#there are at least 3 layers of inside joke to this but i think it's funny without that context

[missionel]

a small glimpse into my 𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 mind

[darkbluekies]

Christmas tendencies

Yandere!king x fem!reader

Summary: spending Christmas with Edmund can't go wrong<3 can it?

Warnings: Edmund not being nice, in fact being quite naughty, jealousy

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: i thought it'd be a waste to not post this when it was so near completion! So please enjoy and have a merry Christmas if you do celebrate it♡

As if on purpose, the snow has graced the earth for Christmas after not showing itself for the entirety of december. But now, a thick layer of snow covers everything that was once dead and grey. You can’t help but feel excitement. Maybe Christmas with Edmund won’t be hell after all? 

You’re standing in one of the gigantic windows, looking out over the castle grounds—the very same you’re not allowed out in. The castle’s gardeners have decorated every bush, every tree, with lights and decorations. 

“You’ve been standing here for a good forty five minutes now, my jewel”, Edmund says as he walks over to you, fixing his golden cufflinks. “How much more interesting can it get after ten?” 

“You don’t get it”, you reply over your shoulder. “The gardeners have spent a lot of time decorating the grounds, shouldn’t one get to admire their hard work?”

You feel how Edmund comes up behind you, sneaks his arms around your waist and buries his chin into your shoulder. 

“The staff has put a great detail into the interior too”, he mumbles. “Why don’t you stare at that for an hour or two?”

You scoff. 

“I think it’s pretty”, you reply and turn your eyes out the window again. “With the snow and everything. Besides, I’ve already inspected every decoration inside, I helped hang them up.”

“You did, and it’s very pretty. Just like you. I like your dress.”

It’s a red velvet dress reaching down to the floor with long, cape sleeves. 

You turn around to get a look at him. He's wearing a black suit with loose white pieces that puff out. Golden cufflinks and a white bow. His fluffy dark hair has been brushed back, face newly shaven—although there never was anything to shave to begin with.

“You look like you've been tortured”, you joke.

“Haha, funny”, he replies sarcastically, clearly not impressed. “I've told them time and time again that I have an extremely sensitive scalp but no one listens, they force me to do silly hairstyles like this. I think I must have lost at least half of my hair.”

You reach to fix a strand of hair that escaped his hairstyle. You can feel him shudder under your fingertips.

“You’ll live”, you say. “Besides, you look more grown this way.”

“Do I?” Edmund smirks proudly. “Do I look manly?”

“Don’t push it.”

He scoffs. 

Weirdly enough, Edmund has agreed on letting you out of the castle today. Just because it's a special day. The townsfolk are having a market that you have begged to visit and who is Edmund to deny your Christmas wish?

“Are you ready, my love?” he asks and takes your hand. “The carriage it out on the front yard. Let’s get this over with.”

“Can’t you at least pretend to be excited?” you ask with a sad pout. 

He sighs and rolls his eyes before nodding. 

“I’ll have to take a long, scolding bath right after coming back”, he mutters. “Who knows what kind of diseases they can carry? Oh, you’re taking that bath with me, by the way. My Christmas wish.”

He’s like a child when it comes to your bare body, getting eyes wide as moons when he gets to see the most vulnerable parts of you. It confuses you. In his past he has allowed himself to a majority of women and their bodies, so why does he look at you as if he’s never seen it before? 

It’s one of the few times you see him without his cocky exterior. He looks at you with eyes of gratitude, as if showing yourself to him is the greatest gift of mankind. 

Edmund holds your hand tightly as you walk out to the royal carriage. The driver holds the door open for you, but Edmund insists on helping you up in it. He sits down in front of you. The carriage is decorated with golden details and small cherubs.

“You don’t have to look like you’re being driven to your execution”, you say and raise your eyebrows. 

“I’m not happy about this”, he says. “This is something you want.”

“Can’t you be happy for me, then? Please, Eddie?”

His cheeks take on a red tone. The nickname has only been used by you, ever. You gave it to him, you’re the only one that is allowed to say it. The firs time you had said it, he hadn’t known how to react. He had been staring at you with large eyes, wondering what prompted you to give him a nickname when no one else had ever imagined to do such a thing. At first, he was unsure what he thought of the name. He was king Edmund. Had once been prince Edmund. Rarely Edmund. Never Eddie. 

“Fine”, he says and clears his throat, trying to play it off. “I’ll try. But don’t call me that when we’re there.”

“Are you scared that the townsfolk will lose respect for you if they hear that you have a cute, little nickname?” you giggle. 

Edmund rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. 

“No”, he says, smirking devilishly. “Because I don’t want other people to know what you call out in bed.”

Your jaw hangs open in shock and you grab the pillow behind your back, hitting him. Edmund covers himself with his arms, laughing. 

“Watch the hair!” he shouts. 

“You didn’t like the hair anyway”, you remind him. 

“It’s Christmas, you’re supposed to be nice. Don’t be naughty!”

“Naughty? Who the hell started talking about naughty stuff? You started it!”

Edmund laughed. His blue eyes glittered. 

The carriage rolls into the town. You turn your eyes out the window to look at what you’ve been watching from afar. You get out together, Edmund holding onto you so that you don’t fall. The townsfolk keep a distance, knowing that the knights will go to attack if they come to close. Their bright eyes watch on as if they’ve seen something extraordinary. And maybe, you think, for them this is something extraordinary. 

Their eyes follow you to the christmas market. 

“All eyes are making me shy”, you whisper to Edmund. 

“Drink it all in, darling”, Edmund replies quietly. “They worship you, but not as much as I do … and if they try I’m going to kill them.”

“Be quiet!” you hiss. 

Edmund scoffs and rubs your back with his hand. You walk through the streets to the town’s square where multiple small sheds are put up, full of candy, baked bread, knitted goods and alcohol. While you walk around chit-chatting with the vendors, Edmund stands close behind you, a hand on you always. A warning, to everyone around you. You are his, and no one is going to forget that—absolutely not you. 

You buy something from every stand and insist of carrying it yourself. Edmund can’t understand why you want such … cheap crap. He can give you the same things but done well, made by professionals who cost him a fortune. He doesn’t let you eat anything and keeps a constant, watchful eyes around. 

“Smile a bit more, why don’t you?” he mutters in your ear. 

His jealousy is like a wildfire, spreading through him quickly and dangerously. With no easy way to stop it. 

“Edmund”, you whisper quietly. “Stop it.”

“You bought so much from that man”, he continued. “What did you hope to achieve?”

“Edmund!”

He stays silent the rest of the Christmas market. As soon as you get back to the carriage, he can’t keep quiet anymore. 

“Those are so fucking ugly”, says as the door to the carriage closes. 

“That is so unnecessarily mean”, you hiss back at him. “They don’t have what you have. They do their best. And, for having as little as they do, I think they look great.”

You hold your new treasures in your lap closely. 

“I don’t want to spend more time with you if you’re going to be like this”, you mumble without looking at him. 

You’re happy for your new things. But he doesn’t understand. Edmund sighs heavily, clenches his jaw and nods. 

“Okay”, he mutters and takes your hands in his. “I’m sorry … but I could have given you so much better things. If you wanted new mittens, I could have given you them. These things … who knows what could actually be in them?”

You put on the hand knitted mittens. 

“Take them off”, Edmund says, but he doesn’t sound angry or demanding like before. “Darling, my jewel, I’m serious. I don’t want you getting a rash, or something.”

“We’re taking a bath when we get back, don’t we?”

Edmund sighs and gives up. You hold up your hands.

“Aren’t they kind of cute?” you ask. “A little?”

“Fuck no.”

“What if I had made them?”

“You wouldn’t have. If you had knitted mittens, they’d be a thousand times better.”

“You are so mean.” You keep your eyes on your hands. “You were jealous out there too.”

“Of them? Of those filthy peasants?”

“Of those men.”

Edmund leans back in his seat, jaw tightening. 

“Men”, he scoffs and turns his head towards the window. “I wouldn’t call them ‘men’.”

“Childish jealousy doesn’t look good on a king”, you point out.

“You like it when I’m childish though. You laugh, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“You don’t need to be jealous over them. I don’t know them.”

“Everyone wants you. And it makes me sick.”

“Everyone wants you too.”

“They want to be me. But they want you. And I will never let that happen. You are mine.”

“I know. You’re the last person to let me forget that.”

When you get back to the castle, the two of you walk straight to the bathroom where the maids have poured a hot bubble bath that is burning to the touch. Edmund holds you close to him in his arms. 

The rest of the day is spent in the big living room, in front of the gigantic christmas tree that needed a dozen workers to decorate. Edmund wanted the entire town to be able to see the lights from his tree. 

“Merry Christmas, my love”, he says and holds out a red box.

You remove the wrapping smd open the box, finding a necklace with large, round pearls. It's heavy in your hands, and even heavier around your neck.

“These pears cost me quite a lot”, Edmund says and touches the pearls carefully. “But they're cheap in comparison to what my love for you is worth.”

And he means it. He really does.

[little-lizardzzz]

─ ❝ Cute Aggression ❞ ─

> A psychological phenomenon where seeing something extremely cute triggers an urge to squeeze, pinch, or even "crush" it, even though there's no intention to cause harm.

───────────

Yandere! Bully x Bullied Reader

Tw: Honestly I’m not good at writing trigger warnings, just imagine it based on the title😭 it’s not that explicit anyways, I have read worse than what I wrote here💀

Also, reader is a little bit (a lot) stupid, she’s in love with her bully and don’t want to accept the fact that he is hurting her on purpose, also, Cole is the stereotype of that stupid momma phrase “He’s just mean to you cause he likes you but it’s to shy to say it” he wasn’t always like this, he was a sweet boy before but something happened and make him change and act like this, if this story gets enough love maybe I could write a little bit about the past of reader and Cole to explain why he acts like this.

English is not my first language, I’m doing my best with the little bit of knowledge that I have, so, please excuse my grammar mistakes, also, if you would like to leave a correction or any recommendations, I’m willing to hear it<3

-⎽__⎽-⎻⎺⎺⎻-⎽__⎽--⎻⎺⎺⎻--⎽__⎽-⎻⎺⎺⎻-⎽__⎽--⎻⎺⎺⎻--⎽__⎽-

You can’t even remember when it all began to be like this, at least not anymore but if there’s something that you know for sure is that it wasn’t always like this, he wasn’t like this.

Maybe it began like a game, something innocent, just a silly joke here and there, a snarky comment about your personality, then your appearance and eventually, all about you. It was okay though, you used to be best friends, you assumed it was normal, after all Cole has known you since childhood, why would he just change his timid and sweet persona overnight?

Then it wasn’t that innocent anymore, the physical abuse started, subtle at first, shoves, hair pulling, grabbing your wrist a little bit too hard, still normal. It was silly of your part to assume he would hurt you on purpose, right? He’s your best friend, right? He still loves you… didn’t he?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

And here you are once again, repeating this words in your mind like a mantra, over and over again, thinking about the past, the memories you shared, back when everything was fine, when Cole was the sweetest boy on earth, when he showered you with praises just for breathing next to him, when he used to hold your hands carefully in his, the same ones that now are holding your neck so tight that you feel like you’re about to loose consciousness but not enough to really make that happen.

He’s talking to you, you know that you should pay attention, Cole hates to repeat himself but you’re busy looking into his eyes, his big blue eyes, the ones that used to resemble a warm summer sky, precious, calming, soft, there’s none of it into them anymore, just a pale shadow of what they used to be, now cold, greedy and calculative.

Without knowing what’s gotten into you, you extend your arm and caress his cheek tenderly, with all the care and softness that his hold on your neck it’s lacking. And for a second, you see it, deep inside in those deep blue eyes, maybe it is the nostalgia of the memories that plague your mind, maybe the burning love that you still feel for your now tormentor, it could even be the lack of oxygen taking it’s toll on you, those would be more realistic options, possible explanations to the glimpse of the old Cole that you saw looking back at you, deep blue eyes dripping with love, care, fondness and infinite adoration and if you’re not mistaken, even with regret…

But just as fast as it came, it was gone not a second later, emotions buried once again under a thick layer of falsehood and frivolity.

His face contorted with anger as he moves his hand from your neck to your hair to forcefully pull your face closer to his, harsh words breaking the silence and bringing you back from your dizzying state.

“Don’t ever touch me again without my permission, you disgust me”

And with that, he throw you to the floor as if you meant nothing, as if you were worst than trash to him.

You were left on the floor trying to catch your breath, new marks slowly forming on your neck over the other not so old ones, feeling miserable for being incapable to understand him, to understand what happened to him that made him be like this, was it you? Is it your fault? Was it something you did or said? It has to be, Cole wouldn’t treat you like that out of nowhere, not your sweet boy, it has to be a reason, an explanation.

Maybe next time, if you put more effort into it, he would actually let you talk to him when you approach him like every morning, like every time that you roam around the hallways trying to catch a glimpse of him again and again, hundreds of times every day, maybe tomorrow he would actually listen to you instead of just rushing to tackle, hit you or choke you. You just gotta be patient and everything will be alright, just like before, and maybe then you would be able to finally confess your feelings to him and be happy together, like it was supposed to be since the start.

Yeah, tomorrow will be different, for sure.

-⎽__⎽-⎻⎺⎺⎻-⎽__⎽--⎻⎺⎺⎻--⎽__⎽-⎻⎺⎺⎻-⎽__⎽--⎻⎺⎺⎻--⎽__⎽-

[grudgecollector]

Georgia Heat | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl decides to take you on a little run in order to escape the summer heat. It leads to something unexpected, but welcome.

Tags: Swearing, fluff, twd typical violence, no use of y/n, somewhat proofread

Words: 4.1

A/N: Dude when I say I hate Georgia heat with a passion I mean it. This state tries to kill me every summer.

The ending is a little rushed but that's okay

Made a small playlist for this <3

The heat pressed down on you like a thick blanket, a brief miracle of wind gracing against your skin. Beads of sweat rolled down your forehead, and all you could think about was how you should have appreciated the beautiful invention of air conditioning more. 

Summers in Georgia were always a dreadful experience, even before the outbreak. The humidity almost makes the air feel as if it was boiling around you, the sun stinging against your skin every time the tree above you shifted, the shade being cruelly stripped away for just a moment.

Even as a child you hated summer, solely because of the heat. Temperatures like this made it almost impossible to move, even breathing was a struggle as the scalding heat invaded your mouth. 

The palms of your hands were slick with sweat, but your mouth remained dry. The lack of fresh water was making your brain go fuzzy. You knew that at any moment, if you stood just a little too quickly, blackened dots would scatter across your vision, and inevitably you would pass out.

You were grateful that it would at least happen within shouting distance of Daryl and the rest of the group. Instead of happening in the middle of the woods, reducing you to unconscious bait for the undead.

"Ya'look like you're dyin'." Daryl commented, walking over to you with his crossbow securely slung over his shoulder.

A small huff left you as you attempted to fan your face, "Feels like it. This heat is fucking ridiculous."

You craved any form of shelter, but you already knew that the inside of some stuffy house would be no better. A home without air conditioning, in weather like this, is like being trapped inside of a pre-heating oven.

"And here I thought we had a true southern woman on our hands." The rough edged man jokes, crouching down in front of you with a small smile on his lips.

"Oh please, I've lived here my entire life. I just ain’t built for heat like this.” 

You hated sweating this much, it made you feel dirtier than you already were. The grime coating your skin mixing with the salty perspiration. You started to crave that harsh winter chill you felt months ago, at least you’d be able to wear more layers.

"You wanna head out for a bit? I gotta get something for the camp." He asked, averting his eyes to look over his shoulder towards Lori and Rick. 

They were engaged in a conversation of their own, Carol coming out from her tent, and Glenn who sat next to Hershal. The rest of the group was scattered around the makeshift camp, their hopes of finding some safe place to settle dwindling by the day. 

“What’cha got in mind?” You asked him curiously. 

“Guess you’ll just have to find out.” With that he stood back up, walking over to Rick and exchanging a few words and nods. You couldn’t really hear what they were saying, Rick glanced over at you with a small smile and tilted his head to the side before shrugging. 

“Couldn’t hurt.” Was all you could make out of their conversation. 

Daryl walked back over to you and extended a helping hand. He tugged you away from the tree you had planted yourself against. His skin was just as hot as yours, and the contact brought an uncomfortably hot flush to your cheeks. 

The relationship you and Daryl had was far from romantic. It was more of mutual respect, he had saved your life a fair share of times, which you had returned gratefully. There was not a moment you didn’t feel safe when he was around, his watchful eyes always finding their way to you. 

Merle used to always tease his younger brother about going soft. At first, it had driven a small wedge between both Daryl and you. You originally thought you were being held at a distance so Daryl could avoid his brother’s cruel comments, often referring to him as a whipped pussy. In reality it was to keep Merle away from you, not wanting him to scare you off. 

Before the outbreak things were much simpler with Daryl. Granted, you barely knew him. To you he was just a customer that occasionally came into the hunting supply store your father worked at. You remembered thinking he was attractive. 

You had often avoided looking directly at him from where you sat behind the counter, eavesdropping in on the conversation he was having with your dad. 

There was a nervous shyness inside you, reminding you of a teenager with a crush. At the time you remembered thinking it was pathetic acting like this. But reflecting back, you couldn’t help but think of that innocent feeling fondly. Where at a time, the only thing you had to worry about was a stupid crush on a stranger.

After everyone started to flee, you found yourself moving more south. In hopes to escape the plague of death raking over your town. You drove until your dad’s truck was running purly off of fumes, a sputtering sound filling your ears occasionally.  

An old broken down house caught your eyes, it was just a little ways from the road. It had been abandoned since you were a young teenager, slowly rotting away and being consumed by vines. 

The wheels on your dad’s old pickup groaned as you slowed to a stop. You put the vehicle in park before removing the keys, tucking them into your back pocket once you stepped out from the front seat. You reached for the gun sitting in the passenger seat, wanting to have some form of protection from these creatures. 

