#they're watching...!!!! they know something is wrong!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

linedbycaro · 14 hours ago

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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐃𝐨𝐣𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐭 (𝚸𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢) 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟔k

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞: 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 '𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭' 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜.

Paige bolts out of the weight room. Sprints.

She doesn't stop. Not even when she crashes into Geno in the hallway— hard enough to where he stumbles back, too bewildered to make a smart remark, and just asks, "Paige..? Are you okay?"

The coach's question barely registers. She doesn't so much as look back, just barrels down the corridor, shoulder-checking doors open like they're in her way.

Paige doesn't stop when she bursts outside; she just continues to sprint down the sidewalk, tumbling past a group of gaping students.

She laps the block twice, ears ringing, blood pounding, trying to shake off her pent-up energy. It only makes it worse.

With each stride, another vision of Azzi flashes through her head.

Azzi's arms, her chest, her sweat-slicked skin, glowy and taut under the lights. The slope of her back, the hitch of her breath. Each provocation intentional.

Salacious. That's what she was. In the worst, most intoxicating way.

Just when Paige had tried to act normal. Tried to be chill during practice, tried to show Azzi she wasn't completely unraveling inside since their conversation— since Azzi had looked at her with a different kind of intensity and taunted her with words Paige wanted so badly to believe.

And then Azzi took that composure and played with it. Like she wanted Paige to unravel, like it was all a big game and she wanted to tempt Paige until she gave it, and wanted to see how much she could take before she broke.

And Paige had fallen for it like an idiot. Paige had let her. Had let herself be undone, watched Azzi play her like a game, and stayed right there.

She'd tripped over her own damn feet, trying to step away. Knocked over the bin like a klutz, just a sweaty, breathless mess under Azzi's gaze. Because the truth was, she couldn't control it, not when it came to Azzi.

The heat under her skin is unbearable — fire flooding through her veins, frying her nerves, her breakfast threatening to claw its way up her throat, the sheer want, the ache between her legs, her pure need for some kind of physical release.

She needs to escape. Get out of Azzi's orbit. Leave campus and go for a drive or something. Anywhere but here.

She can't think. Can't breathe.

Okay.

Step one: keys. Step two: car. Step three: drive.

She pats her pockets.

Pause.

Her keys.

Oh crap.

She left all her stuff in the weight room.

Defeated, Paige drags herself back into the facility.

But when she gets back to those damn weight room doors, she can't bring herself to open them. Just stands there dumbly with her forehead pressed against the frame.

And nope. Absolutely not. Paige cannot— physically cannot— bring herself to open that door.

You know what? She'll just wait for Azzi to finish her workout. A dip in the recovery room jacuzzi isn't the worst idea. Might help calm her even.

Wrong.

Paige knows it's a bad idea the minute she slips into the warm water.

She sinks under, fully submerging, letting the hot water envelop her, trying to let it trick her nervous system into stillness— allowing the water's heat to cancel out the heat burning inside her.

She holds her breath.

Count the beats.

Wills her heart to slow.

Until the pressure inside her lungs becomes too much.

Until her body forces her to the surface.

Immediately, her head starts spinning again. Her heart slams against her ribs. Faster than before. Because the moment she resurfaces, she doesn't see it this time; she feels it.

Paige clenches her jaw, determined to control herself in some way.

She presses her back against the tub wall, hands covering her face, letting the jet stream pound into her spine. It's aggressive, so strong it almost tickles, but it numbs the ache in her back, loosens the tension in her shoulders. She lets it carry her, blur the edges of her thoughts, which slip—traitorously—right back to Azzi.

The way Azzi had stalked over, voice purring—feline in that dangerous, commanding way.

"You seem tense."

Understatement of the century. She'd said it so sweetly, like a goddamn seduction.

Paige had been shaking—still is, her belly wound so tight it feels cruel. She needs to- she needs-

No.

She refuses to touch herself. Not for Azzi. Refuses to get herself off to thoughts of her best friend like some horny, undisciplined loser.

Refuses to let her hand slip below the waistband of her shorts and feel the wetness she already knows is there, sliding between her legs.

But…. Azzi had meant it, no? Azzi had wanted her to feel that way, wanted her to become undone.

And Paige desperately needs to do something— anything for a physical release. It's the only way her body will calm down. The only way she'll be able to think straight. She just needs a little, a little friction, and—

Paige is turning around before her brain can really comprehend what she's doing.

She braces herself against the tub wall and lets the hot jet hit between her legs, the pressure relieving some of the tension in her core.

She won't touch herself, but this—

oh.

She groans, surrendering herself, angling her cunt a little more directly onto the stream.

And naturally, she succumbs to visions of Azzi.

Azzi stripping her shirt off, slow and deliberate, that infuriating smirk tugging at her lips.

Azzi adjusting her sports bra—the slip of underboob, the full shape of her breast there, gleaming in the light.

She grinds against the current, riding it, letting the water pound up against her clit.

Paige pictures the way Azzi's abs had clenched with each pornographic thrust of her hips, shorts rolled low below her hip bones, flaunting her v-line with every roll. Intentional.

Paige grits her teeth, forearms bent over the wall, imagining she is grinding on that vision of Azzi, not the jet.

Imagining how it would feel to rub their cunts together, Azzi's clit putting pressure on her own— the way it would look to see Azzi's torso roll into her, how the flex of her abs would feel under Paige.

She moves her hips over the jet faster now, letting the water thrum up against her opening. Filling her, bringing her closer.

Paige pictures the way Azzi's head had tipped back, mouth open, neck arched—the perfect picture of ecstasy. Pictures her making those same breathy moans, eyes rolled back into her head, but this time under Paige, coming undone together.

Paige is panting now, eyes closed, face tight in concentration, her hips buck furiously, jagging her cunt closer to the jet opening, letting its current rip onto her clit.

She remembers Azzi's touch, the torturous drag of her hand up her arm, fingers digging just enough to make her knees go soft. Her palm gliding over Paige's abs—pausing, grazing—the slow, calculated massage of her hands.

Firm thumbs kneading into her shoulders like Azzi owned her body and knew it. Like she was unraveling Paige one press at a time. Every nerve lit up. Every inch of restraint pulled tight, straining—

Paige comes hard. Shaking, panting, overstimulated as the jet pulses beneath her. A wave of relief crashes over her.

And then the guilt sets in.

Because as she slumps away from the tub's edge, sinking deeper into the water, her chest aches.

She feels gross.

Not because she wanted Azzi—she's made peace with that, at least in theory—but because she let her body take over. Because she gave in. She couldn't control it.

And worse—because it wasn't even real. Just a ghost of Azzi's voice, a memory of her hands. The aftermath of Azzi playing her seductive games.

Paige so badly wants to be okay with just being Azzi's teammate. Her best friend. She wants to be normal about it. Controlled. Distant.

But this new version of Azzi—this bold, impossible-to-read version—is unraveling her.

Paige doesn't know how to act around her, how to stop it. Doesn't know what's a joke and what's not.

Paige isn't sure what game they're playing anymore. She isn't sure what is real and what is lust. What's genuine feeling, and what's just the thrill of the chase. Maybe Azzi wants her—physically— she'd implied that clear enough in the gym. But Azzi doesn't seem to know what she wants beyond that. Paige is just a side effect, a glitch, not in the way Paige wants her back.

And that difference is what breaks her.

She sighs, dragging herself out of the tub, and unceremoniously hops into the cold tub.

It's icy, and it shocks her—which is probably the tub she should've gotten into in the first place. It's the first time she's gotten into the ice bath without complaint, but she forces herself to be miserable for a moment. To endure it.

Then she towels off, changes in the locker room, and finally heads to her doom—praying that if God has any last shred of mercy on her (unlikely, after she'd just orgasmed in a sports facility to the thought of her teammate), Azzi isn't still in there.

Procrastination, as it turns out, isn't an effective tactic.

Because Azzi is still in there when she pushes the door open. Like she noticed Paige left her stuff and decided to wait. Decided to watch her crawl back in.

"Back so soon?" Azzi glances over from her spot on the bench.

But this time, Paige doesn't give her a reaction. Doesn't let herself look at Azzi. She just feels numb. And guilty.

With a blank, sidelong glance in her friend's direction, she grabs her things, jaw clenched.

And then she turns and lets the door shut behind her for the second time that day.

____

Well, now Azzi's really confused.

Because how the hell had Paige left the weight room flustered, on the verge of combusting—only to come back completely stoic?

Like none of it had touched her.

Did Azzi not matter that much? Had she done something wrong?

All she'd wanted was to show Paige she meant it. To be bold. To prove it. But maybe Paige really did just want to be friends. Maybe that wasn't flustered—maybe it was uncomfortable.

God. Azzi is mortified.

She has to fix this. Fast. Good thing they have a Uconn athletics event tonight—mini golf for student-athletes and coaches.

_____

Azzi knocks on Paige's door sharp three times and then walks in like she always does.

Paige, who is sitting on her bed in jeans and a t-shirt, is toweling her damp hair, still wet from the shower.

Paige looks up and freezes. Blue eyes wide when she sees who it is.

"Hey," Azzi asks softly, all hints of boldness gone from her voice. "Are you still— are we still driving together to the mini golf thing?"

Paige swallows. "Sure, yeah." She tries to keep her voice as light and normal as possible.

An awkward silence settles between them. Azzi's hands are fidgeting. She shifts her weight from one foot to another like she doesn't know what to do with herself. Hovers near the wall like she's never been in Paige's room before, like she doesn't know where Paige folds every sock and stores all her snacks.

Paige watches her fidget, trying to figure out why she's here. Trying to decode her sudden shift in demeanor, guess what her next move will be.

But maybe, like all of Azzi's impulses, her gym stunt was just one of her meaningless confessions—another offhand moment she'd inevitably forget.

Another thing we're pretending didn't happen, Paige thinks. Okay, got it. She clears her throat.

"I, um. I was just going to finish getting ready, but I'll be ready in ten."

"Yeah, sure." Azzi's voice sounds distant, but she nods at Paige like she understands and then looks down at her phone, pretending to scroll like this was all normal. Say it, just say it, just say it, she wills herself.

"Cool," is all Paige replies, sliding off the bed and grabbing her makeup bag from the desk.

Azzi opens her mouth to say something. Nothing comes out. This silence is killing her.

"Actually, uh, I wanted to talk to you." Azzi's voice is tight, and it comes out way higher than she intended.

Paige's head snaps away from her mirror, lash curler in hand, heart hammering. Oh.

Azzi doesn't let herself pause.

"I just… I feel like I pushed too far. In the gym. And I don't know if I made you uncomfortable or—if I crossed a line, I'm sorry."

She doesn't look at Paige when she says it. Just stares somewhere near the corner of the room, like if she locks eyes, she'll fall apart. Her face is burning with embarrassment.

Paige blinks. She wasn't expecting that.

"Oh," Paige says, and then, after a beat, "No—it's fine. I mean, I'm glad you said something."

Azzi nods. It's the kind of nod people do when they're trying not to cry.

They both go quiet again.

Paige turns back to the mirror. Tries to curl her lashes. Misses. Her hand's shaking.

"It's just," Azzi continues, forcing the words out, "I don't want to mess up what we have."

Right. So it didn't mean anything.

Paige presses her lips together. Of course, it was just a game. But at least she's being honest. At least she's fucking saying something—acknowledging it.

"Right," Paige says instead. "Totally."

More silence.

"So… we're good?" Azzi asks quietly. "Friends?"

Paige nods, smiling as best she can. "Yeah. The best."

It's the closest she's ever come to lying to Azzi. It carves something hollow in her chest.

Azzi gives her a relieved grin, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Good."

____

The drive over is quiet. Paige grips the steering wheel, knuckles going white, left leg bouncing slightly. Her mind is moving a mile a minute, looping through everything she didn't say.

Azzi stares out the window, chewing at her cheek. She hasn't said a word since they left the dorm.

Music plays low from the car speakers, just background noise filling the silence—until it's not.

Bars from "Are We Still Friends?" by Tyler, The Creator fill the silence, and Paige doesn't notice.

But Azzi does.

She's listening to every word.

Are we still friends?

Can we be friends?

I got to know…

I can't stop you, I can't rock too.

I've been back there, and I cannot die, too.

It's like a cosmic joke. Like the universe queued it on purpose.

Azzi doesn't change it—Paige is always on aux, and that rule feels sacred. Instead, she just stares at her. Quiet. Waiting for her to realize.

Paige doesn't feel it at first. But then she does. That look.

She glances over.

Azzi's eyes are already on her.

Paige furrows her brows in confusion, and then she hears the lyrics for the first time. Her face goes hot.

She shifts in her seat, suddenly too warm, and fiddles with the air vents like she can redirect the tension out the window.

"Oh—sorry," she mumbles, fumbling for the screen, and skips the song like it burned her.

Azzi turns back toward the window. But the lyrics hang—louder than before.

She doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to.

They're both thinking the same thing.

Can they still be friends? Is their friendship ruined forever? Will they ever be normal again?

#pazzi fics #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #uconn wbb #azzi35 #azzi x paige #pazzi smut #unresolved tension #friends to lovers #homoerotic

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earthsparked · 1 day ago

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Although it's not really focused on, I do wonder what the bots would feel like when we touch them (physical affection). Sometimes they're portrayed as being cold to the touch, sometimes they're warm like a computer, but I personally think that Cybertronians are more in-between, just like how humans are—the extremities tend to be cooler than the body itself, although they can still be pretty warm.

For example, Optimus has warm hands, perfect for holding cold humans, but if it's frigid outside? Lay on his chassis, that's where you go to defrost from the cold.

A bot like Ultra Magnus has even warmer hands, a warmer chassis, and woah, even his shoulder pauldrons are warm! I would love to sit on his shoulders, but would I accidentally fall asleep and fall off? Yes. Yes I would.

Smaller bots are the best for cuddling though, even with the size difference. Watching a movie with Bumblebee? Welp, now he's watching a movie with his human, who's fast asleep. He wouldn't mind.

Gah, physical affection with the bots (any bot) is my favorite! Let me hug them!

Oh you've hit on one of the things I can't quite decide (in a good way!)

You're so right. If I had a mech friend, I'd be all over them. Cat on a warm car hood. Chilling on their knee. Sprawled over their shoulder.

What I can't quite decide is, I go back and forth on how a mechanical being would register physical touch. It seems intuitive that they'd have to have some sensory input from their exterior. To what degree can they feel their armor, though? And does touch, for them, tie into emotion and pleasure the way it does for us? It's hard to even consider what it might mean if it didn't.

You're very right that this isn't really focused on much. I think one of the biggest differences between humans and Cybertronians, and yet one of the most unexplored, is that they can in all likelihood turn off their physical pain. At least to some degree. They can probably alter their sensory capacities to a much, much greater extent than we can. What's life like when you can decide how much or how little you want to feel? And how is that sensation processed?

