#but i gotta get my muse a flowing

[blcssom]

it's always when i get down to like.....my last ten drafts that my will to finish peters out :' )

that said LIKE THIS for a short starter or two based off your wishlist xoxo

[heavysoldat]

lemonade

neighbor!bucky barnes x housewife!reader

devastated by the spreading talk of your husband’s affair, you’re desperate to find a way to get back at him— and who to do it with.

warnings: smut (cunnilingus, unprotected sex, dirty talk, manhandling, praise & light degradation, creampie, breeding) mutual cheating, insecurities, hints to abusive relationships

(highly inspired by this song)

“How is it?”

The incessant whirring of the washing machine is tunneling in your head, adding to the stress induced migraine you’ve already received. But the man in front of you is more than chipper, smiling as he takes in more of the pie you’ve prepared.

“Amazing.” James compliments, mouth full of cherries and crust.

You give him a smile; weak, barely breaching your smile lines- but if he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You just seemed hungry.” You muse. “Working outside all morning has gotta make you starved.”

“Well, I won’t turn down a fresh pie, that’s for sure.” He says, washing his mouth down with the lemonade you generously whipped up.

“Your husbands gonna be one happy man, comin’ home to this.” James wipes his face down with a patterned napkin, leaning back into the oakwood dining chair.

You stare ahead blankly, trying to push away the anxiety that’s eating into your stomach like termites— but nothing goes. You can’t explain what you’re feeling, what you’ve been hearing. The secret your husband has been keeping of his affair had no longer been kept, revealed to you by your best friend in town.

She told you about how she saw him, heard him with one of his female colleagues, noticed how much time they spend together daily. How often they both seem to be working late.

The pain you had felt had eaten at you rabidly. You spent days festering, barely able to clean the house without breaking down in sobs, thankful that your husband worked a nine to five and didn’t see the way he made you ache.

You couldn’t give him that. You wouldn’t.

“He’s working late today.” You say, smile deteriorating. “Probably won’t be home until I’m asleep. He’s not that big of a fan of my cooking, anyway.”

James’ eyebrows furrow, “Does he not have tastebuds? You’re a genius in the kitchen, I swear.”

That makes your cheeks heat up, adding to the warmth of the summer weather. “Well, thank you, James.”

“Friends call me Bucky.” He winks, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Bucky it is.” You say.

Bucky is a well-dressed, hard working man from across the street, always tending to his yard or making the exterior of his house fresh. You had always found him attractive. From the day he moved in a few months back he had been in the back of your mind, swirling.

You kept pushing it back, determined to be a faithful doting wife— but it seems that ideal was one-sided.

That gave you an excuse, and excuse to make your vaulted desires come forward. You won’t let your husband see you suffer, but you will let him see you thrive.

You even put on your nicest dress.

“You don’t work?” Bucky asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, no.” You say, “I’m a homemaker.”

“You should be a chef.” He jokes, picking at his plate with a fork.

You giggle, “I don’t have the time.”

“Eh, well,” He says, cleaning off the rest of his dish, “Guess I’ll have to be your pie test subject, then.”

That makes you smile, but more genuine- a spread of butterflies flowing inside your stomach.

You stand up to grab his plate, picking it up and carrying it to the sink to wash.

“Oh, I would’ve gotten that.” Bucky says, sitting up.

“No, no, it’s fine!” You say. “You’ve been working. I got it.”

You bend down to get dish soap, making a show of letting your dress skirt ride up to air your white, lace panties. You linger for just a second too long, before coming back up and actually washing his plate.

As you head back, you wipe off your skirt, dusting off anything that had gotten on it. You don’t miss the way he stares at your thighs, nor the way his eyes drift to your chest as you lean forward.

“I should probably go. Gotta lot to work on.”

As he stands, you grasp his arm, stopping him. “So soon? I could make you some more lemonade.”

You watch as he eyes your hand on his arm, thumbing his flannel with rubbed circles, then gazing back at you.

“As much as I’d love that, I’m pretty behind. I’ll definitely be back, sweets.”

You smile, reaching to paw at his other arm. “I like your company. It gets lonely here, without my husband… having you around is nice.”

“I’m glad.” Bucky says, staring down at you. “I like your company, too, doll.”

You bite down on your lip, playing at the strings of his flannel. “Then why don’t you stay? Just for a little while longer?”

Bucky’s eyes narrow, taking a long, considerate pause.

“If I didn’t know any better-“ He notes, speaking slowly, “I’d say you had ulterior motives for invitin’ me over.”

You give him your best doe-eyed look, letting him sit in the silence.

Of course you did. You got up early, dawned on your nicest matching lingerie set and prettiest dress- just to bake a pie and lemonade for him. It’s pathetic, it’s desperate, but you haven’t felt this giddy since you first started dating your husband.

Bucky’s eyes widen just enough to expose the whites of it. He doesn’t know what to say, really, eyes flickering from to every point he can, debating every option that’s being presented to him on fucking porcelain.

“Your husband…” He trails.

“He’s not here.” You note. “He won’t be for a while. I told you he’s working late.”

“Doll…”

“Yeah?”

“What are you playin’ at here, exactly?”

You contemplate what to say, how to say it. You’re unsure if it’s even a good idea, if you’re more motivated by revenge or desire— but both are clouding your head.

“I want you to fuck me like he never could.”

Bucky can’t help the way his mouth opens. He can feel his cock throb in his jeans, already half hard since he saw you in that godforsaken dress. You’re like the devil.

“I don’t wanna be the guy who ruins a marriage.” He objects, despite his own desires.

“Trust me,” Your hand rises up to grip his face, “It’s already been ruined.”

Bucky’s hands move almost against his will. Sliding down your back, hovering over your ass under your dress, his breathing shaky.

“He doesn’t fuck you right? That it?”

“He doesn’t fuck me at all, cause he’s too busy fucking another woman.”

That settles it for him.

His mouth practically swallows yours, hands grabbing your ass with force while his tongue invades your mouth. You can do nothing but moan, whining into his throat as you hold onto him.

He turns, picking you up and placing you on the kitchen table. You clatter against silverware, but he pushes them off before they stab into your skin- letting them clammer onto the tiled floor.

He moves to press open mouth kisses on your neck, already pulling the cups of your dress down, followed by your bra to reveal your breasts. He wraps a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking as he massages the other one, reveling in the way you moan above him.

Bucky’s pushing up your skirt, pressing kisses down your stomach and your legs. He mouths around your inner thighs, teasing to where you need him most.

“Please,” You pant, pinching at your own nipples.

Bucky sliiiiides your panties down your legs, letting them fall to the ground beneath you. He lets out a grunt at the sight of your pussy, glistening and wet. Just for him.

“Your husband make you this wet?”

“Mm-mm,” You hum, “Never.”

That makes him grin. A shit-eating, cocky, son-of-a-bitch grin, but god, is it sexy.

He presses kisses to your mound, before licking a broad stripe up your folds. That has you moaning, legs squirming- but he’s quick to hold you back down.

You’re gasping while he sucks around your clit, fingers catching in your wet hole and sliding in and out. He’s moaning at your taste, sending vibrations against your clit that have you reeling.

He’s practically buried himself inside your cunt, devouring you like cherry pie. His mouth moves to suck down, before his tongue slides into your hole, his fingers replacing his tongues previous placement at your clit.

“I’m- I’m close,” You whine, pulling at his dark hair.

You feel his movements get faster, urging you to teeter off that edge. The high he’s building is unlike one you’ve felt— it’s cold, lighting inside your legs and stomach, building up so tight you can feel it about to snap.

And when it finally does, Bucky has to hold you still. He’s moaning with you, letting you ride out your orgasm by using his face.

When you come down, you’re panting, watching as he comes back up with a glistening mouth. He wipes off the sides, sucking around his fingers to get the last of your taste.

You reach out for him, which he gladly accepts. He brings you in for another kiss, reaching down to unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Mhm,” You moan, legs still tingling with a post-orgasmic haze.

“Say it, honey.” Bucky grunts, pulling down his boxers and stroking at his cock. You whimper at the sight— it’s thick, bigger than your husband’s, tip practically weeping.

“I need you to fuck me, please, I want it so fucking bad.” You beg, watching as he slides the head of his cock around your folds. “Please.”

Bucky’s cock catches in your hole, sliding into your wet heat with ease. You both whine at the feeling of him bottoming out, pressing kisses around every piece of skin on the other you can reach.

“Fuck,” He moans. “So fuckin’ tight, honey— he really doesn’t fuck ya, does he? This was all you needed, a good fuck, someone to make you cum hard, treat ya like the little slut you are. Well I’m here, honey, and I’m fuckin’- shit, I’m not leaving.”

He starts to fuck into you, balls slapping against your ass with the furious pace he’s already set. He’s grunting, groaning at the feeling of your warm cunt, head thrown back in pleasure.

“Yeah,” You moan, whining at the feeling of him using your pussy, “Fuck, just like that, please!”

“Yeah? You like that?” He moans, “Like me fuckin’ using your pussy?”

You can’t reply- too fucked out. You just moan, mumbling incoherently, pussy clenching around his moving length.

Bucky slaps at one of your tits; making you yelp, but then he sucks the nipple into his mouth with a groan. You tug at his hair, reveling in how it makes him borderline whimper.