The second your fingers brushed against the handle, you felt a sharp prod against your spine. 

“You lost, little girl?” A gruff voice said from behind you, your heart seized in your chest, fear gripping tightly onto your throat. “Come on outta that truck why don’t’cha. Come on, let’s go.” The man urged, not giving you much of an option as his hand roughly tugged your bicep. 

Your back hit against the door of the pickup, eyes meeting some very familiar ones. It was one of the Dixon brothers, you remembered seeing him accompany Daryl plenty of times. Listening to their quiet bickering that would echo through the small store. 

“Well, what do we have here…” Merle smiled, his knife continuing to press against your skin. “You’re a long ways away from home aren’t’cha, girl?”

“I could say the same about you.” 

Over the next few hours you attempted to plead your case. Hoping- no, praying- they would at least be nice enough to take you along with them for the time being. Especially because they were the only familiar faces you have seen, making you feel somewhat at ease. 

Merle fought hard against it. But Daryl vouched for you, knowing that you would die if they left. 

“Oh come on, brother!”  Merle groaned, rolling his eyes as he gestured towards you, “She’s gonna drag us down Daryl.”

“I ain’t gonna drag anyone down, I know how to hold my own Dixon.” You defended yourself. “I’ve been huntin’ with my dad since I was little. I’m a good shot, please… Just- I don’t want to be left alone.” 

“Where’s your daddy then, huh girl? Shouldn't you be with 'em?” Merle asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

Your eyes hardened a little, glaring at the man in front of you, “Where do you think?” You spat out. 

The flashes of him dying worked through your mind, tormenting you. You remembered hearing his sickening screams as your older sister tore into him. Leaving you little to no time to react. Her rasping growls, those milky white eyes... 

You ran from the house without turning back, all you had was an empty backpack, the keys to your dad’s truck, and a hunting knife that was gifted to you on your birthday several years ago. 

In the beginning you weren’t sure why Daryl was so inclined to help you, to be by your side, you weren’t anything special. Just a twenty something year old trying to survive. 

At first you assumed his protection was out of pity for you losing your family. Or maybe it was so he could score a night alone in your tent. 

That line of thinking was turned over after a conversation the two of you had inside the C.D.C. It was after a few drinks, the two of you were left leaning against each other in the reading room. The two of you talked for hours about everything, your life before the outbreak, your families, your dreams, everything you expected life to be. He was vulnerable with you, more than you ever expected him to be. 

That night you realized there was something much more to how he treated you. Something more caring, cracking itself out of Daryl’s rigid exterior. You had come to realize he saw a little bit of himself in you. Alone, lost, and scared. Much like he had been so many times in his life as a young boy. 

And after all this time, you still stuck by his side. There was trust, an understanding between the two of you. 

“C’mon, it’s still early, we got plenty a’time.” He walked a few feet in front of you towards one of the trucks. 

“Be safe!” Carol called out to the two of you, giving you a small wave. 

The leather seat in the truck was unbearably hot beneath your thighs, stinging against your skin. You resisted the urge to hiss at the feeling, knowing that if you adjusted your legs enough eventually the heat would dissipate. 

“You know I hate surprises.” You commented, looking over at Daryl who kept his eyes trained on the road. 

His eyes met yours for a brief moment, “Well, you’re just gonna have to get used to all that.” He replied, “Surprises around every corner these days.” 

The drive fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the hum of the engine. 

You couldn’t argue, it was just a fact. You had to worry about your throat being ripped out in your sleep. A hoard could sneak up at any minute, a sudden sickness could sweep through the camp, anything could happen in this new world. 

“Here it is.” Daryl sighed out.

The lake in front of you glistened under the sun, the smallest push and pull of waves against the clay shore. You could hear the distant call of geese, their bodies briefly diving under the surface to try and catch something. 

“Where’d you find this place?” You asked him, opening the passenger door and stepping out.

“Found it while huntin’. Thought we could try an’ get some water for camp.” Daryl replied while removing the keys, the door creaked as he opened it. “There’s some jugs in the back, go ahead and grab two of ‘em. I’m gonna scout the area real quick.” 

“Sounds good.” 

You grabbed the jugs and made your way towards the body of water, cautiously keeping an eye on your surroundings. Daryl wasn’t far from you, keeping his crossbow pointed towards the woods and listening for any movement. 

The water brushed gently against your shoes, your socks getting wet on the inside. Any other time you would complain, but the feeling brought so much relief that you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. 

You unscrewed the cap of the jug, tucking it into your pocket before dipping the container into the water. It filled up quickly, the water brown from the dirt and murky. You would have to boil it out a few times before it would be safe enough to consume. 

“Think we’re good for now.” Daryl said from behind you, now holding a jug of his own. 

“Good, means we can enjoy this for a few minutes.” You used your empty hand to splash at Daryl. 

He didn’t flinch away from the water, “Ain’t got time for playin’.” He shook his head a little as he unscrewed the top of the jug.

You lifted your filled container out of the water and brought it over towards the shore, putting the top back on. You grabbed the second one, and filled it the same. The silence was peaceful, the buzzing of bugs flying past you and the birds calling from the tree branches, maybe serene was the word you were looking for. 

“Alright, I’m done with mi-” You were cut off by a sudden splash of water hitting your face. “Okay… I see how it is.” You rubbed water away from your eyes before being splashed again. 

“I figured you still wanted to cool off.” Daryl smirked. He was going to splash you again but your hand stopped him, tugging him deeper into the lake where you stood. 

You halfheartedly wrestled against him, trying to push him down. But he was strong, forcing you to dig your feet into the muddy ground as he pushed against you, a wide smile on his beautiful face. 

“I ain’t goin’ down without a fight, sweetheart.” He teased, his face getting closer to yours, making your stomach flip. 

You took that as a challenge, finding whatever strength you could muster to try and bring him down. You grabbed onto his flannel shirt roughly, balling it into your fists as your leg came up to hook around the back of his knee, making him lose his balance. His knee buckled but he was quick to recover, stepping forward and shoving your shoulders roughly sending you backwards. 

The water splashed around you, giggles flying from your mouth as you tried to get the droplets to stop assaulting your eyes. 

Daryl smiled sweetly, holding out a hand to help you up from your sitting position in the lake, your shoulders barely peeking from the surface. 

You grasped onto it with a slight smirk, your other hand shooting up and grabbing him by the neck of his shirt again. You roughly tugged him down, hearing him let out a quiet gasp before he came down on top of you face first. You were both submerged for only a second before he recovered.

He was quick to sit back on his knees, giving you a halfhearted glare. 

“Aww, you look at an angry little cat.” You teased, ruffling his soaked hair. 

Daryl softly slapped your hand away, huffing out a laugh of his own, “You play dirty.” 

“I gotta do that against you.” 

“That ain’t true.” The man shook his head, smirking a little. 

“Is too!” You laugh. 

You went to splash him again, but Daryl’s rough hand caught your wrist. He leaned forward a little. 

“Stop.” The sudden whispered tone in his voice made your heart still in your chest. 

Daryl’s head turned towards the sound of snapping branches coming from the woods. He stood up from the water, fingers going to grasp around the knife attached to his belt. The water dripping from his clothes sounded a lot louder when you were trying to be quiet. Slowly, you stood up behind him and looked at the treeline. 

A walker stepped out from behind a fallen tree, tripping over a vine before continuing its path towards the two of you, one of its arms missing, its body boney and distorted. Growling and snapping its blackened teeth in anticipation. Another one stepped out from behind a bush with its head bowed, its clothes ripped to shreds, giving way for the intestines that dangled from its stomach. 

“I got the first one, you get the second one. Sound good?” Daryl asked you urgently, pulling his knife from his belt. 

You grasped onto the hunting knife sheathed on your thigh, watching as Daryl waded carefully towards the shore. His hand grasped the walker’s shoulder before he plunged his knife into its skull.

The second one made a bee-line towards you once you stepped closer. Its head rose with a rasping growl, fresh blood dripping from the corners of its mouth. The milky white eyes met yours, making your steps falter slightly as you scanned over the walker’s features. 

No…

He grabbed for you, bloody fingers finding its way to the soaked fabric of your shirt and grabbing onto it roughly. Its blunt nails scraped across your skin through the shirt, making your stomach drop a little at the close proximity. The smell of its rotten breath, meat hanging from its teeth. Its jaw popped loudly with every snap of its teeth, that same sound you would remember hearing whenever your dad ate at the dinner table. 

He had always said it was from getting his jaw broken when he was a teenager. Telling you the story more times than you could count. 

Before it could even think to bite you, your knife plunged deep into its eye socket. The walker’s blood sprayed onto you when you ripped your knife out, stabbing it again for good measure. 

Tears dripped from your eyes as you watched him fall to the ground with a lifeless thud.

You couldn’t lie and say you were surprised. The camp was closer to your home than you’ve been in almost a year, and the thought had been in the back of your mind ever since you saw the sign of your town. A thought that eventually you would see him again. 

“We should get outta here, don’t know how many friends they might have.” You said after clearing your throat, walking closer to Daryl and grabbing the two jugs you filled. 

Once back inside the truck Daryl looked at you before turning towards the backseat, digging through the floorboards. He had a rag in his hand, using it to gently wipe the blood off of your face, he held your chin with his hand, turning your face to the side. 

Your stomach twisted at his delicate touch. Fingers twitching as he starts to clean your hands. 

“Thank you.” 

“Scared me there for a second. That walker grabbing a’hold of you like that.” Daryl confessed, the rag stilling against the palm of your hand. 

A small huff left your parted lips, “Yeah…” A small sniffle left you as you attempted to smile. “I just… God, that was so fucked up.” You couldn’t hold back anymore, the tears streaming down your cheeks faster than you could stop them. 

Daryl was quick to bring you into his hold, arms wrapping around you as you cried into his shoulder. 

Out of everyone in your family, your dad was the one you were the closest with. He had raised both you and your older sister all by himself, nothing but love to show for the both of you. He was protective in his own way. But also respected you enough to not treat you like a delicate princess who couldn’t do anything on her own. He taught you how to handle yourself, how to protect yourself from animals and people alike. 

You even remembered how he had teased you when it came to Daryl, “You want me to slip him your number?” He had said one day, eyeing the two brothers standing in the trapping section.

“Dad! No!” You could feel your face heating up, trying to distract yourself by wiping down the glass display case. 

He let out a laugh at your embarrassment, “Oh look at’cha, my little girl’s got a crush.” He pinched your cheek, which further irritated you. 

“Shut up, old man.” You groaned, glaring at him as he continued to laugh. 

Finally you leaned back from Daryl, using the same rag to clean off your hunting knife. Your heart hammered against your chest, your hands were still shaking. The knife was heavy in your hands, resting softly against your thigh. Your thumb brushed softly against the initials engraved on the blade.. 

“You gonna be okay?” Daryl asked after a minute of silence, cranking the truck and backing out of the clearing and back onto the road. “I know stuff like that ain’t easy.” 

“I’ll be alright.” Your response was soft, “You know he really liked you, my dad.” 

The man beside you hummed softly, “I know…” He chuckled quietly before continuing, “He uh- he actually was tryin’ to get me to ask you out on a date.” 

Your eyes widened at that. That same feeling of embarrassment you used to always feel flooding your system. You couldn’t say you were surprised, your dad had always been somewhat of a matchmaker, having helped your older sister find her husband when she was around your age. 

“Oh my god.” You said, covering your face with your hands before laughing, “Yeah that sounds like him. I’m sorry about that, he didn’ exactly have much of a filter.” 

“Nah, nothin’ to be sorry about.” Daryl looked at you for a second, clearing his throat, “I was actually gonna do it, but I pussied out. Figured you’d find someone better, than some beat up ol’ hillbilly.” 

The air had felt like it was sucked from your lungs after hearing that. Daryl Dixon had thought about asking you out? Your stomach fluttered at the idea. 

“Were you really?” You asked cautiously. 

The truck slowed to a stop just a little outside of the camp, Daryl looked at you with a small smile. You couldn’t help but admire how attractive he looked, his hair starting to grow out a little more, the sun shining down on his face. 

“Would you’ave said yes?” 

Knowing what you knew now, you didn’t have to be scared to confess. Your lips quirked up into a smile, turning yourself to face him better. Your face still felt hot, fingers picking at the strings on your pants as you looked at him. 

“Daryl, I’m gonna be so honest with you right now.” You started, “I had the biggest crush on you from the second I saw you in my dad’s shop.” 

“You’re kiddin’.” He let out a small laugh, a smile blooming on his face.

You shook your head, chewing on the inside of your lip before saying, “I was terrified of rejection, so I just didn’t say anythin’. Pussied out, as you put it.” 

Daryl chuckled at that, ducking his head briefly before glancing back up at you. His hand found its way to yours, grabbing it gently and shaking his head in disbelief. You almost felt foolish for not saying it sooner, wondering what it would have been like to be with him before everything fell. 

“Well, you ain’t got nothing to be terrified of now, sweetheart.” His thumb stroked softly against your palm, “Walker’s, sure, but not me.” His voice was sweet, calm and comforting just like it always was when he spoke to you. 

Your other hand came up to his cheek, brushing against the scruff as you cupped his jaw, “You think I still gotta chance?” Your voice was almost a whisper. 

“You’ve always had one.” He replied carefully, leaning into your touch and meeting you halfway. 

His lips were soft against yours, albeit a little chapped, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. After a year of pining you finally had him, his hand coming to gently hold your waist and bring you closer. His lips moved against yours gracefully, his other hand cupping your jaw and guiding you into a deeper kiss. He had needed this just as much as you did. 

“We should probably get back to the camp…” You whispered once you parted, your nose still brushing against his. 

“We should.” Daryl’s fingers softly traced your cheek, blue eyes full of emotions, “Gotta get you in some dry clothes. Don’t want you catchin’ a cold or somethin’.” 

He took the truck out of park and drove the rest of the way into the camp, his free hand holding yours now. Rick waved at the two of you once you started to slow, walking towards the truck and helping take the full jugs out of the truck bed. 

“Run into any trouble?” Rick asked once you got out of the truck. 

“Just two walkers, other than that it was clear.” You replied. 

You didn’t miss the way he looked at both of you and Daryl, still soaked from wrestling in the lake. A small smirk graced the man’s lips before he nodded, turning back towards the camp and meeting his wife halfway, handing her one of the jugs. 

“So you plannin’ on movin’ into my tent?” Daryl half jokes, bumping his shoulder against yours, the jug he was holding sloshing around quietly. 

“Not sure, you think you can handle a roommate?” You tease. 

“I think I can manage.”

[mabelstone]

La Petite Mort

hozier x f!reader

part four of lullabies <3 | part three | masterlist

cw: sex sex sex love making ❤️ no other warnings really, it's pretty gushy

word count: 2.6k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure @the-imperfectgirl-blog @l1nd3n xo

Hours later, the buzz of the alcohol had completely fled my system, leaving me with a residual fatigue and a love struck smile. It felt wrong, but simultaneously, nothing had ever felt so right or natural. Like the sense of deja vu that confirms you are exactly where you're supposed to be.

"Hey," he gently shook my arm from where I was sitting in a booth, almost unable to keep my eyes open. "You 'right?"

"Mhm," I grinned, fighting back a yawn. "And how are you, hotshot?"

"Overwhelmed," he huffed, extending his hand to me. He never enjoyed crowds despite their tendency to form around him everywhere he went. "Let's go home."

I let him lead me out, warmth flooding my cheeks at the simple gesture. The bite of the cold was sharper than earlier, my teeth instantly chattering. He, of course noticed immediately, shucking himself of his jacket, draping it over my shoulders.

"Andy," I shook my head trying to fight him off, but it was no use. "Now you're gonna get cold."

"I have at least three layers on at all times, the cold fears me," he joked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Thank you," I pouted at him, overwhelmed at such a small gesture. But it wasn't small to me. Everything Andy did was grand in my eyes. "So chivalrous."

"Well, you know me," he shrugged, stifling a grin of his own.

I started humming the chorus of tonights' song as we walked, unable to remember any of the words other than imagine being loved by me, and the beautiful melody that was sure to hang around for days.

"Don't do that," he laughed with embarrassment, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

"Why not? It's a beautiful song, after all," I shrugged, unable to hide my smile that stretched from ear to ear. "And wasn't I the inspiration?" I teased, and it was now his turn to glow red.

"Mhm," he grinned, eyes focused on the road ahead of us. We were nearly back at the car, and the adrenaline was beginning to flood my bloodstream. "That's why you liked it, 'uh?."

"So good," I agreed, walking a bit closer to him that now our arms bumped occasionally. "Did you mean what you said? In the song?"

"'Course I did," he chuckled, unlocking the car and opening my door for me. He even helped me buckle my seatbelt. "Don't worry, it's just a song."

He climbed into his side now, the faintest pink tint to his cheeks, but otherwise, unbothered. I, on the other hand, was trying to get my stupid heart to slow back to normal.

I was fighting the urge to climb over into his lap and beg him to do all the things he'd been imagining. Instead we drove in what would appear to be comfortable silence from an outsiders' perspective. Obviously I didn't know what he was thinking, but I can promise you there was no trace of innocence in my thoughts. The air in the car was thick with desire, leaving me on the verge of choking on the tension.

We exchanged few words on the drive back to his, stealing bashful glances here and there. When the car stilled to a park, I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer.

"Andrew?" My heart continued to pound in my ears, his brows raising slightly in encouragement. "I want you," I confessed.

He turned to face me and I could see his quickening pulse through the thin skin of his neck. He swallowed thickly, pupils blown so wide I could scarcely see any green.

His gaze flitted between my lips and my eyes, and I'm sure I too was all pupil at this point. I couldn't help myself, leaning over the centre console to feel his lips on mine. My eyes fluttered shut, as did his, and I swear something inside of me had come alive for the first time in my life.