In humans, there's a rare condition of being unable to feel pain and it's considered extremely dangerous. Because pain is a warning that something is wrong. If you can't feel pain, how do you know you've broken your ankle? You could just keep walking on it, doing more and more structural damage, until you've become permanently injured. Being able to turn your pain on and off, while something I'd be very envious of, would make us so, so fundamentally different as a species. It would change our medical field, our wars, our laws, our relationships, our art.

Touch is such an inherent part of any kind of close relationship for us. We're born with a need for it. Babies literally die without it. Of course we'd want to touch our new friends. To bond with them, to feel close to them, for reassurance and mutual enjoyment of their presence. Doubtless we could and would do that.

But would they view touch the same way? Would they need it? I know we see mechs hugging and touching, but..they're metal. That's kind of a lot of clanging. What sensation would they get out of it? What use would it have for them? What role would touch have played in their development – when they're not really a species that evolved, at all?

I know I go back to this a lot, but Therrae's Xenoethnography really was formative to me in a number of ways, and the mechs there just don't use touch, natively, in the way humans do. And they have to adapt to our ways, even as the human main character tries to adapt to theirs. That would include finding ways to bridge that gap and really communicate what we're trying to communicate in ways that make sense to us both, when we're trying to be physically close or vulnerable to foster those emotional bonds.

The real challenge, and the real crux of it all, is that. That we're both willing to try, to take risks. It takes courage to look at a being you're so different from, and be willing to climb in their hand or sit on their shoulder. It takes courage to engage in whatever alien means of physical communication they would use. It's also what's so beautiful about first contact. Not the failures, or the misunderstandings, or the differences, but the willingness to try and keep trying to build a third language we can both speak.

And then, to use that third language to say I love you, I trust you, I want to be with you.

#earthsparked asks #transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers first contact au

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karikitdemonrp · 2 days ago

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Kari sniffled, looking into her papa's eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks as she just sniffled and listened. She looked down for a moment, processing what the hero said and gave a nod while her eyes narrowed a bit in thought. "I... Think I get it." She muttered, voice still slightly trembling as she spoke. She looked back at the projection and sighed. The child slowly backed away from Hawks and went back to look at the journals again, one last time.

There she read a few more journals from her mother. A few from when she was pregnant with her siblings.

"Today is September 29th, I gave birth to my little boy Kitearo a few days ago. It's been exhausting but he's worth it. Lynx has been a huge help in taking care of our son. I looked into Kite's future and I saw he was going to have a lot of siblings. Not my first choice honestly. If you asked me five years ago I would have said two or three kids would be enough, not seven. But it feels right at the same time. While I saw his whole life unravel I couldn't help but feel helpless... But a part of me knows it can't be messed with, even though I want to save my son from an early grave. I'll have to wait until all my kids are born to get the full picture."

Kari frowned, figuring out pretty quick that her mother knew the whole time, or at least had an understanding.

"It's Febuary 23rd. Flo and Fino are a few days old now. I got a bit more of the picture since seeing Kitearo's future. They meet a similar fate. It hurts, but seeing them work hard to protect their youngest sister, a little girl with white hair, something isn't adding up. I know I can't stop it but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt a whole lot."

"It's been a rough few weeks, Shade has been a bit of a handful. Always curious but always quiet which is a bit unnerving. Sure she cries and makes noises but she's more quiet than not. The doctor says she has nothing wrong with her but I still worry. I was able to see into her future. Lynx has his work cut out for him that's for sure. So far I know all my kids and my husband die on the same day, doing the same thing. I can't say for sure where I am but I can make a few guesses. Again that little girl with white hair makes a big appearance. I'll name her Kari. Kari Kana Lee Himura, long name but it looks like it suits her. When she's born I'll hopefully get all the answers and try to write them down."

"Another pair of twins. I'm not super surprised, Lynx had twin younger brothers after all so I think that runs in the family. That and I saw them while looking into their siblings' futures. These two look mirrored, it's kinda cute. I've named them Boom and Beats cuz the symbols on their cheeks are cute music notes. They are the loudest that's for sure, it's funny. I've had so many kids and all of them are so different even though they're under the same roof and have me and Lynx as their parents. I know why they look so different and why their quirks are different, it's a side effect of my quirk after all. But their behaviors and personalities aren't tied to it, I don't think. It's so fascinating to watch them grow and develop... I know I probably only have a few more years to live. I've concluded I die in child birth when giving birth to Kari. I know I'll be leaving behind my family and my friends... But I noted that my nephew is the one responsible for the deaths of everyone, under the control of my sister given his pupils... Something isn't adding up but I'm guessing Kari develops my quirk. If that's the case then she needs to exist. It strengthens our quirk and hopefully she'll be able to help others like I did, in someway. Though that's her choice and I don't want to force it onto her. I'm glad dad talked me into writing that one entry about my quirk, I hope she can read it one day so she can meet me... Well, a snap shot of me. It won't be the same I know but it's better than nothing. I just hope she doesn't hate me or get mad. It's kind of a selfish reason but there's so much going on... I just hope she understands."

Kari sniffled, rubbing her eyes. "I... I don't hate you mom." She whispered after a few moments of silence, hugging herself. "I just wish I knew you." The child gulped and moved to look back at the journal about All of the Above and began taking notes. "But yea, I'm glad grampa talked you into writing about your quirk too... It's gonna help me a lot." She muttered then looked at Hawks. "You think we can go somewhere I can train? I... I wanna try doing this thing mom talks about. I'm not sure if I can get back into that weird mind space thing but... But if I can maybe you can meet my siblings, well a snap shot of them... This is kinda confusing." Kari puffed out her cheeks then went back to writing. "But we don't have to do it today if we can't."

Hawks didn’t speak at first. He just let Kari cry. He didn’t try to hush her or pull her away. He dropped down to one knee so she could lean into him easier, wrapping his arms around her small frame like he could shield her from every painful word she had just read. His wings even curled in slightly, a quiet gesture of shelter.

He held her gently as the sobs came out in waves—her pain wasn’t small, and it didn’t deserve to be treated like it was.

After a long moment, his voice finally came—soft, steady, low enough it didn’t try to overpower her crying but just… sat with it.

“I know, kiddo. I know it hurts. It’s not fair. None of this is. You didn’t get a choice in any of it.”

He tightened the hug slightly, one hand cradling the back of her head.

“But I need you to hear me when I say this next part, okay?” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his own golden ones steady and full of something more than just compassion—it was conviction. “She didn’t die because of you. That’s not how this works. She died for you. And that’s something only someone who loves their kid more than anything in the world would do.”

His thumbs gently wiped her tears.

“Your mom knew the risks. She was a top pro. She wasn’t someone who walked into things blind. She fought to bring you into this world anyway, Kari. That means she wanted you here. She made a choice—and that choice was you.”

#rp #Pure Tiny (Kari)#toranoya #//we can swap to Core eventually or keep going with this #//then swap back or whatever.#//i'm cool with either one.#//sorry my replies have been so long recently ^^; been having fun doing so

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weaver77 · 3 days ago

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Ready player 2

Gamer Shiesty!Mark x Reader

Part 1

Inspired by @clairewritesfanfics version of Shiesty, I didn't know i needed gamer Shiesty until now.

If Mark were to go back in time and told his past self, that he would one day. Buy Animal crossing, Stardew Valley and even the Sims. He would have promptly laugh in his face and tell him to fuck off

And really, Mark couldn't blame him. Because after all he hadn't meet you yet.

When the two of you started dating he didn't expect it to last long.

At best, he thought it would last for a week or two. Before ultimately the two of you would part ways due to respective differences.

But that never happen.

Instead he was surprise when not only did you made an effort to know the things he liked. But you remembered them too.

He mentioned offhandedly about an anime character he liked and you got him a keychain of said character.

Before he knew it, the two of you started talking about all his favorite series, games. Heck, he even showed you the cosplays he made and the figurines he collected.

For the first time in his life, Mark felt like could just be himself around someone. Not Invincible the masked hero or Mark the resident bad boy who gets in trouble with the cops.

Just Mark Grayson who likes to read Seance dog and learned how to sew so he can cosplay his favorite character.

So when he accidentally insult you, he knew he fucked up

You had invite him over to your place, its the first time his been inside your house. And Mark was trying his best to hid how nervous he actually was

He lowkey regrets not doing any romance routes in his games. Maybe it would better prepare him for these stage

Maybe you picked up on his nerves because low and behold you set up a game console for the two of you.

How did he get so lucky?

He toke his respective seat ready to play the game you set up. Mark already decided he would go easy on you on the first round

When the game boot up and the title screen appeared. It toke a minute for Mark to register the name. Mario Kart

"What's so funny?" You ask carrying a bowl of popcorn catching the tail end of Mark's snicker.

"I'm sorry Babe, its just-" Mark bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing again as he reach for the popcorn bowl "I think you bought the wrong game"

You stilled for a moment processing what he said "What do you mean?"

"Its a racing game, you nailed that part sweetheart but it's for kids"

You didn't say anything

"It's okay" He paused to munch on the popcorn "We've all been deceived by good cover art "

You watch Mark pop more popcorn in his mouth

"We can exchange it for a real game so you didn't waste your money, or if you like I'll find a way to get your money back babe"

".. Mark" You spoke softly drawing his attention immediately "I didn't buy these game for you"

He blinked "What?"

"I owned these game for a while now, i played a version of it when i was a kid. And when i saw they're releasing a new version, i got it for myself"

Oh "Oh" Mark looked between you and the tv screen

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"I don't understand, how can you like these?" Mark ask waving his hand towards the screen like it has personal offended him "I understand liking it as a kid but how can you still like it now, is it the nostalgia?"

You toke in a deep breath before responding "I had fun playing it by myself and with friends. You like racing games so i thought we could have fun playing it together"

Mark remembers when he introduced you to one of his favourite anime, you haven't watched the show before and despite it not being in your genre. You watched it with him and listen to him gush about it.

And here he was interrogating you on why you like Mario Kart when you set it up as a cute co-op gaming date with your boyfriend.

"Its fine" You sigh snapping Mark back into the present "We can just watch a movie or something"

Before you can take away the controllers Mark stopped you "Y/n- baby wait" grasping your hand Mark inhaled looking up at you with his sad puppy dog eyes "I'm sorry, i shouldn't have said that too you. I meant not like these game but i shouldn't be an ass about you liking it"

Your expression soften as you hear out Mark's apology, due you didn't respond right away. Letting him sweat for a moment before ultimately bringing him into a hug "Apology accepted". Mark sighed sagging in relief as he returned the hug tenfold, nuzzling his face into your neck before separating.

"Do you still want to play?" Mark asked holding up the controller

"Mark we don't need to play Mario Kart if you don't like it" You replied not wanting Mark to feel pressured into playing it with you

"I know but you like it. And if it's something you enjoy playing then I'm happy to play it with you" Mark replied blushing at how sappy he sounds, but it was no less true.

And that was how Mark mange to salvage the date, only to lose the battle that was Mario Kart.

It seemed simple enough, cross the finish line. Something Mark is familiar with

What Mark didn't account for was how brutal you were with the turtle shell

Mark can figure out the best route of the race course but it was the power ups that got to him

He wasn't familer with them and even when you explained what each were he was still getting use to them

Meanwhile you were incredible experience in the game and it shows

Mark used the squid to ink up your side of the screen, limiting your vision in hopes of catching up

But you were still able to navigate through the course from the small clean gap the power up didn't cover

Which Mark is impressed by and finds attractive as hell

"I can't believe i lost" Mark stares in disbelief at the screen as you cross the finish like first

"Well that's not true you came in second place, that's a good first try" You point out patting him on the back

"Yeah but I'm usually come first" He muttered with a pout "I swear I'm usually good at these"

"Hmm i don't know" You hummed thoughtfully "Sounds like an excuse to cover up your skill issue"

"You did not just say that" Mark gasp

"Oh but i did, what are you gonna do about it Bowser?" You smirked raising your controller

"Oh now it's on!" Mark grinned in return starting round 2

Mark ended up winning that round and both of you ended up having a competition too see who can get the much wins

Mark knew some of the characters, like Peach, Mario and Luigi. But he was surprise there was more then one Mario and Luigi who apparently called Wario and Waluigi

You start to explain the characters history as the two of you played, even going into the other Mario games.

"I'm not sure if they kept these in the new release but in the original Mario and the thousand year door. The robot who was Princess Peach jailer fell in love with her when he watch her take a shower"

".. What?"

"And in another section she had to take off her clothes when she turned invisible to sneak around the castle she's in"

"What!?"

"Yeah it happened"

"Why- wait no go back, rewind. Tell me more about what happened with these perv robot"

By the end of the night not only did Mark have fun playing Mario Kart but he also takes back the Mario franchise being a game only for kids

#invincible #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #shiesty mark grayson #shiesty mark #shiesty mark x reader #gender neautral reader

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yaoipologist · 3 days ago

Text

i think it's a bit ridiculous how often i see people just blatantly wrong about grian in third life so i wanted to make a post saying my opinion:

it's so incredibly obvious to me that grian wants to be with scar. the initial deal - my life for your life - was made By Grian. it was offered and freely given. scar was wary talking to grian while the deal was being made because he thought grian was going to fucking kill him again. swearing fealty to him was not scar's idea, it was entirely grian's, made of his own free will.

immediately afterwards, grian does a full 180 and is very open about how much he dislikes being with scar and being tied to him. he tells everyone that scar is crazy, tries to disrupt his small plans that he disapproves of, even yells at him about what he wears ("put your clothes back on!"). it seems like it's a fight, like he disapproves of scar's every action and is being dragged along as an unwilling participant.

but grian doesn't leave. he doesn't go to other people for help leaving the situation, despite them offering. he warns people about scar knowing full well that scar knows what he's doing and is in full earshot (and laughs at scar's comments about it when they're alone). despite the deal allowing for his release, his loyalty to scar does not shake until the very end, no matter how much he complains.

and scar is not some cruel jailer. scar is absurdly nice and almost gentle with grian. "can we still be friends?" while handing him flowers, carrying him around on pizza's back, doing everything he can to make him laugh, always going along with his setups. scar never treats him like a vassal and instead treats him like a dear friend. it's clear that scar has genuine affection for grian, even as a red life. even if grian got in that situation unwillingly, scar doesn't use him like that.

if anything, there's an argument to be made that grian uses scar to get away with his own schemes. very often he not-so-subtly nudges scar to give him the go-ahead to kill. grian is very particular about rules and this season is no exception; he toes the line very carefully between what he's allowed to do and what he isn't, and crosses that line frequently for his own gain. he is the deadliest player that season by a mile, not in the least because scar lets him be.

but like i said, scar plays right along with it. he gladly becomes the partner in grian's explosive schemes and always backs him up, even when grian fails to always back HIM up. scar is more than willing to play the part of facilitator. he's not trapped either.

watching with all this in mind and the understanding that the characters aren't speaking exactly what they mean (because why would they? that's never been the case with fiction!), we understand that there is something more going on here. grian is not telling the truth when he says he does not like his partnership with scar, and looking at the way they actually act, it's pretty obvious he genuinely cares for and treasures him.

this is part of what makes video game roleplay so difficult to talk about - the medium allows unreliable narrators to lie directly to the audience's faces, where we tend to most believe them. subtleties in the storytelling can get lost if you take it all at face value and the real diamonds end up being seen as just shiny rocks.

i think it's very clear the swearing fealty thing was an excuse for grian to get close to scar. i don't doubt he actually felt bad about scar's first death, but i do doubt that it was the only motivation for teaming with him. if he was only there because he felt bad, he would not act the way he did. he wanted to be there, at least a little bit, from the very beginning.

