. chrollo isn't naïve, he's always been aware of the possibility. it'd be different if your efforts unmasked his identity. sure, he wouldn't be ecstatic, but he'd feel a hint of pride over your sleuthing capabilities. he almost considers it your right, in a weird way.

this sentiment doesn't extend to another's interference. they've inserted themselves into your relationship and warped your opinion of him. it's a violation, an intrusion. chrollo comes off as unusually detached when this information reaches him. he would've preferred you confront him, so he could control the narrative and do immediate damage control. with that plan dashed, his anger will simmer, until it can scald the one who tainted your perfectly fine relationship.

gojo satoru wants to be the center of your universe.

he's selfish, he isn't content with anything less than you in your entirety. he wants to be your partner, your best friend, your rival and confidant. he's cool with your friends and family (wow thanks gojo), since he knows that ultimately, you're both close in a way few can understand. shoko tells him at point blank that he's overdependent on you. he's aware, he just doesn't care to fix it. he's shameless enough to admit it as much without remorse.

for this reason, should someone capable of exerting influence over you stumble onto the scene, he would not be happy. megumi (kid or teen) remarks that he gets this 'creepy look', like he's pretending to be human. if he released a mere tendril of the cursed energy writhing inside him, it'd be enough to render most sorcerers comatose. his vibes become that abominable.

whether it be a former mentor, childhood friend, or some other role he can't fulfill for you himself — he wants to create as much distance between them and you as possible. fortunately for him, simply being himself is enough to repel most people. gojo inserts himself into your conversations until this person catches the hint. after knowing him for so long, you've grown immune to his questionable boundary crossing. he'll keep at it until they're scared off.

scaramouche gets angry with you for making him fall in love.

had his chest cavity not been empty, he would've clawed his heart out to avoid this harrowing feeling. the timidity, the vulnerability, oh, how he loathes it; loathes you for the spell you've placed him under! this resentment is, in truth, mostly directed at himself. shouldn't he have learned his lesson by now? how many times must he be chewed up and spit out before he stops wandering into the maw of emotional connection? he resolves himself to kill this... whatever it is you both share, before he's dragged through disappointment once again. he'll work himself up into a frenzy, all righteous anger and crackling bitterness—

—then your eyes light up at the sight of him, his name a warm exclamation on your tongue. in an instant, he's pacified, like he'd undergone a lobotomy. what a lovesick fool he is. you won't even let him fester in his negativity, you keep flitting about, earning his undivided attention. it's embarrassing how giddy he is around you (though he hides it beneath snark and condescension). when the interaction ends, he's left torn on what to do. all he knows is that he's running out of excuses to make this your fault.

blade's fury could slice through stars if you were ever hurt.

his mara is voracious until he returns every ounce of your pain tenfold. it's a scene from hell; rivers of blood, shredded limbs, piles of corpses tall enough to be mistaken for towers. in the heat of battle, he occasionally forgets where he is or why he's even doing this. then, all it takes is his mind's eye flashing the image of your face contorted in pain for his mania to blaze anew. you're precious. kind, warm, bestowing care upon him that he hadn't experienced in centuries. annihilation awaited anyone or anything that threatened you. he thinks death is too good for them, but it's the punishment he delivers best.

this explosive rage isn't finite. once his sword is deprived of living prey, he's forced to endure silence. entropy. an all-pervasive thought that you'd be better off with another. he never understood why you blessed him of all people with your affection. upon wiping his weapon clean, his reflection greets him. he scarcely looks human. drenched in viscera, eyes bloodshot and crazed. is this the man you love? what would you think, if you could see him now?

he almost wishes the fury would return. it's preferable to the hollowness he now faces.

[see-arcane]

I think what I love most about the idea of Jonathan clearly becoming Something Else is that it's so much scarier than a vampire. We know the rules and limitations of a vampire. Van Helsing can even provide a list. But Something Else? Let's be real, not even Jonathan knows.

Quincey: Hey, I couldn't help but notice Harker is kind of, uh. Metamorphosing in the corner over there.

Van Helsing: He is going through a grief-filled and harrowing time, Friend Quincey.

Quincey: True. But I don't tend to recall 'spontaneous hair color change, wall-crawling, inhuman speed, blazing eyes, and having an omnipresent heightening scare chord present in the soundtrack whenever you do things' as part of the grieving process.

Van Helsing: Are you not supposed to be laconic?

Quincey: Are you not supposed to be up every available textbook's ass about supernatural happenings in our vicinity?

Van Helsing: Friend Quincey, in fullest honesty, I feel it is best that he copes as he likes. If that means he has to transmute into an entity unknown to the written word or human recognition, that is his choice.

Quincey: ...

Van Helsing: ...

Quincey: So you're putting caring on hold because the Cross and Wafer combo hasn't given him hives.

Van Helsing, pouring himself his third stress-brandy: Perhaps.

Quincey: Jack, back me up here? We should be a little concerned, right?

Jack, has been melting into a manhood-admiration puddle as he watches Jonathan 'White-Haired Romantic Horror Anime Man' Harker handling his kukri in plain view for the past 3 hours: yeag

[nyoomfruits]

38 landoscar

38. kiss because they’re running out of time

“Boys?” The voice of Oscar’s mum floats up the stairs into Oscar’s bedroom. “Are you ready? I want to take some picture before you leave!”

“We’ll be right down!” Oscar shouts back, before he turns back to the mirror, fiddling with his bowtie. “God, this thing.”