He was better than I had ever imagined.

Lips warm and soft, adding the perfect amount of pressure that made me crave more and more. His hand slipped up the back of my head, cradling its entirety in his palm.

He pulled back slowly, his hand still at the base of my skull. His lips were plump and looked absolutely delicious, my heart aching at the loss of contact.

"I want you, you know that," his voice was lower than before, our faces still close enough that I could feel the tickle of his breath ghosting my lips. "But you just got out of such a long relationship."

"You've treated me better these past few weeks than he did in six years," I reached my hand up to cup his face. His skin was warm and soft, the scratch of his stubble in my palm pulling me back down to Earth, reminding me that this wasn't just another daydream of mine. "Please, kiss me."

And he did, pulling me in as close as the confinement of his car would allow. It felt like coming up for air after holding your breath under water, like the relief you get when a siren finally stops blaring. His scent, his warmth, his gentle breaths exhaled through his nose, mingling with mine as we moved in synchronicity, as if we'd rehearsed this a million times. I'm starting to suspect he must have been having similar dreams of me.

I pulled away this time, giving him my best doe eyes through hooded lids as I suggested, "shall we go inside?"

Without a second thought, Andy was out of the car, opening my door for me. Within moments, our lips were connected again, my arms draped around his neck, his hands quick to grab my waist. He lead me into his house, our mouths moving fast, passion coursing through our veins like electricity. I squealed in surprise when he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me up the stairs. We were a mess of giggles and laboured breathing, bumping into walls, and desperately grabbing at one another.

Despite the desperation in our actions, he softly laid me onto his bed, crawling in between my thighs before kissing me again. I ran my hands up the sides of his torso, feeling him shudder slightly under my touch.

I could feel his hard on digging into my thigh, and suddenly my clothes were the biggest inconvenience known to man. "Show me, Andy," I breathed in between kisses, his lips now on my neck, my knickers well on their way to being drenched. "All the things you've been wanting to do to me."

He let out a deep, guttural sound somewhere between a strangled moan and a whine. He reluctantly pulled himself from me, slipping his shoes off in two fluid movements. He knelt before me, my entire ankle easily in the grip of his hand. He unbuckled my heels, slipping them off with a kiss to each of my calves. He slowly ran his hands up my legs, planting a trail of kisses upon each inch of skin he touched, the heat in my core beginning to boil.

He looked up through his head of curls, eyes dark and hungry. "You sure you want this, darlin'?"

I nodded desperately, hands instantly finding their way into his hair to bring his lips to mine again. His tongue prodded at my bottom lip and I let him in my mouth without hesitation, allowing him to explore. This only caused my desire for his tongue elsewhere to grow insurmountably.

All of my senses came to life when I felt his hand moving toward my inner thigh, opening my legs wide for him to grant him full access. His fingers made their way to my core, a soft groan fleeting from his lips. "Fuck," he breathed against my lips, slipping a ridiculously long finger inside of me with ease. I moaned into his mouth, one of my hands reaching down to grab his wrist, encouraging him to insert another. He did, curling his fingers with such precision that if I my brain weren't staticky from the feeling, I'd question how many lovers he'd had. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of me, kissing my neck as he did so, eyes glued to my face as if he were memorising every expression he pulled from me.

"Need to feel you," I choked out breathlessly, desperately cupping his face. "Please."

He smiled wickedly, kissing my lips once more before pulling his fingers out, dipping them straight into his mouth. My jaw nearly detached from my face at the gesture, my stomach flipping harder than ever. I watched in awe as he pulled his shirt off, his pants soon to follow, absolutely shocked that the shy, awkward, nerdy Andrew I thought I knew did not exist within these walls. I could see the outline of his cock through his boxers, swallowing hard. How on Earth was that going to fit? I sat up to rid myself of my dress, allowing it to pool around my ankles as he watched on, cock twitching beneath the thin cotton.

I made my way to him, helping him remove the last bit of clothing keeping us apart, eyes nearly bulging out of my head when I saw him. All of him. He may be the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

His hands quickly found my face, reeling me in with those lips once more before laying me on the bed again. His eyes searched mine again for any doubt, not finding any, but something else. "You okay?"

"Yes, just preparing," I laughed, only half joking.

"You're okay, you can take it," he kissed my cheek softly, lining himself up with my entrance. I gasped at the sharp sting of the stretch, holding my breath briefly. He halted all movement, no doubt used to this happening. "Tell me when, baby."

I rested my hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath before nodding. He slowly slipped the rest of his length in, our beautiful harmonisation of moans filling the air.

It was only painful for a moment before I was practically begging for more. He was as long and thick as you’d expect, but God, nothing could have prepared me. He began to form a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of me while I whined under his touch.

To feel his body weight on mine, his warmth, his scent, his love - I had ascended from my human form. I caved, begging him for more, begging him to fuck me how he wanted to.

He captured my lips with his mid way through a thrust, his cock slamming into that spot that made my brain fuzzy. I dug my nails into his shoulders, gasping into his mouth, “just like that.”

He obliged, one of his hands steadying himself with the headboard, the other cupping the back of my head. I wondered why, until he really found his rhythm.

With each delicious thrust, he would effectively hit my g-spot, making me weak as jelly under him, barely able to form words. My head was hitting his hand with the sheer force of each thrust, and I’m sure the thought of him protecting my skull would make me swoon if I weren’t on the brink of tears, producing noises I didn’t know I was capable of.

“Andy, Andy,” I chanted his name breathlessly, unable to even open my eyes as pleasure cradled my entire being. I’d never heard my voice this desperate ever, to the point that I had no autonomy over my words and vocality, like my soul was speaking without getting confirmation from my brain first. “You- feel- so- good,” I was near crying between each thrust, my mouth completely dry from all the panting.

“You feel good too, darlin’,” he grinned, removing his hand from the bed head and dropping it down to my clit. “So fuckin’ good.”

My jaw went slack, no coherent words falling from my mouth, just rhapsodies of praise in the form of whimpers and laboured breaths.

"Want you to cum for me," he breathed, his thrusts growing sloppy ever so slightly.

"Keep going," I barely got the words out, the coil in my stomach tightening as he dragged me closer to the edge with every word, every thrust, every skilled dance of his fingers over my clit. "Andy," I warned loudly, the high pitch of my tone sounding foreign to my ears, unsure if had even fallen from my tongue. "Oh, my God, I'm gonna-"

Within an instant, I unravelled beneath his touch, moaning a string of curses I couldn't even hear as the static in my mind grew overwhelming. I shook uncontrollably, every muscle of mine growing limp yet tensing and spasming at the same time. My back arched and my toes curled, crescent moon shapes from my fingernails marking his beautiful skin; a reminder to us both of how euphoric he had made me feel. My orgasm rippled through me like waves in a storm, pummelling me over and over as I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling into the back of my head, unable to open them, unable to close my mouth as a slurry of cries dripped from my soul. Unsure of what came over me, I begged, “please cum in me,” wanting nothing more than to feel every ounce of his loving.

When I finally came back down to Earth, the waves crashed into him, the most angelic sounds flooding the four walls we were confined to. Overstimulation wracked my bones, panting into his mouth as he rode out the rest of his high, a clash of tongue and teeth as he kissed me once more. He pumped into me a few more unsteady times, his arms shaking as they struggled to hold his weight any longer.

He pulled out of me slowly, the loss of contact leaving me with a hollow feeling, immediately clinging to him the second his head hit the pillow beside me.

“Andrew,” I breathed in disbelief, titling my head to see the tired smile on his face. “I don’t even have words.”

“Could say the same to you!” He sighed, content with his arm around me, our bodies gently slowing back to normal. “What an angel.”

You are the angel, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I basked in his warmth, his scent flooding my senses as my soul unwillingly reconnected with my body.

“Write a song about this, would ya?” I laughed against his skin, tracing shapes into his chest, feeling like I was the main character in a cheesy rom-com.

“Way ahead of ya, love,” he grinned back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Wanna have a shower? Or is that too much?”

I looked up at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. “Andrew. There’s a chance you just knocked me up. No, showering together is not too much.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he groaned, abruptly rolling out of bed, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom. He laughed devilishly at the squeak he elicited from me, kissing my face while I smiled and giggled like a fool.

Fuck.

He towered over me, the beads of water dripping from his hair onto me. He looked beautiful, contented in serenity, similar to how I was feeling, I'm sure. He lathered my body in soapy suds, nothing remotely sexual in the gesture. I did the same for him, enveloped in the warmth of his skin, acclimated to the same temperature of the water. If this were my last moment on Earth, I would die happy. Andrew had a way of making me forget every bad moment of my life. Every poor decision, every tear cried for a man who only thought about himself. Surely, this was too soon to be labelled as love. But it sure felt like it.

"You are so beautiful."

i hope u liked it if u didn't tell me if u did leave requests of something you'd like to see in this next xo and i'm aware of all the run on sentences, i'm sorry if that makes it difficult to read. i will not shut up! even in text

[percyjackson-post]

I wonder what people think when they see the big 3 boys hanging out casually. You can’t convince me they don’t do fun little family outings every once in a while when things aren’t so end of the world-ish. I just love to imagine them going out to a mall or a park just to hang out, and they keep getting glances from strangers because they seem like such an unlikely group. You’ve got Nico, who’s never not dressed in multiple-layered black outfits with at least 4 accessories; Percy, the skater boy, who is wearing the most atrocious combination of neon orange and a shocking amount of different shades of blue; and Jason, the golden retriever jock, who’s wearing gym shorts in 20-degree weather. Imagine passing them and seeing this group with such clashing outside personas, but the whole time they’re talking, there isn’t a beat of silence; it’s all inside jokes and lighthearted but confusing bickering. Seriously, why did the jock and the skater just tell the smallest one he needed to get his own flying horse if he wanted to keep up??? The big 3 kids just getting to be actual cousins means everything to me.

[wolverinesbuttcheeks]

⟡𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃⟡

a logan howlett x mutant fem reader⟡ a five part series!!

PART 3⭐️ — this can also be read on its own!!

rating: EXPLICIT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

warnings: SMUTT!!, explicit sexual content (18+), public sex implications (car), rough sex, overstimulation, mild degradation/teasing, fingering, creampie, oral mentions, dom!logan, size kink, alcohol use, language, exhibitionistic themes, implied mutual affection

summary: a night at a smoky bar leads to unexpected sparks when you challenge logan’s pride and watch him step into the cage fight. but when tension builds too high, he drags you out back—and then to the car—for a night of rough, passionate sex that ends with quiet affection, led zeppelin playing in the background, and falling asleep in each other’s arms.

you both pull up to a bar, you and logan hopping out of the car a walking in. there was cigarette smoke fogging the way. there was also lots of shouting. you sit at the counter looking over to a fight that was happening inside a fenced in cage. 

the man that was getting fought got hit in the jaw really hard, you winced.

“that musta hurt.”

logan nodded. 

“i bet you aren’t man enough to do it.” you say jokingly. logan scoffed then immediately stood up, trudging through the crowds of shouting people. 

“w-wha- logan! i was joking!” you shout 

and then like that, he was gone.

next thing you know- he is beating a man to a crisp. the man was about to die. but thankfully he tapped out and didn’t get obliterated. logan looked at you from the cage and waved, his sweat making his bare chest and arms shine. he was ripped, and fine as hell. you flushed thinking about it. there was a visible vein traveling down his abdomen.

you just knew he was gonna be huge.

he disappeared again from out of the fencing guarding him and the man. then all of a sudden you got snatched to the side. you yelped as you got basically dragged to the back of the bar. when the person dragging you came to a stop you saw that it was logan. 

you gave him an eye roll, unsuccessfully keeping the smile off of your face. there was still a thin layer of sweat over his body. he was practically glistening. you tried not to stare but it was impossible. 

he noticed. 

then you got slammed up against the wall, logan’s lips all over you. 

you let out a strangled moan as his mouth landed and nipped at your pulse point on your neck. 

he pulled away for a moment, grinning- he took a deep breath as his eyes trailed over your body. then he looked at you in the eyes, a glint in them.

“s’ this okay” he whispered.

 you nodded, taking his hand and leading him back into the bar, then out to the car. 

as soon as that door shut

 he was all over you.

your back fell against the leather of the backseat. when logan climbed over you, you felt the bulge. you knew it was huge!

logan backed up switching on the radio that was playing led zeppelin’s “since i’ve been loving you”. then logan climbed back over you and gave you another: ‘is this okay?’ look. 

you nodded and bit your lip. then he tugged your shirt off, to reveal your breasts. his hand immediately came up and gripped them, he was surprisingly gentle. he ran his thumbs over your now hard nipples- the friction making you whimper. he was grinding into you trough both your jeans. he took your nipple into his mouth, now rocking into you. 

you quickly became impatient, fiddling with the belt buckle to his jeans. you moaned as he bit down slightly on your sensitive nipple. 

when you successfully unbuttoned his pants you let him take control. he pulled up away from your breasts. you winced at the loss of is tongue around your boob.

he yanked his pants and boxers down, his flushed cock spring free and smacking him in the belly. your panties became drenched just by looking at him. 

he had to be at least 8 1/2 inches.

he smiled at you as you gaped at his dick. he did have to say himself- he is proud of his manhood. he began pulling of your jeans, your favorite bellbottoms to be exact. he then teased you about your soaked underwear. 

i mean, how could you not be dripping wet by just looking that this man. he’s hot and he has the longest thickest cock you have ever seen.

he pulled of your underwear at an agonizing pace, purposely teasing you. 

 once they hit the ground, he touched your you softly- hands already wet with your arousal. his middle finger reached your entrance. he then slowly pushed his long thick finger into you, you let out a breathy moan. 

his thumb came up and started teasing your clit. 

“o-oh fuck logan” you whimpered. 

you couldn’t place what was more hot, the fact that his fingers felt so good, or the fact that logan wasn’t even looking at your pussy- he was looking at your face scrunch. there was no denying it- he loves you. he began pumping his fingers in and out of you. 

you were screaming. 

and then- he pushed his ring finger in. you grabbed his arm that was right next to your head for stability.  you saw his cock twitch every time you called his name. all of a sudden there was a heat that was about to flood all over your body, 

“l-logan i’m gonna-” you cut yourself off as that all too familiar heat washed over you. you were screaming and logan was still at it with his hand.

he let you ride out your orgasm on his hand. then you said:

“your turn.” you said looking up at him expectantly.

“no, i need to be in you baby. now.” he said lifting you and pulling you with him. 

his hands gripped the plush of your thighs, then laid them down on his big thick ones.

he was throbbing. 

“lift up sweetheart.” he said.

you complyed lifting up slightly lining his throbbing cock up to you entrance. he thrusted up into you fast- all the way to the hilt. you gasped- choking on air. he was so big, it burned. a pleasurable burn.

he let you get used to his size, which was practically impossible. but when you lifted up again and fell, you were blinded by pleasure itself. you rode him until you fell weak.

“it’s okay honey, i got ya” he said, gripping your ass and taking control. he bounced you up and down on his cock over and over. and you knew you were about to burst again.

“l -logan!” you squealed as you came around his cock, your cunt clenching hard enough around him that he was moaning too. he then became to fuck up into you hard- desperate for release. 

and you want him. you want him to cum inside you. you are willing to have his baby’s. you scream his name a few more times as his thrusts become erratic, not even human like. your eyes roll to the back of your head. your tits bouncing at an unreal pace. there were obscene sounds coming from where his cock met your pussy. 

he slammed into you one more time, deeper than ever before. your head rolled back as logan groaned, filling you full of his seed. he looked up, the windows were fogged over, the car smelled like sex and sweat, and now “black dog” was playing from led zeppelin. 

his eyes met yours, pupils blown wide.

“you are the best” was all you could say. you were still filled with his cock. and you are being honest if you think about it. that was the best sex you’ve had- and probably the best sex you ever will have.

he just leant in and kissed you, more slow, passionate this time. he pulled away slowly, admiring your body- how beautiful you looked on top of him. he lifted you up off of his dick, causing you to wince at the loss of the thing that made you feel so much pleasure. you tried to move off of his lap- but you just fell onto him, face landing onto his chest. 

he helped you, lifting you up and letting you lay down on the seat. you felt his and your liquids spilling out of you. he quickly scooped them up putting them back inside, causing you to wince again at the feeling of your overstimulated cunt being messed with.

logan made sure to grab some tissues and wipe you down. he put your panties on and your shirt.

“c’mere baby.”  he said, you shuffled into his arms- both humming along to “heartbreaker” by led zeppelin.

you both fell asleep in each others, in the back of your car

a/n: I LOVE LED ZEPPLIN!!! this is also going to be the longest chapter yet sooo…. i hope yall enjoyed!

[lgbtqiapnfreak]

Why I think Byler is endgame

Before we start, you must know I'm really skeptical about theories and all. I like to read and have fun with them, but believe them? It's really hard for me as a 20 years old queer person. Since young I've suffered being queerbaited by mainstream series, Stranger Things wouldn't be the first nor the last to do that.

I know today things are a little bit better, but for the sake of my poor broken heart, I'm always expecting a deception. Yet, I can see byler happening in season 5.

Here we go to the reasons why.

The existence of Robin

I've heard a lot of straight people say, before season 4 and even now, that "Will can't be gay because Robin is the gay person in the show. There is no reason for another one".

Like? The show can have 38272 straight, developed and important for the plot characters, all of them with love interests and happy endings, and one gay character inserted as a comic relief is fine. Two? To much to deal with.

I know, I know, disgusting. BUT what if I say that Robin was not a character added to the show only for a comic relief or identity representation at all? That she was presented for the watchers to consider the existence of a gay character in the show. For them to recognize some queer coded things that, without Robin, they wouldn't be able to?