(as always, this is an analysis of a piece of fiction that happened to be made in minecraft. none of this has any relevance to real world relationships. this is like dungeons and dragons to me and i will treat it as such)

#writing posts about minecraft youtube bullshit from 4 years ago? who would have thought!#third life #trafficblr #traffic smp #life series #grian #goodtimeswithscar #desert duo #scarian #ummmmm how do i tag this #third life analysis #i suppose?

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runforthehillsbestie · 3 days ago

Text

Sympathy For The Devil

Part 6 - home in the stars

Read the story context and warnings here

It's been four days since you arrived at the Hewitt house, and today's weather is the hottest it's been yet. Luda Mae is fanning herself as she rocks on the porch, the rocking chair squeaking with each push of her foot. Her twin stitches are thin and spidery at her hairline.

"Mercy, it's hot enough to fry an egg out here," she says, and she's probably not wrong.

The mid-morning sun is glaring down with a viciousness that causes even the birds to go still. Nothing but a hiss of dry wind now and then, which only serves to stir up warm drafts and somehow make the heat even worse. You're dressed in cut-off jean shorts and a white spaghetti strap top that you found in the closet. It's washed, but there's a huge stain on it.

You're not wearing a bra and Monty has tried just about everything to get a look at your nipples through your shirt, much to your annoyance. You rest your head against the porch railing and gaze out over the unused farmland that's now covered in weeds and dry grass. The air in the distance shimmers a bit.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Luda Mae questions.

"My mother used to get cranky when the weather was hot," you murmur.

"I don't blame her," Luda Mae says. "Feels like hell opened up."

Just then an unfamiliar figure comes into view around a rusty old truck parked down by the fence, trudging up to the house with a basket tucked under their arm. You tense at the sight of the stranger, but they're approaching with ease like they know this place. Uncle Monty's dog confirms this by wagging his tail once, then flopping his head back down on the floorboards with a groan.

"Oh, look," Luda Mae says. "If it isn't Henrietta!"

Oh, you recall hearing that name before.

"It's quite the day, isn't it?" The small woman says with a smile as she comes to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

She has a long-sleeved cardigan on despite the heat and the dress underneath is faded grey from being worn and washed and hung out in the sun. Her feathery, short hair clings to her sweaty forehead.

"Who's this?" She looks at you curiously.

Luda Mae says your name like it's familiar on her tongue, as though she's known you forever.

"This is a first," Henrietta says with a blink. Her voice is soft and hesitant.

"We're keeping this one!" Luda Mae says, leaning over to stroke your hair.

You give Henrietta a weak smile.

"Here." She extends the basket to you. "A little gift to welcome you to the family."

The basket is full of green beans. You burst into a spontaneous laugh.

"Oh, I used to hate these when I was younger!"

Henrietta's smile fades, and her face goes blank, like the face of a mannequin.

"You don't like them?"

"Oh, I do! Um, thank you," you say hastily, and the smile returns to her face like the sun from behind a cloud.

"Good," she says. "I should go. I need to look after the baby."

"Take care of yourself, now," Luda Mae says.

Henrietta turns and shuffles back the way she came, clutching her arms around herself as though she's cold.

"Is she family?" You ask.

"Something like that," Luda Mae says. "Give me half of those beans. If we snap 'em now we'll have something green for dinner. Some sort of stew, I'm thinking."

The screen door slams and Sheriff Hoyt marches onto the porch with his rifle balanced against his shoulder, like he too has had enough of the heat. "I'm gonna go shoot us some game."

Luda Mae snorts. "What are you going to shoot, Charlie?"

"Eh, I'll find something. We're running out of meat as it is. Where'd those beans come from?"

"Henrietta. I'll have to repay the favor later and send something by," Luda Mae says, snapping a bean.

Sheriff Hoyt tromps down the stairs and gets into his car. The engine rattles and then coughs to life. You watch the car pull away, resting your chin on your palm.

"Where's Tommy? I haven't seen him all morning," you say several minutes later.

"I have him mending some things for me down in the basement. I'd have done it myself, but it makes my head hurt," Luda Mae says. As if she can guess your thoughts she adds, "You sit here and finish up with those beans, girl. Then you can go to him."

You blush and dig back into the basket, poking your thumbnail into a bean and yanking out the stringy part.

"You know, it's good of you to treat him so kindly," Luda Mae murmurs after a while. "He ain't ever had that before."

"He looks scarier than he is," you reply, lifting your shoulder in a shrug. "I'm good at figuring out how people are on the inside."

"Well, that's far more than I can say for those children he used to go to school with," Luda Mae tuts. "Nothing hurts the pride more than rejection."

You look up. "Did he ever try to befriend them?"

"I think he knew his place long before anyone tried to put him in it." She shakes her head and rocks some more, lost in her thoughts.

You're also thinking of your childhood. You never had anyone throw rocks or piss on you like Jeremy said they'd done to Tommy, but there had been other things. Mean words the other kids would throw your way, the filthiest curses they could come up with because they thought it was funny to see how it made you blush bright red. The boys would grab you in places they shouldn't, asking if you had scripture verses rolled up and stuck in there. It was a mercy when your father decided to start homeschooling you at twelve, just as puberty started to hit you.

You bite down your tongue until the sting of pain anchors you back in the present, on the porch you're perched on. You take a deep grounding breath. You'll take being here over being back with your father. By the time you're done with the beans, your hands are sticky and smell like crushed leaves.

"What do I do with them?" You ask as you stand with the basketful.

"Soak them in some salt water and just let them stand until we need them," Luda Mae says, getting comfortable in her chair and closing her eyes. You do as she has asked, leaving the pot of salt water and beans on the stove for later.

You wash your hands and dry them hastily on your shirt before you head down to the basement, easing the heavy door open. You hear the rhythmic clatter of a sewing machine. Surely it would be better to sew in natural light, but Thomas probably finds it more comfortable down here. It's also far cooler, you realize as you make your way down the stairs. The pleasant change in temperature livens you up and puts a spring in your step. Tommy is sitting at his work table. He glances up, his eyes dark and searching.

"Hi," you murmur.

He grunts and spins the wheel some more, leaning in to examine the work he's engrossed in, his grubby fingers turning over the material. You inch a little closer so you can watch. His movements are comfortable and familiar and he handles the sewing machine with ease. The needle stabs through the fabric in a blur. After a few moments, he holds up the pillowcase. The tear has been neatly sown together and it looks almost as good as new.

"Did Luda Mae teach you?"

He nods, glancing at you again, perhaps wondering why you're down here bothering him while he's trying to work.

"Can I help?"

He tilts his head.

"I know I'm not very good at sewing, and I don't know how to use the machine, but I can patch up small holes?" You say hoping you can stay here a while longer.

He remains quiet, thinking.

"There's nothing else to do." You admit. "I'm bored."

He lifts his hand to his jaw and scratches, then he points at the chair in the corner, the same one Charlie made you sit on for your 'punishment' on the second day. You drag it over and set it at the side of the worktable, glancing at him to see if he's okay with that. He plucks a pair of plaid boxers from the pile and holds them out to you. There are a myriad of small holes approximately where the balls should be. You can't help but snicker.

"Are these for Hoyt? What on earth does he do with them?"

At least they're clean, you think to yourself, picking up a needle and proceeding to spend an entire minute trying to thread the damn thread through.

You steal a glance at Tommy to find that he's watching you, one big forearm resting on the table. You jump as you somehow manage to prick your finger and look back at the needle.

"Dammit," you mumble quietly.

He reaches out and you flinch out of habit, anticipating a pinch on the arm for your failure.

"Sorry," you mumble.

He takes the thread from you and lifts it to his mouth. You see a pink flash of his tongue through the mouth hole of the mask as he licks the end of the thread. Then he takes the needle and slips the thread through on the first try and hands it back to you.

"Thanks." You hunker over and dutifully get to work.

Your work is hardly perfect, but the threads are sturdy and will hold. You fall into a rhythm, and when you're done with what you're working on, you go to another piece of fabric. A shirt. Too big for Hoyt and too big for skinny old Monty. There's a single tear in the back.

This is one of Tommy's shirts.

You get to work on it, putting in extra care and trying to make it as neat as possible, trying to guess what could've made that tear. Something fairly sharp, like scissors, maybe, because the edges are barely frayed. You're so engrossed in your work that you startle when Tommy hooks his fingers under your chair and drags the whole thing closer to him. You peer at him over your eyebrows, a silent question on your face. His palm presses against the middle of your back, applying pressure.

You pause with the needle half-pulled through the material, trying to guess what he wants. You soothe your dry lips with a sweep of your tongue. Your gaze darts between his legs, almost subconsciously. He catches your jaw and you look up at him in confusion. This time he presses one hand to your shoulder while the other nudges your back, applying pressure from both sides and forcing you to straighten. He grunts and turns back to his work. You were bent over like a shrimp, you realize. Your mother used to scold you for that. Tommy was correcting your horrible posture.

"That's sweet of you." You reach out to touch his forearm, and he huffs and plucks your hand away, pointing to the shirt.

He wants you to carry on. This is an important task and you're not going to distract him from mending every single item in that basket. Intrigued, you watch him. There's no way you can't tempt him to take a break and do something else more interesting, right? You surreptitiously drop your needle on the floor.

"Oh, whoops. I guess I'll have to get that," you say dramatically.

Your knees thunk softly against the floor. Of course, you don't need to do all that just for a needle. You could've just reached down and picked it up. Instead, you crawl under the table and get comfy between Tommy's legs, scratching your nails gently against the worn fabric of his pants. The sewing machine comes to a rattling halt as he pauses. Boldly, you press your cheek against his knee. He smells like musk and salt and iron, a scent that is slowly becoming familiar to you. He leans back in the chair and looks over his stomach, down at you. His hands rest against his thighs, fingers twitching idly. You take one of those paws and press it against your face. You want him to touch you, you have the sudden urge to be close to him, a pull so strong it makes your eyes water a little. His fingers fan out, mapping your face. His fingers pluck and squish at your cheeks and smooth over your eyebrows like he's memorizing you.

You don't close your eyes, not even when his fingers get dangerously close, brushing over your eyelashes. He takes your jaw and turns your head to the side, callused fingertips following the curve of your ear downwards, pressing lightly against the vein that thumps just underneath your jaw. A warm feeling settles in your stomach. You want to take the initiative for once and suck him off just because you can. You barely manage to cup his bulge before he's suddenly standing and lifting you off the ground with him, his hands hooked under your armpits. The world spins for a moment before he deposits you neatly back in your chair. He gives you the needle and a ragged dishcloth to mend and pats you on the head with a heavy, awkward hand. Your mouth drops open, realizing you've been put to work again.

"Hey," you protest.

The air that puffs out of his mouth almost sounds like a laugh. After that you're content to simply sit in companionable silence, your drifting mind lulled into a state of calm by the rhythmic whir of the sewing machine. Sitting with him is also fine, you decide. Half an hour later the peace is broken by the distant yelling voice of Sheriff Hoyt.

"Tommy!"

Tommy cocks his head, listening.

"Get your ass out here!"

Tommy's chair scrapes back as he stands. The ground trembles with the weight of his steps. He grabs a wickedly curved metal hook from the wall and bounds up the stairs, the quickest you've ever seen him move. You scurry after him into the bright sunlight outside the house. The sun is still high in the sky. You're expecting some kind of trouble, so when you see Sheriff Hoyt casually standing there with his hands on his hips, you pause. Tommy looks confused as well, sweeping the area with his gaze. There are no intruders to be found. It's just Sherrif Hoyt with a piece of rope in his hand that leads to the neck of a comically round brown cow. Reality seems to cleave in two. This can't be.

"Daisy?" You gasp in amazement.

At the sound of her name, the cow perks up, dragging the Sheriff forward as she trots up to you. You come down from the porch to sling your arms around her damp, warm neck. It is Daisy!

"This cow is yours?" Sheriff Hoyt gnaws on whatever is in his mouth and spits on the floor. "How can that be? You live round these parts?"

"In the next town over," you say. "It's pretty far from here, though. I didn't even know Fuller existed."

Sheriff Hoyt startles like he's been shot. "I thought you came from someplace far, Missy! Why didn't you say anything?"

"You never asked," you reply, petting the short velvety fur of Daisy's neck.

His eyes narrow and he thumbs the gun holster at his hip. "You got somebody?"

"No." Your response is short and dry.

"Any family?" He prods.

You laugh, the sound flat and dark. "My father probably hopes I'm dead. No one is going to come looking for me."

"Hmmm," he scrutinizes you. "So you're all alone."

"Which is what you want, isn't it?" You meet his eyes.

"You'd better hope you're telling the truth," he replies. "'Cause it won't be too hard to put a bullet in you yet."

"What's all the noise for, waking me from my nice nap," Luda Mae mumbles as she steps out onto the porch, squinting. "A cow? Where'd you get that?"

"It was wandering around on the edge of town. Looking for water, I'll bet," Sheriff Hoyt says. "Well, I got us supper."

"We can't eat her!" You protest. "She's mine!"

Sheriff Hoyt raises his scruffy eyebrows. "You wanna rethink those words, girl?"

"I-I mean, she's pregnant," you shrink under the Sheriff's cold eyes, feeling a chill pass over you despite the heat. "If we wait until she calves then we'll have two cows."

Sheriff Hoyt grins. "Persuasive, ain't ya? You could sell a porno to a priest if you had a mind to!"

"So we won't butcher her?" You ask cautiously.

"Nah, we'll wait." Sheriff Hoyt strolls towards the porch steps. "Besides," he says, leaning in to hiss in your ear, "Veal tastes much better than some dried-up old cow."

He clomps up the stairs and calls over his shoulder, "Tie her out in the field. Plenty of grass to fatten her up!"

You take the frayed rope collar and tug at it. Daisy is fully grown now, but she follows you all the same, just like when she was a calf herself. Your boyfriend had bought the bony little thing as a birthday present for you and it was the one nice thing he ever did. Having her with you now feels like a gift from heaven. You sniffle, trying to keep from crying.

"Don't listen to that crusty old man, Daisy. Nothing is going to happen to you."

You lead her to an old post and tie her up there, crouching to murmur sweet little nothings into her ear utterly delighted to have your animal friend. Thomas watches from where he's standing by the house, absentmindedly scraping his thumb against the sharp edge of the metal hook he no longer needs. Never in his life has he seen anyone care about a cow. As far as he knows, all they're good for is the slaughterhouse.