You rub circles around your clit, desperate to get off, despite already coming so recently. He grunts at the sight, pulling off your nipple with a pop—

“Fuck, you gonna cum again?” Bucky groans, grabbing your hips to fuck into you harder, “It feels that good? Fuck, Wanna see you cream on my cock, be a good girl. C’mon.”

Another orgasm washes over you. It’s not as intense as the first one, but still leg twitching, making you curl into yourself.

“Oh god, that’s fuckin’ it,” Bucky groans, gasping, “Feels so good, baby, you have no idea.”

You whine in overstimulation as he keeps fucking you, whimpering when he reaches down to start rubbing your clit again.

“Need you to give me one more.”

“I can’t,” You whine.

“You can.” He rasps, “You fuckin’ will. Be a good girl, doll, gimme one more. Fuck, I need it.”

You’re clawing at his back, wetness practically drenching his cock. You know you’re leaving scratch marks, probably even drawing blood- but he doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it spurs him on.

“I’m coming,” You whine, “Oh god, I can’t-“

Your third orgasm rips through you sharper than the others, leaving you trembling under his hold. All you can hear his harsh groans and grunts, praising you for how good you did for him.

“Shit,” Bucky grunts, sweat dripping down his face, “I’m so fuckin’ close.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him in closer and locking him inside.

“Fuck, honey-“ He stutters, “I gotta pull out, I can’t- you gotta let go, I can’t pull out.”

You shake your head, whining, “Cum in me, please.”

That makes him whine. “You want me to come in you? Fill up that slutty pussy?”

You nod rapidly, clenching your legs around him tighter. You can tell he’s close by how his thrusts stutter, cock throbbing inside your cunt.

“Your husbands gonna come home today, not knowing his pretty little wife has a pussy full of another man’s cum,” Bucky taunts, “But you love that, don’t you?”

“Yeah- yes, I love it.” You moan, grabbing onto him.

“Oh god- beg me for it.”

“Please cum inside me.”

“Fuck, you can do better than that,”

“Please!” You shout, “Cum inside me, I want it- I want it so fucking bad. I need you to fill up my pussy, please, Bucky.”

With one last, loud, bellowing groan, he stills above you, pumping you full of every last drop he has. He almost fully collapses, both of you left panting and spent.

After a moment, he stands up, wiping the sweat off his forehead before helping you correct your clothing malfunctions.

“Hey, uh,” Bucky says, pushing your hair back out of your face. “You ever make another pie that needs testing, you know where to find me.”

[astermath]

nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar  @spr3id  @deadandstill  @777iii  @magicboytrash  @dogdevourer @wiipes @sierrahhh  @crayzmarvelfan800 @azxulaa  @astridyoo15   @rexorangecouny  @azxulaa @jointherebellion215 @diorrfairy @chanluuvr @idontexist-anymore @wolfiealina

[goldengleams]

cuddle day | trevor zegras

In which Trevor wants to have a cuddle day.

Some Trevor Zegras fluff to get your week started!

————————————————————————

“Ugh, Trevor let go of me!”

“Why don’t you love me, Y/N?”

“Because you’re a pain in my ass, Z!”

You rolled your eyes at your overdramatic boyfriend, Trevor. He was seated next to you on one of the kitchen barstools, practically in your lap, watching you as you tried to do some work on your laptop. He knew you needed to get work done, but he was having a clingy day where he demanded your cuddles and slouched around in his comfy clothes.

“Z, I gotta do some work, babe,” you said softly. You didn’t get to see this side of Trevor much since he was so busy during the season, so you tried to spend as much time with him as possible.

“Yeah but you’re always working,” Trevor whined.

“Well, that is how I make money, so,” you laughed. “I have to send three more emails and then we can cuddle, okay?”

Trevor just sighed loudly instead of answering you. He trudged off to his bedroom and you could hear him grumbling under his breath about how you should just move into his apartment. Knowing that was a conversation for another day, you went back to typing on your computer.

Jamie made his way into the kitchen to grab a drink from the fridge, having passed Trevor on his way.

“Your boyfriend looks like he needs a cuddle, Y/N,” Jamie teased. He was well aware of Trevor’s moods after living with him for months.

“No, Jamie. Your boyfriend is driving me nuts,” you countered. Jamie just let out a laugh before heading out to the gym.

Typing as fast as you could, you quickly finished up your work and closed your laptop with a relieved sigh. Now, you could finally go cuddle with Trevor.

You grabbed a few snacks from the cupboard and two waters for you and Trevor before heading into his bedroom. He was laying across the bed, scrolling through tik tok when you walked in.

“Oh my god, my girlfriend isn’t just an email machine,” Trevor mused, pushing himself up on his elbows. He had ditched his beanie and his hair was flowing effortlessly. He had his glasses on which made him look even more domestic, and you had to restrain yourself from jumping right at him.

“I wish I didn’t have to be an ‘email machine’, but it’s all for my internship,” you said, setting down all of the snacks and your drinks. “It’ll all be worth it, I think.”

“Yes it will, you’re like, the smartest person I know, babe,” Trevor said. He was the best at reassuring you, all of his compliments and advice rolling off his tongue so easily and honestly.

“Alright, now come cuddle me before I implode.” Trevor rolled onto his back and threw his arms open, waiting for you to climb in next to him.

You obliged, settling in next to him with your head on his chest. He wiggled closer to you, if that was even possible since you were practically on top of each other. His hair started to tickle your face, making you laugh softly.

“Missed you, Y/N,” Trevor sighed. You knew Trevor wanted to spend more time with you, but his schedule in the middle of the season wouldn’t allow it. Any quality time you could get together was spent glued to each other in some activity, whether it be going out or just hanging inside.

“Missed you, too, Z,” you said.

Trevor furrowed his eyebrows, tugging you closer to him. “Well, you should just move in and then you’re always here. Hey, even better, you should just get a job with the Ducks and then you can travel with us!”

You both burst into laughter. “You want me to be a Ducks groupie, Z?”

“I mean you could be a groupie for me and we could–”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Trevor!”

You climbed up onto his lap as he welcomed you easily. You tucked his hair behind his ear and kissed him sweetly. “You’re crazy,” you mused, as he left a kiss down your jawline.

“Yeah, I know,” Trevor said. “But I’m lucky I get to call you mine.”

For the rest of the afternoon, you stayed right in Trevor’s bed, cuddling and watching your comfort movies. Jamie found you a few hours later, both fast asleep, and smiled to himself at his two close friends.

————————————————————————

Hope you enjoy!!

[actionmemeplay]

A meme for muses who don't take breaks.

Change pronouns and wording to your heart's content to best suit your muse.

"You've been staring at that screen for hours."

"I'm surprised that your butt ever comes off of that chair anymore."

"Coffee break? I think you need one."

"Some fresh air will get your ideas flowing again, trust me."

"You know the company's suckering you if you don't take your breaks, right?"

"Watching you makes me anxious that I'm not working hard enough."

"You need to take time out for yourself, or you're going to burn out."

"This isn't healthy."

"Finish up and let's go, already."

"It looks great, sure, but when did you last sleep?"

"My in-tray is a LOT heavier than my eye bags, believe me."

"I can't afford to stop here."

"Let's put a pin in this and come back to it tomorrow."

"Think we can crunch this out if we stay all night?"

"Stressing over deadlines all the time is going to bring your own 'dead-line' way, way closer."

"There's gotta be more to life than this."

"You need to learn how to switch off."

"I wish you cared as much about me as you do about your work."

"People criticising just don't recognise how dedicated you are."

"Who do you think is going to finish the project if you make yourself sick?"

[neverchecking]

Ooh, bestie plz. That yandere time piece left me aching with the amount of need I didn't know I had

So I wanna request one more, if that's okay. Yandere Time, once again, but with a breeding kink. And please, feel free to go into explicit detail.

(May and I both personally hc that time has a breeding kink. I literally wrote a whole ass smut piece with a pregnant reader on both her page and mine about this. Same piece, links on both pages lmao)

The amount of horny I am for this man is not okay. Time can bend me over and fuck me like a bitch in heat whenever he wants

...Ahem. Sorry.

I'm gonna be yer 🧚 anon, okay?

omg-

Omg-

OMG YOUR FAIRY ANON?! THE FAIRY ANON?! After you messaged me here I went to May's page and began reading some of her stuff, and every time I came across a 🧚anon post I knew it was going to be good. I just- Drooling, kicking my feet, barking, the whole nine yards.

Anyway, I am absolutely here to please. Time could take me anywhere. There are some pieces that I write and I'm like...Should I share this or keep it to myself? And I gotta admit, that Time one was one of em. The reception to it was just so fantastic and I'm glad everyone liked it. Anyway, I got another Time request around the same time as this one and I just- lightbulb.

Also also, never be sorry Darling. I love to hear all the dirty thoughts. Really gets the writing juices flowing yk? Plus, I get my own 🧚anon? Sign me tf up.

SORRY ANYWAY-

Smut so MDNI. 18+. You asked for explicit detail, so I hope I brought it to the table!

Smut CW: Reader is a little bit of a Yandere themselves, AFAB reader, Subby! Time, breeding Kinks!