“Here, let me,” Lando says, getting up from where he was sprawled on Oscar’s bed, having already put on his own suit and tied his tie. He moves over to where Oscar is standing, takes the ends of his bowtie out of his hands.

They’re close, like this, faces only inches apart as Lando desperately tries to focus on the bowtie and not on the way he can pretty much count Oscar’s individual lashes from here. “Nervous?” He asks, just to have something to say.

Oscar shrugs. “It’s prom,” he says, in a rather deadpan voice. Like it’s any other night. And the beauty is, to Oscar, it is. He doesn’t care about this stuff. The dressing up, the dates, the dancing. Which makes it all the more infuriating he actually got a date when Lando didn’t.

Well, that, and the fact that Lando wishes desperately he was said date.

“There,” Lando says, finishes tying the bowtie. “Perfect.”

“Thank,” Oscar says, glancing at himself in the mirror and smiling. “Where did you even learn how to do that?”

“Oliver,” Lando says, noncommittally, because it would be embarrassing to admit that he learned it when it was just him and Oscar going to prom together, when Lando was still hoping something was going to happen, when Lando thought this might be his moment, if it happened.

But then Lily asked him. So.

Speaking of, she should be here any minute, so they can take perfectly cute prom pics in front of the stairs, show them to their kids later, tell them the story of how they met.

Lando’s stomach churns.

He always thought. His entire high school career he thought there was time. He isn’t a hopeless romantic or anything, but he always thought him and Oscar would have this moment. Where they both realized how much they meant to each other. And then they would kiss and everything would be perfect.

But now it��s prom night, and high school is almost over, and the clock is ticking, and nothing has happened.

And the real, harrowing truth is nothing is going to happen, unless.

“Oscar, wait,” Lando says, because seriously. Fuck it. He spend all these years waiting on Oscar, but why can’t he take the plunge instead?

Oscar, by the door, turns around. “Yeah?” He asks, and then lets out a surprised noise when Lando marches over, grabs him by the face, and kisses him full on the mouth.

There’s a second where it’s the most awkward moment of Lando’s life, where they’re just standing in the bedroom they’ve spend so much of their time hanging out together, lips pressed to lips, and then Oscar lets out a shaky breath, and his shoulders fall, and his arms wrap around Lando’s waist, and he kisses back.

It’s the best 30 second of Lando’s life. And then a door opens downstairs.

“Oscar! Lily’s here!”

“Shit,” Lando says, jumping away, nearly launching himself into Oscar’s desk. “Shit, Lily,” he presses. “Oh my god. Oh my god, I made you like. Cheat on your girlfriend, what the fuck. What is wrong with me. Holy shit I’m so not a girl’s girl right now.”

“Lando, what,” Oscar says, still standing by the door a little dazed. “Me and Lily are friends.”

“But you’re going to Prom together,” Lando says, trying so hard not to cry. God, he’s being a horrible friend right now. And Lily. Lily is so nice. Seriously what’s wrong with him.

“Yeah, as friends,” Oscar stresses. “Because you never asked me.”

Lando pauses. Blinks. “But. No, but you didn’t ask me,” he says.

Oscar laughs then. And god, Lando’s heard it a million times, by now, but it never stops being the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard. “Oh, we’re idiots aren’t we?”

It all starts sinking in now, and Lando laughs too. A loud, relieved thing. “God, we really are,” he says.

There’s a moment where they just stare at each other and then Lando thinks. Take the plunge. “Do you think Lily minds?” He asks. “If I steal her Prom date?”

Oscar laughs, shakes his head. “As long as we still dance with her, I think she’ll mostly be glad to be rid of my pining.”

Lando’s eyebrows shoot up. “Pining? Oh my god, was there pining?” He rushes past Oscar suddenly, heads to the stairs. “Lily! Lily my love you have to tell me about the pining.”

Oscar’s laughter, his delightful, beautiful, show stopping laughter, follows him all the way down the stairs.

[thewertsearch]

@driventopoison asked: You've talked about The Locked Tomb before and I wanted to know if you think I should check it out. It seems interesting, could you tell me what it's about? Also keep up the good work with the liveblog!

The Locked Tomb is fantastic. It's probably best to call it a series of gothic sci-fi novels, with a dash of fantasy, and it's a little hard to summarize succinctly - so I won't try.

The series is set in an advanced, spacefaring civilization where magic is real, but the only varieties of magic known to exist are various forms of necromancy. Necromancers can animate dead bodies, commune with the spirits of the deceased, manipulate biological material such as blood and bone, and are also capable of more esoteric spells that are beyond the scope of a summary. You can't learn to be a necromancer, however - you have to be born with the gift.

One such gifted individual is Protagonist #1, a teenage girl known as Harrowhark Nonagesimus. An extremely powerful and talented necromancer, Harrow is one of the leaders of the 'Ninth House', an ancient necromantic cult situated on a cold, barren, sparsely populated planet.

Harrow's cult is running out of members, and is likely to die out in her lifetime - so when her civilization's emperor summons the nine House Scions, Harrow included, to his planet of origin, she sees it as an opportunity to petition him to help restore her House to its former glory.

Necromancers are powerful, but physically frail - they're glass cannons, basically - so each necromancer is assigned a sworn bodyguard, known as a 'cavalier'. Due to a series of unfortunate events, Harrow is forced to adopt Gideon Nav as her cavalier for this endeavor, which is hilarious for multiple reasons.