* * * *

Dinner smells heavenly, but now that you know what meat you're having, it dampens your hunger.

"Why don't you say the grace tonight, dear?" Luda Mae asks.

You clear your throat and rattle through the Grace. Luda Mae looks surprised at how easily it comes to you.

"Well, ain't that a regular sermon!" Sheriff Hoyt sneers. "You sound just like a preacher."

"My father was something of the sort," you say, and then you wish you could take it back.

Why do I ever open my mouth, you wonder to yourself.

Sheriff Hoyt doesn't care, but Luda Mae is excited, asking you what your favorite book in the bible is. The answer is automatic, Psalms. You have the whole thing memorized, pretty much. From there she asks about your favorite chapter, then the verse. The memories begin to resurface, and you can almost feel the pain in your knees again from kneeling on the hardwood floor and reciting the Psalms. It was one of your father's favorite punishments. Somehow he always knew when you'd stopped kneeling properly and would stomp into the cleaning closet to yank you back onto your sore knees. When you grew older you realized he would often watch you through the keyhole, and that's how he knew. For the longest time you really believe he was like god and knew everything.

"Dear?" Luda Mae says.

"Yes?" You blink rapidly and look at her.

"Eat your food. Everything, now. You need the strength."

You swallow hard and look at the meat you've been served. The pieces are fried, lying in a glistening pile next to the string beans, which are salty and buttery. Sheriff Hoyt is eyeing you, licking grease from his lips.

"You go on now," he says. "You need the protein. Of course, if this doesn't suit your tastes we've got ourselves a nice cow out there. Tommy can butcher it up real nice for you."

Those words feel like a fist that wraps around your heart and squeezes.

I can't, you think to yourself, but you're mechanically spearing a piece on your fork and lifting it to your mouth. I'm doing it for Daisy. Dear, innocent Daisy.

Sheriff Hoyt watches you like a hawk as you chew. You can tell he's waiting for you to choke or push your plate away. He's itching to punish you but he needs a good excuse to do it. You try to think of anything other than the slightly tough meat you're chewing on.

You dart a glance at Tommy but his head is bowed over his food. He has stopped putting his face in his food after Luda Mae scolded him twice for eating like that in front of you, but he still forgoes the utensils, choosing to eat with his hands instead. He doesn't balk or hesitate at all. How could you forget what he is? Hot tears spring to your eyes.

I hate you, you want to blurt out. I hate all of you horrible people.

But you don't. You pick at another piece and chew it halfway before you choke it down. Sheriff Hoyt finally grunts and looks down at his plate. You eat about half before you really can't manage anymore. Nobody says anything though, and the rest of it goes to Uncle Monty's dog.

After dinner, the house grows quiet. Uncle Monty is in the living room, leafing through magazines of skimpily clad women, and Sheriff Hoyt and Luda Mae are in the kitchen arguing about something. Tommy is off somewhere, and you wonder if it'll be pushing your luck if you go to find him. You're still contemplating this when you see the dark, fat shape of Daisy moving through the grass, the rope trailing freely from her neck. You know how she likes to run off whenever she can all too well, so you push open the door and go out to snag the rope. She blinks her long-lashed eyes at you, grass sticking out of her mouth as she chews leisurely.

"How dare you look innocent," you murmur. "You chewed through the rope."

There's a fenced area just a little further out where she'll be safe for the night and you won't have to worry about her escaping. You begin to walk her there. The moment you walk out of the pool of light coming from the house the front door crashes open and Tommy comes storming out. He looks angry, and he's coming right at you. You're reminded of just how huge he is as he easily covers the distance in a couple of strides. He could squash you by accident without even trying.

"Tommy," you say warily. "I wasn't trying to run, I swear. Daisy got loose..."

The rope slips out of your hand and the troublemaking cow in question begins to walk off, but you barely notice, distracted by the large man who looks like he's going to square up with you and knock your teeth out. Well, maybe not, but you never know. You've had your fair share of men who are nothing like who they pretend to be. Your brain is flipping between freezing or fleeing. You take a step back and stumble on a loose rock. The rush of adrenaline from almost falling kicks your brain into flight mode. You burst into a disoriented jog to nowhere in particular, just away.

Tommy chases you with a low growl. You're running simply because you're not sure what will happen if he catches you, now that you've made him angry. The noises rumbling out of him are the promise of your undoing. You only manage to take a couple more stuttered steps before he grabs you, his fingers locking around your upper arm and pulling you up short. Your ears ring.

"No," you shriek, "let me go!"

You flail like a fish on a hook, digging your feet into the ground. Your shoulder pops as you strain to pull away. You're back in that cramped, musty cabin, teeth chattering as your furious father rattles you like a doll. That was always the awful part, how you were unable to get away. He was bigger than you, and could nearly throw you across the hall if he wanted to... A sharp slap on your cheek grounds you, and you just stand there and blink dumbly at the man in front of you. His chest is heaving and his dark brown eyes are filled with something. Concern that he's broken you somehow. You're shocked. You've never panicked this badly before.

"I..." Your mouth opens and closes, but no more words come out.

You're present again, standing in the stifling heat of an early evening, crickets chirping and fireflies blinking in the grass. A brief wind flutters Tommy's hair and he pats it down, then reaches out and rubs your cheek like he's attempting to soothe away the slap.

Sorry, his touch seems to say, I didn't know what else to do, how else to reach you.

You stare at each other. Impulsively, you throw your arms around his stocky midriff and bury your face in his chest.

"I'm okay," you mumble, and you mean it.

For a long moment, Tommy stands absolutely still, then his arms curl around you and pull you closer. Contentment creates a safe bubble around you and for a moment you allow yourself to relax and let go of everything but him. Up at the house a door slams, and your eyes blink open just in time to see Sheriff Hoyt disappearing inside. A twinkle high above catches your attention. There's not a single wisp of cloud in the sky tonight, so the stars look like a glittering blanket wrapped around the Earth.

"Look at the sky, Tommy," you sigh. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Tommy doesn't look up, though. He looks at you.

Inside the house, Sheriff Hoyt is scratching an itchy spot on his neck and glaring out the window.

"So are they lovebirds now or what?" He demands. "Look at that whore, cozying up to him."

"Leave them be," Luda Mae says pulling the curtains over the window to block his gaze.

"She's gonna make Tommy go soft," he mutters, squinting through a hole in the threadbare drapes.

"Well, Tommy could use some softness," she replies, idly touching a hand to her neck. "I've never seen him like this. Not that I can remember anyway."

"Seen him like what, all weak in the knees?" He scoffs.

"At peace."

Part 7 - (Coming Soon!)

@typicalchaos, @slut4acotar, @lovelymindescape, @dabisnympho, @thetoastghost222, @night-shadowblood-writes2, @erosmutt, @lilaclichh and @jillian-mill asked to be tagged! I'll add anyone else who asks <3

@runforthehillsbestie

#my writing #leatherface #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #slasher x reader #x reader #reader insert #slasher #slashers #slasher boyfriend #fem reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction writing

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tifa-simp · 1 day ago

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Interesting.

I always felt like SOLDIER Cloud is closer to Sephiroth than Zack. But that's because I associate SOLDIER Cloud with pre Nibelheim Seph more than post Nibelheim Seph. However, with First Soldier and Crisis Core context, I think it's safe to say sane Seph actually torments himself a lot by his sins. Sephiroth called himself all kinds of name to desensitize himself from all the killing, he tried to convince himself that this was his true self, while knowing damn well that it's not. Sane Seph was a liar, and he tricked himself for so long that when Nibelheim happened, he broke. His belief, his life, his purpose, all lies, all fake, nothing is true anymore. And he knew. Deep down, he's always aware of the truth. But that's why he clung even harder on the lie, to protect himself. That's why the Nibelheim massacre is such a turning point for Seph. He didn't discover the truth, he finally learned to accept it.

While Zack is different. If I have to make a comparison, he's like Gon from Hunter x Hunter. He's not good, he's pure. He decides what to believe and does whatever benefits his belief. Monster, Wutaian, Soldiers, and Turks are all the same. They're "the other side", as in "me and they". If you're on my side, I'll ride or die for you. If you're on the opposite side, you're enemy. All left is to fill the blank.

If you're on -Shinra side-, I'll ride or die for you. If not, die.

If you're on -honnor side- (the definition based on Zack ofc), you can live. If not, die.

If you're on -Cloud's side-, you can live. If not, die.

Zack has the authority over his own belief. There's a checklist in Zack's moral compas, and anything closer to his criteria will take the place, in which, life is not the priority. Don't take this the wrong way, but Cloud's life isn't what is important. It's Zack's affection for him. The reason Zack tried so hard to save Cloud cos he has become the next closest thing that fits Zack's criteria, his cause to die for. Aerith is also in the same category cos Zack was trying to go back to her, too. Now the first condition is fulfilled, the second part becomes much easier: the enemy to kill.

You can see this trait in SOLDIER Cloud's behavior. Let's take Tifa as the cause and watch:

Bombing reactor is something Tifa can't do? I'll do it.

Johnny is someone bringing trouble to Tifa? Die.

The troopers got in the way of Tifa's business? Die.

Scarlet and her men are putting Tifa in danger? Die. (You can argue that Seph possessed him in Gongaga, but I'm sure he wouldn't have any problem killing them on his own volition.)

Later in the temple, his goal changes to the black material, and the pattern remains. Tifa has openly expressed her uneasiness with this many times and has to physically restrain him on multiple occasions. But the thing is, SOLDIER Cloud doesn't enjoy killing. He does it out of necessity. This is a trait that neither belongs to sane nor insane Seph. Sane Seph kills against his will and insane Seph kills for his own enjoyment. Killing isn't a moral challenge to Cloud, it's just a mean to an end.

And I say THIS is the biggest trait of Zack in SOLDIER Cloud. The trait of a killer.

Zack Fair has a really fascinating relationship with killing where a lot of the rest of the cast doesn't. He fights people as well as monsters and gradually stops being able to differentiate the two. He helps clear out beasties and ghoulies but he also intros the game with a massive attack on a foreign nation just to shore up corporate interests and for a good chunk of the game places those two activities in the same spot in his mind. One of his side projects at work is quashing the last remnants of rebellion in said occupied country and rooting out the spies in their resistance, at which point he hands them over to his bosses to be interrogated and presumably tortured. But if he comes face to face with the same people in a combat scenario, he won't kill them, because he views their desire to see themselves free as an honorable trait. Then he turns around and attacks hordes of people who defected Shinra. He uses the blunt side of his sword, not to spare lives, but because he doesn't want to damage the sharp edge.

Wutai forces and Genesis clones have a different categorization to him, something he can mentally label as "other". But after Nibelhiem, your primary enemy type becomes other Shinra soldiers. Just after Zack has had his realizations that the monsters he was wiping out share a haunting amount of basic building blocks with his coworkers. And with himself.

Actually, let's pause. Zack is the only character we see have any sort of acceptance of being Jenova-ed. Every other character is unwilling and usually not even a conscious being yet, but Zack A) knows what is being done to him, and B) openly states he wants those monstrous traits for himself. "Those wings / I want them too." Up to this point, every other character has equated being Jenova-ed to being baser, to being subhuman, but Zack at the very beginning tried to convince Angeal that it meant freedom. Power to do what you want.

Zack Fair willingly and with open arms embraced being made less than human because he thought it would give him the strength to break out of captivity.

So he busts out, and the first thing he's greeted with it a horde of enemies that he knows are human, has worked and talked with, and are in fact the same shape and type of person as Cloud. Just a couple cutscenes ago, these were his coworkers.

The easiest way to get through them is to set them on fire and blow up the munitions they're carrying on their person.

(It's such a beautiful demystifying of the elemental system. I love it.)

Oh also, you're on a time limit, so you gotta kill all these guys fast, because they're trying to go for the weak spot, Cloud, who can't fight and is getting dragged away.

After that, the next thing Zack does is find a gun and start taking long ranged killshots.

There's a tangible feeling of a lesson being learned.

Zack is (I think?) the only SOLDIER we ever see use a gun. It's worth noting that even the most fallen of SOLDIERs stick to their flashy blades and their weird swordfights. Other characters even comment how bizarre it is, but ffvii also runs on that fantasy world logic where if you just Get Good enough, swords are just as good as guns if not better. Guns are the lower, more primitive weapon, fit for grunts and hitmen but not elite fighters.

(I could also go into detail on how some of the SOLDIERS weapon are sold as bespoke merch in world, and basically another tool in the toolbox of how to sell these flesh and blood men as mythologized products. But we don't have time to unpack all of that.)

For Zack, we know that his sword is even a symbol of honorable combat and a legacy of trying to do the right thing. Zack picking up a gun is basically debasing himself to being just another man in the field. And it's a sniper rifle. The weapon guaranteed to get him as little contact with his opponent as possible and does not even give them a chance to fight back. But it's whatever gets the job done.

Zack starts the game as someone who kills people, but it's hand-waved aside the same way it is for most everyone else, only for him to bite that awareness apple like five minutes before it becomes absolutely vital he survive at all costs. Zack becomes aware that he's on a slippery slope and due to circumstances has to start sprinting. Over the course of the game, we watch as Zack Fair goes from being someone who kills people to a killer.

#zack fair #sephiroth #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy vii #ff7 remake #ff7 rebirth #rant

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olgasaysso · 2 days ago

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The apothecary diaries made me realize something very interesting about how women perceive power...

I can't be the only one who noticed that in stories written by women power is often compared to a prison or a cage meanwhile in the ones written by men it's mostly fun and freedom.

It is that women tend to see power as more of an responsibility and men think of it as the ability to do whatever they want?

The apothecary diaries made me think of it first. I discovered with surprise that I actually like the emperor, which I almost never do. Any guy that has relationship with more than one woman at once tends to disgust me, especially if he's in a position of power but for some reason not him.

Because the emperor is as much a prisoner as the 2000 women in the rear palace. Maybe even more because as long as he doesn't touch them, they're allowed to leave.

Like on one hand, he's the most powerful man in the empire. He calls the shots, right?

But on the other hand, he can't even properly protect Lishu from being sold to some pedofile by her father. The only way he could protect her was to make her his concubine and how f*cked up is that? She's like a daughter to him and the only way he could protect her was by marrying her? And then he couldn't even spend time with her anymore because that would be read wrong.

It's the fact that 3 of his children died because there was no proper medic to save them due to the fact that they don't allow non eunuchs to treat them and forbid women practicing medicine... when he doesn't even care about that. He hasn't blinked once at Maomao running around the inner palace and being a doctor.

At first when I was watching the story I thought of how horrible it was that he didn't even visit Lady Lihua after their son died. But then it made me think of how he's literally not allowed to get attached because of his position and how hard it is for him? The fact that he couldn't even provide enough support for Lady Ah-Duo so she doesn't lose her uterus? The fact that she switched their baby with his brother and he had to watch his son grow up "away" from him?

There's so much more to this, especially with Jinshis approach to power and I could go on an on but I think I made my point.

And when I started comparing the stories written by women to those by men... Women tend to write power as more of a burden than a gift.