Fairy boy

It was hot.

So unbearably hot. Sweat was dripping between every curve of the body he had worked so hard to achieve, leaving behind a misty sheen as his breath fogged in front of him. The air around him was practically smothering, but he couldn't bring himself to care. No, this was a religious experience that he was blessed to experience.

Nothing could ever top this moment. Not anything he had experienced up to this point.

But oh, how willing he was to show his absolute devotion to you, his Goddess, his muse, his star given soul mate. Anything to show your saintly soul that his own was open to you. To take, to shred, to treasure, to obliterate. Anything, and it was yours. He was truly committed to your entire being.

And you knew it to. He knew you knew it from the glares you would shoot inn keepers that fluttered their lashes at him. He knew you knew it from the sharp, venom laced words you would hide behind a sweet, lace lined tone designed to make the other just wilt before you for even thinking of approaching him. He knew you knew it from the dangerous, but ever erotic, gleam in your eyes as you followed the movement of the one waitress that left her hand to linger on his shoulder for a second too long.

And was it ever anoetic.

It was like linking a chain between the two of you with every interaction making it stronger. Reinforcing it with titanium steel only to enhance it with unbreakable enchantments. It was coiled so tightly around the both of yours hearts, like a double headed viper ready to strike any other imposter daring to try and tame the other's rearing serpent. Perhaps there was something unhealthy about it all. but he couldn't find himself to care.

He couldn't even find it in himself to think.

Not when the searing trails of both his cum and your own trailed down his thighs, burning like magma wherever it touched. Not when your own form was bouncing above his own, your own skin polished with sweat as your inner walls, velvet and absolutely piquant (He would know), clung to him, pulsing and squeezing him for everything he had to offer you. Not when his neck and collarbone, littered with bites and hickeys, angled itself mindlessly to give you better access.

Everything about him was positively brainless, nothing but a useless doll for you to use and abuse should you deem it what you want.

But you wouldn't.

You would never dream of hurting him in any way, shape or form. It's what made you so exquisite. You cared for him in a way no one else previously had. Everyone else in his life either left him or was left behind, but you- you had followed him. Clung to him so tightly he had no choice but to be dragged down to whatever depths you fell through to. Not that he would ever let you fall far.

No, he couldn't imagine a life without you. Without your semi-stern glares and light scoldings whenever he gets just a little too reckless in ensuring your safety. Without your gentle hands, cradling his face as you coo at him in that soft voice of yours that he was yours, only yours, and you were his, and nothing, not even the Golden three themselves could pull the two of you apart. Without your smaller frame underneath of him, clinging to his form as he drilled into you, imprinting his every inch onto your being, absolutely ruining you for anyone else.

He knew he was. No one else would ever live up to you. You were beyond words, celestial if it could be something tangible. He knew anyone else chances were all but derelict. Not there ever was a chance for any other possibility.

"Goddess, Link-"

You never called him Time. Never. Besides nicknames, the only other moniker you called him was his name. You called the others by their titles, but not him. You once explained to him that it was because he was more than just a title to you. He was more than just a hero. He was your very reason for pushing on in the morning, for breathing, eating, simply existing in this realm.

He was more than just a title to you.

He was Link, the humble farm boy who was traumatized beyond belief. Who required delicate handling even when he didn't feel he deserved it. Who needed someone to ground him and smooth out his chipped and tattered edges.

He needed you.

Oh, he needed you badly. Even just having you here, cunt squeezing around him as you rolled your head back, hair falling back before you were leaning forward. You laid on his chest, emphasizing the heat around you both, as your forehead landed on his. Your hips never stopped moving, dragging deliciously up his shaft, leaving a milky white sheen in your wake, before slamming back down, a filthy squelch echoing out.

One of his palms, flat and heavy, raised to clap against your ass cheek, making you clench around him as your head fell forward, whimpering into his ear as something wet dripped onto his lap.

You shivered and shuddered, but, gloriously stubborn you, refused to slow even the slightest. He knew what you wanted from him, and he was more than willing to give it to you.

You wanted a baby. His baby. You wanted to carry his child, a piece of the two of you together. You wanted to be tied together for the rest of your lives. You wanted to be the mother of his children.

He could see it now. You all round and barefoot, taking care of the house while he went to work with the knights at the castle or down at the Lon ranch. You, wearing a soft pink apron, as you baked and cooked meals to last the time you would be in recovery because you both knew he was useless in the kitchen. You, who would look downright elegant, despite the strenuous act you just went through, cradling his baby. His baby that would suckle at your teat as you glowed like the angels above came down just to bless this event.

And he craved that.

With a low groan, his arms shot up to wrap around your back as his hips hammered up, pushing right against your own as he plunged in as far as physically possible. He was sure he was kissing the ring of your cervix with how far he was docked within your walls, which throbbed around him. Old loads leaked out around him, making room for the new stuff, as you cried and withered, cumming around him with a cry of his name.

He knew he would go through whatever needed to give you your desired child, and it seemed you thought the same as you sat up, chest heaving in heavy pants, staring down at him. Overstimulation racked his spine, as he was sure it did yours, but he was given a mission. A quest.

And nothing would stop him from completing his quest.

[flowerwrites06]

affairs of state — knj

AFFAIRS OF STATE | Kim Namjoon | Oneshot | Request

Original Request: Can I request for a President Namjoon x Reader (she can be an assistant or a just a simple fun loving girl who meets Namjoon out of nowhere). Namjoon falls for her, BAD and try his hardest to make her the light of his life. Make it angstyyyyy yum I love angst 😭 – @sarzkh31 Plot: The allures of power and politics is a tumultuous one and it creates a strain on Namjoon's budding love. Pairing: President!Namjoon x Secretary!OC (Name: Minnie) Genre: Politics AU | Angst Type: Oneshot Rating: MA15+ Word Count: 3.8k+ Warnings: angst (messy encounters), sexual content (quickie, unprotected). Author’s Note: here we are the req for november! it's a little unedited, I apologize, this week got hectic for me but I hope you still enjoy!

Requests are open at the moment so click here to send your ideas in!!

The air in the main office held a subtle buzz each morning as Minnie entered, a stack of papers in hand. Late afternoon sun filtered through the transparent curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Namjoon sat at his deep mahogany table, polished beautifully and adorned by files and vintage pen sets from leaders before him. His dark hair sleek back with just a strand over his forehead, lips pursed in concentration as he looked through the morning news. His black coffee sat next to him, exuding gentle plumes of steam.

Minnie took a few slow steps absentmindedly so she could admire his focus in solitude. But her heels tapped just enough against the wood to move his attention. “I’ve the latest reports for you,” she said, making her voice a blend of professionalism and warmth.

Namjoon fully looked up from his desk, brown eyes softening at the sight of her mimicking the slight melt of his heart. “Always diligent and on time with piling on work,” he said playfully.

Minnie chuckled, setting the papers on his desk. “It’s my job, sir.”

Namjoon placed the newspaper down as he leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving hers. “And looking stunning is part of your job too?”

Heat crept onto Minnie’s cheeks, but she quickly composed herself. “Thank you, sir, but flattery won’t get you out of these reports.” She tapped the pile.

Namjoon grinned, only musing and relishing in her reaction. “I’m just appreciating my morning view.”

“Real smooth,” she raised a brow.

“It’s a skill,” Namjoon smirked. “Gotta hone it with you around.”

Minnie shook her head with a chuckle, turning to leave the office. “I’ve got some meetings for you in the late afternoon so make sure those reports are signed.”

“How about a meeting with you?” Namjoon leaned forward. “We must have some business matters to discuss.”

Minnie opened the door behind her with a playful gleam in her eyes. “Strictly business, I assume?”

Namjoon grinned. “Of course.”

Minnie closed the door immediately, biting down her bottom lip and taking a deep breath to calm the pounding of her heart. Every work day was going to be a near heart attack if this kept going.

-

Despite Minnie’s efforts in maintaining her façade of indifference, a subtle flow of emotions lingered at the back of her mind of Namjoon. She tried to shove those feelings down, anchoring herself in a veneer of professionalism so she doesn’t get consumed. However, her strength was not beyond certain sights.

In Namjoon’s mansion, Minnie organised a gathering amongst members of parliament. At the youngest hours of the party, Namjoon captured the people’s attention with his charisma and air of comfort. Minnie usually stood next to him, wearing a simple brown dress to blend into the hardwood floors and furnishings of the house.

Except deep into the festivities, while Minnie was distracted with the catering organisation, Namjoon was nowhere to be found, leaving a void in the proceedings.

A wave of politicians sent questions Minnie’s way, asking about his sudden disappearance. She reassured them with as much composure as possible before rushing to search for Namjoon.

Minnie looked to the bathrooms and bedrooms first but Namjoon was nowhere to be found. The final option was the private library where Namjoon went for his quiet hours. Perhaps he needed some time to breathe.

However, when Minnie reached the door of the private library, she heard the echoes of a woman’s laughter. It gave her pause for a moment before she continued.

Cracking the door open, Minnie’s eyes widened at the scene inside. Namjoon entangled himself with a woman, the actress who he had been speaking to. She wore a dazzling blue dress glimmering as they moved. Glasses half full of whiskey ignored on the coffee table, and a dizzying blend of perfume and cologne, the mix of Namjoon with his new lover.