Gideon is Protagonist #2, our viewpoint character, and one of the best things about this book. She's a slave of the Ninth House with no necromantic abilities, no cavalier training, no manners, no tact, and absolutely no patience for her new 'sworn necromancer'. She and Harrow are, like... childhood-friends-slash-mortal-enemies, and they've hated other's guts since they first laid eyes on each other... but they're also sort of mutually obsessed with each other. The author is a big fan of Homestuck, and there are some strong kismesis vibes here.

So, that's our premise: Harrow and Gideon, two teenagers with two bad attitudes and a lot of beef, off to meet the emperor. This is all just the very beginning of Book One, and I haven't even begun to get into the shit that goes down in this series - but if this premise is at all interesting to you, I highly, highly recommend you check it out!

[starqueensthings]

We need to talk about Echo (and by talk I mean screm). S3 E13 + 14 Spoilers!

FRIENDS, I'M GOING TO EXPLODE. I need to talk about Echo for a minute. We need to talk about Echo for a minute,  because he has spent the last two episodes in the absolute thralls of complete and total danger, and I personally don't feel like there's been enough of a celebratory uproar for me to be satisfied with the level of appreciation and love that man deserves. (Remember when Hunter ran face first into a colossal exhaust pipe and we all collectively lost our minds because it was so impressive and so sexy? Remember when Tech drove a speeder really fast through a tunnel and we all fainted? I'M A TECH GIRLY. IT WAS ME! I FAINTED!!) but, Y'ALL, Echo deserves that right now!! And for all eternity!!! Because he is wholly submurged in the harrowing potential of torture and execution, and he didn't even bat an eye to put himself there. My awe of him is all-consuming, so please forgive me if this rant reads as nothing but incoherent screaming. 

Echo haters (first of all, we can't be friends....) come on this journey with me! Let's back pedal to the beginning of the last episode (13). He stole an imperial shuttle. Let me repeat, he stole an imperial shuttle. And not just an attack shuttle. Not just a lil one-pilot transport. Bro somehow stole a Rho-class medical transport, which is very large, obscenely conspicuous, and very easily tracked. And, to use his own words, it was "the best he could do on short notice." The man stole a shuttle on short notice. ON SHORT NOTICE? HELLO, HOW DID HE DO THAT. WHY AIN'T WE LOSING OUR COOL ABOUT IT. 

Next stop on this I-love-Echo journey through my mind: not only did he provide his brothers transportation in the complete void of their own (RIP havoc bb), but he also came equipped with intel and clearance codes, and, as Rampart stated, those things change DAILY. Echo somehow procured top secret imperial clearance codes, and a fkn SHIP, within hours of the Batch requesting his help. Not to mention, the ship had yet to be reported missing (which means it was only-freshly commandeered), and the clearance codes worked. Of course they did. Echo never fails. Never doubt Echo. "Echo's on it."  

Choochoo, next stop! Once they arrived on that station orbiting Coruscant, and made their way to the control room (lookin sexy as heck in his armour-au-noir), he broke imperial encryption, hacked into the Imperial database, almost instantly found them the location of a ship departing for the prison that holds their daughter Tantiss, AND THEN DIDN'T EVEN HESITATE TO CLIMB ABOARD AND STOW AWAY.  

He didn't even remotely have a plan, or have time to make a plan. He didn't know who or what else would be on board that mysterious vessel. He didn't know where it was going other than the name of the fkn mountain (which has proven to be nothing but unhelpful thus far). He just ARC-troopered his way through that crowded hangar, dodging aggressive astromech's and inconsiderate loader droids, shirking from the perspective eyes of highly trained commandos, and snuck his way onto a heavily guarded, extremely unknown science vessel. Then, of course, he wasted no time, hacking into the ships control system (may I gently remind- there were at least three pilots and an officer prepping the ship for jump and closely watching all aspects of its controls), disabling the proximity sensors without being detected, and then seamlessly covered the troopers absence by pretending to be him (which we all know is what should have happened on Serenno but... hindsight is 20/20.)  

So... SO.... now we're at Episode 14. Here we at fkn terrified station because HULLO ECHO IS ALONE ON A SCIENCE DIVISION TRANSPORT; we have literally seen them carry around Zilo beasts in that shit. What the heck else could be on there that they don't know about? Literally anything. Because THEY KNEW NOTHING before attaching themselves to it. Echo knew NOTHING before sneaking onto that thing and creepin' around. Thank heck he didnt come across a fkn fresh wave of slither vines ok?  

NEXT, Echo shoots (not stuns- lol) a sassy fkn droid (they had it coming, not sorry), then another trooper. AND THEN discovered his only option for departing the ship once it enters atmosphere is going completely undercover, because (in true "we improvise everything" CF99 fashion that gives me heart burn just thinking about it), they had zero fkn plan to get off the ship. I will repeat: completely undercover. On Tantiss. COMPLETELY UNDERCOVER ON TANTISS. NO COMMS, NO BACK UP, NO RECON, NO PLAN, BARELY ANY GEAR, and I would just like to stress... no neuro brace. He left his neurobrace on that ship. Left it. LEFT IT AND TOOK A HAND INSTEAD. PLEASE FKN SEDATE ME.  