After watching TAD I watched solo leveling.

And for those of you who don't know, it's basically a story about a guy who suddenly "discovers" that he's like a character in a game (not exactly but it's be too long to explain) and basically finds out that he has endless potential and over the course of the story he becomes the most powerful being in the entire universe.

And there's a moment where he's talking to his little sisters friend that gets very misread as something inappropriate by another character.

This other character points out, kindly, to Sung Jinwoo that the girl is a minor.

Sun Jinwoo doesn't understand so he just looks at him and asks "so?".

And so the guy immediately gets scared and never mentions it again despite the two of them being friends.

This moment is kind of played for laughs. Nothing actually happened, Sung Jinwoo is a good guy so he wouldn't.

But he could. Nobody could do anything to stop him.

And when I watched that I laughed too. But then I thought of how terrifying that is. To have someone be so above the law, this untouchable. Who can do anything he pleases because no one will ever stop him.

But that's never actually adressed in the show other than to show us how cool this is.

It this was written by Natsu Hyūga there'd probably be a million different situations to show us how fucked up this is and how it weighs on the main character.

In the apothecary diaries Jinshi doesn't even want to ask anything directly of Maomao because he doesn't want her to interpret it as an order.

#the apothecary diaries #maomao #jinshi and maomao #jinshi #lakan #jinmao #fengxian #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jinwoo #power #writing #female writers

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redandgreyscale · 3 days ago

Note

Asexual Evan who sexualizes himself, and Barty is the one to let him know that it's okay and he doesn't have to force himself

angst always gets me, ask and I shall deliver✨

They've been dating for a month.

In this month, Barty learns a lot of things about Evan. Barty learns Evan likes to tease, learns the way his body moves when he's flirting, the tone on his voice, every single tone of his voice actually. Learns his nervous tics and the way he snorts if he laughs too hard. Barty feels unable to do anything other than look at Evan at all times.

He also learns Evan likes to kiss. He likes to kiss a lot, passionately, all tongue and bites and hands tugging eagerly at hair. Barty loves Evan's hands on his hair. Loves Evan's lips on his. Fuck, Barty feels like he could eat Evan whole with how much he loves him. Devour him until there's nothing left.

They haven't gone anywhere further than kissing though, and fuck if he isn't dying to get Evan naked on his bed. So he tries.

It is a good night, they had easy classes, a good studying session, and are currently making out in Barty's bed. Things get weird the moment he takes Evan's shirt after his own. He knows Evan, has learnt every single thing about him, and something is off. The eagerness on his kisses is different, less passionate even if as intense. He isn't actively seeking contact anymore, just taking it. His gasps sound false suddenly, so Barty reels back and looks at him.

Evan looks as perfect as always, like a fucking angel fallen from heaven right into his bed. His breathing hard and his bare chest sweaty.

"Why'd you stop?" he asks confused, and Barty only looks at him for a bit.

"Is everything okay? Do you want to keep going?" He asks back, because one can never be too sure, and he's not about to fuck up their first time. They're laying side by side looking at each other, still in a tangle of limbs. Evan's brows shoot up in disbelief.

"What do you think?" He asks with a smile, a hand tangling in Barty's hair. It doesn't look like his smiles. This is— no, something's definitely wrong. It feels like an ick he can't quite scratch.

"I don't know, that's why I asked" he stops Evan from pulling him closer. Keeps looking at him, trying to find what is going on. Then, Evan's jaw clicks, and Barty knows immediately. He knows because he's spent their last month, fuck, their last years, learning every single movement on Evan's body. He's not answering, so Barty talks again "you don't want it" he tries to reel back, and is fastly drawn back closer.

"No, I— I can do it, I can do this for you" Evan's behaviour changes so suddenly it feels like whiplash. He sounds almost desperate "I can be good for you come on, take me, take what you want" Evan's mouth is on his, then on his neck, and for a second he gets distracted again because fuck that feels good, but soon enough he pushes him back again.

"No, hey, Ev" Barty tries. Evan is a mess of mumbles.

"I'll be good, I can do it" he repeats grabbing at Barty through wet eyes. Oh. Oh hell no.

"Evan" he tries, and Evan only becomes more eager, climbing on top of him, unbuttoning his jeans "Evan stop" his hands come to grab his. Then Evan looks at him, really looks at him. "I don't want this if you don't"

"I thought I—"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to" Barty assures, and finally the tears come. He lets go of Evan's hands and watches as he tries to hide his face away, still sitting on top of him.

It takes a while to calm down, and by the time it happens they're both sitting cross legged each on one end of the bed, facing the other.

"I don't... I don't like sex" Evan says when asked.

"Okay" Barty simply says "then we won't do that" Evan looks up, brows furrowed, pained look on his eyes.

"Barty, I won't like it, never have wanted it and I don't think I ever will"

"It's fine, then we'll never have sex" he shrugs. It's okay, he only wants Evan if he wants it too. "But, uhm, you've had other partners, right? Did you..?"

"Yeah, and I hated every part of it" Evan admits looking away. Barty feels the need to kill every single one of his ex's.

"You don't have to do that with me, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to" Evan looks even more confused than before "We don't have to kiss if you don't like it either"

"No, I— Uhm... I like that" his cheeks are turning red, his smile coming back, and this time Barty believes him. "I like it a lot, actually"

"Great because I like that too. A lot." Barty smiles back.

And maybe there is a lot to talk about, a lot of lines to mark down so they aren't crossed, but for now they lay in bed and kiss.

A lot.

#rosekiller microfic #rosekiller #asexual evan rosier #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #slytherin skittles #redandgreyscale answers

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ashthesalamipiece · 2 days ago

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Hi! I love all your writings, they're amazing!!

Can I ask for a continuation of that kiribaku x reader one where they came home to the reader after she gave birth on their house?

Like I would love more kiribaku dads, and all of them trying to figure out what to do with this VERY unexpected miracle.

Welcome Home, Baby Boom

Pt 1

Pt 2

The apartment felt different.

Same furniture. Same walls. Same dumb key rack Bakugou insisted on mounting himself (crookedly, which Kirishima pretended not to notice). But now, everything felt… softer.

Quieter.

Until the baby started screaming.

“OH MY GOD, WHAT DID I DO?” Kirishima practically shouted, holding the newborn like she was made of glass and guilt. “I JUST PICKED HER UP, I SWEAR!”

“She’s probably hungry,” you said, barely keeping your eyes open as you shuffled toward the couch in fuzzy socks and a nursing tank. “Or bored. Or tired. Or existentially aware that life is meaningless and taxes exist.”

Bakugou stared at you. “The hell is wrong with you?”

You flopped onto the couch. “No sleep. No filter.”

The baby kept wailing. Kirishima looked ready to cry too.

Bakugou sighed, rolled his shoulders like he was heading into battle, and reached out. “Give her here, shitty hair.”

“She doesn’t like me—”

“She screams at everyone. That’s her thing.”

Carefully, Bakugou took her from Kirishima, cradling her with surprising gentleness. You watched him, the way his brows furrowed in focus, the way his fingers tapped softly against the little swaddle.

He looked terrified.

And also like he’d set the world on fire to keep her safe.

“…She stopped crying,” Kirishima whispered.

“I know,” Bakugou whispered back, staring down at her like she was both a miracle and a bomb with a very cute face.

You reached out, curling a hand around Bakugou’s thigh, grounding him. “You’re doing great.”

“She’s not… screaming. So that’s a win.”

“You’re a natural,” Kirishima said, brushing his thumb across the baby’s little fist. “Even if you did suggest naming her Explosion Murder Princess.”

“She’ll earn that name,” Bakugou muttered.

You leaned your head against Kirishima’s shoulder. “We still don’t have a name.”

Bakugou’s mouth opened. Kirishima immediately raised a finger. “No. No. We are not naming her anything that sounds like a pro wrestling move.”

“Fine,” Bakugou snapped. “Then what? You wanna call her Fluffy Rainbow Kitten-chan or something?”

“…Katsuki.”

“…I’m just saying we need balance.”

“I’ve got a list,” you said, pulling your phone out with one hand, the other still resting against Bakugou’s leg.

They both leaned in.

“Okay, how about… Sora?”

Kirishima smiled. “Cute.”

Bakugou tilted his head. “Sky. Not bad.”

“Or Ren?”

Bakugou shrugged. “Better than Ashblaze.”

Kirishima smiled. “Definitely better than Ashblaze.”

You smirked. “Oh, here’s one you won’t like.”

“Try me.”

“Yui.”

Silence.

“…Okay, that one’s actually nice,” Bakugou admitted. “Short. Cool. No one’s gonna mess with a Yui.”

“She’s gonna be surrounded by pro heroes. Who’s gonna mess with her anyway?”

“I just like being prepared,” he grumbled, adjusting her swaddle like he was already planning her battle strategy.

Eventually, you all settled onto the couch. You curled between them, legs draped over Kirishima’s lap, baby asleep on Bakugou’s chest. It was quiet again—except for the soft breaths of the newest member of your chaotic little family.

Kirishima spoke softly. “This is really happening, huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah. We’re parents.”

Bakugou snorted. “We’re screwed.”

You smiled. “Totally.”

Then the baby hiccuped.

Bakugou froze. “What does that mean?! Is that a warning sign? Is she gonna throw up on me?”

Kirishima grabbed a burp rag. “Emergency protocols activated!”

You laughed until you cried.

And maybe it was the exhaustion. Or the hormones. Or the way both your boys were now dads and trying so hard not to mess up…

But in that moment—sitting in your slightly-too-small apartment, holding a baby none of you had seen coming—it felt like the start of something big.

Messy. Loud. Terrifying.

But big.

And beautiful.

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kerryshifts · 5 hours ago

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ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤZODIAC OF A SEER. kerry colt, ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ the girl who would kill for a leather jacket.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤinside her brain,

SCORPIO SUN. known for their intensity. determined folks who absolutely throw themselves into whatever they do, but getting them to commit to something is rarely easy. in fact, it's better not to even try to "get them" to do anything. they have their own mind. and, their primary motivation is unlikely to be prestige or even authority …….. it's real power. their power can be of the "behind the scenes" variety, just as long as they have it. to others, scorpios seems to have plenty of willpower. they know what they want and won't go out and grab it at the wrong moment. they sit back, watch (quite expertly), and then get it only when the moment is just right. it might seems like patience, but it's more likely their skills at strategy at work.

scorpios aren't afraid of getting their hands (their bodies, their minds) dirty. the darker side of life intrigues them, and they're always ready to investigate. scorpios never give up. they have tremendous staying power. they're not in the slightest intimidated by anybody or anything. cofrontations are not a problem. in fact, talk to any scorpio about their lives, and you'll probably be in awe at all they've gone through. trauma seems to follow them wherever they go. when scorpio learns optimism, instead of expecting the worst, they'll find that they possess amazing regenerative powers; the power to heal, create, and transform.

SCORPIO MOON. emotional responses, unconscious pre destination, self-image, emotions. while others may find security and comfort in material things, moon in scorpio people seek out emotional intensity. no matter what, there is something very intense about lunar scorpios. they are diggers in the world of emotion; they can see beyond facades and cut right to a person's core. this ability to 'see' what isn't apparent to the rest of the world can be intimidating to others or wildly attractive, depending on the audience. their deep-seated need for transformation and rebirth can manifest itself in the lives of lunar scorpios in different ways. most have powerful, emotionally intense lives. some feel like it is beyond their control …. these natives seem to attract emotional upheaval, and their lives appear to consist of plenty of dramatic ups and downs. when accepted as an emotional need, rebirth and change don't need to be so dramatic and overwhelming. in some way or the other, moon in scorpio natives seek out intense experiences. if their lives are regular, there can be an unconscious need to test their strength and stir up emotional excitement. self-awareness and acceptance is probably the best way to handle this deep need for emotional drama.

doing things halfway or having meaningless relationships simply doesn't fulfill them. lunar scorpios want all or nothing. moon in scorpio people often have a strong fear of betrayal. they seek commitment and feel the need for a partner to give up something for them. some will put the people they love through a series of tests, and these are not always conscious. their apparent suspicion can be trying for the people who love them. however, once committed, moon in scorpio people can be the most loyal and protective partners around. even the shy ones have enormous presence. their lives are emotion driven, yet many moon in scorpio natives spend a lot of time controlling and mastering their emotions. their intuition is considerable, although it is sometimes self-serving.

they radiate strength. even in the absence of experience, they seem to "just know" things. It would be difficult to shock or scare away lunar scorpios in the face of emotional honesty and power. some people instinctively want to lean on them, and other less brave folks run a little scared. lunar scorpios have exceptional 'radar' that allows them to size up a situation, and a person, quickly and expertly. this ability to understand human motivation and nature can be too close for comfort for some and enormously comforting for others. many lunar scorpios are intelligent and astute. those who use their enormous powers for intimacy and honesty are the happiest and make the most interesting and rewarding friends and lovers.

LIBRA RISING. represents the zodiac sign that was on the eastern horizon at the time of your birth, and it's thought to influence how others perceive you and the energy you project to the world. libra rising just come across as nice, pleasant, and fair. look a little closer at their lives, and these nice people may have had quite a few problems in their relationships. some of them have had a string of relationships, and it can be hard to imagine why. these natives attract others to them effortlessly. besides, they simply don't know what to do with themselves without a significant other. libra rising generally appear to be smoothing everything over. they have charming smiles, a gentle approach with others, and an easygoing image. even if they were not endowed with good looks, they are attractive. most pay a lot of attention to their personal appearance; the colors they wear, their hair, the way they walk.

libra rising people can be enormously persuasive, although they will almost always use a 'soft sell' approach when they want to win others over, which is all of the time. a tendency to pass the buck and keep up that "nice guy/gal" image are their worst qualities. however, they can make excellent mediators and will generally be the first to accommodate you. libra rising are usually attracted to competent, active partners. their relationships are often characterized by bickering or competitiveness until they learn to drop their sweet image once in a while and to stop blaming their partners for everything that goes wrong.

LIBRA VENUS. venus represents an interest in emotions and values, exchange, and sharing with others. libra venus will impress you with their kindness, evenhandedness, and willingness to make your relationship work. they have a polished manner in love, which sometimes makes them appear insincere or superficial. they are gentle lovers who hate to be offended. they are threatened by bad manners and direct or abrasive expression of feelings. they not only prefer to choose the middle road, they seek the middle ground in their relationships. you can expect to be treated fairly, and you may be turned on by venus in libra's willingness to concede and adjust their lives to fully accommodate you. venus in libra have idealized images of their relationships, even to the point where the relationship becomes bigger than life, taking on a life of its own. they can become quietly resentful if they feel they are being taken advantage of.

pleasing venus in libra involves treating them kindly and fairly. they love to share everything with you, so let them. foreplay for them can be mental, they love to communicate with you about the relationship. sharing turns them on, and tactless or uncouth behavior is a turn off. although they seem to put up with a lot, be fair with them. over time, imbalance in their relationship is sure to make them unhappy, and when it comes to this, they may try to even the score in subtle, roundabout ways. don't let it come to that, and you will be rewarded with a lover who puts themselves in your shoes and treats you exactly how they would like to be treated.