Something twisted and gnawed at Minnie’s chest, a clear proof that the flirtations she’d been cherishing were just that. Harmless flirtation. Meaningless.

Gathering what strength was left in her, Minnie took a deep breath to calm herself. “Sir,” she spoke, her voice cutting through the room’s sensual air.

The actress and Namjoon turned towards her, the latter’s drunken smile waning.

“They want you back in the living room,” Minnie declared, her gaze unwavering.

Namjoon, grappling with the sudden intrusion, cleared his throat. “Right.”

The woman gracefully disentangled herself.

As Namjoon adjusted his dishevelled appearance in the mirror, Minnie looked away to maintain any level of control in the flurry of emotions being pushed deep into her chest.

The actress was left to deal with a failed opportunity in luring the country’s leader into a fling. She stayed in the room in perpetual silence.

Minnie and Namjoon stepped out of the room with that same suffocating distance forming between them.

“Minnie,” Namjoon called her name with such softness that it nearly melted Minnie back to her usual self.

But she knew better. The remnants of the woman’s perfume still lingered on his shirt and even as she looked up, a smudge of lipstick stained the collar of his shirt. Minnie hardened quickly. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.”

Namjoon tried to reach out to pull her back and Minnie stepped away, holding her hand up.

“You’re drunk, please.” Minnie intertwined her fingers together, trying to relax her nerves. “Let’s just go.”

Namjoon stammered, pain panging in his chest as Minnie turned her back to him again. All he could do was grapple with the reality of what he had done and follow quietly back to work.

-

The next day began as uncomfortably as Namjoon expected. Formality consumed the daily activities as Minnie gave him the rundown of the day without looking away from her computer screen. He hated how good she was at building walls around herself, making it impossible to push through without breaking his skull or going mad.

To distract himself, Namjoon tried to drink coffee and focus on the morning reports instead. His head ached from his irritating hangover that acted as steel weights on his back.

“Your first meeting is in fifteen minutes, sir.” Minnie broke the silence, her voice modulated and her eyes strayed away from him completely.

Namjoon looked up at her properly which was a terrible mistake. It forced him to look at her face chilled and distant, her beautiful curls hugging her face, a sage green shirt and a deep brown pencil skirt with her favourite pair of crème heels. She looked lovely and further away from him than ever before. “Minnie, we need to talk about last night.” He noticed her pause, fingers hovered over the keyboard and her throat bobbing ever so slightly.

“There’s nothing to talk about, sir.” Minnie said. “You’re a single man and you were with someone. It’s perfectly human and normal but there was just work to be done. Otherwise I wouldn’t have disturbed you.”

“Stop talking like that.” Namjoon didn’t mean for it to sound like an order but he despised every minute of being treated like a stranger by her. Out of all people, not her. “Please. Be angry with me, scold me, anything but don’t do this.”

Minnie’s eyes twitched when she finally saw the melted look in his gaze, choked full of sadness and regret. The twist in her chest made her wince. She looked back down at the laptop. “You made no commitment to me, Namjoon. We work together and you’re charismatic. Realistically, you would end up with someone like that girl. Even not, leaders like you always end up in bed with those girls anyway. I’m just glad we weren’t committed.”

Namjoon let out a light breath of disbelief. “I wouldn’t have done it if we were together.”

Minnie sighed. “You can’t know that for sure and I’m not waiting to see something like that again.” Irritation crept in her tone.

Namjoon welcomed it, however. It was better than cold. “You won’t see it happen again. I wasn’t flirting with you just because I could, I wanted to. I care about you.”

Minnie blinked slowly, a part of her so willing to soften and relish herself into Namjoon’s comforting arms. But a buzz went off in the office. She pressed the message machine. “Yes?”

“Mr. Jung is here,” the assistant outside spoke back.

“Let them wait,” Namjoon said.

“We can’t let them wait.” Minnie stood to her feet and walked to the door to welcome him. “It’s better if we leave this be.”

Those words crushed any little hope left in Namjoon of reviving what they had been tenderly growing. In a way, Namjoon understood it. In all this grand allure and beauty of the world he was in, Namjoon knew of the stories of leaders taking advantage of their power, using the people around them. That night Namjoon fell into the trap. Any excuse he used wouldn’t change that he repeated history that night and Minnie was simply choosing not to be the fool that falls with him.

Defeated, Namjoon didn’t argue further, fighting to preserve whatever work bond was left between them.

-

Two weeks had passed since their confrontation. Namjoon found more comfort in drinking whiskey to calm himself down while using every ounce of his sanity not to look over at Minnie whenever they worked. They only spoke in work terms nowadays without a single whisper of something playful or happy. For a moment, they had a friendly conversation about someone else before falling back into silence.

Minnie sat up quickly when it was time for her break at work to get some tea instead of coffee since her heart kept pounding against her chest. She smelled the lingering whiskey in the room mixing in his cologne and swirling in her head like a maddening song. As she reached the kitchens, she took a deep breath, leaning against the counter.

She turned on the tea kettle, letting the sweeping sound of heat calm her down.

“The boss stressing you out?” Woosung’s voice resounded as he came to fill up his cup of coffee.

“It’s good to get some air,” Minnie said, still focusing more on the sound of the tea kettle.

“I agree,” Woosung leaned his back against the counter. “I hardly get to see you by yourself. Maybe we could get some lunch for a few minutes.”

Minnie eyed him for a moment in confusion as the tea kettle turned off, leaving them with an awkward silence. “That’s fine, I still have work to do.”

“Dinner then?” Woosung asked. “I could get one of the other congressmen to take him to a club.”

“That’s not appropriate.”

Woosung chuckled. “We heard about the actress debacle, I don’t think he cares.” He spoke in between them, relishing in the gossip like that moment wasn’t cutting into Minnie’s heart. “It’s probably best you stay away from him.”

Minnie’s expression hardened, mostly to keep herself from falling apart again. “I work with him, that’s not really possible.” She put an earl grey tea bag into her cup and poured the hot water, hyper-focusing on the warm steam and delicate smell of tea wafting in her nose. Grabbing her cup, she tried to walk back to her office before Woosung stopped her.

“Listen, I’m just saying not to get obsessed with following him around.”

“And getting lunch with you instead at the expense of my job?” Minnie asked, raising a brow. “You think I don’t know why your wife left you?”

Woosung’s expression soured as he cleared his throat.

Minnie hummed in disapproval. “You’re not different. None of you are.” She brushed past him and stomped out of the room, feeling angrier than she did in Namjoon’s office.

-

Another gathering took place on a Friday night which Minnie planned as dread seeped through her veins like a disease. She wore a black dress this time on the night of the occasion and a set of pearls that her mother gifted to her when she received this job. It kept Minnie grounded in some strange way and she cherished the Band-Aid effect of the feeling.

Namjoon wore a stylish blue suit with a tie that had flecks of gold on it, making it shine under the Crystal chandeliers. He captured everyone with a smile that seemed to have forgotten any of that puppy dog pity he had before. As she expected. Namjoon had far too much padding and allure in his life to dwell on her for too long.

Minnie was just glad she left while the wounds could still heal and fade quickly. She kept an eye on the celebrations to ensure everything ran smoothly and for the most part, it did.

Until she saw the actress, whom Minnie found out was called Jangmi, a budding star in her industry and gaining powerful connections in her social circle. She wore a pretty, glimmering green dress as she whisked through the crowd like water against stone and carried herself to Namjoon.

Namjoon caught her presence and his expression turned into that of a slight dread. Minnie recognized it but didn’t think too much. It probably was just a fling and didn’t need to be addressed, yet somehow that felt more painful.

Almost as if any feelings shared between Minnie and Namjoon were enough to be toppled by a few drinks and loose lips. Weak and frail things they built.

Much to her distaste, Namjoon’s gaze moved to find Minnie and she quickly tried to look away. For a moment, Minnie wanted to run away somewhere but then the thing she feared most and expected least happened.

“Helmina, isn’t it?” Jangmi spoke towards her, while forcefully guiding Namjoon along like she was a queen and he was her puppy. “We’re so sorry for the…inconvenience last time, dear.” She patted Namjoons shoulder, pulling on a leash. “We’ll promise to wait till after the party this time.” She giggled.

Minnie pressed her lips into a thin line. “That’s fine, Ms. Kwon.” She attempted a kind smile.

“We don’t need to trouble my secretary on delicate matters now,” Namjoon said with a nervous tick in his tone.

“Oh, I’m just tying up loose ends. I just hate awkward situations.” Jangmi grinned, staring at Minnie like she was nothing but Namjoon’s furniture, patted down and soothed after kicking into it.

“I agree.” Minnie spoke through gritted teeth.

“See? Just a bit of friendliness.” Jangmi cupped his chin, leaning in. “I’ll see you after the party then,” she muttered near his ear before walking away.

Namjoons face looked ready to show his pity and apologetics but anger fueled Minnie like molten lava. It could’ve poured through her mouth and ears if she wasn’t taking a few breaths.

Minnie turned around and finally stomped away, sounds blocked in her ears and only her own heartbeat consuming her mind. She walked up the staircase, blatantly ignoring anyone who would try to approach her. Any slight comment would’ve been enough for her to explode. She needed to get away. Capture silence where she could to preserve her sanity.