Robin was presented to us in Season 3. As we must know, the third season of the show is mainly dedicated to character and relationships development. Thanks to it, we got to see the characters way more cylindrically, their fears, mistakes, who they are in their normal daily life. Mike, El, Hopper, Joyce, Erica and Steve gained many new layers in this season, but Will had the most special one: the first explicit hint of his sexuality.

And then, Robin appears. At first we are conditioned to think she likes Steve, the Duffers play a game with the watchers' heteronormativity using the dubiousness of their dialogs. And then, boom! She is lesbian. Not only lesbian but repressedly in love with a girl - at least was - and jealous of Steve.

Thanks to this coming out scene

The interpretation door was open to see this as Will being in love with a boy, repressing his feelings and being jealous of the girl the boy is dating with.

Will's jealousy and feelings for Mike back then stamped the background of everything, it was being slowly built inside the show - but not inside the character, remember the Snow Ball script? It was always there, just unseen.

Until here we are only remarking that Will is gay. But what Robin has to do with byler as a ship?

Well, if she is the queer character created to open this door for Will, created to gain the sympathy of the general public as comic relief character who bonded with two of the most popular characters of the show - Dustin and Steve - since s3, showing the watchers the struggles of a queer person in the 80's in a "light" way and making the viewers to cheer for her love life, of course her character holds a big role with byler building a romantic relationship.

Robin appeared in Season 3 because the viewers wanted Milven to happen in season 2 - thanks to the heteronormativity and kids sexualization I may say - when it wasn't going to, it wasn't scripted like this and it's not going to be endgame. So Robin's creating a scape route for the writers.

The hints given about Will being called a f@g and Mike over protective and supportive behavior with Will were not enough to create this bridge between friends and lovers as we know very well.

Movie Date and Schrodinger Cat

Moving on. We know Will is gay. Okay. What is still uncertain in the show is Mike's sexuality and required feelings towards Will. Here, we are focusing in the required feelings part.

I read a lot of analysis about the "movie date scene". I remember people discussing the blushing frame and the holding hands theory even before s4 coming out and at the time it sounded like joke to me - as I said I'm really skeptical. Yet, after rewatch the part and reading a lot (especially @greenfiend 's one about the holding hands thing), I feel like I finally understood why the scene is so spoken of.

It's pretty simple, it's another open door. Not like Robin who is there to guide us to read between the lines but as something that is open to interpret and rely on when they finally get together. It was made for when people start to question "where did this relationship came from?" and create assumptions like "it came out of the nowhere".

In the scene, Lucas, Max, Mike and Will go to Starcourt's movie theater to watch a horror movie together. When arguing about Mike's behavior, Lucas remarks that he is spending romantic time with his girlfriend by going there. When they are finally inside, lumax and byler sits separately, then things start to get really fishy.

The construction of the whole next part, when they are inside the movie theater, from the beginning of the movie to the black out and end of the scene, are basically hands. Hands everywhere. In the close ups, in the people around them and even in the movie. Why? For us to see it, to think of it, to imagine. To imagine what? It's up to you of course, but we know people hold hands at movie theaters, specially when watching a horror movie, and we also know byler is the main focus on that scene for some reason.

But they didn't show us their hands, did them? No. Because of that, no one can really say they were holding hands, but the same can't be said about them not holding their hands. The construction of the scene deliberately leads us to question the possibility, however there is no true answer. Like the Schorodinger Cat, they are holding and not-holding their hands.

Also, the "are you okay?" Mike says, the camera play and Noah's acting leads us to think that, if they are holding their hands, it was Mike's initiative, not Will's.

The whole scene is purposefully dubious.

Noah looks down at his hand at the end of the interaction, up again, and then smiles. It's there but they don't show us! At the same time, if it was an unromantic moment, they would've shown us they were holding hands as they did before, so why not? Why do they keep the whole thing subtle, calculated, and masked by the MF plot if not to hold a secret meaning behind it all. A secret meaning for us to discover yet.

Like pleaseee, I swear this is some kind of torture for us gay people.

Mike's character construction and Finn's acting

I'm a ST fan since the beginning. I was here when the major public liked Jonathan better than Steve, when Mike was the favorite member of the party, and Finn was treated as one of the best child actors of the show. Looking back, it's pretty obvious things changed a lot since the third season.

Why things changed? In the last two seasons, Finn was accused of being "out of the character" and "having a bad acting". And Mike turned into a douchebag in public eyes.

The truth is: the way the writers had chosen to show us Mike changed. He still is the same insecure, paranoic, loyal, compassionate character who is a jerk sometimes from the beginning, but we didn't get the chance to see his POV since s2.

Mike is a character trapped in the expectations of the viewers. They expected him to date El, to love El as a girlfriend, to treat her the way she deserves - what he can do, but clearly not as a boyfriend. Their relationship wasn't scripted the way it happened, so his character needed to go through some changes to remain himself. And, of course, for mlvn to end, the viewers needed to hate his version with El. Again, it is a scape route.

His character is still the same, but the way we see him is different. The truth is the viewers expected Mike to acts towards El the way he did with Will after they started dating: unconditionally supportive, trusting, and understanding, but guess what? This was never on Mike's character to begin with.

He doesn't understand, trust, or support people unconditionally. They are showing how much he is inflexible and selective in what he wants to believe since the very first episode, we can see that in the relationship with his family and friends. Just remember his fights with Lucas in s1, s2 and s4 and Dustin in s2 and s3, they are his CHILDHOOD FRIENDS, but even them don't have the pleasure of Mike's unconditionally support and trust. The only character he is truly open to is Will.

These changes were made for us to see the difference between Will and the rest of the world for Mike. In season 3, when he appears to be a jerk to everyone, no exception at all, the only person he seems to retract this behavior for is Will. In season 4, Mike fights El and Will, but again, the only one he seems to understand and retract from his defenses for is Will. Again, the only person he is really open with.

Now, speaking about sexuality, the other reason for people to blame Finn's acting is the awkwardness in kissing and intimate scenes - like the first I love you he heard from his girlfriend.

I don't know about you, but for me, it is almost painful to watch them kissing. Not only kissing, the whole dating thing looks like a performance, and it's not a good one, if I may say. But here is the thing, it's on purpose! The same goes for the looks he gives Will's and Eddie's body.

Don't even think that every look, expression, or camera play is not calculated. These people spend so much money in the show for it to be half assed by bad acting or misinterpretation of the script.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

A Promise Across Time | Bruce Wayne/Batman x Magician!OC (Part 1/3)

Synopsis: Bruce remembers the first date he had with Vivian and the time he truly felt alive again.

Main Story Master List • Elseworld Stories Master List • Main Story Season 1

A Promise Across Time (Part1 / 3)

A Promise Across Time (Part 2/3)

A Promise Across Time (Part 3/3) 🌶️

Bruce messed up. While it wasn't entirely his fault, he felt guilty to have seen Vivian all dressed up that night and ready to meet him inside the restaurant only for him to apologize and take a raincheck on their date. Their first date. She tried to be understanding by giving a smile and reassuring him that “these things happen” but he could see that she was looking forward to their dinner. He was too. 

After their brief partnership in taking down Deacon Blackfire, Bruce wanted to get to know the Symbologist and Witch-out-of-practice a little more. She was intriguing, insightful, and sincere. Vivian did tell him that she didn't like politics, hence her preference to work in academia to get away from corporate politics. Despite her work dealing with symbols and icons, and many layers of research in sociology, history, geology, and philosophy, she prefered that people talked without the double meaning. That they stay true to their word. To be kind to one another. To tell it to her face than have someone stab her in the back.

But it can't be helped. People are people. So she just went to a place that has that kind of decency. Or at least have a bit more decency than in a corporate office. 

It took him a while to find time to reach out to her again. He did try to call her hotel after that night but it was her father who answered and dropped the phone on him. Bruce was a bit surprised. No one really drops the phone on Bruce Wayne. Batman, sure. But Bruce Wayne? It was rare. 

With everything going on with his day job and night job, Bruce decided to just approach her again once he's finished the Firefly case with Batman and some meetings with the board in Wayne Enterprise as Bruce Wayne. For Vivian, he waited until her family had gone back to Liverpool. He had a feeling that her father would slam the door at his face if he came to their hotel. 

So, here he was now, entering Gotham University years after graduating. Walking down its familiar halls, Bruce recalled his undergraduate years there before continuing his studies at Yale where he got his degree in law. He was mostly familiar with the campus grounds of the Criminology, Information Technology, and Engineering campuses as he took those understudies when he was twenty-one. He remembered running through these halls with Harvey Dent, both young and full of themselves. 

There were still happy times, he thought as he remembered his best friend. But it was mostly overshadowed by the bad memories. The struggle he went through. 

Bruce rarely entered the Classics Campus where the literature and history majors were. Sure he would visit the library there and go to some classes in that building, but he can't say he knew the layout like the palm of his hand. So, as he entered the large and classical looking building with its pillars and statues, he had to ask his way around. Specifically to where Professor Vivian Pryor was at his hour.

Maybe surprising her at her place of work wasn't such a good idea. He forgot, Vivian was a professor, she'll be moving around than staying in one place. 

A couple of students he asked were in shock that he was there and stammered in giving directions,” Bruce – Mr. Wayne – Mr. Billionaire Bruce Wayne,” the student said when he approached them, “Professor Pryor's — uh — it's around 2PM now, and it's a Friday… I think she'll be at 304, the Symposium.”

“Symposium?” Bruce said.

“Right, sorry, just a campus joke – Elliot's Hall.”

“Thanks.”

He found classroom 304 easily as it was the first room he saw upon taking the final step at the stairs, and just in time the students were exiting the classroom. Some paused as they saw him and then moved along when Bruce greeted them and asked if Vivian Pryor was still inside. They said yes and he went.

The amphitheater-styled room was empty, save for the red-haired woman packing her things at the center stage. Her hair was styled to a bun this time, a bit out of place now since it was the afternoon, her clothes were similar to the one she wore in her first book launch – the tweed high-waisted pants, a white button-shirt, boots, and a coat which she was just about to wear until she saw him approaching her.

“Bruce Wayne,” she said, quite surprised to see him there.

“Professor Pryor,” Bruce smiled and held out the small bouquet he brought. “I hope you're not busy.”

Vivian thanked him for the flowers. “Why?”

“I was wondering if we can talk? We didn't really get the chance to since I canceled our date at the last minute.”

“It was an emergency. Things happen,” Vivian shrugged. “Don't tell me that's been bothering you all this time.”

“It has.”

Vivian hid her blush in the flowers. “That must have been awful for you. You could have called or dropped by if it bothered you so much. I wouldn't mind… but I understand you're busy so I just thought it'd be best not to bother you too much.”

“I did, actually called and dropped by the hotel you and your family were staying at… but your father wasn't too happy about it.”

“What?” Vivian raised a brow at him. 

“He never told you, didn't he?”Oops.

“That son of a – sorry, grandma but your son is such a…” Vivian got her phone and typed furiously fast and hit sent. “He will not be doing that again. I am so sorry about that, Bruce. I hope this doesn't give you a bad impression on my family my dad is just –” 

BING! 

Vivian opened the chat – it was their family group chat – and typed a quick reply and turned the chat in silent mode, knowing it was going to be flooded with messages from her stepfather. 

Turning to Bruce, who had an amused smile on his face, Vivian said, “Again, I am so sorry about that – just so we're clear, that wasn't me telling my dad to slam the door or drop the phone, he did it. If you called, I would have answered the phone.”

“It's fine. I’m glad you're not mad at me for that night.”

“Bruce, shit happens,” she sighed, he was surprised with her language, “While it was a little shitty that I got dressed up only to spend my night drinking beer in the nearest bar that night, you had an emergency. It happens, and I'm sure it will happen again along the road. You can't beat yourself over a date that didn't go as planned.”

“Well, I promise that this time it won't. Maybe we can have another try? This Friday, afterwork. I'll pick you up at your hotel.”

“And where will we go?”

Bruce sighed. “You know, I've been asking the same thing myself. I was thinking of the museum tour but then I'm sure you’ve memorized Gotham Museum by now.”

“I work there, Bruce. Part-time,” she grinned.

“So, I was thinking something different for the both of us. So we'd be at par with the experience.”

“And what do you think that would be?”

“There's a nice restaurant not far, it's new, and it's got music. Not too loud that we won't hear each other. And room to dance.”

“I didn't know Bruce Wayne could dance.”

“I don't. Do you?”

“Not particularly… alright, Friday. My last class is at four. You can pick me up at five – to give the lady a little time to prepare?”

“Your hotel then?”

“Here is fine. My students are making signs over your shoulder that they'd be the one to help me prepare,” Vivian waved at the group who entered the room and had a large message on their pad saying: Makeover. Room 203. 

Bruce chuckled at the sight of the girls, and turned to Vivian to say, “Here there. Tomorrow at five.”

“Something fancy or casual?”

“A little bit of both if you like. I guess I should get going, your class is here.”

“Yes, go. Before they take this as a sign it's free period… and Mr. Wayne.”

“Yes?”

Vivian held the flowers. “I appreciate the flowers, but it breaks my heart to see them wither at the end of the day.”

“No flowers then. Chocolates?”

“A girl's best friend.”

“Coffee?”

“Now you're speaking my language.”

“I'll take note. See you tomorrow, Vivian.”

“You too.”

As Bruce climbed the steps, he passed by the giggling students and said out loud for Vivian to hear, teasingly, “I'll leave her in your hands. Make sure she's free tomorrow and ready.”

“You got it, Mr. Wayne,” one of them giggled.

As soon as Bruce closed the door behind him, he heard teasing and squeals from the students and Vivian telling them, “At least have the decency to wait for him to leave the freaking door before doing that. Jesus. Come on, I taught you better, didn't I?”

Bruce smiled as he heard the laughter in the room. 

On the day of their date, Bruce made sure to finish all his work in Wayne Enterprise before 3 PM, and went to make sure Gotham wasn't on fire before making a quick change in the office bathroom, which caught the attention of Lucius Fox and asked, “Off to a date, Mr. Wayne?”

“I am,” he said as he tried to fix his tie. Today it just wasn't working with him.

Seeing his struggle, Lucius Fox chuckled and offered to fix it for him, and he let the man. “And who is this lovely lady you're getting all dressed up for today, Mr. Wayne? If it's alright to ask.”

Bruce smiled. “Professor Vivian Pryor.”

“Ah, the author. She's a lovely woman. Going dancing, I see?”

“What made you think so?”

“Your shoes.”

“Alfred picked them for me today. I told him that I was heading to the Black Bird tonight with Vivian.”

“Leave it to Alfred to give you a good suit and shoes for a night of dancing,” Lucius laughed and finished his work and pressed down Bruce's suit. “I think that would be enough to sweep her off her feet.”

Bruce laughed. “Thanks, Lucius.”

“Have fun, Mr. Wayne!”

Driving to Gotham University, Bruce waited for Vivian at the Classics Campus in his pressed suit, heavy coat, and a box of chocolates he thought he'd like. He was a bit early – ten minutes early – but he didn't wait too long because Vivian came out with some of her colleagues who kept gushing over her dress.

And they had more than one reason to.

As Vivian went down, Bruce paused as he took in the sight of her. Her red locks placed in a coiffer with a pearl accessory to keep it up, she wore a bit of makeup that stands out for the evening, and an emerald dress with a square neckline that gives enough skin for anyone to want more, the bodice hugged her body perfectly with a good emphasis on her chest while still being modest, and a skirt made off soft and flowing material that made it look like she was walking underwater. 

“Bruce!” Vivian smiled as soon as she saw him and ran towards his direction to get away from her teasing colleagues “Don't you look handsome. Are those dance shoes? And you said you don't dance.”

“Alfred picked them out for the day,” Bruce shrugged. “I didn't even know I had them. You look stunning, Vivian.”

A blush crept up her cheeks and Vivian looked away to hide it but he saw. It was adorable. 

“You said dancing, so I picked something that looks like it's for dancing… actually, it was my neighbor in the hotel that picked it. He's this fashion designer in Gotham for an event and he gave me this for the night.”

“Well, I guess we're definitely dancing tonight. Also,” Bruce held the chocolates out. “Chocolates as promised, but Alfred said it's important to give a lady flowers on a date, so,” he opened the box and showed the flower-shaped chocolates.

Vivian chuckled and said, “smart. You found a loophole with my no-flowers rule.”

“Shall we?” He offered his arm to her.

“Yes, we shall,” Vivian turned to her friends and called for her colleagues and students, who stayed longer to see her be picked up by her – in their words – “knight in shining armor”, to get her things that they kept hostage so she could show off her dress. “This doesn't exempt you from tomorrow's test. Got it?” Vivian told the students as she joined Bruce.

“Boo!” Her students teased.

“Don't worry, I'll try to get her forget about the test tomorrow,” Bruce joked.

“You do that, Mr. Wayne. You'll be saving our asses from another essay!”

“Thanks for taking care of her for me!”

“Have fun, Vivian!” Her colleagues called out.

Heading to the parking lot, Vivian was in shock to find the expensive looking car parked between two economy-sedans, one of which was owned by her colleague, Justin Kirk, who was about to leave for home and only waved at her goodnight without his usual smile. As she entered the car, Vivian took a breath. 

“A manual,” Vivian commended him.

“If you're going to drive a really fast car, you should drive it right,” he smirked.

She smirked. “If you're going to drive a really fast car, you shouldn't drive it in Gotham, Mr. Wayne. Else you'll find yourself getting troubles. This beast is made for speed not everyday traffic.”

“Good thing we'll be driving on a road that lets me drive fast then,” Bruce left the parking space.

“I thought we were going dancing in Black Bird?” Vivian asked.

“We are. Just not in Gotham City. The Black Bird at the outskirts has a good view.”

Long Island. He was taking her to Long Island.

“I can't believe you're actually taking me outside of Gotham City for our first date,” Vivian chuckled. 