SCORPIO MERCURY. mercury represents communication, cartesian and logical spirit. she is extremely observant and astute, always reading between the lines and looking for the real meaning behind things. passionate in speech, excellent at strategy. natural psychologist.

SCORPIO MARS. mars represents the desire for action and physical energy. mars in scorpio love to challenge themselves to do the impossible. they throw themselves into what they decide to do with concentrated energy and awesome willpower. these people make formidable opponents, although often quietly so. they keep their cool and their equilibrium on the surface. below the surface may be another story, and they are unlikely to easily let you in. mars in scorpio has the potential to exploit others; these people see through others, and rely heavily on their gut feelings. the sexual stamina of this position is thought to be the strongest of all the positions of mars. sometimes, mars in scorpio people are attracted to taboos, and their fantasies may involve blowing the taboos to smithereens. they enjoy scenarios in which the 'other' is giving in to them, wants them completely, and will do absolutely anything for them. and, their sexual appeal is strong enough that they generally do get what they want.

they find it difficult to share their partners, though they will likely never admit this. mars in scorpio has a black-or-white philosophy of life. these are the people who say, "just choose!" they really are not comfortable with compromise; what kind of satisfaction could you possibly get from compromise? real living is all about accepting challenges and making changes. these people constantly test themselves, and, often, others. they make all kinds of rules and goals, just for the personal satisfaction that comes from achieving or mastering them. their survival instincts are strong, and they embrace their own animal nature when they are all alone with themselves, without guilt. these people have a provocative quality to them. this quality is usually most evident in youth, though it is often carried over into adulthood in more subtle, controlled ways.

SCORPIO JUPITER. represents expansion and grace. she attracts the most good fortune when she puts her 'all' into a project or undertaking, and uses her magnetic powers to heal others. enthusiastic for deeper studies and meanings, all that is taboo or mysterious, psychology. values decisiveness, intensity, willpower, commitment, and strength. very strong problem solving nature, cutting to the chase. science and research may be prosperous avenues.

LEO SATURN. represents contraction and effort. in a position of authority, she likes and assumes responsibilities. she receives favors from patrons, who recognize her merits or similarly she receives honors in return for well accomplished tasks. abuse of power, little feeling in the workplace.

PISCES URANUS. represents individual liberty, egoistic liberty. she is receptive, subtle but can reveal herself when asked to become involved.

AQUARIUS NEPTUNE. represents transcendental liberty, non-egoistic liberty. generosity, especially enjoying resolving problems in order to satisfy everyone.

SAGITTARIUS PLUTO. represents transformations, mutations, and elimination. great aspirations: sexuality and love are idealized.

LIBRA LILITH. black moon lilith represents the darker, deeper natures that may be repressed or buried. she may have felt uncomfortable or wrong for needing companionship or seeking approval from others. or, she may feel that dependency and compromise are weak and not 'right' and this can lead to periods of intense neediness followed by independence. accepting that we all need to lean on others from time to time can help resolve problems with extreme behaviors in relationships.

ㅤㅤ

#kerrys ✶ marauders dr.#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting blog #shifting #shifting community #shifting antis dni #shifting motivation #shifting consciousness #shifting diary #shifting ideas #shiftinconsciousness #shifting realities #reality shift #shifting reality #hogwarts shifting #anti shifters dni #reality shifter

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pohtaytoh · 1 day ago

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𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗬/𝗟/𝗡

*ೃ༄ Megan Skiendiel x f!reader

Everyone ships Megan Skiendiel with your brother Gabriel, convinced they're endgame. He's always taking credit for the sweet gestures that make Megan swoon, and she totally believes he's the one. But you, Y/N Y/L/N, have been secretly head over heels for Megan for years. You're the one leaving those thoughtful gifts and sending those encouraging messages, watching your brother bask in the glory.

But as Megan starts spending more time with you, she can't shake this feeling. Now Megan's wondering if the person she's really meant to be with has been right in front of her all this time.

part: one. two. <three.> four. five. six.

Y/N Y/L/N truly believed it deep in her heart. She was the wrong Y/L/N. The words kept playing over and over in her head, a low, sad hum behind her ears.

Her brother, Gabriel, was the flashy one, the loud one, the one who could charm anyone without even trying, and that included Megan. He was like the sun around whom everyone else seemed to turn and Y/N? She was the quiet one, the one who watched from the edges.

She felt things very deeply, but she kept those feelings locked away, hidden tightly inside. She was the one who loved from the shadows, like an invisible hand giving comfort and doing thoughtful things that Gabriel then simply took credit for.

This had become a pattern, a painful rhythm to her life that had gone on for years, like a broken record playing the same sad song. She felt stuck, always watching, always aching inside. She had almost, almost, started to accept this as her fate.

She told herself, “Just keep loving her from a distance, just keep doing good things in secret, and maybe, just maybe, Megan will always be happy, even if I'm not the one making her happy.”

It was a small, sad comfort she tried to hold onto, a very fragile shield against her own growing heartbreak.

But sometimes, the world has its own plans. Sometimes, even when you think everything is completely set in stone, fixed forever, a tiny, almost invisible crack appears, and through that small crack, a sliver of unexpected light can pour in, bright and surprising.

The change started in a very subtle way. So subtle, in fact, that at first, Y/N barely even noticed it. It wasn't about big, grand gestures anymore. It wasn't about the stolen chai lattes or the study guides Gabriel had claimed as his own. This was something different, something much quieter, much more personal.

Megan was, little by little, starting to seek Y/N out. Not to ask for favors, not to complain about a class, but just to talk. To share thoughts. To just be together.

The very first clear sign came on a Tuesday, late in the afternoon. Y/N was sitting on a simple bench outside the university library, sketching in her old, worn notebook. The air was cool, carrying the familiar smells of damp earth after a light rain and the tempting scent of street food from a nearby vendor.

She was drawing one of the ancient, gnarled mango trees that stood like old guardians all over the campus, focusing on the twisted roots that broke through the concrete walkways. She was completely lost in her own quiet world, the gentle sound of her pencil moving against the paper filling her ears. Then, a soft shadow fell over her page.

"That's really beautiful, Y/N," a soft voice said, making Y/N jump a little. She looked up, startled, to see Megan standing there. Megan had a small, genuine smile on her face.

She wasn't rushing, wasn't looking around for anyone else. She was just… there, standing quietly, looking at Y/N's drawing with true interest.

"The way you captured the roots... They look like old hands reaching up from the ground. I never noticed that about these trees before."

Y/N’s face warmed, a blush spreading across her cheeks. She quickly closed her sketchbook, feeling a sudden wave of shyness. "Oh, thanks, Megan," she mumbled, trying to sound casual. "Just messing around, really. You know, doodling."

Megan shook her head gently. She then moved to sit on the bench beside Y/N, leaving a comfortable amount of space between them. "No, seriously," Megan insisted.

"You really see things. You notice details others completely miss. Your brother always just rushes past these trees, always on his phone, probably texting or scrolling. He probably doesn't even know they're here, or how amazing they look."

Megan chuckled softly, a light, airy sound, but there was a hint of something else in her voice – a touch of thoughtful sadness, maybe?

"You really pay attention to the world around you."

That was the first crack in Y/N's carefully built wall. Y/N’s heart did a strange little flip-flop, a dizzying somersault inside her chest. She had to swallow hard to keep her voice steady, to stop herself from showing any sign of the sudden earthquake happening deep inside her.

“She noticed me. She saw me. And she... she compared me to Gabriel. And I came out on top.”

It was a quiet thought, but it vibrated through her whole body, making her feel both incredibly vulnerable and strangely powerful.

After that moment, the "coincidences" started piling up, one after another, until they weren't coincidences at all. Megan would stop by Y/N's dorm room more often. Sometimes it was just for a quick chat before class, a passing "Hey, how's your day going?" But then she'd start to linger.

She’d lean against Y/N's doorframe, then slowly, casually, she would just fall onto Y/N's worn bean bag chair, sprawling out in a relaxed way that showed she felt completely comfortable and at ease there. Then, before Y/N even realized it, hours would melt away as they talked about everything.

One evening, it was raining very hard. Megan knocked softly on Y/N's door, looking a little tired and stressed about a big upcoming philosophy exam.

"Mind if I just... exist in here for a bit?" Megan asked, her voice quiet, rubbing her temples as if trying to soothe a headache. "My roommate is on a super loud video call with her family, and I seriously can't focus on anything."

"Come in, Megs," Y/N said, a warm, soft feeling spreading through her chest at Megan's easy presence. Megan settled onto the beanbag, letting out a long, tired sigh.

"This philosophy stuff is seriously killing me, Y/N," Megan confessed, opening her thick textbook with a groan. "I just don't get it. Like, at all. Gabriel tried to explain it to me earlier, but he just kinda... summarized the slides really fast. I need to understand the why’s, you know? Not just the facts."

Y/N paused from her own reading, setting her book down gently. "Which concept are you stuck on?" she asked softly, truly wanting to help Megan figure it out.

Megan pointed to a confusing paragraph in her textbook. Y/N read it, taking her time, then looked back at Megan with a thoughtful expression.

"Okay, so think of it like this..." And for the next whole hour, Y/N didn't just explain the answers, she broke the confusing ideas down piece by piece, drawing little diagrams on a scrap piece of paper, using simple, everyday examples that made sense. She watched Megan’s eyes closely, seeing the exact moment understanding clicked, like a light suddenly turning on.

"Oh my gosh," Megan breathed, leaning back against the beanbag, a look of pure awe and relief on her face. "Y/N, that actually makes so much sense! Why didn't anyone explain it like that before? Seriously, you make it so clear, even to me."

She shook her head slightly, a small, thoughtful frown appearing on her brow. "Your brother just told me to Google it and then gave up. He said, 'It's just philosophy, Megs, don't sweat it too much.' "

She chuckled softly at the memory but there was a hint of something else in her voice, a touch of disappointment, maybe, or a dawning realization?

"But with you, it’s different. You actually make me think. My brain actually lights up, you know? It's exciting."

Y/N’s heart did that dizzying somersault again, only this time, it felt stronger, more real, like a solid, joyful thump.

She had to swallow hard, fighting back a sudden lump in her throat, a wave of emotion she didn't want to show.

"Yeah?" she managed, trying her best to sound casual, like this was a normal, everyday thing for Megan to say.

"I mean, I just like talking to you, Megs. You have a really interesting way of looking at things. You make me think too. It's cool."

Megan smiled then, a genuine, warm smile that wasn't just on her lips but shone deep in her eyes, making Y/N’s whole world pause and tilt. It was a smile of true connection, a deep, quiet recognition.

"You too, Y/N. You just… get it. Like, you see things that no one else does. You see me.”

The last part was spoken almost to herself, a quiet realization that seemed to ripple through the air between them, making the silence that followed feel deep and meaningful, not awkward at all.

It was as if Megan was discovering a new, important part of herself, a part that was perfectly reflected in Y/N’s quiet understanding and presence.

In that moment, surrounded by the drumming rain and the quiet hum of the university dorm, Y/N felt a connection with Megan that went far beyond any stolen credit or public praise.

It was a raw, real, authentic thread, woven between just the two of them, untouched by outside expectations, untouched by Gabriel's charming but often surface-level presence.

It was a connection that spoke directly to Y/N's pining heart, whispering a dangerous hope. Megan might have believed the world's story about her and Gabriel, but her own heart, it seemed, was starting to whisper a different name. The doubt, however tiny, was beginning to grow in her mind, not about Gabriel being a bad person, but about him truly being the right person for her.

That Gabriel was the wrong Y/L/N all along.

These deep conversations, mixed with moments of easy laughter, started to become a regular thing. Megan would often just appear at Y/N’s door, sometimes with a new book she was excited to talk about, sometimes just to vent about a frustrating class, but always, always, ending up talking about something deeper, something that truly mattered to her.

They’d talk for hours about the complex plots of their favorite true-crime podcasts, debating theories, arguing playfully over who the real suspect was. They’d dive into the hidden meanings of Emily Dickinson’s poems, comparing their favorite verses, discovering new layers together that neither had seen on their own.

Y/N would find herself quoting lines from stanzas, and Megan's eyes would widen in genuine surprise and delight.

"You get that too?" Megan would ask, a rare, unbridled excitement in her voice, leaning closer to Y/N. "I thought I was the only one who saw that! Gabriel just shrugs and says poetry is too deep for him and walks away." There was a little sigh in her voice when she mentioned Gabriel.

One evening, Megan brought over her laptop, looking completely defeated. She was stressed out about a particularly confusing coding problem for a group project, a huge part of her final grade. Gabriel was supposed to be helping her, but he’d "had something come up" – probably another party or a casual hangout with his friends.

Y/N, who had a quiet knack for logic and coding puzzles, even though it wasn't her main subject, just patiently sat with her. She didn’t just give Megan the answers, she gently guided her, step by step, explaining the why behind each line of code, watching as understanding slowly dawned in Megan’s eyes, like a light suddenly coming on in a dark room.

As Megan finally fixed the frustrating bug, a smile lighting up her face, she leaned back, looking at Y/N with a profound, almost reverent appreciation.

"Y/N," she said, her voice soft, filled with wonder. "You're amazing. Seriously. Your brother just tells me to Google things or tries to do it for me, but he never actually explains it. You actually make me understand it. It’s... really cool. You make me feel smart, like I can actually learn this stuff."

Y/N’s stomach fluttered, a rush of warmth spreading through her veins. This was new. This was truly different. Gabriel never made her understand. He just did (or claimed to have done) things, without teaching or truly helping her grow.

The contrast between her conversations with Y/N and her interactions with Gabriel became clearer and clearer to Megan every single day. With Gabriel, it was easy laughter, surface-level fun, and big, obvious gestures that sometimes felt hollow.

He was charming, yes, and always there for a party or a quick favor, but Megan was starting to feel like he was playing a role, like he was always putting on a show for her and for others. With Y/N, it was deep. It was a thoughtful conversation. It was an intellectual challenge and quiet, steady comfort.

It was the feeling of being truly heard, truly seen, not just admired for her soccer skills or her bright smile. It felt real, truly real. Megan was slowly, painfully, starting to grasp the difference, a slow dawning of realization that was hard to ignore.

Y/N, on her part, began to notice Megan watching her, too, not just in passing glances. Sometimes, Y/N would be sketching in her notebook, or quietly humming a song under her breath as she studied, and she’d look up to find Megan’s gaze already on her.

It was a soft, thoughtful look that made Y/N’s cheeks warm and her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t the casual glance Megan gave everyone else, it was something deeper, more intense, a look filled with curiosity and a growing warmth that felt almost like a touch. It was a look that made Y/N’s heart pound a desperate rhythm against her ribs, a rhythm that was both terrifying and utterly exhilarating.