Finding the nearest room, Minnie barged inside and slammed the door behind her. She pressed into her temples to ease some of her looming headache. The thickening smells of perfume, cologne, lies and messes. So many messes and yet still. . .still Minnie yearned for him. She hated that Jangmi could touch and hold him without worrying or caring.

Minnie gripped onto her arms as if attempting to comfort herself from the dreaded mix of deep fury and painful stinging in her chest. What was worse, her vulnerable state began to corrode through the layers of her skin, showing her off as open to people like Woosung who loved picking up broken pieces like they were prizes to be had. It only made her blood curdle more.

The door opened gently.

Minnie let out a sigh of frustration. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“It looks like if you don’t, you’ll explode,” Namjoon’s voice echoed in her like freshwater streams and warm sunlight. “So maybe a few words.”

“This is your doing.” Minnie turned to face him, fisted hands at her sides. “You made out with her once and now she thinks she’s the First Lady, gallivanting around like she owns the place.”

“She’s in show business, it’s natural for her to be dramatic.” Namjoon gestured to the door, dark brows furrowed but his voice was still soft, even loving.

She hated it. She hated every minute of it. “It’s causing a scandal.”

“Everyone’s too drunk to really notice,” he said.

“Well, I noticed, it’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to protect my reputation.” Namjoon took a step forward.

“But if your reputation is ruined then it’s a scar on mine.”

“Is that the reason?” Namjoon moved close enough to tower over her.

“Yes, that’s the reason.” Minnie’s words began to grow reluctant as her heart pounded so loud that she was worried it may have echoed in the entire room.

“Are you sure?” Namjoon muttered low and intimately, leaning until their faces were a breath apart.

Minnie’s chest rose and fell. “I’m sure.”

“You don’t sound sure,” Namjoon whispered, hands still in his pockets and only his face hovering over her own. Testing her. Teasing her.

Just at the moment Minnie found home relishing in the closeness, she woke herself up and stepped back. “This doesn’t change anything.”

Namjoon straightened himself up and opened the door, calling for a guard. “Tell Kwon Jangmi to dismiss herself from the celebrations.”

Minnie’s heart jumped in shock. “Namjoon.”

“Inappropriate conduct.”

The guard nodded.

“Wait, stop,” Minnie called out. “You can’t do that, she’ll try to make a big spectacle out of it.”

“Her presence here makes you uncomfortable so I figured.”

“No, don’t send her away.” Minnie raised her hands in defense. “I’m not mad at her, I’m mad at you.”

Namjoon dismissed the guard and closed the door again, locking it this time. “I know you are. That’s why I told you to be angry with me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Minnie said, smashing open the dam and letting it flood. “You’re a big fucking fool. We had something nice and I cared about you, more than I’ve cared about anyone and you just find the prettier actress to get yourself off for a few minutes. I know you were single and were free to do what you wanted but I don’t want that.” She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t want to see you with someone else, I don’t—I want you to be with me.” Her eyes lowered to Namjoon’s shoes as the selfish statement poured out, leaving her exposed and raw.

Namjoon felt a burst of sweetness at the sound of those words ringing in his ear. The confirmation that he so desperately wanted to hear. He walked closer, breaking the distance and holding onto her cheeks like they were pieces of heaven in his hands. He pressed his lips onto hers, warm and loving.

Minnie’s racing heart began to flutter and sing from the kiss, relishing in his fingers moving down to her jawline and neck, ensuring her skin lingered with the memory of his touch. A smile formed on her lips absentmindedly as his kisses became patterned, small pecks as light as a feather before he met his eyes with hers.

“Say it again,” Namjoon said, still cradling her cheeks.

Minnie smiled. “It’s your turn now.”

Namjoon chuckled, nudging his nose against hers. “I want to be with you too.” He kissed her cheek. “All the time.” He kissed the other cheek. “Everyday.” Lips travelled down to her neck as he guided her towards the closest wall, pressing her against the surface. Hands explored the curve of her waist, gripping it tight before moving down to the back of her thigh, lifting her and wrapping her legs around his waist.

Minnie let out a little yelp before laughing breathlessly, reaching down to unzip his pants, the warmth and heft of his member rested free on her palm.

Namjoon bit down the sweet spot of her neck, letting blood rush to skin as his hips ground against her hand stroking his length. He used a hand to push aside her panties, the cloth peeling off the wetness.

Minnie positioned him at her sodden entrance and Namjoon pushed in, snug and full of delight. She let out a small whimper as the length of him filled her to the soft edges of her cervix. Minnie rested her forehead against his shoulder, as Namjoon carefully let her adjust to the feeling.

“You’re okay?” Namjoon asked.

Minnie nodded, cupping his jawline and smiling. “I’m okay.”

Namjoon started with slow thrusts, both to be careful but also to relish in what he may have shamefully imagined more times than he wished to admit. He gently brushed her hairline, tongue exploring her mouth as his thrusts grew deeper, groaning every time she clenched around him, pushing him to his high.

Minnie let out small breaths through her nose as Namjoon overwhelmed her in a kiss. She broke it for a moment as he became rhythmic, clothes rubbing against their skin until their skin felt raw and the heat between them clouding any sense of the world outside of their bubble.

A knock resounded on the door. “Sir, a few people are calling for you.” One of the guards spoke through the wood.

Minnie bit down her bottom lip to block out any noise.

Namjoon didn’t reply, brows scrunched and focused on their pleasure. Forehead pressed as he fucked into her with more desperation.

A whimper escaped from the back of her throat before she placed a hand over her mouth.

The knock repeated. “Sir. . .they’re being insistent.”

Namjoon groaned under his breath. “Tell them to wait.” The lace of frustration in his tone sent tingles in her lower belly, already filled to burst. He smiled down at her, pressing a kiss on the back of her hand before grinding into her, member pulsating and twitching as he rolled to the edge of his orgasm.

Minnie’s own climax ricocheted through her body like fireworks as he kept rubbing into her clit until her legs shook around his waist. His groans and moans vibrated through her body as she felt the warm liquid fill her to the brim. She let out a shaky breath, kissing his cheek.

Namjoon rested inside her as they began to catch their breaths, finding comfort and care in their embrace while chaos brewed outside. Finally, he placed Minnie gently back onto the floor before cleaning themselves up in the bathroom. Minnie’s legs wobbled as she walked for a moment which earned a chuckle from Namjoon.

“Sea legs?” Namjoon asked.

Minnie slapped his arm playfully. “Go and tend to your subjects.”

Namjoon smirked, giving her a final kiss as he returned to the prim and proper leader. “Yes, ma’am.” As he opened the door, their work faces formed back onto their flushed expressions naturally. And this time, Minnie welcomed it knowing behind that expression was someone that was only for her eyes to see.

masterlist

[nocturnalazure]

📩 Simblr question of the day: Do you have a process for making your simblr posts?

answer in whatever way is most comfortable for you and feel free to share this SQOTD around, make sure to use the hashtag SQOTD and tag me in separate posts ~ 💛

This question was contributed by an anon in @simblr-question-of-the-day !

Thank you so much for your ask, Anon! ❤️

I gotta say, I had first understood the question at a very basic level. 😅 How do I make a post? Well...

I queue my stuff almost immediately and I keep a few character asks and reblogs for the times when I don't have any story content to post, but I don't like having too many drafts (like, "it's right there, I have to poooooost iiiiiit 🤪").

Story posts get published between 2pm and 4pm CET, at the pace of about 2 to 4 posts per day.

The rest (photo shoots, character asks and rambles, etc) gets published either at around the same time of day or whenever I feel like it.

But now, I see that other people have answered this question by explaining their creative process. So I thought I would also explain mine (haven't I done this before?). My process is quite similar to @kimmiessimmies, but I do things in a different order.

Timeline

I have a timeline and a very messy one! It used to be only in my head, then in a Word document, and now it's finally in an Excel sheet. It includes detailed ideas about the next scenes, where I'm going to shoot them, which characters are going to be involved, some lines that I absolutely need to use, and broader musings on where the story is going within a time frame of about 8,000 years.

It's a beast that's alive and constantly mutating.

2. Set up

Setting up a scene is easy prep work. If I don't have one in mind yet, I roam about some neighborhoods for a nice shooting location. I make sure that everything is in place for the next scenes: dressing up Sims, adding some story-related decor items, looking up CC if I miss something important, making sure I got all the characters I need in the same household and teleporting them on the lot I'm going to shoot in.

3. Pose selection / Shooting

Whenever I can summon enough energy and inspiration, I go in game and the first thing I do is pre-select some poses for the scene I need to shoot according to my timeline. From there, I go with the flow. I need to be hyperfocused because I'm in total improv mode. I use several poses in different angles. Sometimes a specific pose/expression gives me new ideas and I go in a different direction than what I had planned. Sometimes I cannot find the exact pose/expression I want and I have to work around that. Sometimes I'm inspired, sometimes I'm not. Very often, the game crashes and I get very upset.

The dialogues start taking shape while I'm shooting.