We can't leave this station yet... This I-love-Echo train needs to linger at this point for a sec because I think it's lost on some people how wild this is. Echo without his neurobrace is huge. It's a bigger deal than Echo without his armour. Armour is, in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential (one can find more- see Howzer). Echo's neurobrace is not armour, it's a computer and it's so so so crucial to how his mind processes information and events. Don't forget, the Technounion HIJACKED HIS BRAIN. They took every memory from him and manipulated it for their gain. Pruned it, tweaked it, blanched it, poached it, turned it into scrambled eggs, and then fkn ate it up and used it to defeat their enemies (Echo's family- I'm sobbing). They implanted him with an unfathomable amount of information; they changed the way the neurons in his brain fire in relation to stimuli. That neurobrace is so so critical for him. Now, we know he can operate well enough without it, we saw it in the last episode of the TBB arc in season 7 of Clone Wars, but... please.... to what extent? We don't know what an extended time without that neurobrace looks like for him... especially when all other aspects compliing his surroundings foreign, unknown, and dangerous, and that scares me.

AND NOW HE'S ABOUT TO RUN AMOK IN TANTISS with Emerie who, (I'm sorry) is wishy-washy as heck (who are you loyal to!!!!! What is your history!!! Are you trustworthy and what are you looking to gain!!!), trying to adopt a collection of Jedi children whove spent maker-knows how long playing space tetris, WHILST ALSO ATTEMPTING TO LOCATE AND ESCAPE WITH HIS BROTHERS UNDER THE EYE OF THE GALAXY'S SECOND MOST DANGEROUS MAN. 

So yes, short of d-d-d-di... can't say it... short of THE WORST CASE, Echo has made the ultimate sacrifice to save not only Omega who is literally the only person we've seen able to make him truly laugh, but all the clone brothers that he's been desperately trying to locate and rescue. His bravery and determination are literally unrivalled, and he did it while feasting on nothing but humble pie because that man wouldn't know arrogance if it danced naked under his perfect nose.  

Okay so welcome, we've finally pulled into I-Love-Echo station. Before departing the ride, please stand and do a hip hip hurray for the miracle that is Echo, including but not limited to, everything he's done, is doing, and is willing to do for other people. 

[mariacallous]

The problem with judging people for their sins is that the internet makes it exceedingly easy to invent sins. In February, Buzzfeed News reported on a man filmed by a passing TikTokker, who then uploaded the footage with text suggesting he’d lied to her to get out of a date. That was false—he’d never met her—but it didn’t stop people from ridiculing him as the video racked up over a million views.

Similarly, last year, an Australian woman objected to being made the star of a stunt in which a TikTokker asked her to hold a bouquet, strolled off, and then congratulated himself on performing a random act of kindness. Sixty million hits later, his viewers were praising him for brightening the day of a woman they judged to be old, lonely, and sad. But she objected to that characterization and declared the whole affair “dehumanizing.” She hadn’t asked to have her day interrupted, let alone be thrust into a global spotlight.

And then there are those incapable of even grasping the situation. In 2022, a TikTok channel was called out for surreptitiously filming the homeless with drones. Loved ones with dementia are put on TikTok to be infantilized or have their worst moments gawked at. Parents transform their children into viral stars. Sometimes, those children grow up and call them out for warping their youth.

When people tell us it was harrowing and wrong to be unwillingly cast into the spotlight, we nod and agree. But those responsible typically offer only half-hearted apologies or remain unrepentant, while their millions of views discourage reflection. Often, moral scolding is implicit in the video and explicit in the comments: It is wrong to be homeless. It is gross to be ill. It is pathetic to be unhappy.

To be sure, crass and hateful public figures are worthy of ridicule. And we’ve been using the internet to judge strangers for as long as we’ve had the internet. But the common trait shared by much of the most obnoxious content today is that someone chose to elevate a stranger for no reason beyond their own gratification, attracting attention at a scale unimaginable in the days of relics like Hot or Not and People of Wal-Mart.

At best, these are misguided attempts to juice the poster’s social media presence. At worst, they are pointless cruelty. That cruelty can be addictive, but we can and must resist the urge to gawk at strangers against their will. It should, in fact, be considered rude, insulting, and wrong to have uploaded a stranger against their will. We would not go out into the streets and stir up a mob against a random person. Why are we so comfortable with doing it online?

Much of what we post online is innocent and will remain so. The average Facebook user has 338 friends, while the average number of Instagram followers, according to one estimate, is just 150. You likely use these platforms to follow celebrities and brands, and to interact with friends and family. These are, for most users, insular communities. Vacation photos with friends or a family portrait at Christmas are unlikely to attract trolls and creeps, and even if they do, they are clearly posted in good faith.

But some platforms, like TikTok and Twitter, are more exposed to the vagaries and cruelties of the wider world. Anything you post on them can wind up in the feed of people who don't follow you. Therefore, anyone can become the day’s punching bag. Does your relative really understand what could happen if you put your interaction with them on TikTok?

Maybe you know better than to post Grandpa on Twitter without thinking it through. We know whether our friends and family like attention and whether they understand social media ecosystems, and with this knowledge we are capable of making informed decisions as to whether and on what platforms we should post them. We do not have the same knowledge of strangers. That can be a reason to not post them, but it can also be an excuse to post them without thinking.

If it came out that an influencer uploaded an interaction with a stranger to a private Facebook page or Discord server solely so their closest friends and family could pick them apart, it would rightly be considered misanthropic. And yet uploading a stranger so millions can mock and over-analyze them is just the business of content. That business needs to change.

It’s exceedingly unlikely we’ll ever eliminate jackassery from the internet, but a social media mishap involving a friend or family member can be resolved with communication.