Then came the moment that felt like a quiet explosion, a turning point that would change everything, a conversation that echoed the exact pain Y/N had felt for so long from Gabriel’s thoughtless actions. They were sitting outside, on a surprisingly warm afternoon in late November, beneath one of those old mango trees whose roots twisted like ancient veins above the ground.

The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky in beautiful hues of orange and purple. They were talking about their dreams for the future, something Y/N rarely shared with anyone, especially not Gabriel, who usually just joked about getting rich and famous without much effort.

Megan was quiet for a moment, tracing patterns on the ground with her finger, a thoughtful frown on her face. Then she looked up.

"Y/N," she began, her voice low and steady, almost a whisper that carried immense weight. "Do you ever feel like... like you're talking to someone, but they're not really hearing you? Like they're just waiting for their turn to talk, or they only hear what they want to hear, or what benefits them?" She looked straight into Y/N's eyes, searching for understanding.

Y/N froze, her blood turning to ice, then back to fire, burning with a new kind of intensity. This was it. This was the conversation she’d always both dreaded and secretly longed for. It was the moment the hidden pain of years might finally be revealed.

"Yeah," Y/N admitted, her voice barely a whisper, the word catching in her throat, a lump forming. "Yeah, Megs, I know exactly what you mean. It's... it's really frustrating. It feels very lonely."

Megan nodded slowly, her eyes wide, searching Y/N’s face for understanding, for shared experience, for a sign that Y/N truly knew this feeling.

"With you," she said, her voice filled with a profound softness that made Y/N’s breath hitch, "it's never like that. You actually listen. You remember things I say, even the small ones. You… you just get me. Like, even the weird, small parts of me that I don't show anyone else. The parts that like poetry and get stressed about philosophy and worry about the future and what comes next." She paused again, then a small, sad smile touched her lips, a deep regret shadowing her eyes.

"I actually feel more like myself when I'm with you than I do... with anyone else. It's like I can finally breathe."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning, with years of hidden longing finally being acknowledged, even if Megan didn't fully realize the full depth of what she was saying, or the full impact of her words on Y/N.

Y/N’s heart was absolutely pounding. It felt like it might burst right out of her chest, a frantic drumbeat against her ribs. This was everything she had ever hoped for, and everything she had ever feared. Megan was seeing her. Truly seeing her, for the first time. Not just as Gabriel's sibling, not just as a classmate, but as Y/N, the person who understood her.

Megan then sighed, a small, thoughtful sound, a new kind of doubt clouding her usual bright eyes. "It's weird," she continued, almost to herself, her voice tinged with a confusion Y/N recognized.

"Gabriel's great, he's so much fun, but... sometimes it feels like he's acting or like he's just playing a part that he thinks everyone wants to see. Like he just knows how to make everyone think he's thoughtful, but... it doesn't always feel real, you know? It's like a shallow pond, pretty but not deep."

Her eyes met Y/N's again, a hint of deep realization, and a touch of hurt, slowly dawning in them. "But with you, it's always real. Always. You’re... just you. And that's... everything."

Y/N could only stare back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, the emotions too big, too overwhelming to contain. This was everything she had ever hoped for, and everything she had ever feared.

The confession hung in the air, a fragile, beautiful thing, a delicate bubble that might pop if she breathed too hard. It felt like a missing piece of a puzzle had finally snapped into place, not just for Y/N, but for Megan too, revealing a beautiful picture neither of them had fully seen before.

Megan wasn't talking about romance yet, not with direct words, but she was talking about a connection, a deep, undeniable pull towards Y/N’s true self, a bond that ran far deeper than any superficial charm.

Her heart ached, not with sadness this time, but with a mix of hope and vulnerability. Hope that this quiet shift meant something more, something real and lasting. Fear that it might all disappear, or that the full truth about Gabriel, and Y/N’s own hidden feelings, would cause more pain than she could possibly bear.

Yet in that moment, under the old mango tree, with Megan looking at her with such raw honesty, with her usual dazzling eyes now filled with a new kind of wonder, Y/N felt hope bloom in her chest.

Megan might have believed the world's story about her and Gabriel, but her own heart, it seemed, was starting to whisper a very different name – a name that was, finally, Y/N’s own.

previous part | next part.

#katseye #megan skiendiel #katseye megan x reader #megan skiendiel x reader #katseye megan

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cheol-e-kat · 16 hours ago

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𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐬, 𝐟𝐭. 𝐤.𝐦𝐠

part two

fic master list

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader

summary: Mingyu and Y/n don't know they're neighbors when they meet cutely - Mingyu doesn't know that Y/n is the neighbor he's heard fighting with a partner for months, and Y/n doesn't know that Mingyu is the neighbor she's been daydreaming about until they meet - their relationship seems to be a runaway love affair, but they both have deep insecurities and even deeper secrets.

genre: coffee shop au / tattoo shop au, neighbors au, barista!mingyu, tattoo artist!reader, instant crush, protective!mingyu, soonyoung is reader's bff

word count: 4.8k

warnings: implied domestic violence (not between main pairing), explicit language

Mingyu had spent another morning in the shop with Y/n. He thought about it later as he worked to fill coffee orders, worrying that he had responded to her offer in the wrong way.

Mingyu knew that Y/n seemed detached when he had bumped into her that morning, but Y/n had seemed more like herself the moment they were in the shop.

She had quickly sketched something to give Mingyu an idea of the shapes that could work for his tattoo. It was obvious that working on sketches calmed whatever lingering worries she might have had from that morning and whatever had happened before she bumped into Mingyu.

It was also obvious that Y/n seemed to get lost when she was working, even if she was only working on vague sketches of what she was planning. She seemed content, focused. Mingyu watched her, the easy way she moved, the careful strokes of her pencil - he soaked it in.

She had asked Mingyu more about what he meant by having the tattoo wrap around his hip and had come up with several sketches to show the general notion of how it could look.

She surprised Mingyu by suddenly asking him to pull up his shirt so she could see how it would look. Mingyu had felt his face heat up in embarrassment, but Y/n appeared completely unaware.

Mingyu had done it – what else was he supposed to do – it had been his idea to begin with – Y/n was just showing him what the placement would look like.

It didn’t stop Mingyu from gasping softly when her fingers brushed his skin.

Y/n had barely glanced up at Mingyu when she mumbled an apology for her cold hands. Mingyu had shaken his head – she didn’t have cold hands – they were warm and gentle against him.

After a few minutes, Y/n finally stepped to the side so Mingyu could look in the mirror at what he was supposed to be paying attention to. He immediately liked the placement, but he also pushed down the waistband of his jeans, wanting to see how it would look lower on his hip.

Y/n hummed. “You may not want it there,” she murmured, “places like that usually hurt a lot more because the skin is so close to bone,” she said and nudged the paper up a bit. “So here would probably hurt less,” she whispered her suggestion, “or maybe if you wanted it to be below your hip bone,” she mused softly.

Mingyu bit his lower lip gently, watching her reflection in the mirror as she shifted the template around.

“Where do you think it would look best?” he asked, glancing at her, waiting for her to look up.

He watched Y/n shake her head lightly in response, still looking genuinely at the positioning. “I think it’s better if you decide,” she said with a soft smile, finally returning Mingyu’s gaze.

Mingyu swallowed tightly, deciding to take a chance. “But I’m asking for your expertise,” he persisted innocently, even as his heart beat faster in his chest.

He watched the way she tilted her head slightly as though she were considering what he said. “If it were me,” she sucked lightly on her lower lip, “I think I would go below the hip because then if you want to hide it, you can,” she said and glanced up at Mingyu through her bangs, her round, pretty eyes meeting Mingyu’s with a sincere look.

Mingyu nodded, liking the idea. “So like a secret tattoo then?” he asked, watching Y/n’s delicate features.

She shrugged, returning Mingyu’s gaze. “It’s maybe just more personal then – it’s for you and whoever you show it to,” she answered coyly.

For an infinitesimal moment, Mingyu was certain he felt the light pressure of her fingertips press firmly into his hip, but it was so quick, he must have imagined it.

Even so, Y/n was still standing so close, looking up at him – and in the rays of early morning sunshine, Mingyu noticed her carefully applied makeup and the way it made her skin glow.

Mingyu didn’t fully think through what he did next.

Instead, he only thought of how painfully beautiful he found Y/n at that moment. He closed the distance between them, his fingers catching just below her chin as Mingyu’s lips closed over hers.

The kiss was delicate – Mingyu meant to pull away, but Y/n returned the kiss, pressing up to meet Mingyu’s lips. Neither broke away from the other as they continued to exchange kisses - they were soft and slow, sweet, and needy in a way Mingyu wasn’t sure how to describe.

Mingyu felt Y/n’s hand shift from his hip and press lightly against his stomach as she guided him towards something with a gentle nudge. He felt the backs of his legs bump the edge of the table. Y/n pulled back just enough. “Sit,” she breathed against Mingyu’s lips.

Mingyu sat, and Y/n followed so that she straddled Mingyu’s legs. She leaned down to kiss Mingyu again, but Mingyu stopped her briefly, just long enough to smooth her bangs back, “So pretty,” he whispered – his voice low and heady.

He watched the slight way she flushed as she leaned into Mingyu’s touch, turning enough to kiss Mingyu’s palm. Mingyu was completely engrossed as he watched Y/n kiss his fingers and fingertips before her tongue gently swiped against the pad of Mingyu’s index finger.

He heard himself mutter, “Fuck,” and she only smiled as she returned to her original intention. Mingyu felt her lips again, warm and plush against his own.

Y/n slid her arms around Mingyu’s neck, and Mingyu let his hands find their way to her waist. Even as his hands gently squeezed her waist, he felt the way her hips barely rolled against his stomach – he closed his eyes tightly at the tempting sensations, especially as Y/n’s tongue brushed his lower lip.

Mingyu’s head swam.

He knew that as the kiss deepened, he let his hands wander. He felt the small smile form on Y/n’s lips and realized he was squeezing her ass a bit roughly.

She broke the kiss again, barely leaning back from Mingyu, “We can go in the back,” she suggested breathily.

Mingyu blinked slowly, he knew what Y/n was implying, no, what she was offering, but he was shaking his head. “Not here,” he whispered, swallowing thickly, reaching up to smooth stray strands of hair from her face and neck before he leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to her throat.

She sighed softly, enjoying it, Mingyu thought, until she pushed him back. Mingyu could see the distant look from earlier in the morning firmly back in place. “Right,” she whispered and started to shift away from Mingyu.

Again, Mingyu didn’t waste time thinking; he caught her firmly. “I don’t mean I don’t want to – just not something here – rushed,” he murmured, pulling her close so he could whisper in her ear. “I want to enjoy you – give you all of my attention,” he murmured as his lips brushed the shell of her. He wanted her to feel just how sincere he was.

He felt Y/n’s fingers dig a bit into his shoulders. “Will you still come to lock the door and bring me coffee,” she asked, and Mingyu heard the slight waver in her voice.

He nodded. “Yes,” he promised.

“Even after this?” she asked, her voice small.

Mingyu nodded again, “Yes, Y/n,” he pulled her close. “You’re asking like it could only be a one-time thing.” Mingyu surprised himself with the forward statement.

She only shrugged, her gaze still distant. “Because it usually is,” she confided in a quiet voice.

Mingyu squeezed her closer. “I don’t really want to be a one-off person for you,” he said, trying to be reassuring, but to him, he sounded desperate.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Why are you so nice Mingyu?” Y/n asked - she wasn’t really asking a question so much as observing a fact.

She pressed closer to him, enjoying the way Mingyu held her, “It’s not what I want either,” she admitted, almost afraid that Mingyu would hear her and take it to heart.

She didn’t move away from Mingyu again.

She stayed exactly where she had been, relaxed in Mingyu’s lap, being held and petted. And she realized how tired she was – she hadn’t slept well. To be fair, she almost never slept well.

She wanted to sleep now, wrapped in Mingyu’s warm arms, breathing in his slightly woodsy scent. She felt Mingyu kiss the top of her head. That only made her wish they were alone – that Mingyu could kiss her in all the places she wanted to be kissed.

She had spent too much time thinking about Mingyu the night before. Lying awake, her nervous fingers playing with the edge of her pillowcase while she imagined what she could have said to Mingyu while they sat next to one another on the ride home – or just what if she had touched Mingyu’s hand or arm.

But as much as she imagined these things, she had chastised herself too, because she had only just met Mingyu. How could she be having these thoughts, she wondered, even as they looped through her mind – Mingyu’s sweet smile, and his cute little wave.

Y/n had sighed deeply and stared into the dark, feeling frustrated. Because everything about it made her heart feel dangerously close to opening, which only made her nervous.

But at the same time, she had the weird intuition that if she were to knock on Mingyu’s door that night and say that she couldn’t sleep, Mingyu would have taken her in and held her until she was calm enough to sleep.

Even now, as Mingyu smoothed her hair, Y/n was oddly certain that Mingyu was completely genuine. She didn’t have the feeling she normally did - the feeling that said if she just looked for a moment she would see all the ways he would hurt her.

For once, her mind was quiet.

Y/n only moved when Mingyu hugged her close and said he had to leave for work. Even then, though, she pouted just a bit. Mingyu called her ‘cute’ and promised he would be back after his shift.

She had leaned down and kissed him softly. “You’ll come back, for sure?” she asked quietly as she pulled away.

Mingyu nodded. “Yes,” he said, and she tried to imagine Mingyu’s voice tinged with annoyance at answering these kinds of questions.

Somehow, she couldn’t, though. Mingyu gazed back at her like he was completely smitten, like he would indulge any of her little whims or needs for reassurance without a care in the world except whether she was happy.

But when Mingyu’s fingertips gently traced over her cheekbone and the expertly hidden bruise there, she couldn’t help but pull away slightly in embarrassment. She had known the moment she saw Mingyu that morning that he very much heard all of the arguing that went on in her apartment. Every screaming match and slammed door and smashed plate.

Mingyu didn’t try to meet Y/n’s gaze when he spoke. “You could always come upstairs if you want,” he offered in his gentle voice, “You don’t need to say anything, just come,” he whispered, his voice overflowing with tenderness for her that she wasn’t sure she deserved.

Again, she could feel the same little scary feeling in her chest that she felt the night before – the feeling that was usually dangerous for her because it always seemed to lead her astray – she thought she had finally mastered it, but here was Mingyu and his earnest gaze offering help without pretense or judgment.

Y/n nodded, acknowledging the offer and accepting that Mingyu knew much more than she preferred.

Mingyu still kissed her before leaving, though – it was a completely different kind of kiss – the intensity and heat were gone; instead, it was the kind of kiss that reminded her of soft flower petals brushing her skin – sweet and light.

Y/n spent the rest of the morning drawing a detailed sketch of the tattoo she thought would fit Mingyu best.

She made sure that all the edges were smooth and flowing – all the shapes were organic – nothing was hard or sharp. She realized after the fact that some of the parts of the spider lilies she had drawn had little hidden heart shapes.

If it were a sketch for anyone else, she would have erased them immediately for being obviously sentimental. But for Mingyu, she thought the hearts were a cute touch.