4. Picture selection / Writing

When I have enough screenshots to write at least one scene (although I generally wait to have several scenes ready), I start writing and make a prayer to my muse that I'll remember the dialogues I had in mind while shooting. That part is both the best and the worst. The best because I can really get "in the zone", and the worst because I easily have writer's block and get stupidly stuck on a line.

Through this whole process, I use Comic Life. I select a pic, smash it into my story template, select a speech bubble and start typing. Rinse and repeat. I sometimes rewrite entire parts, changing the order of the pics. I use about 40% of the shots I take. I do very little editing, only to correct clipping or lighting. Once I feel like I have enough pics to make an update (about 150-200 - I often have to repeat steps 3 and 4 until I'm satisfied), I export everything from Comic Life in jpg format. My husband is my proof-reader. I hate re-reading my own shit at this stage because it's smeared with my tears and blood and I just want it out.

5. Posting on Tumblr

Next I prepare the Tumblr posts, adding tags and scheduling everything. I post a preview, usually a day before the queue starts. Maybe I should leave some more time between preview and first post, but I'm too impatient to wait. IT.MUST.BE.OUT.

6. Posting on WordPress

I used to prepare the WP draft post at the same time as the Tumblr scheduling, with a date set for publication on the day of the last Tumblr posts. I don't do that anymore because I make minor edits all the frigging time and I then need to update both my Tumblr queue AND my WP draft. So I prepare my WP post once my Tumblr queue has almost run out. Since I use my WP mostly for myself, to keep some sort of table of content, it wouldn't be a big deal if I ever forgot to publish and was a few days late.

Voilà!

Like I said, a lot in common with my fellow Sims storytellers but in a slightly different order! I hadn't intended to write a whole essay, yet here we are. 🙃 Apologies, I'll shut up now. 🤐

Thank you again for the ask, Nonny!

[pzfr]

GET TO KNOW YOUR ADMIN !!

name — Donk / Doc Retro

pronouns — he/him

preferred comms — Tumblr asks/IMs first, Discord is an option once I get to know people better.

name of muse — Rex

experience in RP — Been at it for ages on & off casually, really got into RP around 2016 or so when I tried out tumblr blogs as a format and really liked how it helped me organize things and space out my replies (even if sometimes I have the instinct to respond right away to some threads haha)

best experiences — Plenty. Lately I've had some great toku-inspired storylines with @5mind, and I always look back on threads I have with pals like @viopolis, @saizansha, @damnlamb, @outofthiisworld and everybody!

pet peeves/dealbreakers — More than once I've found myself held to rules that don't also apply to the person setting them, not a fan of that. Nor when I'm giving attention to their characters/world/lore but not really receiving the same regard, especially if we communicated OOC about it already or emphasized details get glossed over in threads.

muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ) — I like variety and balance. Slice of life that can include fluff/angst/crack, but also just mundane ennui and more evenly paced humor. Action/adventure/mystery/situation comedy and stuff-- whether small or large scale helps diffuse a bit.

plot or memes — I try to reblog memes still as first interaction ice breakers, or even something to help get the ideas flowing with folks I already know. Plotting remains the best way to try and hash out specifics though!

long or short replies — Whatever gets the intent and feeling across at the time, as much or as little as that may be. I'm more interested these days in what folks have to say and how they say it than how "productive" they are.

best time to write — I try to belt out a response of some kind whenever I can, preferably sooner rather than later but this varies. Helps if available free time intersects with a surge of motivation/inspiration but sometimes you just gotta get something out there at all, even if conditions aren't optimal and the solar system's planetary bodies haven't converged yet. Not to say prioritize RP as #1, just don't be hard on yourself if things aren't perfect, y'know? It's a hobby.

are you like your muse?: In some ways, though I think over time my characters-- the ones I RP or write in original stories, have become exaggerations of traits, whether existing qualities of my own or not. Qualities I like/dislike, want to reconcile with, or aspire towards. Their experiences are larger than life but can still serve as metaphors for commonplace things we all deal with.

TAGGED: @saiyanandproud

TAGGING: everyone I @'d above plus uhhhhh, @ozonelasher @iobartach @silenthcwl/@guardiiadorata @quartarcade @oh-nxts-and-bxlts and anybody else who wants to can jump in too!!

[fanfoolishness]

Jedi: Fallen Order musings

Ahhh I finished the game! I suppose I don't really need to put spoiler tags for it, since it's several years old. But it was highly enjoyable and I loved it!

I love how much games are embracing character work these days. I expect it from Bioware, of course, but seeing it from EA and a major property like Star Wars is still really refreshing. I should have guessed that a story set just a few years after Order 66 about a young Jedi would be full of trauma, but I wasn't expecting it to be as in-depth and sensitive as it was. Trauma colors everything in this story, from Cal's wounded connection to the Force, to Cere cutting herself off from it entirely, to Merrin's fear and grief. Even BD-1 grieves his old friend and master and Greez still misses his great-grandmother.

I've seen a few articles about how Cal seemed like a flat or boring character, but I didn't get that at all. He's an 18-year-old young man whose childhood was obliterated by war, who's so afraid of his past and his power that he hasn't tried to leave Bracca in 5 years. He's so guarded at first, because he's had to be. He's slow to trust Cere and Greez, and that trust is broken when he learns what happened to Cere's Padawan. In his youth he reacts like many of us would -- arrogantly and self-righteously -- but it all flows from the deep scars he carries and is so afraid to face from losing his own Master. Fear leads to anger, of course.

He's afraid of trusting again, afraid of being hurt again, so afraid that it isn't until 3/4 of the way through the game that he finally bears to revisit the memories again from Order 66. Facing that loss, and that guilt for not being able to save his master, incapacitates him so badly that a Force vision shatters his lightsaber. (The game remembers it, too, and the animation of Cal reaching out of habit for his lightsaber and realizing it's broken every time you try to use it is heartbreaking.) When he goes to Ilum to try to forge a new lightsaber, he can't help but remember when he came here as a Padawan. BD-1 checks in on him and Cal tells him, no, he's not okay, it's hard for him to be there. The kid is just a massive ball of pain and trauma and watching him slowly unravel that and move forward through the course of the game is a powerful journey. No personality, my ass, LOL.

And Cere's journey! Her grief is far more complex than Cal's because she bears more guilt, and she was a fully fledged Jedi who thought she could keep others safe, and she failed. Fear and anger rule her, too, but despite that she's stubborn as hell, holding onto hope through everything. Her grief and suffering are revealed slowly and carefully through the game, and seeing the way she starts to heal by mentoring Cal is beautiful. When he falls down, she picks him up, even when he distrusts her -- and when she falls, too, he echoes her teaching back to her and helps her rise. Seeing her recovery of her confidence, her skills, her trust in herself -- ahh I'm tearing up again thinking about it. Also, she is fucking badass with a lightsaber!!!

I'm really excited to see what happens with Merrin in Jedi: Survivor (no spoilers, please!). Can't believe a Jedi and a Nightsister could find common ground, but "I'm the last of my kind" is a trauma bond like no other! I love her weird unsettling energy and the fact that she teases Greez and that when she had a choice to stay in the graveyard of her people and the past or strike out into the unknown, she chose to go.

... Reminds me, I still gotta go find all the seeds for Greez's terrarium. How else will he have the best space garden if not for me? Love him too. I'm always a sucker for gruff scoundrel accidentally catches family feels, and he's no exception.

And BD-1. My buddy, my friend, my savior, my companion. I loved Cal able to warm up and be relaxed with BD, and I loved BD's absolute helpfulness and sweet little noises. If anything happens to him I WILL kill everyone and then myself. ... same goes for Cal, in the end...

Note, I am hoping that whatever happens to Cal and BD, that it's hopeful. Jedi have a nasty habit of all dying out by A New Hope, but uh... maybe Cal will be different! We can hope!!! ;_; Well, we're just not gonna think about that.

I liked the ending. The further we kept going I started agreeing with Merrin and thinking "is this holocron such a good thing to have?" Cal's vision of the Padawans being tortured and himself as an Inquisitor, and the wisdom from the Zeffo sages bemoaning their hubris and the extinction they faced, certainly made it seem like trying to rebuild the Order wasn't the right choice, at least for now. As Cordova said, failure is part of the journey. Honestly a hopeful life lesson and one I need to remember when things don't come out as planned or hoped.

Also. How about Darth Vader just DESTROYING you? I had to look up how to get away because I just kept insta-dying with the Force choke XD The ONLY way to have him duel you is to just show instantly that you are NOWHERE NEAR HIS LEVEL! Dude didn't even get a health bar ahahahahah it was hopeless XD

Other scattered thoughts: with the exception of the Wookiees (sorry, hair technology just wasn't far enough along yet for them), the graphics were gorgeous. I loved exploring the different areas, especially as I gained more skills and abilities, and collecting creature logs and Force echoes. Cal's psychometry skill is very, very cool and I loved it. And I adored the Origin Tree! WOW! Did anyone else get a King's Quest vibe from it? I mean, come on!

In the meantime, where's my Fallen Order people to yell at? I haven't played more than 20 minutes of Survivor so all I can say about that is Cal's new beard and TATTOO are pretty great, though I miss my poncho ;_; but if anyone wants to yell about the first game with me, I'm here!