“I gotta make it up to you for cancelling. Besides, you'll see why the original Black Bird is way better than the branch in Gotham. I love Gotham but I think you'll like this place more than the one in Founder's Island.”

“And I thought we're both trying something new tonight.”

“We are. I don't usually dance. But with you, I'll give it a shot.”

The drive to Long Island was quick and fast. Bruce made sure to show her that the car wasn't just for show, that he can really drive it, and the entire time he would see at the corner of his eye the smile on her face. She also liked when he drifted the car. Not a flinch, just her smile reaching her ears. He could only imagine the look on her face if she rode the Batmobile during a chase. She'd love that he bet.

Minus the guns being fired at them or the RPG, which he encountered last week with Penguin's men trying to shake Batman off their tail. 

The Black Bird at Long Island was at the outskirts, atop a cliff that connects down to the white beach. From where they sat at the covered balcony, Vivian could still see the lights coming from Gotham City, and a bit of smog that covered its skies. 

“You're right, this does have a better view,” she told Bruce. “And has good music too.”

“Glad you like it.”

Their food came not long after they finished their wine. It was good food, probably the best she tasted from a restaurant. She shouldn't be surprised since the Black Bird had a michelin star. She ordered an Alfredo, and for a moment she remembered her time eating at one of the restaurants in Rome when she had her semester there. 

They talked about a lot of things as they ate. About their work, and then their studies, which they were invested in learning about from one another. She was surprised when he mentioned he had degrees in Criminal Science, Forensic Sciences, Computer Sciences, Chemistry and Engineering by the time he was twenty-one. But she remembered his little secret, and her little secret, and thought that it made sense for Batman to have those under his belt. Still, considering he still didn't know that she knew he was Batman, the fact he had five degrees under his belt by twenty-one, along with a degree in law from Yale was impressive. 

At twenty-one she was still in uni, going though classes, writing papers, doing her reading for tomorrow's lecture during her part-time jobs. Once, during a slow night, she gave a lecture on Dante's Divine Comedy to a homeless man who asked for a cup of coffee. It was the most philosophical conversation she had since then. She wondered where the old man was now.

When their desserts came, Vivian ordered an Affogato, the band started to play more upbeat music, encouraging people to come up and dance. From their place, Vivian and Bruce watched as some of the guests got up and danced to the upbeat, dance music from the sixties. 

“So, are we going to just sit here and watch them or are you going to use those dance shoes that your butler prepared for tonight?” Vivian said.

Bruce got up from his seat and held out his hand to her. “Don't hit me if I step on your foot.”

“Don't worry, Mr. Wayne, we'll take things slow,” Vivian took his hand and led him to where the others were. 

When Bruce was about to put his hand on her waist to do some ballroom dance he's done in galas, Vivian removed his hand and told him, “This is jazz and blues, Bruce.”

“I told you, I'm not much of a dancer.”

“Just follow my lead,” Vivian grinned and circled him with his hand still holding hers, when she pulled out, Bruce instinctively pulled her back in and kept the rhythm. 

“And you said you don't dance,” he whispered to her ear.

“I might have gone to clubs like this back in Liverpool and learned a thing or two,” she got out of his chest and led them through the dance. Her dress danced the entire time, giving an illusion of the music flowing through them in each twirl and step. Bruce held her hand the entire time and his smile never faltered, and to surprise her he even dipped her back a little and pulled down her hair to add more flare to her get up as she danced.

By the end of the second song, the two left the Black Bird, with Bruce paying for their dinner, but instead of head home, they went down to the white beach. Wearing her coat and holding her shoes, Vivian relished the feeling of sand burying her feet as they walked and the smell of the ocean. 

“You lied,” said Bruce.

“About that?”

“About dancing. We weren't par in this date.”

“I really don't dance, you know.”

“Those moves says differently.”

“I'm telling you, that was just me fooling around,” Vivian laughed. “You weren't bad yourself. I'm sure if you brought me to those fancy places that has ballroom dances I'd be the one following  your lead.”

“Naturally, I was raised by a butler,” it was supposed to be a joke but Vivian looked at him with a sad gaze, but she smiled nonetheless.

“Alfred raised a gentleman,” Vivian squeezed his hand. “He raised a good man.”

“He was always generous and said it was my parents who raised me. They did for a time until they were no longer there. He was the one who taught me all of this – how to talk, how to act, how to dress up, manners, how to dance, and how to woo a woman.”

“Well, he did a good job.” 

“What about you? Who taught you how to dance?” He had a guess it was her stepfather.

“It was my mom who would bring me to those jazz clubs,” Vivian began.  “I know, I was too young to be in those places but she just had to. You see, there was a father-daughter dance in my old school. I didn't go because I didn't really have a dad, and I actually hid the poster from my school diary then so she wouldn't find out. She's been working more shifts that time and I knew she was tired. But some nosy neighbor asked if I was sick since I wasn't in the dance last night.”

“She found out.”

“Yup. What she did was, she got me to wear this old sixties dress she found in the thrift shop. The both of us did. It was a matching set, and we took a bus to some jazz club. She was friends with the security there and she knew the band playing. She told them: “my daughter missed her father-daughter dance, and I want to take her to one”. They played this jazz and blues song and we danced. Then, Adam came and he danced with me too. In fact, all of the ladies and gentlemen there danced with me.”

“I'm glad you have that memory of her. That you still remember the happy times and not just…”

He had slipped. Vivian Pryor hasn't told Bruce Wayne about her mother. She told Batman that time they were in the crypts. But she brushed it off so easily and said, “I try to remember more of the happy things that happened now. For a time all of those happy things were gone and what I remember of my mother was finding her on that pavement, dead. But I learned that there are also happy memories that I can look back to. It was a tragedy what happened but my mom's life wasn't one. She made sure to remind us that she lived happily.

“One moment does not define a person's life. It's the journey they made, the memories they leave with those who mourn their passing. And to have someone to mourn you means you have lived life as it is meant to be.”

Bruce stopped in his tracks, pulling her to a halt as well. “Where did you read that from?”

“I didn't,” she grinned. “I thought it myself. Right now.”

“No. You can't just say something so deep just out of the blue,” he laughed.

“I swear! I didn't read it from somewhere.”

“I guess you really are an author.”

“An academic author.”

Looking into the darkness of the sea, Bruce sighed. “To have someone to mourn your passing… a haunting thought if you ask me.”

“You think no one will mourn you?”

“When my parents died Gotham mourned them, but there was only a handful of us who truly grieved. A handful of us who Thomas and Martha Wayne meant to. A friend, family, a son… most of those people are gone now.”

“I would grieve,” Vivian said. 

“We barely know it each other.”

“I know but… don't take this the wrong way but I'm more sensitive to life around me than most people,” Vivian chose her words carefully. “It's like… it's like let's say the sea. Whenever it comes to the beach it leaves a mark on the sand. Give it a couple of decades or centuries and it can form something with it. I'm the surface of this sand or that cliff, and each person is an ocean who makes their mark and I feel everything them and everything about them…

“So, when the ocean suddenly disappears or dries up, I would know and it would hurt me more sometimes than it should.”

Because she was a witch. Because her magic makes her sensitive to life around her.

“It's one of the reasons when my pet bunny died I cried for weeks,” Vivian attempted to joke but when she saw Bruce's gaze on her she fell silent because he was loss for words. “We might have just met now, but you've helped me so much for the past few weeks.” As Bruce Wayne and Batman. “And after this night, I will grieve your loss. And I would mourn Gotham for the person they lost. The man who has a vision and has been fighting to save it.”

It was only then she realized how close they were. That he held her waist while still holding her hand, that he leaned down close and that she was whispering the last few sentences as he looked at her closely.

“Do you have rules against kissing on first dates?” Bruce teased.

Vivian shook her head, “Not tonight,” she pulled him down and kissed him. 

Bruce wrapped his arms around her to pull her up. Her lips were soft and had the taste of the Affogato from earlier, and the way she pressed her tongue against his had him hold her tighter and wanting more. That's when he had her wrap her legs around him so he could kiss her properly, and to hold her entirely. At some point, they fell on the sand with Vivian straddling him and their lips still moving with one another.

Before it could escalate, Vivian pulled away. “But I do have one on sleeping with anyone on the first date.”

Bruce chuckled. “Understandable… you have a way with words, Professor.”

“Thank the dozens of philosophers whose works I've read for years now.”

Bruce reached up and brushed back a lock of red hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek. “Thank you for tonight.”

“I should be thanking you, Bruce. You know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”

He shook his head and cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, nuzzling into his palm. “Thank you… I haven't had this kind of conversation for a long time now. Where I'm not guarded… where I can relax and talk to someone who actually listens… and who is not my butler.”

Vivian smiled and leaned down to kiss his lips again. “Anytime.”

“So, are you free again this Friday?”

Vivian laughed, “we haven't even finished this date.”

“Well, I want to see you again.”

“You know where I'm temporarily staying until my real estate agent finalizes the papers for my new condo. And if you ever need a listening friend, you can always call, and I'll always answer. Unless I have class.”

“As much as I want to get you access to Wayne Tower, I want this to be something between us for a while. Something they won't publicize in Gotham.”

“Understandable. I'll tell everyone it was just one date then.”

“But I hope you're free next Friday or maybe tomorrow.”

“I'm needed at the museum tomorrow. Next Friday. I'll make sure to clear my schedule for that.”

“And Vivian?”

“Yes, Bruce?”

“I will also grieve if you were to disappear.”

Vivian smiled. “Then I promise that I won't disappear… as long as you promise too.”

He knew it was foolish to make such a promise but Bruce said, “I will.”

~*~

Standing before Superman and Wonder Woman, Vivian felt her whole world crumbling after hearing what they said. Everything just felt numb after hearing them say to her, “Batman's gone, Vivian. We're so sorry.” And all they could give her was his cape and how it happened. All she heard was Bruce was gone and it was because of Darkseid. 

“No,” Vivian spoke for the first time since Superman and Wonder Woman gave the news. “No, no, no, no!” Vivian cried and broke down. Alfred was quick to catch her and Damian ran to her side as she cried. “No, no, no! He can't,” Vivian clutched his cape and cowl trying to use as an anchor point to find him. Her magic flowed around her along with the Phoenix's magical energy.

“Viv,” Tim tried to console her but Vivian sobbed, her magic no longer glowing around her and a painful cry came from the woman.

“I can't feel him… I can't –” she cried. “I can't feel you…”

Seeing her inconsolable state, Damian faced Superman and Wonder Woman, and told them, “You've done enough.”

“Damian,” Dick chastised him. “It's not their –”

“A Kryptonian and an Amazon, Grayson,” Damian glared at him. “Father was a man… look at her, Dick.”

Dick did and saw Vivian crying on Alfred’s shoulder, still clutching on Bruce's cape and cowl, then to Damian and saw the tears building in his eyes. “Yeah, I think it's best you give us time,” he told the two heroes.

After Dick walked out the two heroes, he returned to the living room where Vivian still held onto the cape as she cried and grieved for the loss of her husband, and tried over and over to look for him. To feel his presence again but to avail. 

“I can't feel him, Alfred,” she cried. “I can't feel Bruce.”

~*~

Pulled through the time stream and thrown to different times, Bruce woke in a convent bed with the sound of a voice calling his name, “Bruce!” Getting up, he reached for the candle on his bedside and lit a fire to bring light to his dark home. 

“Quoth who?”

Silence.

Sighing, he placed back the candle on the best beside him where he saw the picture he drew of the red haired woman he kept seeing in his dreams. Her red hair, he painted it using red clay he found in the ground, and he kept an ample supply of the red clay in his current place of refuge to continue to paint the woman's portraits that slowly became clearer as days passed. It started from glimpses of her hair, then her brown eyes, her face was blurry at first but then her face would start to form.

The wind blew into his home and with it the scent of the ocean and the voice, “Bruce!”

“Vivian,” He spoke the name.

“Who is Vivian?” A nun came to his chambers. He was given his own quarters to keep him from those with fever and other ailments. “Finally recovering your memories, stranger?” Her Irish accent was strong.

“I cannot say for certain,” Bruce muttered.

“And this Vivian, whose name you speak of? Might she be the woman you have been painting day and night?”

“I do not know, Sister.”

The nun looked at him for a moment and said, “Pray, stranger. Pray that you remember so you may return to her whole.”

Bruce looked at the cross that hung on the wall across his bed then again to the portrait of the woman he drew. He chose to take her portrait and pray to her instead. Pray that he may remember and learn who it was that calls for his  name “Bruce.”

Yes. His name. He remembers his name.

“My name, Sister,” he spoke before the nun left. “I remember the name given to me but not the name of thy kin.”

“And what is it?”

“Bruce.”

The nun smiled. “Well, good night, Mr. Bruce.”

The nun left the room and Bruce continued to look at the woman with red hair along with the image of the bat below. In a whisper, he repeated her name again and again. He came to this town with no name and no memory but an image of a woman with red hair. 

“Do not… grieve, my Vivian,” he spoke in a whisper, the words coming from his heart. “I shall find you.”

[ledreca]

obligatory tommy taffy hc post

once again if ur one of my disc friends for the love of god do not press read more. thanks

sort of half headcanons half character analysis idk i was just writing whatever i thought of since everyone else is

warnings: written under the assumption youve read the book, includes heavy spoilers for both the reddit story and published third parent book by elias witherow, mentions/jokes of some of the more violent acts comitted by taffy but nothing explicit or sexual. you read the book you know what youre in for. also long ass post sorry i wrote all this on my phone last night

go ahead and preface everything here with "i think" cus as these are headcanons they are just my personal thoughts and ideas of stuff making up his character. that i made up

he has "real" hair, or at the very least it's made up of individual strands and not just a chunk of blond plastic. brushable and styleable!

his soft plastic doll-like skin is actually a fairly recent development. previous iterations through time had him being made of stuff like stained wood, stuffed cloth, porcelain, whatever rez saw humans using for idols and toys and such at the time. the plastic variant is comparatively modern, obviously inspired by barbie toy lines

the skin is surprisingly malleable, functioning similarly to both the human epidermis and the plastic of a modern toy. its able to bend smoothly and fold in areas, but also any imprints of say, fingernail scratches or bite marks, will remain there until he does something about it. it irritates him to no end how impressionable it is but he tolerates it for the benefits appearance-wise

he doesn't have eyeballs per say, but he does have the sockets and general shape of them. they aren't flat. the whites of his eyes, eyelashes, and eyebrows all appear painted on tho he is still able to emote with his eyebrows. the iris is also painted on but he can move them just like a regular human can

the blue glow of his eyes is controllable by will and strengthened by heightened emotions, tho he prefers to keep a low ambient level in low light

his mouth area lacks any shape or definition, and instead also appears painted on like his other features. his teeth also lack real detail and look uncannily simple on his 3 dimensional living body (I like to think rez wanted to give him a more silly cartoonish glee vibe and instead got uncanny and sinister ones). it can still open and emote differently than his default wide toothy grin.

lets get to the guts . . . (haha) his interior is full of flesh. just flesh. like what someone who didn't know what humans or mammals or organs are would imagine is inside something only known as soft and made of meat. just full of dark and meat and goo and warp all coated in a thin layer of syrupy yellow. (I can't actually come up with a reasoning for rezs choice in making his blood yellow. maybe he thought it to be associated with happier things than humanity's red blood and that it would never really matter anyway since he'd totally never get sliced open? lol!). rez got a little lazy when it came to designing something as complicated (and objectively subparly structured) as the human organ system so he just said screw it

looking at his exterior skin tho you would never be able to tell nothing really makes sense underneath, cus his body concaves and bends and is detailed in every way that would suggest a fully developed skeletal structure and organs. he can bend any way he'd like, but he does still prefer to try and follow anatomical standards. he also appears to have a circulatory and cardiovascular system, seeing as his blood can rush to his face and other areas to "blush" yellow (yeah hc he can blush). you might even be able to hear a facsimile of a heartbeat if you had your ear pressed up against his chest :)

the only "interior" rez cared to put any effort in designing is taffys mouth and jaw structure, since it'd be visible whenever taffy would open his mouth for emoting. it looks like a generically simple mouth with no detail past the color red and 2 curved blocks on the top and bottom to represent his molars connected to his "main" teeth. it also doesn't go anywhere and is just a small pocket, so he can't actually eat anything as itd have nowhere to go

since someone else brought it up first NOT ME I'll relay my own thoughts of the subject of taffys Lower body parts. Tommy Taffy was designed by something who wanted him to successfully blend in with humanity while also being remarkable enough in a fun friendly way (whether he succeeded is another story lol) and thus designed him with everything important he believed made up a human being. rez also admits to originally believing sex and violence were the predominate human traits due to his first experiences with humanity being very early stages of life and civilization. so yeah, he probably wouldve designed him with all the knowledge and exterior parts of a normal male human being, why would he suddenly decide to cut corners on his dream's own physical lower body? (now whether or not EVERY subsequent layer had all the bits and bobs is debatable and subjective but this is purely a personal and subjective post anyway lol!) also he gave him a goddamn tongue, guys. come on

taffy could very well be a reality bending divine being IF he thought he was able to. taffy operates under strict mental parameters carried from rezs influence to not be able to pass certain self-imposed limits on his own power. its mentioned in the book he could go up to like 66 thousand copies of himself like his real name meaning (66358 deadnaming lol) but I think at his current level he could build even more layers or just copies of himself or even create something else entirely new if he just knew he was capable of it. like father like son

some words about how his layers work: in the book rez describes it as each layer being a different tweak or change to the original base layer, so this can sort of be equated as like a code base on github or something idk im not a coder. except since he never actually overwrote anything, every "bug" and "deprecated feature" never actually got fixed or removed with each update, just pushed to a metaphorical backburner. so the modern taffy would basically be running a constant rng game to decide how he would react to stimuli from his environment, which can hopefully better explain his emotions switching at the drop of a hat and his bipolarity. sorry this was like confusing af lol