It is harder for a complete stranger to succeed in that endeavor, especially when “Look at this weirdo I found, please gape at them” is the text or subtext of so many videos and posts by accounts that thrive on content starring the unwilling. Such content must become anathema. Particular thought must be taken before posting an interaction with a stranger, and the consent of a stranger to be posted at all is necessary to retain an internet that is even remotely civil. If someone does post a stranger without their consent, they should be shunned, not rewarded with the attention they crave.

The vast majority of disputes with unruly neighbors are solved by talking to them. Ideally, the law only gets involved when lines of communication break down. The same can be true of digital disputes.

We have privacy laws. If I were to post your name, address, and phone number, you would have legal recourse. And yet the same is not true for your image. Today, at least, you surrender your right to privacy by stepping into public. But outdated privacy laws are catching up to the abuses of government and tech, and the issues raised by social media virality could be next.

Still, a blanket law against posting strangers without their consent would be draconian and unworkable. There are too many variables, too many circumstances, and simply too many cases. However, whole generations who have been online since birth—sometimes unwillingly—could grow up to be more sensitive to the downsides of posting without permission, prompting a normative shift.

More specific laws are already evolving to handle some scenarios raised by nonconsensual virality, specifically as it applies to children. Irina Raicu of Santa Clara University’s Internet Ethics Program points out that a recent French law entitles child influencers to demand that platforms scrub all trace of them once they turn 16. The YouTube career their parents create for them—or force on them—need not be what defines them as adults. The United States is considering a similar law; a woman who testified to a House committee said the details of her first period were turned into content.

Another law being considered in France would make parents responsible for their children’s privacy rights. Le Monde cites, as an example of fame-seeking behavior that France is hoping to discourage, TikTokkers scaring their children by pretending to call the police on them, and an Instagrammer who smeared chocolate on her 4-year-old and convinced them they were covered in feces. We will eventually wonder how parents were able to get away with this at all.

So those who cannot consent are starting to be protected. But what about those who could consent, but don’t? And what if, as some unwillingly viral subjects have found, reaching out and asking for posts to be removed is met with silence or rejection?

In reality we already practice social media consent; it is not unusual to ask a friend if they’re alright with having a picture posted to Instagram, even though the face they make as they try to cram an unusually large sandwich into their mouth is not a flattering one. And yet we continually fail to extend this courtesy to strangers, either because we think nothing of it or because it is our job to go viral at all costs.

Some of this, as Raicu points out, can be blamed on the platforms we use, which encourage hair triggers. “There are ways in which the design choices behind many websites make it harder for all of us to think about consent,” Raicu wrote in an email. She points to the sheer ease of posting and the fact that norms around social media consent have not solidified. But she notes that platforms could “introduce some friction” in the form of, essentially, reminders that other people are human before you hit Post.

Future platforms could work to curtail shaming, either out of moral compulsion or legal necessity. Much as you can report harassment to social media platforms, posts that have elevated you to infamy against your will should be fair targets.

Lines have been drawn before. YouTube banned dangerous pranks and challenges after people were hurt and complaints mounted. TikTok is trying to tweak its algorithm in response to growing concerns that young users are awash in content encouraging suicide and incel ideology. Content made from those unable or unwilling to consent is a broad category that cannot be wiped out with algorithmic tweaks, but the damage is still happening, and we have the power to collectively declare that some forms of content are unacceptable and must no longer be tolerated.

Perhaps, given the increasing universality of social media usage—83 percent of Gen Z uses TikTok—platform-embedded tools could establish consent. Before posting a video of someone, an influencer could ask their username and send them a simple, stock contract granting them permission to post. Again, this need not apply to every random photo of friends. It could be optional, or it might apply only when an account reaches a certain threshold of followers. But a lack of permission could give a user cause when they cite unwanted virality and negative attention when asking for a post to be removed.

But most of the work will fall to people. It's difficult enough to remember that the man being a bit rude in the grocery store line is a fallible human being with hopes and dreams; it can be almost impossible to remind yourself of that when viewing a contextless clip of someone halfway across the hemisphere. The internet is capable of connecting us to tremendous numbers of people, even as it makes us forget that they are human like us.

An influencer comfortable with filming themselves for thousands of viewers should be comfortable with approaching a stranger and saying, “Would you mind appearing in a video I’m making? I’m going to post it on this platform, and I have this many followers. Take a minute to check me out.” Some already do, and surely there are people who would be happy to receive a free bouquet in exchange for appearing in a TikTokker’s silly stunt. But a no should be taken as a no, just as it should in any other scenario involving consent.

It’s all too easy to skip this step today. People who speak out when they feel harmed by what an influencer did with their image receive only a tiny fraction of the attention that the original posts featuring them got. But when an influencer is repeatedly called out for exploiting strangers—or when their exploitation is obvious, such as when they prey on the homeless—they should be frozen out of the social media ecosystem, not rewarded with attention and profit.

In the future, how will we be able to see such casual cruelty as anything but unethical? Maybe stories of regret are a sign of what’s to come. Brianna Wu, one of the victims of GamerGate, says she has fielded over 100 apologies, often from people who were at their lowest and saw her as an easy outlet for their emotions. But we generally don’t take our frustrations out on people on the street; understanding that people deserve to be protected from unsolicited online fame and malice is the next logical step.

We no longer parade people through villages on a cart or lock them in pillories in the town square to shame them, as was done in centuries past. We did not stop enforcing laws and norms, but we recognized that humiliation and ostracization are harsh, counterproductive tools. Eventually, we will make that realization about the strangers we parade across the internet.