[brainrotlesbian]

Trubshaw, Sr. Part 2

Part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/brainrotlesbian/732216943553232896/trubshaw-sr

CW: chained, gagged, physical violence

He didn’t know how long he’d been hanging there. Weeks? Months? Years? Time all blurred together, meaninglessly. He was exhausted, the headache never-ending and growing in intensity. It was the same routine: wake up still chained, sometimes gagged, and be beaten by Mr. Trout and Mr. Pickles. Occasionally, Snatcher himself would do the himself, followed by insistence that he build him a death machine.

And every time, he would refuse. He couldn’t be made to destroy an entire species like that. But still, he was starving, and would only be given food if he cooperated. He knew he couldn’t give in, and yet—

Crack.

Herbert Trubshaw screamed as a fist connected with his face, breaking his nose. Blood spurted from his nostrils, causing him to choke and gag on it as it filled his windpipe. He coughed, unable to spit out the gag in his mouth, or the blood that filled it.

“Come on, Trubshaw, all you gotta do is agree to build my device, and this will stop,” Snatcher mused. “I’ll even get you some jelly! I know how much you liked jelly.”

“Mmm… nnph.” He shook his head, tasting the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, soaking into his gag.

He thought of his son, his boy. His baby. How old would he be now? He wasn’t sure. Was he safe? Was he still alive? Oh, he regretted the way things had played out. He wished he could be there with his son, protecting him. Raising him. Teaching him to be inventive, compassionate, kind, and understanding.

But, no. He couldn’t do that now. Not hanging upside down, chained and gagged, beaten within an inch of his life. He was breaking.

Jelly. Snatcher had mentioned jelly, and oh, how he loved jelly. He longed for a taste of it, rather than the dirty cloth shoved in his mouth, or the blood trickling down his throat. He groaned miserably.

“Are you breaking, Mr. Trubshaw?” Snatcher asked. “Tired of this?”

“Nnnuuuhhhh.” He was exhausted. He hurt. He was starving. He couldn’t take it anymore. “Plll— pfffff…”

“Is that a ‘no, stop, please, Mr. Snatcher, I’ll do whatever you want?’, Mr. Trubshaw?” Snatcher growled. “If not—”

“Mmmff!” He squirmed, choking further on the blood that never stopped flowing.

“Do you want me to stop? And do you agree to help me?”

Trubshaw nodded, tears flowing down his upside-down face. Snatcher’s face lit up, in a horribly grotesque way. His crooked, rotting teeth glinted in the dim light of the factory. He’d just made a horrible mistake, but he had no choice. It was cow to Snatcher’s demands, or die.

[nightlight-writes]

Sakura Crown (Ike Eveland x Reader)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

Disclaimer: All characters and events depicted are meant to be fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is unintended.

You were sitting under a sakura tree, assembling a crown from small, dark brown branches. Tiny pink petals adorned them, and even more dispersed from even the gentlest breeze, giving the air a subtle, yet sweet scent. Almost everyone had a camera of some kind, their photographs forever preserving the memory of a seasonal, maybe even once-in-a-lifetime event. In particular, many couples could be seen paying photographers to take their photos in the center of the park, where the petals were most abundant.

—Bzzzt!—

The loud ringing of your phone provided a rather unwelcome distraction from the peaceful atmosphere. After checking the caller ID, you accepted.

“Hey, I just want to check up on you. Anything you’re doing today?”

The voice coming from the phone was soft and sweet, if somewhat high-pitched. You heard it before in voice chats, but a phone call? That was new.

“Oh, I’m viewing the cherry blossoms today. What about you?”

“I’m going to see the cherry blossoms too! It’s my first time, so I can’t wait.”

Wait, he was here too? You quickly stood up to find him, taking your bag and the flower crown you just made with you. Actually being in the crowd was a lot more intimidating than observing it, you mused as you wiped some sweat off your forehead.

A man with ashy brown hair and thin, black frames waved at you. You ran over to him, remembering his appearance from the many photos he’d send to you. Upon getting a closer look at him, you noticed his attire was a lot lighter than usual. In place of his usual blue scarf was a thin, blue linen coat over a beige cardigan, coupled with high-waisted brown gingham pants and leather shoes. Seeing him in person was certainly an experience.

“Ike! You’re here!”

“Hey ____! It’s our first time meeting in-person if I’m not mistaken. I gotta say, you look really pretty today.”

“And you look really pretty too!”

You smiled as you got an idea for your first outing together.

“Would you like if we spent the day together? I could really use your company.”

“No need to ask, my friend.

He extended a hand wrapped in lace gloves to you, linking your hands together. The two of you slowly walked along the path, taking in the sights before you. Sakura petals were strewn all over the floor, and many more were falling from the trees. A fair few people were staring at you as you walked over the wooden bridge, wondering if you two were already a couple.

As you watched the river flowing from behind the rails, the sound of a notification came ringing from Ike’s pocket, and he suddenly burst out into laughter.

“I know you don’t find these as funny as I do, but just look at this pic I got sent. It’s just-” His words were interrupted by another burst of laughter, causing you to look over at his screen.

The images were, quite frankly, just as incomprehensible as when you first started talking with him. You could at least tell that the pictures had over-the-top graphic design and that some words were meant as funny ways to refer to mundane things, but you still couldn’t figure out just what made your friend so seemingly infatuated with them.

In the midst of his merriment, a sakura petal fell straight on his nose, causing him to sneeze. You were about to giggle at the sight, but then you noticed his grip loosening and eventually letting go of his phone. In an instant, you bent down and brought your hand out in front of you, catching the phone and holding it tightly.

“Ah! I didn’t mean to inconvenience you! I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to drop my phone just like that!”, he said as you handed his phone over to him.

“It’s fine. Just be more careful next time, okay?”

“I promise I’ll be more careful when holding my phone, alri— achoo! —”

Ike sneezed again, and you noticed the little sakura petal on his nose. You flicked it off with your finger and presented it to him, causing him to blush slightly.

“So that’s why I was sneezing! But it’s so cute…”

“It really is, isn’t it?” You giggled a little bit. “But you know what’s cuter?”

“What? Me?”, he asked with a skeptical tone.

You placed the flower crown you had made earlier right on his head, catching him off-guard. His cheeks reddened further for just a few seconds, after which a huge smile was on his face, his eyes gleaming like small peridots.

“See? You look pretty cute, Sir. Eveland!”

“You’re giving me too much praise.” His expression turned into that of a pout. “And why do you always use my last name like that? Isn’t it too formal for you?”

Your only response was a laugh.

“Well, I actually think it’s cute.”

“Then allow me to say your name is cute too.”

You blushed a bit at his response, unaware of just how your name could possibly be considered “cute.” He was the one with the cute name and the flower crown on his head, not you!

“Come on. I’m just telling the truth. No need to get all embarrassed about it.”

Despite his words, he had to admit that that blush on your cheeks was cute in it’s own right.

[wildskissed]

GET TO KNOW ME MEME ! !

NAME — pyro, but some of you know me by my name/name PRONOUNS — she/her SEXUALITY — demisexual, which is admittedly why a few of my more popular muses are as well, because it's easy to write, lol SINGLE / TAKEN — taken

THREE FACTS

— I used to teach preschool — I’m a published author — My ideas were used for a few episodes of a very popular cult phenomenon show that ran for 15 years...

EXPERIENCE

HOW LONG — Have I been writing? Since 6th grade. My teacher added an extra credit part to our weekly homework packets for me because I was always writing random short stories in class in my free time and she thought it would be fun if we all had a chance to do that. RPing? Since 2006, and it was on a Star Trek forum that no longer exists. It was also fully comprised of OCs only, so it boggled my mind--still does--that when I came to Tumblr that was so frowned upon, because that was all I knew. WHAT PLATFORMS — A couple of forums, one for Start Trek and one that was a world that my sister and I created that took off with our friends and some other people we never met in real life, lol. We also did Twitter RP for a while for FanFic characters, and then I ended up on Tumblr, and very rarely do a I sometimes do Discord RP. BEST EXPERIENCE — I love Tumblr most days, but those forums were hands down the best. We all collaborated on ideas, and we all gushed about each other's OC's, and we genuinely wanted everyone to have a good time. We also got really into editing and manips, which was why when I was involved in said cult phenomenon, I used to make fan videos too by meshing different shows and movies together. I still do that occasionally, but mostly I just work on my own novels, lol. Honestly, probably why Eve has taken off as she has with the group of you that I've surrounded myself with because we all do the same--we collaborate and gush and protect each other.

MUSE TYPE

FEMALE OR MALE — I heavily lean towards female muses. I don't know why that is, because I do have male muses that I have used in the past, and I love writing male characters, but I have never been able to stick with one that I RPed. Because of that, I absolutely RP females constantly. FLUFF , ANGST OR SMUT — I love them all! Angst is my niche though. I've been known for it in every serious writing group I have ever been in, but I still love fluff and I do love smut if I'm in the mood for it. I try not to turn cute threads into angst too, but I know that I'm guilty of that sometimes, haha. PLOTS OR MEMES — ALL OF THE ABOVE LONG OR SHORT REPLIES — I prefer longer replies, but I understand that those can take a toll, and sometimes, I'm more in the mood for a shorter quippy thread, you know? So, it really depends on the mood, and how my partner is feeling. BEST TIME TO WRITE — When I have the muse to. That's such a response, but, it's just true. I have such limited time because of my work schedule, so I'm mostly on in the mornings or on Sundays, but honestly, you can't force writing to happen. You really gotta go with the flow. ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) — I mean...yes and no? I have muses that I have absolutely nothing in common with, but I also feel like, most of us pick muses that we at least see one trait in common with them? Easier to write what you know? Like I write L.ove Q.uinn, but I wouldn't say I am like her. I have a mothering streak like Eve does, and I can be a bit of an arrogant brat like Y.ennefer, but I don't know that I'd ever compare myself to my muses, lol.