^ also all his layers probably think just a liiittle differently from eachother, each one isnt just a perfect carbon copy. seeing how in the book he could theoretically go up to sixty thousand present copies, it can be assumed each summoned layer is either a compound of every layer minus the latest layer additions or, what i believe, a "division" of several layers. like, say he had three manifestations active, each one with a divided ratio of the total sixy thousand, so theyd only have around twenty thousand changes picked at random. theoretically, one of his manifestations could have a very low amount of "early" builds and lack most of the violent/sexual tendencies and instead be a relatively decent guy. what are the chances of something like that happening though haha

he has a perfect hivemind relationship with his other current manifested layers, and he's able to perfectly tune in to every manifestation with precise focus. he doesn't really think about this tho as it's another one of those self-imposed limits to not acknowledge just how powerful his mind really is. this could also be why he's so irritated when someone points out or acknowledges another one of his layers

I don't actually think he works like this but itd be funny to imagine his thoughts are just all his 60000 layers yelling at each other like in slay the princess. mental fortitude of a god to be able to function with that shit

he's capable of instantly remanifesfing himself. he sometimes doesn't for reasons I'll talk about later (threat) but he IS able to "shed" and dismiss his current form for a new one if his gets, say, dirty bitten scratched stabbed lost russian roulette and/or set on fire. he just appears back either in front of a house if he plans on making an entrance or back inside if he knows no one will see him, depending on the severity and reason for why he had to remanifest. just like imagine if some kid accidentally got apple juice all over his stupid khakis and he was like "🤗 no biggie!" while internally fuming and he just disappears into some shadowy corner and comes back in the middle of the night sitting on the couch all clean and ominous

he can be a master at virtually any skill or talent if he knows enough about it. like what's that? youre interested in woodworking? wow, taffys actually a master woodworker and a whiz with a whittler! you've been getting into opera singing lately? lucky, taffy has an incredible range and can be your theater partner! he'll help you :) (whether you want him to or not)

he does actually have a really nice voice and is naturally good at singing tho. someone else mentioned this but he rlly would be putting a kid to bed and have to come up with some shit on the spot to sing them to sleep. he probably would have an insane range too cus lack of real vocal cords and all his sounds coming from an unknown eldritch source of power in the sky

he can purr. that is all

i KNOW his chest be rumbling from his goofy laughing and it's so nice to lay on. mask off

he used to really look up to rez and admire him as a creator, at least until he began to actually "exist" as more and more layers were added and he could feel the dissatisfaction and maybe even hatred from rez for things that were actually rezs fault but taffy would later assume were his own shortcomings. this got even worse once rez discovered he was out and about on earth and tried stopping him, driving a wedge between them that would eventually escalate into full on hate and spite fueled rivalry (mostly on taffys part). he does still have some deepseated respect and reliance on rez tho

highkey fantasizes about someone breaking into one of the houses in his care. it would likely rarely if ever happen cus of the effects he has on a neighborhoods aura and it probably really drives outsiders away but maybe during an early taffy "infestation" someone could attempt to rob his current family. he has a power fantasy where he'd violently protect his home by making an example out of whatever misfortunate schmuck decided to break into the wrong house and rip into him, proving he's strong and capable of protecting his territory. no lasting physical trauma on his own beneficiaries needed! (no but like imagine you just broke the lock on some upper middle class house. you walk in past the foyer and into the living room and sitting on the couch in the dark room is some tall lanky figure staring at you with piercing blue lights and a wide white grin. he lets out a quiet chuckle. ur not dying quickly nor painlessly)

he is unfathomably dramatic. I'm talking insane drama queen levels and passion for theatrics. will always be dedicated to the bit. his body just got thrown off a cliff by his current family and they think he's gone for good? give them a couple weeks. let them think they won. all for the spectacular and horrific entrance busting down the door he'll make on his return. need to make an example out of some poor parent who's just disrespected him for the last time? he won't just punch them, no, hes about to splay their corpse on the shingles and make the kids help. he does NOT have to do allat but he does. for the bit

he's actually incredibly intolerant towards child abuse from parents and will very quickly nip it in the bud at the source i.e separate heads from necks if what he's seen is bad enough. he only ever really snaps on a family himself if they go against him, and punishment without reason would be enough for him to fully takeover for the abusive parents in question

I like to imagine there has to have been a least one set of kids who deemed him more tolerable than their real parents because they were just that bad (I plan on working on a little something with this premise in the future, highkey suck at writing tho so don't expect much)

he'd be surprisingly good at comforting someone if you just let him. he knows all the methods to handle panic attacks and best ways to hold someone to calm you down from night terrors and such

he thoroughly appreciates the senses and thinks humans take them for granted. he believes all senses are wondrous (the quiet sneeze of a baby, the warmth of a family pet choosing his lap to lay on in the middle of the night cus he hasn't moved and won't move for hours, the indulgent aroma of a tired husband's baking brownies wafting through the house, and ofc the sight of a child's small smile at some funny thought or another when they thought he wasn't looking. he'd enjoy tasting things too if he didn't think he was wasting it since he'd have to throw it away later) he's a sucker for it all

this dumbass probably really only does have one item in his wardrobe. poor sod and his stupid Hi! shirt hes emotionally dependant on. still dont have to draw him in tho. if he does branch out he would make sure to keep the Hi! in there somewhere, be it one of those name stickers or a on button pinned to his lapel

anyway not a hc but a potential fixit fic idea for the book ending if anyone wants it: "killing" rez didnt actually work. something went wrong, maybe a subconscious reeling that forced him to collapse and go dark, but he never actually died. (you cant kill a god that easy.) thus, taffy remains, albeit incredibly beaten and roughed up. something changed him that night, though. whether it was witnessing what he thought was the death of his precious creator, the showdown with one of his favorite wards, his own horrific "death", or something else entirely removed, he woke up in that housefire different. more appreciative of life and with a new understanding of his own morality (or lack thereof). he would leave and go to rez's own already-mending mass and theyd abscond.. somewhere. anywhere other than here with the memories literally burning behind them and dripping blue fluid. then theyd experience found family and love for the first time and finally bond as father and son and live happily ever after the end WIN

sorry and thanks for reading this if you got this far. stay winning taffy fans and led fans

[doctorweebmd]

Hello! First of all you are insanely talented and your writing lives for free in my head and has probs rewired my brain on some level. Like it's that good tasty soul destroying gut wrenching all encompassing art that physically hurts that it's just concepts and not something you can like squeeze to pieces in your arms, how is it possible to feel all these emotions, ouch in the very best way art (I hope this makes sense lol) Secondly, I wanted to ask what your process is for ideating longer stories from start to finish? Cause they're always so layered and impressive like how do you keep track of everything. How do you weave it all together like that. It's so satisfying to see as a reader but what's it like inside your mind, can you give us a little peek (as a treat)? Thank you for your service❤️

Oh anon you are too kind i could cry seriously seriously seriously it means a lot to me. like, i dont even have words. thank you for taking the time to send this and make me feel like a human being that exists and that those words matter, even a little!

I've actually been thinking about how to answer this question for a hot minute, so apologies for how long this ends up being...

Anyway, click below for an exclusive look at ~*~my twisted mind~*~

I joke, of course. (ish.)

Regarding writing my longer fics... over the years, they HAVE become much more clean and organized and I have tried to at least keep to a central theme, so here is my sincere answer...

Think Yes, AND. All writing is improv. To me.

You come up with an idea. Think about how that idea can work, or how it can be possible within canon. Then explain that idea. Then explain THAT idea. A very bare-bones outline can help with predicting length and help you arrange ideas to assist with telling the story you want to tell.

For example:

First, we start with an idea. The overarching idea that you want to explore in a story. For Zero-Sum it was 'what if when Deku left UA and never came back and Katsuki went a little crazy looking for him?' For tptp it was 'what if Akutagawa got abducted and Atsushi went to rescue him?'

From there, extrapolate, extrapolate, extrapolate!

For me, I make incredibly vague outlines. It helps get an idea of what I want to accomplish in between 'core' parts or scenes. And when I say vague i mean, like, vague. Just put ideas down. Quotes you like. Potential events. Nothing is set in stone. Like, this is a copy of one of the earlier iterations of TPTP -

This part is where worldbuilding and thus the story really starts to develop. The nice part about writing fanfic is you're working in a defined framework, so there's many jumping off points. A particularly fun one is trying to explain canon and filling the plot-holes that are so so ardently bothering you. Researching anything and everything behind the canon itself, how it relates to the real world, how you can make sense of it always spurs ideas.

ANYWAY here are some thoughts that have kept me writing when I want to rip all my hair out and throw myself into a bottomless pit because, well, the only thing worse than writing is not writing. and also the horrors.

1.) If you build it, they will come - wow, it definitely feels super discouraging when you're writing a long fic and no one seems to be reading it. But, remember, you are writing the story YOU want to write. Many readers don't read incomplete works. Others only comment on last chapters. Others are just silent but love it anyway. Long-fics require a lot of internal motivation and love but it is always always worth it!

2.) Kill your darlings - oftentimes, if you're stuck making a chapter/passage work and you just can't, its the passage's fault. a lot of the times just deleting it can help gain some clarity of mind.

2.5.) Save your darlings - When I delete things, I usually either add them to the end of the fic or a whole new document. This is relatively new advice that I've started following and its definitely helpful!

3.) trust the process - goddamn it. you can't force it. you really can't. sometimes you have to sleep on it. think about things in your car. reread it and want to rip your hair out. the solution will come to you. IT ALWAYS DOES. trust yourself. this is your story. sometimes you just need to give it time.

4.) I will not explain my art to the stupidest people alive - there are always always ALWAYS going to be people that misunderstand you. no matter what you write, draw, create, how you speak, how you present yourself, there is someone who will misinterpret and shit all over it and there's nothing you can do about it. and when its something as vulnerable as writing, it might be compelling to overexplain yourself. DONT. do not dumb yourself down to appeal to people who dont give a shit about your art anyway. its not worth the effort.

5.) better done than perfect - one of the reasons i now post on ao3 as i'm writing. if you're a perfectionist like me, no matter how many times you edit something, it will never ever ever EVER meet ideal standards. it won't ever sound like you didn't write it. the nice thing is, this is fanfiction. you can write whatever the fuck you want, be it with too many adverbs and run on sentences or whatever. it doesn't NEED to be pristine. it doesn't NEED to be clean. this ain't the new york times bestseller or a world-wide tv show waiting to be critiqued. you will lose nothing by not making it an ideal. what it DOES need to be is DONE.

...

thank you again and i am sorry and hello :)

[all-pacas]

Chase - 1,2,3,8,12,22

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

because he's depressed <3 parental trauma is my Thing. parental trauma and abandonment and feeling lost and emotionally repressed and dead inside. its me . add in some of the most fucked up found family (house does not want to be this man's found family), and a wonderful tragic failmarriage doomed yuri romance and i'm there also he's kind of a silly guy. he's very funny. he's smart. whole package

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

kind of a meta thing but honestly? i love how jesse spencer clearly gets bored during takes and starts figeting, thus making chase constantly biting pens, playing with random objects, making faces, like it adds a lot of charm to this very boring character, he's constantly grinning and reacting to what people say in a way that's really… good, really engaged, and also really hard to pull off in a way that doesn't feel like over-acting or distracting. (hugh laurie is also very good at this. to compare, jennifer morrison is a lovely actor, but cameron - reacts when appropriate, reacts to things, but doesn't often do much beyond listen in an engaged fashion if the scene isn't about cameron. this is a perfectly valid acting choice. but laurie and spencer will do the same thing while playing with random objects or… one of my favorite little bits is the scene where chase tries to steal one of house's pancakes and house slaps his hand. that was, i will bet anything, 200% improvised. it was just a funny bit. but they do it completely in character, in a way that makes perfect sense: of course chase would try to steal the pancake. it adds a real layer of charm to the character, and adds a lot to the house-chase dynamic. spencer seems like such a fucking douche but damn him he's a good actor) i also love chase's entire character trajectory. he keeps nepobaby failing upward, ending up the coveted heir to diagnostics. does he want this? does he want any of this? is he happy? his life is wildly successful, everything chase does turns to gold (except his marriage lmaooo), he's rich and a genius and good looking and successful and people admire him and like him and he's dead inside, but. does he want to do anything else? does he have any conception of himself as anything else? he's not pining to… help the needy or become an artist or even be a professional beach bum. he tried to be a professional beach bum and got bored after 6 months. you strip away the facade and there's just nothing and i find that very fun.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

he can be a douche, and not in a fun, charming way like house but just in a … shut up, bitch kind of way lol. he's mean. he's rude. he talks shit about people. foreman isn't 100% right when he says chase doesn't give a shit about anyone, but 85% of people? chase really, blatantly doesn't care. he can be mean. he will let you know he doesn't care. at least house in his cruelty is engaged, chase just freezes people out.

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

the 1,001 sick crying babey sad fics hahahaha. like i get it, chase is a very good character to torture, far be it from me etc. but while he's definitely a sopping crybaby, he is much more repressed than he's given credit for and i think the woobieing goes way too far a lot of the time: he doesn't sob, he doesn't have panic attacks, he gets a canon whump episode (several actually) and he tends to get mad and kind of whiny and freeze people out / shut down emotionally, not throw up from anxiety. chase is kind of a dick! especially when he's upset! ALSO THE WOMBAT NICKNAME . hate it. actually half the australian jokes fandom makes bug me because they're the same joke over and over and they never… feel tonally correct. almost never. but that's more of a characterization nitpick of house (in that i totally believe he'd make the jokes, i just don't buy the jokes fandom puts in his mouth).

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

he's a fish :( loves to surf, swim, snorkel, takes absurdly long showers, loves a good bath, will happily lounge in or by the pool, he is happiest near or in the water. also something about water as a trope/symbol; adaptability, malleability, still waters running deep: chase is easy-going, he keeps things to himself, he presents this calm facade but is anything but. (i use so much drowning language in my chase fanfics) but also he likes to take baths :(

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

i like useless pining, i think fandom doesn't write nearly enough of chase pining when it's like 80% of his character from s3-6. arguably s2. man really does spend half the show pining for cameron to notice him and how relatable is that tbh. who amongst us, etc. i also love and think we need way more chase&13 and chase&park friendship stories -- emphasis on friendship, because this man will ruin every relationship he has by sleeping with them, and i think he deserves two mean gay best friends who will bully him into therapy and never fuck him. something i don't like is that fandom doesn't write me these stories :(

[cheriemariii]

part 2/5 of the yuri au look book thingie yippeeeee (1)

misaki

- -…………….. misaki. thats it.

-it trascends gender man idk what to say

-started off very basic (typical jeans + tshirt or hoodie, varying in color), but as time passes and she starts earning some confidence and money of her own she starts experimenting more with patterns and prints and layers and such

-(also from the moment she starts dating usagi her wardrobe grows tenfold xd any piece of clothing that remotely reminded usagi of her magically appears on misakis closet the next day)

-anyways shes veeeeery small. doesnt even make it to 1.50 (shes like 1 cm smaller than that u_u)

-(from now on i may also be using her as a reference for other characters’ heights xdxd)

-also no boobs no ass no hips no waist no nothing. Misaki often jokes that her sister took all of those genes for herself and left none for her xd

-and ofc usagi is soooooo annoying abt this (its all a facade obviously she is obsessed with misaki)

-and misaki liking to use loose clothing so much doesn’t help her case in the slightest jdhsjdhs

-i did think of keeping the short hair too for a full “misaki but a girl” effect but at some point i drew her with a wolf cut (……..ish?) for funsies and nothing was the same since

-(were wolf cuts even a thing back then??? WHEN even is back then????? help)

hiroki

-i was kind of going for "grumpy old man university professor" here. That's literally what she is in every way minus age and gender xd

- strives for this sober, academic kind of look, even if she is not at work kfhfjfhfhf it's part of her personality at this point

-careful with her looks, but tries not to take too much of her time with it

-very fucked up internal thermostat bc no matter how hot it may be she is never gonna take out whatever blazer or sweater or vest she is wearing and yet she's not even gonna sweat

-(smth smth her ~being cold~ all the time 😇)

-mostly into beiges and muted or darker colors. you might be more likely to see a cow fly than to see her wearing anything bright and colorful

-her hair looks literally the same all the time bc it's kind of impossible to style but she has had it like that for so long she no longer sees the point in changing it so whatever. at least she makes the effort to not have it on her face or smth

-she wears her glasses almost all the time bc the constant forcing her sight to read eventually took its toll on her eyes kfhsjdhsj (it's bc I like how it looks)

-not very well portrayed I know, but the glasses have this very subtle cat-eye shape, instead of the typical rectangles other characters wear

-average height. which means that next to nowaki she looks like a smurf (she is supposed to hate this but extremely deep inside she likes how secure? this makes her feel when being together)

shinobu

- dresses like an expensive (emphasis on expensive) doll most of the time :3

-probably looks like she came straight out of scream queens. Which is cool bc she also acts like she came straight out of scream queens

-extremely careful with how she looks, and likes to take her sweet sweet time in the process

-similar color scheme to hiroki's, but add pink to it :)

- for once she was actually worth the effort of drawing shoes

-it is not impossible, but it is very rare to see her wearing pants. Nothing against them in particular, she just likes wearing skirts xd

-also yes she is capable of wearing more basic, comfortable clothing, but she has to trust you waaaaay too much (i.e. you'd have to be miyagi) for you to see her like that

-the most beautiful, effortless dark blonde long curls you have ever seen in your life

-also very much into hair accessories, like headbands or tiny bows.

-not taller than Miyagi, but definitely taller than average.

-she also likes wearing heels often (although nothing too exaggerated), so she ends up looking even taller. and unlike miyagi, she doesn't get the back pains when walking around all day in heels, and she definitely uses that against miyagi to get her to exercise more often

isska

-femmest femme to have ever femmed in the history of femmes

-this woman is probably among some of the richest people at very least in her own industry. And god is she gonna make sure you realize by just looking at her.......