[hughes86-43]

Post Game | Q.Hughes

warnings - none! maybe some spelling errors! this was a draft that I had and just now finished. hope you like it!

The buzzing energy of the crowd after a harrowing Canucks win has you out of your seat cheering along with them as the buzzer goes off signaling the end of the game. The Canucks came out with a 5-2 win and you couldn’t be happier for Quinn and the team. You talk to the rest of the wags while waiting on Quinn to text you back about where to meet him after he is done with media.

Glancing at your phone, you see he sent you a text.

quinn: I’ll be only about 10 more minutes if you want to go wait by the car?

you: okay I’ll be there

Saying goodbye to the other wags, and even some fans that recognized you as Quinn’s girlfriend, you make your way to his car. You didn’t have the key, so you just leaned against the car.

Eventually you see more players making their way to their own cars, so you know Quinn should be on his way.

Petey is one of those who is making his way towards his car, spotting you he teases you by saying, “Goodness he’s making you wait out here? Man what a boyfriend he is!”

“I know? Gosh making me wait forever on him!” You say back to him laughing.

“Gosh not my best friend and my girlfriend teaming up on me!” Quinn says as he spots you two standing by his car. “It was only like 10 minutes that she had to wait,” he says walking up to you and wrapping you in a hug.

“10 minutes is way too long for her to be waiting!” Petey says shaking his head at Quinn.

Quinn just laughs, “Oh be quiet! We’re heading home now, good game tonight. See you tomorrow, wait, we do have morning skate tomorrow right?”

Petey laughs, “Aren’t you supposed to be the captain and know all these things? Yes, at like 10? Anyway, have a good night you two.”

Waving back to him, you say, “Have a good night, drive safe!”

Quinn unlocks the car, opens the door for you and says, “Let’s head home, love.”

You climb into the passenger seat and buckle up while Quinn goes to his side of the car and climbs in. You give him a quick peck on the cheek, saying, “Good game tonight baby, the crowd was buzzing at the end, it was crazy!”

“I’m glad you were here for it. I play ten times better when you’re here.” He says as he turns the heat on in the car since he knows you get cold easily. Yawning he says, “What do you want to eat? Do you want to stop for something or do we have anything at home?”

Thinking on it, you suggest, “I think we should just stop and get something since it’s late and I don’t want to cook and I know you don’t want to.”

He shrugs, “That’s fine with me. I can see you’re already getting tired so I don’t want you to cook. How about grabbing some Chinese food from that one place by our apartment?”

Nodding your head you agree with him, “Go ahead and head there and I’ll place the order to go.”

Quinn backs out the parking space and exits the garage. You place the order for the Chinese restaurant which is only 5 minutes down the road. Once he pulls into a parking spot, you guys just wait there until the food is ready. Quinn is the first to speak up, with a chuckle, he says, “Did you see me completely fall out there during warm ups, over some pucks?”

Not expecting him to ask that, you bark out a laugh, “Ha, yes I did! Don’t worry, I made sure you made it back up and skated again before I laughed…,” You say back to him shyly.

“Hmmm, I’m sure you did wait! As soon as someone falls, you can’t help but to burst out laughing, no matter if you wait on them getting up or not!” He says, as he just throws his head back against his headrest, chuckling to himself. Sometimes you just can’t help laughing at someone who falls, you’ve been trying to work on it.

“I know, but I did really wait on you to get up!” You say, checking your phone to see if you had gotten a message on whether the food was ready… no message yet.

Quinn looks over at you, he takes his hand to move some hair out of your face that is illuminating from the street lights, he says, “I know I already said it, but I’m glad you came tonight, love when you’re at the games.” Due to work, and traveling of your own, you make it to his games a third of the time, but if you can’t make it, you always make sure to have it on to watch at home or wherever you are. If you can’t watch it, you make sure to keep live updates on.

“I know, wish I could make it to more,” You say smiling at him. A ping from your phone indicates the order is ready. “Looks like our food is done, do you want to go in and get it or me?”

Moving his hand away from your face, he reaches for the door handle, “Don’t worry, I can get it, whats the name under?”

“I think I put it under Hughes, if not then it’s under my name.” He gives you a nod before opening the car door and heading into the place. You see him through the restaurant’s window, he is chatting with one of the owners (that you both have gotten to know since you both always get food from here). He grabs the bag of food, waves goodbye to the staff, and then heads out of the restaurant towards the car. Unlocking the door for him, you grab the bag of food out of his hand.

He says, “The owner says hello, and he made sure to give you extra fortune cookies since he knows love them. He also hooked us up with some extra Rangoon’s since the team won.”

“Well for that, I hope you tipped him well!”

“Of course, yes.”

Looking back over at him, you say, “Let’s head home, so we can eat all of this lovely food and sit on the couch and watch our show!”

Quinn puts the car in reverse and makes his way to the main road. He grabs your hand and thinks that there is no one else he rather spend time with after a game.

[getawayfox]

My favorite reclist of the year! It’s the best excuse to reread beloved fics and shout about them again. I couldn’t wait any longer to post it, so, without further ado: here are my personal favorites from 2023 and why I love them, along with a banner I’m really pleased with. 

Thank you, sweet writers, for giving us your wonderful stories. Wishing everyone a happy December and an amazing and soft new year!