TAGGED BY STOLEN FROM: the dash and i can't remember from whom TAGGING: @illithidploy, @arcanecast, @shadovan, @miidnighters, @dxnse-macabre, @fereldensheroes, @altrxisme, @luposcainus, @championsofthegate, @alittlebitofmuse, @wolf-eyes-wolf-soul, and you ! !

[mtreebeardiles]

Fandom Questions

Ah! Got tagged by @theoriginalladya - Many thanks! I think I read this at like...some obscene hour in the early morning, passed back out, and promptly forgot about it til just now hahaha

Tagging let's see uhhh... @urdnotflexthejedibard @aleiocus @solstheimtxt @clericofshadows and uhhh @illusivesoul -- only if ya'll want to, of course!

How many works do you have on AO3? 50!

What's your total AO3 words count? 643,168

What fandoms do you write for? That have actually been posted: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda, Cyberpunk: 2077, Dragon Age, Fallout 4, The Outer Worlds

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Intangible Things (131) The Paths You Take (125) Biotic Theory (95) No Matter What (92) Stealing for Spite (92)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to! Even just an expression of gratitude, though I'm not averse to rambling hahaha

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmm that's probably No Matter What, my in between fic for ME2 and ME3...

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Currently, gotta say Restoration (ME3/Post-ME3, mshepclone x Major Coats)

Do you get hate on fics? Hmm I don't think I'd qualify anything as "hate," but I have had readers express a dislike for a direction I seemed to be going in. Eh, what can ya do?

Do you write smut. If so what kind? I do! Generally not very explicit, and I'm a sucker for fluffy smut specifically. I love lovers being incredibly dorky together, and that includes in the bedroom.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Hahahah, yes. Stardew Effect is a crossover of Mass Effect and Stardew Valley that I'm surprised got a lot of positive reception haha

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge

Have you ever had a fic translated? No

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? No. Original works, yes, but that was a while back, and never for fanfics.

What's your all-time favourite ship? I gotta pick ONE!? How about...one per my favorite fandoms...ME: mshenko, ME:A, mreyder, and Cyberpunk: m!V x Kerry

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? It's not a matter of doubt, it's a matter of getting my muses to be consistent. I'll get to all WIPs in due time, though some may be absorbed into other projects that better suit them

What are your writing strengths? I like to think I'm mechanically and stylistically pretty consistent?

What are your writing weaknesses? Plotting. Outlining. Like long-form, I just can't follow an outline to save my life

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I've had some interjections of other languages (mostly Spanish, since I have some very very basic understanding there), but otherwise I don't think I could get the words to flow right if it wasn't primarily in my native language.

First fandom you wrote for? TECHNICALLY? Tortall. But I was like, 11 and idr what it was even about. More recently, Mass Effect.

Favourite fic you've ever written? Ahh that's hard! Restoration will always have a special place in my heart, but Chasing Storms had some really fun moments too in terms of writing in and of itself

[flowerwrites06]

affairs of state — knj (teaser)

This fic has been released, click the title below to check it out!

AFFAIRS OF STATE | Kim Namjoon | Oneshot | Request

Original Request: Can I request for a President Namjoon x Reader (she can be an assistant or a just a simple fun loving girl who meets Namjoon out of nowhere). Namjoon falls for her, BAD and try his hardest to make her the light of his life. Make it angstyyyyy yum I love angst 😭 – @sarzkh31 Plot: The allures of power and politics is a tumultuous one and it creates a strain on Namjoon's budding love. Pairing: President!Namjoon x Secretary!OC (Name: Minnie) Genre: Politics AU | Angst Type: Oneshot Rating: MA15+ Word Count: 300+ (for teaser) Warnings: angst, sexual content. Author’s Note: oh boy this month was hard to choose. I've been having a slight writers block so this might not be the longest story but I've been trying to slowly getting my flow back haha hope you enjoy this teaser! p.s. this scene is cutesy but there is angst, trust me lol

The air in the main office held a subtle buzz each morning as Minnie entered, a stack of papers in hand. Late afternoon sun filtered through the transparent curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Namjoon sat at his deep mahogany table, polished beautifully and adorned by files and vintage pen sets from leaders before him. His dark hair sleek back with just a strand over his forehead, lips pursed in concentrations as he looked through the morning news. His black coffee sat next to him, exuding gentle plumes of steam.

Minnie took a few slow steps absentmindedly so she could admire his focus in solitude. But her heels tapped just enough against the wood to move his attention. “I’ve the latest reports for you,” she said, making her voice a blend of professionalism and warmth.

Namjoon fully looked up from his desk, brown eyes softening at the sight of her mimicking the slight melt of his heart. “Always diligent and on time with piling on work,” he said playfully.

Minnie chuckled, setting the papers on his desk. “It’s my job, sir.”

Namjoon placed the newspaper down as he leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving hers. “And looking stunning is part of your job too?”

Heat crept onto Minnie’s cheeks, but she quickly composed herself. “Thank you, sir, but flattery won’t get you out of these reports.” She tapped the pile.

Namjoon grinned, only musing and relishing in her reaction. “I’m just appreciating my morning view.”

“Real smooth,” she raised a brow.

“It’s a skill,” Namjoon smirked. “Gotta hone it with you around.”

Minnie shook her head with a chuckle, turning to leave the office. “I’ve got some meetings for you in the late afternoon so make sure those reports are signed.”

“How about a meeting with you?” Namjoon leaned forward. “We must have some business matters to discuss.”

Minnie opened the door behind her with a playful gleam in her eyes. “Strictly business, I assume?”

Namjoon grinned. “Of course.”

Minnie closed the door immediately, biting down her bottom lip and taking a deep breath to calm the pounding of her heart. Every work day was going to be a near heart attack if this kept going. 

masterlist

[amusingmusie]

Hello Musie! I hope you are doing well on this out of touch Thursday. Would you be comfortable with sharing what inspired you to begin writing? Do you have a muse of your own that inspires the way you build dynamics between your characters? I was curious if you had anything that you had outside of source material (ie Hazbin) that helped motivate you?

I've always loved to write, but always burned myself out before the ideas manifested into something more substantial than daydreams. You have inspired me to at least focus that energy into comments and questions! I just wanted to say that you have a fresh approach to building meaningful conflict between characters and developing background YT. You've got me researching New Orleans history so I can further the immersion as I read! I still cannot get over how fleshed out Nel is. I can absolutely go on, but yeah!

Thanks a million :)

Hello! Sorry I answered this so late (it's Monday for me whoops!). I can't lie, I got really excited to answer this so I can nerd the hell out and YAP PROFUSELY.

What inspired me to write- With every single piece of media consume, I immediately (and I mean immediately) begin to construct some kind of OC to throw into that universe, and Nel was no exception! I got very attached to human Alastor since one of my favorite things about Hazbin is the tradegy of the human lives the characters lived, and Alastor's death in particular seemed incredibly tragic (but deserved) that I ended up fixating on it. I think something I asked myself was "Goddamn, I wonder how people who knew him reacted to his end?". That, combined with how much I loved Al's dynamic with Husk/Vaggie (the sterner characters) birthed Nel pretty quickly after I watched the pilot.

I NEVER thought I'd post a fic. Like ever. I did not think I could do it. I've been writing for myself for years and I would write on the job (I was doing secretary work at the time), so this story slowly started building and building until I had the whole thing drafted. It wasn't going to be posted until I started casually going through the Al/reader tag and saw that there was BARELY any human Alastor. And I sorta thought weeeellll I guess I gotta be the change I wish to see, I've got the whole thing drafted, why not? I'll see how long I stick with it. The fandom was super dead at the time, so I figured my fic wouldn't be exposed to a lot of people anyway, so why not?

Then you insane (/pos) people got invested in my silly shit and I am still in fucking awe that everyone is so supportive!

As for other muses (heehee) that give me inspiration- READ DEAD REDEMPTION 2. I love the RDR series, I am obsessed with it, and I think the storytelling is so beautiful. The setting gave me a small amount of inspiration (the wilderness and the country, rugged characters) but mostly the impact of the story and writing has had a lot of influence on my creativity if that makes sense? The dialogue feels insanely natural, they use old-timey slang without it dominating the conversations, and the story flows deliciously. Like, the game has had a huge impact on my life and I think if I had half the effect on you guys with my fic as that had on me, I could die somewhat happily.

And finally, I'm glad my work has a bit of a motivator for you! I'm not the best at giving advice to get motivated to start writing (I live in hyperfixation hell), but what I can say is that when something sticks, nurture it :) Try writing for yourself and see what feels right first. You never know what it can turn into!