She was glad that Soonyoung was running late for once.

𓆩♡𓆪

Mingyu was back that afternoon with coffee and a pastry for her – he still felt a bit uncertain about what had happened earlier.

He had spent most of his shift worried that he had said too much to her – things that he shouldn’t have even hinted at knowing. But how could he not, he wondered.

It was just a chance thing, the way the light had caught her skin at that moment, just right for Mingyu to see the slight shadow under the thin layers of makeup. He already liked her more than he should, so he wasn’t sure that it really hurt him to bluntly make his own offer - one that he could only hope she knew was pure.

Regardless, he had promised to come back with coffee. He knew where Y/n’s station was, and he found the same oversized chair to occupy. He would normally have gone to the gym or maybe for a run after work.

But now he was curled in the chair and feeling tired because the rush that day had been a lot, especially when he was distracted and made mistakes. He liked his job, but the days when the orders seemed to come in at the same speed they would in a mobile game set to an expert level, he hated those days. He always felt exhausted afterward. Or maybe it was just feeling overwhelmed. Just thinking about it made him yawn.

He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until he felt someone nudge him. He squinted against the bright overhead lights and realized someone he didn’t know was leaning over him. He blinked and glanced past them to see that Y/n was there, just bent over a client.

Mingyu felt a light poke to his cheek, “Cute,” the very blonde guy whispered, “Move over – we’re ordering food and since you seem to live here now, I thought you might want to add something,” he pushed Mingyu’s shoulder emphasizing the part about moving.

Mingyu shifted to a sitting position and covered his mouth as he yawned. The blonde sat next to him and offered up his phone for Mingyu to add in his order from a taco place. Mingyu glanced through the menu and ended up choosing steak tacos with plantains.

He offered to pay and the guy shook his head, “Just bring me coffee too, labeled ‘for Soonyoung, king of the world’ please, but no sweet drinks – coffee and milk and maybe iced,” he said cutely.

Mingyu nodded, still feeling only half awake, but he was satisfied with trading coffee for tacos.

Soonyoung patted Mingyu’s head lightly, “Just go back to sleep, cute puppy, she’s not going anywhere, and I’ll wake you up for tacos,” he said quietly.

Soonyoung didn’t move though, making it hard for Mingyu to go back to sleep – he didn’t exactly fit in the chair when he was its only occupant. Instead, he leaned against Soonyoung who continued to give Mingyu little head pats while he scrolled on his phone.

Mingyu watched Y/n working. He noticed how focused and careful she was with everything he did. But looking reminded him that he had sat on the same table that morning, and regret coiled in his stomach. He remembered that he had turned her down. Even if she had asked him to come back, it didn’t change the fact that Mingyu had rejected her, not outright, but still – he wondered if he should really be waiting around this way.

He eyed the door for a few minutes, thinking he could just leave – it wouldn’t really matter, right, he asked himself.

He glanced back at Y/n, still leaned over the same client, her long bangs falling in her face as he worked. Mingyu tried to remember the last time he had been this way with anyone – he pursed his lips because he knew the last time, and it was better to avoid digging up those thoughts.

Why remember something that had barely been a relationship to anyone besides Mingyu – one that had made him certain he was made only for one-night things. He wondered what had possessed him to tell Y/n that he wanted more than that.

He chewed his lip, imagining her describing him – the desperate guy from her building. He began to feel intensely embarrassed and anxious. He sat up and asked Soonyoung where the restroom was.

He was relieved to find that the restroom was for one person rather than multiple stalls. He turned on the taps and let the water run cold for a few moments before splashing it on his face.

He needed to wake up.

He leaned up from the sink to stare at himself in the mirror – the more he stared, the more he wondered what he was doing. He heard knocking, though – he couldn’t exactly hide here. He shut off the taps and tried to get himself back in order before opening the door. Y/n was waiting on the other side, looking concerned. Mingyu was surprised to see her, but he felt her fingers trace along his forearm down to his hand, their fingers slotting together so easily.

She looked up at him for a moment before quickly leaning up to Mingyu and kissing him softly. She guided Mingyu’s hand to her back, letting go when she seemed sure that Mingyu understood she wanted Mingyu’s arms around her.

She reached up to cup Mingyu’s cheek as the kiss continued between them. Mingyu couldn’t help the part of him that wondered if Y/n was acting out of pity. Still, he stepped closer to her, wanting the kiss to go on – he wanted to feel reassured.

They parted slowly, Y/n looking up at Mingyu, “Okay?” she asked, tracing her fingers along Mingyu’s cheekbone.

Mingyu nodded, meeting her soft gaze.

She nodded and leaned against him, hugging Mingyu’s shoulder for a moment before pulling away, and catching Mingyu’s hand again, “Come eat,” she said, and pulled Mingyu along.

𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪

Y/n was tired but didn’t want to sleep.

She had cleaned up for the night and was lying in bed. She tried to think of the things that happened that day, but really her mind just wandered back to how good it felt to kiss Mingyu.

She closed her eyes, thinking about that morning – they had made out.

There was no questioning that.

She wanted to scream when she remembered how good it felt for Mingyu to grab her ass - it had felt so good, and he had seemed so in control in that moment.

Soonyoung had asked about that detail several times when she had shared the story. It was one of her flaws – she couldn’t keep things like this to herself and always ended up telling Soonyoung – sometimes just to see the reaction.

The reaction had not been lacking that morning. Soonyoung had stared with wide eyes. “You made out? Here? Like here ‘here’ – why are these the days I’m late?” he had finally asked.

Still, she had worried that she wouldn’t see Mingyu again that afternoon because she had basically offered to hook up with him. Y/n turned onto her side and hugged her pillow close.

She should have guessed that that would have been the wrong thing to say to Mingyu. Maybe not wrong, but it hadn’t felt great for Mingyu to say ‘no’, even if it was the kind of ‘no’ that meant he wasn’t ready.

It wasn’t a full-stop kind of thing, at least.

She shifted around restlessly, finally stopping when she was lying on her back. For once, she was alone in the apartment, but she had still locked her bedroom door. She stared at the ceiling, wondering if Mingyu was there – maybe he was just above her, lying in bed and staring at his ceiling too, Y/n imagined. She shivered slightly – she hated how the air conditioning was always set so low, but she didn’t bother touching it, risking the inevitable argument. She just wore more layers.

She chewed her lower lip, trying to decide if it would be brave or stupid to knock on Mingyu’s door.

She hadn’t told Soonyoung about that part – she didn’t want to share that Mingyu seemed all too aware of what she went to great lengths to disguise. She wished that she had asked Soonie because she wasn’t sure if the offer extended to what was basically a social call.

Y/n hated being alone, and yes, she did technically live with someone, but that didn’t change that she was effectively alone, very alone sometimes. It wasn’t like there was someone next to her in bed or someone she even wanted to talk to.

But she and Mingyu hadn’t really talked that much – like they hadn’t done the whole thing where they stayed up talking and telling each other stupid things until one of them passed out. That was an important thing to do, she reasoned.

She sat up, deciding the worst thing that happened was that Mingyu didn’t answer his door. And if he didn’t, then she would at least know that Mingyu hadn’t been serious, and she could just write him off as another one of ‘those’ guys - the ones built to hurt her.

𓆩♡𓆪

Y/n’s stomach fluttered as she grabbed her phone and keys and pulled on a hoodie over her t-shirt and sweats. She felt like if she actually stepped out of her apartment then there was no going back, but she was too nervous and excited to stop herself.

Even as she walked up the single flight of stairs, she imagined that maybe another girl would answer the door. Or there would be no answer.

Instead, as she stood in front of the door and started to knock, she remembered the fact that she had washed his face.

There was no pretending if she saw Mingyu this way. She touched the bruise under her eye lightly – she hadn’t given it a lot of thought – she was used to there being something for her to cover. She pursed her lips, starting to turn and leave. But she heard something, a car door she guessed – she paused, tensing as she tried to listen for any other sounds.

There were footsteps that sounded familiar. She turned back to Mingyu’s door and knocked.

𓆩♡𓆪

For a few moments, it was quiet, but then y/n heard movement inside, and the door opened. Mingyu didn’t keep her waiting outside – he moved to the side to let her pass and closed the door firmly behind her.

She was glad that Mingyu didn’t look like he had been deeply asleep. She could hear the tv. Really, her only thought was to avoid staring at Mingyu’s naked torso – she did not need to know how muscular he really was.

She had an idea from the way Mingyu’s clothes fit and from earlier that day, but to actually see Mingyu’s gym-body was not something she had accounted for in her thinking. She had no idea why she assumed Mingyu would just be fully dressed. She was immediately embarrassed – why hadn’t she just stayed in her room and texted Mingyu, she wondered.

𓆩♡𓆪

Mingyu leaned against the wall, waiting for Y/n to take off her shoes. He had promised her that he wouldn’t ask questions – it didn’t mean he didn’t have them.

And it didn’t mean that he wasn’t angry when he saw Y/n’s bare face.

He chewed his lip, trying to push his feelings down. He needed to be calm. Mingyu noticed that she was avoiding looking at him. He reached out and pulled her hoodie sleeve lightly to lead her towards the living room.

She coughed, “So is this usually what you’re like at home?”

Mingyu paused and glanced back, “How do you mean?” he was confused.

“Just, you know – no shirt?” Her voice was soft, and her gaze seemed to be exclusively trained on the floor.

Mingyu paused, letting his brain absorb what he had just heard. “Is that your way of asking me to put on a shirt?” he asked quizzically, softly.

She shrugged. “Maybe,” she said with a quick glance at Mingyu.

Mingyu couldn’t help but smile and nod. “Okay – but you know you can ask me things, like directly,” he offered, smiling because she looked very sweet when she was embarrassed.

He walked back to his room and quickly rifled through a drawer to find a long-sleeved tee. Something told him that mimicking her habits might be the best way forward, at least for right now.

He walked out, expecting to find that Y/n was at least sitting down or perusing Mingyu’s knick-knacks, but she was still standing in the same place like she needed a formal invitation. Mingyu watched her for a moment – she was cute this way, but Mingyu also remembered the very certain way Y/n had told him to “sit” that morning – she definitely came with duality, he thought.

He walked over and caught her hand. “Better?” he gestured to his clothing as he asked, and he pulled her to sit with him on the sofa.

She gave a small nod as they sat down and were bathed in the low light of whatever Mingyu had let Netflix auto-play.

He was tired, but he didn’t know how whatever was going on between them worked, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to ask either.

He watched the nervous way she played with her hoodie’s sleeves. If this weren’t Y/n, there would be a singular reason for Mingyu to have someone else in his apartment.

His brain suddenly reminded him of how sound seemed to travel between apartments – he winced slightly thinking that she might have heard him fucking – there was no other descriptor for why someone else would visit his apartment. He shook his head like he was erasing the thought and leaned back into the sofa’s cushions.

He tried to think if it were him, what would he find comforting, but that didn’t seem helpful because Mingyu was fairly physical normally. He liked to be touched, even if he was in a bad mood. He had said Y/n should be direct with him, maybe he should just try approaching her directly too, he thought.

“Y/n,” he tried to keep his voice neutral, but he noticed it still startled her out of her own thoughts.

He reached out and touched her arm gingerly. “What can I do?” he asked plainly.

He waited and watched her for any signs. He sat up and noticed how much closer they were than he had realized. Even in the low light, he could see her long, delicate lashes and the way they emphasized the warmth of her eyes.

The same feeling from that morning threatened to overwhelm him – she was so lovely, and Mingyu wanted to touch her. He let his hand cover hers, gently stilling her constantly moving fingers.

She inclined her head towards Mingyu and shrugged. “I just wanted to see you,” she admitted and sheepishly glanced at the floor.

Mingyu swallowed hard, glad that she couldn’t see the way he blushed. There was something about such a simple answer – it was almost shocking, the way it stopped Mingyu in his tracks – everything felt slow for a moment. He turned his hand over, exposing his palm to Y/n’s roving fingers. He felt the little shapes she traced into his palm and his inner wrist.

“Am I bothering you?” She asked, her voice floating gently into the darkness of the room.

Mingyu shook his head, “No,” he replied softly, watching her profile.

She focused on tracing little swirls against Mingyu’s skin. She had the same serene look she had when she was working.

Mingyu bit his lip gently and decided to wrap his free hand around her waist. Mingyu leaned back again, and this time she came along, shifting around until she was happy in Mingyu’s lap. She reminded Mingyu of a cat settling down.

Once she seemed comfortable, they both fell asleep easily.

a/n: yeee back with part two ^^ hope you still like them and bffl soonie because fr i love writing him as the best friend who is tbh super level headed somehow

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒌𝒂𝒕

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 ⏮ ▐▐ ⏭ 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕

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♡ master list & tag list

♡ [ 𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ] ★ [ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

other mingyu fics (some of my favs ^^)

♡ playing hearts (college au | camboy au) || drunk pda + no underwear || enemies to lovers + tentacles || internet friends + blind date + size kink || 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉

♡ [ 𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ] ★ [ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

[ mingyu tag list ]

☁︎ @syluslittlecrows [e] ☁︎ @gyuguys [e] ☁︎ @tinyelfperson [e] ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite [e] ☁︎ @livelaughloveseventeen [e] ☁︎ @codeinebelle [e] ☁︎ @ateez-atiny380 [e] ☁︎ @mingcouper [e] ☁︎ @hanniebub [e] ☁︎ @perfectiondazesworld [e] ☁︎ @scoupshawty [e] ☁︎ @peachytokki [e] ☁︎ @coupsbestleader [e] ☁︎ @fleurloovin [e] ☁︎ @babybae-shisui [e] ☁︎ @asyre [e] ☁︎ @dcrlingyou [e] ☁︎ @yeosayang [e] ☁︎ @nanabananananabatman ☁︎ @yoongznme [e] ☁︎ @gyuhao365 [e] ☁︎ @jeonghnie [e] ☁︎ @armycarat2612 [e] ☁︎ @shuas-winnie30 [e] ☁︎ @famouspoetrydinosaur [e] ☁︎ @ateezaddict24 [e] ☁︎ @tooflef [e] ☁︎

☁︎ @aaronwarners69thwife [e + wips] ☁︎ @daisymbin [e + wips] ☁︎ @babilou-pov [e + wips] ☁︎ @sseungcheols [ e + wips ] ☁︎ @keyrecsfics [ e + one/multi & wips] ☁︎ @dinonara-ara [e + wips]

☁︎ @haik-chu [e - one/multi] ☁︎ @gigglensnort [e - one/multi/priv] ☁︎ @stupendouschildnerd [e - one/multi] ☁︎ @tokitosun [e - one/multi ] ☁︎ @lilydaisylily [e - one/multi] ☁︎

☁︎ @ninigyuuu [k.mg - e, b.f. priv] ☁︎ @starlit-rin [k.mg - one/multi, b.f.non] ☁︎ @sapphireserpens [k.mg - multi/priv] ☁︎

☁︎ for this fic @lilylikesthat

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