I Fall On Grass by @tackytigerfic Drarry, T, 3.1k

I adore stories with mature characters and this one is no exception. It’s so charming: gentle pining over the years, throughout the realities of life and parenthood, written with such a light hand. And lovely worldbuilding of a slow life that they built for themselves, which left me smiling the whole day after reading it. It feels like a soft caress for my soul.

It’s Me or the Peacock by harrows Drarry, T, 4.6

Do you ever feel like reading a fun, lighthearted fic that will have you grinning all day? Look no further, this is the one. Picture this: established Drarry taking the plunge to move in together, except Draco is bringing his “avian third wheel” with him, adding a feathered twist to the mix. Harry can’t quite believe what’s happening and that’s not even the half of it. This fic is a delight!

Sun Shower by @moonmanatee Drarry, T, 6k

Meet Orkie (short for Snorkel), the delightful cat who loves his boy Harry very much. They share a special bond, silently understanding not to delve into the origins of their pasts. What matters most is their companionship and the comforting routine they’ve woven together. Now, enter Draco Malfoy, a fashion icon with phenomenal outfits, his mud-loving dog, Hubert, and a dash of mouthwatering culinary creations. Your heart will grow three sizes by the time you’re done reading; mine certainly did.

Birds Behaving Badly by @peachpety Drarry, E, 10.5k

Oh, this fic!! I swear my whole body was wiggling with delight when I read it – it’s hilarious and hot and so witty. Draco has a type, which leads to a fun case of mistaken identity, all artfully resolved with the intervention of a conniving seagull, Kevin. Brace yourself for some sassy Slytherin banter, side characters so vividly portrayed they’ll steal your heart (Goyle, I’m looking at you), and the enchanting backdrop of a magical Brighton in the summer. Cue the squeals of delight! 

A Saviour’s Guide to Manners and Decorum by @wolfpants Drarry, E, 13k

I have read every fic Wolf has written this year and, let me tell you, choosing just one feels like an impossible task – I wish I could include them all. But here is my pick, and it’s not because it happened to be my birthday gift. This fic is a gem, seamlessly blending humor with a soft, wistful touch (oh, and do I need to mention it’s also incredibly hot?). It resonates because Harry just wants to be accepted for who he is, refusing to change for anyone (as he rightly shouldn't!). Enter Draco, who is here to help, and not to “fix him”. Sprinkle that with a subtle hint of D/s dynamics, a generous serving of UST, and a sensual shaving scene, and you have got the perfect fic. LOVE!

I only want the ones I envy (I envy) by @porcelainheart3 Drarry, E, 13.5k

This fic is so stunning! A coming-out story with writing so clean and sharp it made me laugh out loud through (lots of) inevitable tears. It has a very competent magical inventor Draco, who wears sock garters(!). It has Harry on a self-discovery journey that feels so very real; with a heart-wrenching childhood flashback that will leave you shattered. It has the most supportive friends. It has banter and flirting and so many wonderful details (look closely at the newspaper in the fic for an extra dose of laughter). And let's not forget the most incredibly emotional blow job; talk about smut with feelings! It’s one of those fics that made me read the rest of the author’s catalog immediately (and trust me, you should too!).

A Time, Dark and Divine by @moonflower-rose Established Drarry, Draco/Ron/Harry, E, 17k

Oh boy oh boy oh boy, this fic is so scorching hot. And their dynamic is so complex: jealousy and possessiveness wrapped up in a delicious package of a boys' trip in Thailand. A stunning Ron POV filled to the brim with complicated history and tension, incredible characterization for all three of them, culminating, inevitably, in hot-hot-hot sex. I couldn’t get this story out of my head for days. If you, like me, like feelings with your smut, this one’s for you! 

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm Drarry, E, 22k

This story is so charming and whimsical! First of all, this Draco is such an utter delight that I fell in love with him right away. He’s so entertaining! The concept of Christmas in July gives the story a wonderfully atmospheric and slightly wistful tone. Add to it a very domestic and playful dynamic between Draco and Harry, top-notch dialogue, so many creative details, and an absolutely delicious and intimate sex scene. From beginning to end, this fic is so warm and touching; a gentle romance that feels as if it was enchantingly sprinkled with a cheering charm.

the first in line by @oflights Drarry, E, 29.5k

This fic is hilarious, mischievous, and sexy all at the same time. And also a little bit unhinged in the best possible way. It had me in its grip from the very first sentence: “When the clock strikes midnight on his 25th birthday, Harry is having a threesome with a werewolf and a vampire.” (chef’s kiss!) and it didn’t let me go. We have a reluctant and grumpy Veela Harry, an over-the-top Draco, summer vacation vibes, a magical yacht, wooing with a hot air balloon (and more!), plus an absolutely delightful non-monogamous background Romione. Gah!!!

Of Magical Beings Being - Magic by @rockingrobin69 Drarry, E, 30k

What’s actually magic here is Robin’s writing. It’s… wait, I don’t think I have words for how rich and full this world is, how special! There’s pining and soft angst and an unreliable narrator and exes to lovers, but somehow all that doesn’t even begin to describe what this story is. It’s witty and fascinating and soft and playful. It’s about loving the other person so much that you do the wrong thing because you think that’s what they want, even though it hurts you. It’s about manifesting them in everything you do until they come back. It’s about Love, about Happiness. It knocked the breath out of me. It’s unbearably lovely.