-she will show up to the board meeting wearing the most beautiful, insufferably expensive dress you have ever seen in your life and nobody will bat an eye. its thursday.

-"rich people often try to dress simple clothes bc they try not to draw too much attention to themselves" nuh uh they are just basic ass bitches

-anyways very much into delicate patterns, mostly florals or stuff like tartan or argyle (kind of vivienne westwood inspired when it comes to those)

-i think she likes purple. two of the outfits pictured above are some shade of purple in my mind

- also she looooooves some jewelry, the shinier the better. its not rare for people to be at a meeting and randomly get distracted by this big ass shimmer coming from the director.

-she also tends to walk a lot, so it's not weird to hear the constant clicking from her heels at a 10m radius from her office

-(her lower back may hurt a little after but asahina can take care of that later :))

-second tallest bottom in this whole au. she still looks rather small compared to asahina, but she is at very least taller than shinobu

-the biggest silkiest hair known to marukawa (not really but she likes to pretend this is true). every single day she sleeps with those tubes on her head and it is so worthy....

-speaking of which, she has the most annoying before sleep AND wake up routine known to man, but it pays off so well bc have u seen her skin????????? and yes, asahina partakes in both of them

Yuu

-very fashionable (this in my mind is very fashionable xd)

-hugeeee into layering....... and stripes......

-very colorful clothing most of the time (not all tho. for example, the far left outfit for example is supposed to be black and white). she loves to play around with different combinations, wether it's monochromatic or complementary or analogous colors, whatever looks good

-on a related note, she is very careful with what she wears. not to the lengths of like isaka or usagi, but she likes to feel pretty and actively makes the effort to do so.

-she will not compromise comfort for this purpose tho. She is problematic mangaka assistant first, beautiful woman second

-not pictured bc Im silly and I forgot (and tbf it'd be a bit hard to draw from a front view xd), but she loves hair clips with the colors and the shapes and all that, and if it wasn't for them her hair would look the exact same all the time jdhdjdhshd. she has a huge collection of them, a lot of them gifted by chiaki :)

-she is like one (1) cm smaller than chiaki, which actually means she's of average height since chiaki is just sliiiiiiightly taller than that. chiaki also used to be kind of annoying about this fact

-very nice figure, but secretly tends to feel insecure about it for some reason. she can become a rather envious person at times, so perhaps it has to do with having to compare herself to hatori(s evidently beautiful body, among other things) so often? and it doesn't get any better when she starts going out with ijuuin, and can't help but feel kind of intimidated by her (although it quickly goes from envying to lusting xd)

-not me spoiling torichia here kfhdjfhsjfhsj bye

[evermourning]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 - seo changbin

pairing: seo changbin x reader, lovertober entry iv

genre: fluff, comfort, slice of life, established relationship

wc: 4.7k

warnings: TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF., gender neutral pronouns used, hubby binnie, pet names (binnie, baby, honey, love), some sweet crack moments, dirty jokes (1), lots of kisses, language, non-sexual nudity, domestic binnie <3

a/n: this is my formal apology for second best. also, please don't diss my songwriting skills...i'm a writer, not a songwriter 😭😭 ^^

for many years, you had loved seo changbin.

it felt like from the moment you met him, he was destined to be the man slipping a beautiful ring onto your finger. he was so perfect to you, and you were excited to spend the rest of your life with him.

you had been married four seasons, and each one was better than the last. god, you loved him. you loved him because with his arrival in your once dreary and bleak life, he brought a gust of fresh air, filled to the brim with complete adoration for you.

in the winter, snowflakes danced in their descent towards the earth, painting your windowpane with a layer of frost. however, inside was quite the opposite. changbin had made the fire, crackling and bright as it emanated warmth and adding a cozy ambience to the living room.

just nearby, a grandiose evergreen tree adorned with glittering ornaments stood alone, early christmas presents littering its skirt. you sat on the couch alongside your husband (god, it felt like the butterflies in your stomach were taking flight just thinking that he was yours now), the two of you wrapped in a blanket, boasting warm, steaming mugs of hot chocolate. changbin had just taken a large sip of it, resulting in a sweet mustache above his lip.

"baby, i didn't know you've been growing a mustache." you giggled. when he heard you, he gingerly placed a finger to his lip.

"oh." he wiped it off, his cheeks pink. you frowned at his flustered reaction.

"don't be embarrassed, binnie. you looked so cute, i was melting."

"so is your whipped cream. if you keep yapping, it'll sink into the chocolate and then it won't be worth it. at least let me have some." when you obliged, handing him your mug, he took the spoon from his, scooping up a big, kinda soggy marshmallow. "say ahh!"

you laughed, opening your mouth so he could slip the spoon in between your lips. you licked them afterwards, and changbin leaned more into you.

"this sucks. i'm so hungry, still." he whined, and you laughed, snuggling into him more.

"we should make christmas cookies, then." you suggested, and his beautiful brown eyes lit up. but then they dimmed as he thought for a second.

"but it's 8pm."

"and?" you asked, trying to get up so you could make your way to the kitchen but he pulled you back down, an arm wrapped around your waist. "c'mon, let's have a little fun. get in the christmas spirit!

changbin had so many excuses piled up. he was tired, he had practice the next day, it was getting late and the sugar would keep him up. but the moment he saw the excitement on your beautiful face all of his worries melted away. he stood up with you, the blanket still hanging on his shoulders.

"let's go. we have cookies to bake, don't we?"

you sat on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs as changbin was grabbing all the ingredients.

"get down from there, please. we can't cook this if your butt is all over the counter." like a gentleman, he extended a hand to help you down, and you jokingly swatted it away.

"you love my butt."

"i do."

"this got kinda weird." you got down, opening various cupboards to grab bowls and utensils. you then turned on some christmas music, adding to the atmosphere. "you ready?"

the next thirty minutes or so, you spent carefully mixing ingredients together to create you and changbin's masterpiece. as you mixed the wet and dry mixtures together with your spoon, changbin's steady hands kept the bowl in place.

"easy now. you want it to be put-together, but not clumpy. you can't under-mix it or over-mix it, because both of those won't end well, okay?" his tone was gentle, and he didn't seem like he was chiding you or being bossy, he was explaining it to you and letting you take the lead, knowing if you felt lost he was right there beside you. you watched him expertly roll out the dough as you piled up the holiday cookie cutters. after that, they were slipped into the oven, ready to cook to warm, golden-brown perfection so that you could ice them.

a few minutes after changbin set the timer, your shuffled christmas playlist reached the long-awaited moment. the sound of melodious bell chimes signaled the fated song, and changbin gave you a devious smile.

"i hope you're ready, because i'm so ready." you laughed out loud at his words as he flipped his wooden spoon around to use as a makeshift microphone. as mariah carey began to sing, he did too.

"i don't want a lot for christmas, there is just one thing i need...." he spun around, reaching out the "microphone" to you so you could continue.

"i don't care about the presents underneath the christmas tree..." you sang, matching his enthusiasm. changbin gave you a wide grin before grabbing your hand and twirling around a few times.

after your karaoke session came to an end, you were panting, your throat nearly hurt from the loud singing. you leaned against the doorframe as changbin ran a hand through his curly black hair.

"guess what?" he said, smiling as he pointed up. hung from the top of the doorframe was a few leaves of mistletoe, placed not-so-discreetly. the timing was impeccable, as nat king cole's beautiful rendition of "the christmas song" began to play. one hand went to your soft cheek and the other went to your hip.

the way your lips met his in a soft and sweet kiss felt almost natural. as if they were always destined to connect to yours, again and again. you wished to have this feeling, of the emotions pulsing through both of you creating something magical, seared into your temporal lobe. this was the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with! you felt giddy at the very idea of it. all your wishes had come true. you were with the love of your life, in this hub of joy and warmth, protected from the cold. safe and sound.

two months passed and it was valentine's day. love was in the air, and it was no different between you and your husband. every single part of the week leading up to it involved little gifts and sweet acts of service from your lover.

february 13th was not a good day for you. it had been relatively unlucky, and nothing seemed to go your way. you trudged home, shutting the door and flopping onto your shared bed. changbin was still at practice, so you had time to let out all your emotions.

after twenty minutes or so, you heard the front door open, a soft and loving voice carrying throughout the house.

"honey, are you home?" changbin asked, and you heard the soft thump of him setting his things down. you didn't want to worry him, so you responded.

"yeah, i'm in here." you replied rather weakly, and changbin noticed the discomfort in your voice almost immediately. he opened the door gently, not wanting to startle you. when he saw you laying down, misery tainting your features, he sat down beside you, pulling you into a soft hug.

the feeling of his arms around you was your breaking point. your walls collapsed just as easy as they had been built. you sobbed into changbin's shoulder the words just tumbling out of your mouth. you told him everything that went wrong and everything you felt - from the irritation and disappointment to the shame and fear, and he listened, a soft look of concern on his face.

"shh, don't cry." he murmured, wiping your tears away. "i'm sorry that you had a bad day. we all have them, there's nothing to be ashamed of. but don't worry, because you have me! your very own binnie who will fight off all the shitty days for you." you laughed softly at his words, and he gave you a dazzling smile when he heard your melodious laugh. "thank you, for telling me. we're married now, and your business is mine. if you're happy, i'm happy. if you're sad, i'm sad. if you're in the mood to kill someone, i'll probably try in convince you not to do it. but long story short, you deserve the world. the earth is blessed that you walk upon it. the waters are blessed to have touched your lips. the sky brags whenever you gaze up at it. you deserve the word, love, and i will gladly gift it to you."

when you leaned into his touch, whispering soft murmurs of "i love you" again and again, he chuckled softly, pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead.

"you had such a rough day, baby. let's go take a bath, shall we? i'll go get it set up." he pulled away gently, waiting a second or two to make sure you didn't want him to stay. he went to the bathroom and got to work.

when he finished, he took your hand and led you in. the lights had been dimmed, most of the light emanating from red scented candles. an array of products were lined up neatly, and the water obviously had a bath bomb in it.

"here, allow me." changbin said, helping you undress. he neatly folded up your clothes and placed them on the kitchen counter. then, he gingerly unbuttoned his clothes and put them aside, too.

you sat with him in the warmth of the bath, his skin flush against yours. he rubbed your back, peppering your shoulder with soft and sweet kisses. nothing about this was sensual of any means. after the day you had endured, you were honestly relieved that energy had not been brought to this situation. this was simply your husband showing his overflowing devotion to you.

your eyelids fluttered shut as he washed your hair for you, carefully and expertly. he knew exactly what to do to give you the best results, as you'd taught him well. soft, soothing music drowned out the thoughts in your head, as did the comfortable silence with changbin.

after you had both dried off and gotten into your nightclothes, you climbed into bed, finding yourself immediately in changbin's warm arms, the place in this world where you felt truly at ease. he kissed you before dozing off. his final words, whispered softly into your waiting ear, were "tomorrow is another day."

and it was.

the next day, you found your home adorned with rose petals and your favorite foods and treats. seo changbin really was the match that kept your eternal flame going.

in the spring, the weather was lovely. flowers shot from the once frozen grown, basking in the sun's glory. cherry blossom petals floated down in a graceful dance from the trees. however, you were inside, curled up on a black leather couch, zoned out. from where you could see, changbin and the other members of 3racha were hard at work writing and composing a new song. eventually, you couldn't keep your eyelids from drooping shut, and you slumped over on the couch, sound asleep.

meanwhile, changbin was having a not-so-successful brainstorming session.

"i want to surprise yn, you know...they've been nothing short of lovely to me. and we can release it on the new album if it matches the concept, but if it doesn't, it'll be our song. private and for their ears only." he rambled. "but there's so much i want to express, and i can't pack it all in, or it'll end up being longer than twenty-four hours. ugh!"

jisung gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

"well...what are the things you want to tell them the most? there's got to be some division." changbin thought long and hard at jisung's words. he had such lovely memories with you, which were making it so fucking hard to choose just one.

"well...i love the idea of them growing old with me. it's something i've been dreaming about since we started dating." he finally said, a tad sheepish. "is that too cheesy?"

"not at all!" chan responded quickly. "that is one of the most beautiful things about love, i think. the daydreaming, the wishes...you're truly a romantic, changbin. and i love that being married has brought out this side of you."

"i think the poets might disagree. i can't even begin to elaborate on the vast complexity of my emotions, and they can do it in a flash." changbin mumbled. "i have all these feelings, and i hope i'm doing my best to make every day for them perfect. marriage is a commitment, and god, i'm fucking committed. i want to feel their hands in mine as we sit together under the sun in matching rocking chairs, our fingers wrinkled and knobby. because to me, they will be just as beautiful as they were when we were young."

chan and jisung stared at changbin, turned their heads to stare at each other, and burst out laughing.

"dude, do you hear yourself?" jisung asked in between giggles. "you're literally contradicting yourself as we speak. you just professed your love in the most beautiful way. i wish i could even begin to express that much powerful emotion, god."

"jisung, didn't you write volcano...and miserable...and alien?" chan implored, raising an eyebrow. jisung's cheeks turned an embarrassed rosy red, and he turned away, flustered.

"i guess...but that's not the point! what's really the point is that changbin needs to get his act together and write this song! no matter what you do, they're going to love it."

changbin let his emotions overtake him, and he wrote. he wrote so quickly and beautifully, every lyric laced with devotion and care. jisung and chan added their two cents now and then, but they let him take the lead. you were his muse, an alluring, angelic voice whispering sweet nothings in his ears, gifting him the motivation and inspiration he needed. when he finished his masterpiece, he stared at the lyrics. what if you didn't like them?

a voice sounded from behind him, drowsy and soft.

"honey, are you almost done?" you asked, and jisung and chan gave changbin a teasing smile before leaving the room, making some excuse that they were taking a conjoined bathroom break. changbin smiled at your ethereal face, still sleepy.

"i finished, yeah. want to hear the song?" he asked, as you got up from your resting place, sitting down beside him in jisung's now-empty chair. you nodded excitedly, and he took a deep breath, pressing play on the instrumental.

an upbeat melody sporting electric piano and drums began to play, working perfectly together. it sounded so sweet and so fun, like the inner melody that changbin kept hidden behind this rough exterior as a performer. and then he began to sing.

you'd heard him sing time and time again. but nothing compared to this moment. the raw emotion in his voice was singlehandedly the most beautiful thing you'd heard in a while. you felt tears prick your widened eyes when you realized the lyrics were about you.

"you've made this house a home."

"i was never a dreamer, until i met you."

the final lyric, "let's not make this too complicated, love me right now." signaled the end of the song. you stared at him, and abruptly burst into tears.

"please never stop writing songs about love, baby. your view of it is so refreshing and beautiful."

changbin's song, titled hands in mine, topped the charts.

this did not last. because now, changbin was sick. he'd been traveling and caught something he didn't even realize he had. this hit him hard, and he was now moping in bed, sniffles escaping his runny nose.

you were now determined to nurse him back to help, to the best of your abilities. you took a few days off of work so you could be by his side. carefully balancing a bowl of soup, you knocked on the door.

"can i come in?" he was silent, and you took that as a yes. you slid th door open, weaving through the room to sit beside him. he was sound asleep, the soft rise and fall of his chest imminent. you laughed quietly. the sound woke him up, as he blinked, eyes bleary with sleep, looking at you with a small pout.

"you...woke me up." he whined, and you pushed a few locks of curly black hair away from his forehead, placing the back of your hand there instead. he still had a pretty bad fever.

"you poor thing." you cooed, combing his hair with your hands. "you're burning up." when you gently pressed a damp towel to his forehead, he sighed at the contact.

"i can help myself, you know. you don't need to miss work for me." he said quietly, cheeks a deep red. when he attempted to grab the towel from your hands, you quickly moved it out of reach, resulting in changbin letting out a pitiful sound. "please. i can take care of myself and i'll be back in shape in no time. i've missed too many workouts!"

you shook your head.

"seo changbin, look at me. you have broken your back time and time again caring for me when nobody else had the energy to. i am not going to let you sit here and waste away in your sickness just because you have much too big of an ego to let me show you love you deserve. okay?" he was silent for a while, which implied his white flag of surrender. as he lifted the spoon to his mouth to consume your soup, you noticed his hand was shaking. you gave him a hug after he set it down, pressing your lips to his burning cheek.

"hey! i'm gonna get you sick." he tried to pull you off him, but you held on, until he relaxed, slumping back onto the bed. his head rested on your chest, and he sighed. "you're too good to me. i love you to the moon and back. as long as i am breathing and my heart is pumping blood, you will be the only person in my eyes. i intend you to be my last." and then he promptly fell asleep. leaving you dumbfounded.

so you held him tighter, until you drifted off into a dream-filled sleep. dreams of the eternity you were ready to spend with changbin.

summer arrived with a splash, literally. the sun was high, its rays beating down on you as you sat in a lounge chair in your swimsuit, tanning and reading a book your friend recommended to you. in the pool nearby, changbin rested his forearms against the tile, treading water as he looked up at you with a grin.

vacationing with him was always so fun.

"you look so good right now. the sun is kissing your skin when i wish i could." he giggled softly, and you smiled at his words. you were content sipping a cold drink as he swam, the blue water complimenting his tanned skin. and god, his arms looked really nice.

you had been with him for so long that busy schedules felt natural. you were used to long distance, long late night calls where you were practically begging him to get sleep, but he refused and regretted it horribly in the morning, airport arrivals and departures, all of that. it was nearly surreal that your husband was here and tangible.

"baby, come here real quick. i have to tell you something." changbin said suddenly, his mood changing. worry clouded your brain as you rushed over, crouching down beside him.

"is everything okay?" you asked him softly, and he flashed you that sneaky smile you knew all too well.