Winner takes it all by @skeptiquewrites Drarry, E, 41k

This fic is absolutely devastating in a sort of gentle way. My heart broke a million times for this wonderful, hardworking, cornered Draco – who’s looking after his mum – as well as for a whole bunch of beautifully written side characters. The story starts with a bet, and from there, it unravels with Tee's razor-sharp writing, infused with nuance that makes the narrative incredibly rich and undeniably real. If you're in the mood for a cathartic cry, followed by a sweet, happy ending, don't walk – run to this fic!

[sorens-bsf]

Sorvus people I offer the beginning of a fanfic I've been working on for a bit 😁

SO it's a 5+1 fic of Soren and Corvus being in an established relationship, but Terry doesn't know this and he believes that they're just very good friends. So he's third-wheeling them and trying to set them up with each other not knowing that they're already together.

I've almost finished it it's around 5k words in total. But here's the very first part as an introduction

1.

It was clear Soren and Corvus were dear companions, the best of friends, actually. Terry had assessed this long before they began their search for Harrow - it was simply clear in all that they did with each other.

The trio flew high above Xadia, the ground a mere blur of indistinguishable greens and blues. Terry hummed to himself lightly, relishing in the cool wind and company. 

Hushed voices had risen forward, it took him a moment to register that Corvus had turned slightly around from the front to speak to Soren. His words went unheard, even by Terry’s ears, but Soren had laughed loudly from whatever Corvus had muttered. 

“I remember that! Oh man..” the blonde replied from where he sat closely behind the man, now chuckling softly. At seeing his approval of the comment, Corvus smiled fondly, watching Soren with intrigue. 

It occurred a few more times as they flew - Corvus and Soren turning toward each other and offering a few words, engaging in soft conversation and light laughter. Terry didn’t feel left out or anything of the sort, simply enjoying both the ride and the scene between the two men in front of him. Occasionally, Soren would turn to him too, and include him in the talk, making ridiculous comments that, however they confused Terry, made him laugh too.

Throughout the flight, each time they rediscovered a want for conversation and thus turned to the other, seeking words and response, Soren and Corvus would literally grow closer. Soren's hands gripped at Corvus’ sides, holding on tightly to his hips - probably for stabilization, Terry thought. Over time, he would inch further into the man, leaving little room with each moment passed. Terry only realised later on how physically close the two had gravitated to each other, once it occurred to him that Soren was practically hugging Corvus. His arms were wrapped around his waist tightly, his head resting on his shoulder. The man in front did not seem to mind Soren’s proximity, instead, he seemed even happier sitting there with Soren snuggled into him. At one point, Soren placed his chin above Corvus’ head, resting it there, to which Corvus had teased him on it but truly paid no mind. They would still whisper to each other from time to time, softly spoken words that would be lost to the wind before they could reach Terry’s ears.

What a lovely friendship, Terry thought, it’s so nice to see two friends not shy away from being affectionate with one another. Terry smiled to himself, glancing once more at the pair, before turning his attention to the clouds.

--

If anyone read this, I'm almost done with the 5 other parts of the fic, I just need to clean it up a bit. The rest is basically just this trio being dumb and they're in the woods most of the time but yay. I want to write slowburn sorvus bestfriends to lovers EVENTUALLY but for now idk this one where they're already together has taken over my brain :)

ANYWAY i ramble too much. This 5+1 Sorvus + Terry fic should be on ao3 soon 😊

[phantomrose96]

"Okay but we're all totally recommending Gideon the Ninth to our male friends, right? Because can we TALK about what good male character representation Gideon the Ninth has?? Because it's literally so so good.

First off there's Palamedes, who's witty and smart and sarcastic and he literally solves like half the plot. Literally the plot would not have worked without him. And he's regularly shown to be smarter than even Harrow. And best of all, no one ever questions him or belittles him for being a man. Literally everyone treats him like an equal, even the women who see him as an enemy.

Then there's Isaac, who really feels like a real teenager he's so fleshed out. He's got a lot of personality and angst and big emotions, and the author literally never once sexualizes him. Like you know she gets it. Then Magnus is literally so nurturing and wholesome, he's like a genius inversion of the usual Strong Man trope. Literally God HIMSELF is a man.

It's really refreshing how much you can tell the author is a staunch meninist, just from the way the narrative respects all the men across the board. The only time a woman belittles a man is when Ianthe belittles Naberius, but she does that to everyone so it's not sexist. Plus Naberius is a bad ass. He literally beats Gideon in a duel. In fact the only male characters who feel like "bad" male rep are maybe the eighth house, cuz they're both kinda stereotypical male personalities... but when you consider there are 4 or maybe even 5 other prominent men in the story, it stops being "bad male stereotype" and just becomes "good male diversity :)". I really wish more authors felt brave enough to include 4 or even 5 prominent male characters, who all MATTER to the story.

Like I think that's what gets me? It was like every male character mattered. All the main character women wouldn't have gotten to where they did if not for the men who were playing SUPER important secondary roles to them? And those men weren't just there for love interests either, except kinda Palamedes whose whole motivation was the two women he's in love with, but it's REALLY done well! He literally has full autonomy of his choices the whole time and when he steers the trajectory of his whole life for the women he's in love with, it's genuinely so human and heartfelt.

But yeah it's like they were all HUMANS. It was so refreshing how easy it was to empathize with them? It wasn't like "they were men", it was like "the author knows these characters are humans, and they are men too". Idk how to explain it but it makes me really feel like I can understand men better when I usually think they're such a mystery or just really shallow in books :). I just think men should know books like this exist and that they know authors like Tamsyn Muir are out there and they get it :)."