"better than okay."

and then he grabbed your hand, pulling you into the pool. you were met with the cool water soaking you from head to toe, before strong hands grabbed your waist, allowing you to pull your head up. changbin was laughing his ass off, and you splashed him rather harshly as a response.

"oh, i got you there! you looked so worried, babe, you were all like - 'oh no i hope my hubby is okay!' not even suspecting i'd toss you in. this is the fifth time you've fallen for this in all our time together, i'm disappointed." you sighed, theatrically massaging your temples to seem annoyed.

"y'know, this is why you're so short, binnie. if i can't trust you to not betray me like that, then how can the height gods?"

"hey!" he pouted, picking you up like you were light as a feather. the water probably helped. "you love me and all my inches."

you raised an eyebrow at his comment.

"and which inches are we implying here?" changbin's cheeks turned beet red as he doused you in a downpour of water.

"i didn't mean it like that, you perv!" he whined. you giggled, swimming over to him to rest a hand on his muscular forearm.

"i know, i know. want to dry off and walk along the beach?" you asked invitingly. he acted as if he even had to think about it, before clasping your hand in his and leading you out of the water. he grabbed two fluffy towels, handing one to you so you could dry off. after the sun aided you in this endeavor, you made your way to the beach.

the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky the colors of a beautiful fire as you walked, one foot after the other, hand-in-hand with changbin. the grains of sand felt soft against your bare feet, and the wind was blowing perfectly. pairing this with a cooler temperature now that nightfall was nearly upon you resulted in a perfect day.

you swung your entangled hands as you walked, pointing out various seashells and marine life. you just felt so overpowered with joy.

"can you believe it? we've been married for over half a year." you commented, eliciting a gasp from changbin. instead of responding with some loving comment that would make you all flustered and even more in love with him, he burst into song.

specifically, omg by newjeans. never a second of rest with this man.

on the eleventh day of august, changbin was awoken with a bone-crushing hug from you. you were excited and smiling, gushing until he groaned, sitting up to face you. your hands went to his cheeks, and you smiled wider than ever.

"happy birthday!" his face lit up at your words. he hugged you laughing, wrapping his arms around you. every birthday was another year lost to time, but he was happy that these years would now be spent time and time again by your side.

he watched you carefully make him a delicious breakfast with his favorite food. there were all different ingredients cooking and being mixed at once, and changbin basked in the sweetness that was your determination to make the perfect day for him. when you finished, you sat down with him, and he began eating, exclaiming in delight at the taste and complimenting you non-stop.

"what do you want to do today? it is your special day, after all. we can do whatever you want. this needs to be a day you'll love." you said, smiling as you took a bite of breakfast. changbin was silent for a bit, probably planning out a sudden itinerary for the day. you knew he was up to something the minute he gave you that damn look.

you were wearing gym clothes. this was his master plan, wasn't it? he was going to make you work out with him. you knew about your husband's love for exercise, but if you weren't feeling up to it, he wouldn't try and force it onto you. but today, on his special day, you essentially had no choice. however, it was lucky for you - you had a trained professional as your workout partner as opposed to someone who knew absolutely nothing.

it wasn't easy, but changbin was by your side every moment of the intense workout. some machines were easier for you to comprehend and then use than others, but at the end of the day, you much preferred watching changbin work out over anything.

the sheer focus when he exercised was something you'd really only seen when he was performing. you wished you had something even close to the level of perseverance that he boasted. finally, your sweaty husband completed his workout. in the car ride home, his hand never left yours, rubbing circles into your soft palm.

the rest of the day was simply lovely. you just spent it with changbin, not doing anything in particular but enjoying each other's presence. whenever he was around you, he seemed to have this radiance that came and went. it was a ray of calming sunshine that made you feel immensely better. whatever came at you, you'd face it together.

that night, when you sang happy birthday to changbin, as he was surrounded by his closest family and friends, he gave you a beautiful smile before blowing out his candles. he felt like was on top of the world, seeing your beauty as you held a cake you baked personally for him. he prayed this would be how all his birthdays were.

when the vibrant green hues of the trees faded to warm reds and oranges, mixed in with the occasional yellows and browns, you knew almost instantly that fall had arrived in all its glory. with fall came the autumn holidays, times of joy as the weather progressively became colder and colder, until the cycle of the seasons would repeat again.

the first of these important holidays was halloween. the weather was chilly in the mornings and night, something you honestly couldn't stand. you were curled up on the couch with changbin, a bowl of candy between you two as you watched some new horror movie. if you were being completely honest, it was scaring you, but you didn't want to admit that to changbin, who was frankly quite invested in the movie's plot.

"look at this dumbass, babe. he had two choices on places to hide. he could've hidden anywhere where the killer wasn't...the guy is literally taking out students at the university, if he just, i don't know, ran away, he'd be safe? but no...he had to hide in his girlfriend's dorm room. so stupid." changbin huffed, and you facepalmed. "mark my words, he's going to die before the end."

his incessant rambling was helping take your mind off the jumpscares, but you'd still visibly flinch if you weren't expecting one. you'd react by hiding your face in the crook of his neck. this was something that made changbin laugh loudly. however, he wasn't condescending about it or anything, which made you very comfortable. one of the many, many, many things about changbin that you loved was the harmony and tranquility he brought to your life.

you had loved seo changbin through the freezing cold and the burning heat, through the wilting and blooming of the flowers, through days and nights alike. and you had absolutely no intention to ever stop.

taglist: @darkypooo , @hyunbae-35 , @backintomykpopphaseagain , @stateofdelicategrace , @elizaschuyler18 , @lillithathecat , @imastraykidsfan , @nightimescapes , @mal-lunar-28

@evermourning, ©2023, all rights reserved.

[skazoo]

fire to the rain.

↳ min yoongi x f!reader x jung hoseok

a crime lord, a mental hospital escapee, and a sociopath detective enter a bar.

length. 2.3k

genre. angst, thriller!au?? i REALLY don't know how to label this, agust d and jack do their own thing ig

warnings/tags. language, mention of mental illnesses, murder, arson, implied organized crime, dark themes overall. in this fic's seoul mental hospitals still exist, like arkham asylum/ahs: asylum stile idk it doesn't really serve anything but i imagined it this way.

networks. @kflixnet k-labels

notes. i finally get to publish this fic after soso long can i get an hallelujah?!?! also jack and agust d need to be in a movie together i really need it.

last but not least infinite thanks to the best beta reader i could ask for <3 @l00pyluluo7 MY angel 🫶🏼

hope you like it!

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

a crime lord, a mental hospital escapee, and a sociopath detective enter a bar.

you think back to yesterday and you have a hard time recognizing which part of the so-called joke is funny but it was one of the rare times yoongi laughed when hoseok said it so you guess it’s just a you problem.

rain falls relentlessly on seoul’s concrete streets, the raindrops biting into your skin like needles. you walk slowly, hands in your pockets and the hood of your jacket pulled over your head, almost covering your vision. you let your eyes scan the dark alley you’re about to enter, but you see nothing other than a few plastic bags from the restaurant in the front of the building and a stray cat looking for something to eat.

according to the message you received in the dead of night from a —ironically— familiar unknown number, the meet-up is supposed to happen early in the morning but as of right now the sky is dark, the rising sun completely hidden behind a thick layer of ominous clouds. a milky mist bathes the city that has yet to wake up in a gray hue and morning seems nowhere to be seen. 

you grimace. 

if anyone were to ask you, seoul doesn’t deserve anything. 

the freezing cold in winter, the scorching hot summer, the rancid smell, its unforgiving nature, the city you were born in has never done anything for you. not when you grew up in foster care, not when you were denied the same opportunities as your peers because of your ‘slightly disturbing’ nature, not when you joined the police. if anyone were to ask you, in all the years you’ve been alive, seoul has never shown kindness and you’ve come to the point you’d rather see it burn than be a silent victim of its cruel ways. 

no one ever asked you, though. not until you met him first and the other second.

they knew what you were talking about when you told them what went on inside of you and be it in loneliness or personal gain, they enabled you in the only way they knew how. with gasoline. setting fire to the rain.

the phone in your hand says it’s 5:26am. you still have time.

you fish for the unopened pack of cigarettes in your pockets. 

it’s weird how the first thing you think about is sergeant kim and his passionate hate for your addiction. sergeant kim and the conversation you had almost four hours ago.

his voice was a quiet thing when he found you outside of the police station when it still wasn’t raining.  

“detective L/N.”

“sergeant kim.”

“the fires are getting more frequent.”

you let the smoke wash soothingly over your lungs. kept it there before lazily pushing it out. “they are.”

he stood in silence, leaning on the other side of the door, looking at you with a grave frown.

“it’s dangerous, detective.”

you buried yourself further into your jacket and turned your head in his direction, a minimal movement that spurred him to go on.

“and it’s arson,” voice low as he looked around the outside of the station. it was late. uncharacteristically so for him but your case must have been keeping him up at night more than you thought it would. maybe you underestimated his love for the job or his fear for his failures, you don’t know. you don’t particularly care either.

“i thought we’d already agreed on it when we took the case, sergeant. it is malicious. it is arson.”

he frowned and shook his head.

you’ve noticed he often gets these fits of frustration in which he struggles to make you understand exactly how certain things make him feel, as if he needs to explain the reason he’s not comfortable. you think he does it unconsciously but you wonder if sometimes he catches a glimpse of what goes on in your head and his desperation it’s just him trying with all his might to pull you away from something you both know is not pretty. something he knows would put a premature end to whatever relationship he created between the two of you. 

“it’s murder,” just above a whisper. “Y/N, we’re looking for a single man, a madman, a psychopath that uses the same brand of matches every time he burns something down but i’m starting to think it might be a group? do you think it could be possible? i just can’t think about the actions of a single person causing so much pain i–”

“what? so it would take this case from having a chilling lack of ethics to just being ethically questionable? would it make you sleep better at night?”

he stared at you as you let out another puff of smoke that curled around itself and vanished in the night air. it smelled like rain. you thought you saw a gust of lighting from behind a building.

“Y/N, i’m worried about this. i’m worried about you.”

that was a weird thing to hear, naive too, you thought.

sergeant kim namjoon. you’ve known him for years. polite, respectful, driven, maybe too driven. your partner in this last case. he took a particular liking to you after you helped him catch an abuser his first year of being sergeant and as much as it was inexplicable to you it was very easy for him to consider you in no time something more than a mere coworker, a friend, even. you realized with time that he craved human connections no one around the station or the city was eager to give him and he found in your uninterested passivity a sign of acceptance of a new friendship. but you don’t think he’s the clueless, clumsy man he portrays himself to be most of the time. you think he’s just a person who’s so desperate that he’d turn a blind eye, a deaf ear to the wolf in sheep’s clothing working alongside him if it meant he could keep someone close to his pathetically lonely heart. you think he’d be considered wretched and rotten and insane just like the rest of you.

when you didn’t answer he shook his head again. a slow hand passed over his tired face as if to wash away the stuff of nightmares you both have to work with.

“whatever organization or– or crazy person– i don’t know but whoever is doing this knows we’re looking for them. you and i, Y/N. and i’m used to your indifference but i’m worried you’re not taking this seriously. they’re getting closer, i can feel their eyes everywhere i go and i–  this group is–” 

“sergeant…”

he squeezed his eyes shut. to avoid tears from falling from his watery eyes? to ground himself in the shitty reality he’s cursed to live in?

“will you ever call me by my name?”

fuck, he really was naive. still is. always will be.

“sergeant,” you smiled more to yourself than anything but you saw him clinging to it as if it was his lifeline. “don’t compromise yourself over things you wish were true because they’re easier to come to terms with.” he hung from your words. he alway does. “don’t compromise yourself. you’re all you have, sergeant.”

on that occasion you don’t know why you said those words if to really speak to him and reassure him or to drive him away from your business. you just know you did and it seemed to free him of something and burden you of something else. you just know that sergeant kim namjoon passes through your mind numerous times in the weeks that follow the conversation.

you’re walking further in the alley when you’re forced back to the rainy present by the sound your ears capture in the drowsy silence of the early morning. you take off your hood to listen.

someone is following you. you can hear their footsteps, speeding when you are speeding, slowing down when you do the same. you stop in place. you can feel their presence, hear their breathing, their arms stretching out towards you, a hand coming from behind and reaching out. 

a single lit match floats in front of you held by a bodiless fingers.

“surprise.” barely audible, whispered into your neck.

your mouth pulls into a small smile as you stretch your neck to light the cigarette you’re keeping between your lips.

“it’s 5:37.”

a silent kiss is placed on the exposed skin between your jacket and your hair.

“i know.”

“you’re late.” you muse. a drag of the cigarette and you gently blow the smoke in the dark in front of you.

the voice talking to you finally gets a face when the man behind you slowly circles you. he lets his hands travel from your shoulder to your waist as he comes standing in front of you. his eyes are crinkled with glee, his usually mischievous grin softens when he sees how you’re looking at him: amusement hidden by a thin veil of annoyance.

he takes your face in his hands, a rough thumb swipes over your cheekbone. the smell of sulfur hides his usually earthly perfume. 

“seven minutes, love.”

“seven minutes late.”

he huffs out a laugh and lets his hands pass through the wet strands of his hair.

he looks good even with ash in them and eye bags under his eyes. 

it makes you feel weird when you think about these things. when you find yourself admiring him as if you’ve finally found something worthy in the pool of mediocrity you’ve been swimming in since you can remember. it never occurred to you that people —insipid, dull, hypocritical— could make you feel like you didn’t want the world to end anymore. 

they both made you change that about yourself and at first it was alarming how quickly you fell into them. you don’t know what it was but for the first time, you felt seen. not understood or full, no they couldn’t do that with you just as much you couldn’t understand or fill them, but you were visible. you were there, and they were too.

hoseok lazily looks around the dark alley one last time before taking your hand in his and gently pulling you along inside the building, to the flights of stairs that take you to the roof. 

you know that with his silence he’s giving you the time to come back to yourself, to hide again what you know he’s already seen time and time again. it’s still hard for you to freely show what you feel but they’ve never pushed you and often you find yourself wanting to tell them how glad you are about it.

“he’s late too, you know. i hope he gets the same treatment when he arrives, mh?” he quips once you reach the roof and the other man’s dark mop of hair is not standing there, tapping an impatient foot on the cement floor. 

“he has responsibilities. he’s gonna be late sometimes.”

hoseok gasps, “and i don’t?!”

“your only responsibilities are lighting a match and hiding from whatever mental hospital you ran away from, jack. stop whining, you know i don’t particularly like it when you do it.”

he pouts as you blow smoke in his face. you know he wants to argue against words that are nothing more than simple truth but he settles on whining more. “and i don’t like it when you call me jack.”

“i know.”

“then why do you do it?”

“you’re cute when you’re upset, hobi.”

he sputters out something about indulging crazy people just as the rusty door of the rooftop creaks open.

he stands there. the healed scar on his eyes casts a dark shadow on his porcelain skin. he looks the part, you think. born and raised in the same city that doomed you from the start. you also think that’s why you found him and he found you. you’re not that different.

you take the last drag of the cigarette and throw the butt on the floor, putting it out with the heel of your boots.

“did you finish the job?”

you look up at him as hoseok stands behind you. his hand sneaks to your waist. you know he’s sending a proud smile to yoongi.

“you know we always do,” you answer calmly, truthfully. it’s just facts. you always do. you always follow through with his requests. this time it was seoul police getting too comfortable snooping around his business, the next time could be one of his allies threatening his authority a little too much. he trusts you. you trust him. it’s a mutual act of something akin to what people call love. it’s not even that absurd if one thinks about all the things people say they do for love. you’re just humans like the rest of them. fragments of decay.

“and they said i had ‘behavioral issues’” hoseok scoffs from behind you.

yoongi smiles at the picture in front of him. he takes your hand in his, kisses your knuckles. does the same with hoseok. sweeps a thumb over a dark smudge of coal on his cheek. 

the sun must have risen behind the thick layer of clouds —the bubbling of the tempest can be heard in the distance. the three of you stand there, huddled close, subtly holding hands. dark smoke, the blaring siren of an alarm, and faint screams rise from the police station in front of the office building you're in while the rain still cascades unforgiving from the heavens.

a crime lord, a mental hospital escapee, and a sociopath detective enter a bar.

you still don’t get it but you let out a silent chuckle anyway. if it made your partners laugh that much in bed last night then it truly must be funny.

end note. i didn't want to put this at the beginning bc i didn't want to spoil anything but i started writing joon's texts/ voicemails to Y/N after the 'incident' and if you're curious pls tell me i can finish them and maybe do a little drabble spin off on that! lmk <33

[scottdixon]

why do people slay dc (David Coulthard) hates Seb? or at least dislikes him?

personally i'm not quite sure if i buy the idea of DC hating seb mostly because i imagine they've interacted quite a lot off-camera both when seb was rising thru the ranks as a red bull driver and after he left RBR, and i think a fair amount of their actual on-camera interaction reflects a good level of familiarity. i'm sure they aren't exactly friends but i wouldn't put it too far down the 'hate' scale.

BUT i imagine one thing that people who would call it hate that i agree with them strongly on is DC's work as a commentator and analyst. this is most obvious when watching the 2011 season when for some ungodly reason brundle was given a swing at being a play-by-play commentator with DC as the second mic. he is completely disinterested in talking about seb's skill in any genuine way and is very quick to talk about errors and, say, advantages that have been 'gifted' to him thru strategy, or windows for others to try and beat him. also glaringly he pronounces vettel incorrectly as vetTELL which is, well, mystifying considering that he must have heard the proper pronunciation plenty...

so i think it might be an inside joke? the very critical commentary also kinda has a certain dry humor, taking-the-piss-because-we're-pals quality to it, maybe. but even if it is, idk, scottish sarcasm, it really does come off as cruelty unless you dissect a few layers. not very professional, to say the least.

whatever the case is, he can still suck it <3