#can you think a little harder about what an actual good solution is. other than increasing govt enforced censorship and making it even

[porto-rosso]

research project presentations in english today and this one girl goes up and talks about how pornography is inherently harmful for women so we need to ban it entirely. hell school

[theemporium]

[4.9k] things start to feel real as luke’s rookie season in the nhl officially begins. but maybe it’s not as bad as he thought. and maybe those good vibes will follow him off the ice too. (smut)

series masterlist

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“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

Your smile widened as you pulled the door open further, letting the boy shuffle inside with a small wince at the bright sun shining through your windows. The hood of his jumper was thrown over his head, his curls a mess and his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses he stole from Jack’s room after he woke up. 

It wasn’t the best state for you to see him but, truthfully, that was not his biggest concern at the moment. 

A few months away from college and he almost forgot what a bad influence his friends could be when it came to drinking. There was a vague memory somewhere around the fifth round of shots where Luke was pretty sure Nico tried to get them to drink some water, but it was pointless when Ethan found another bottle of tequila and insisted they had to drink it before it went to waste.

And, to Luke’s drunken mind, that sounded like the most logical solution. 

He was honestly surprised the three of them had managed to wake up early enough to catch the plane back to Michigan. They had woken him up to say goodbye, muttering something about afternoon practice and other things that Luke vaguely remembered before he fell back asleep for a few hours. 

Luke was pretty sure he was still drunk when he woke up a second time to the sound of Jack blasting music in the kitchen. 

Somewhere between his annoying brother and the lingering anxiety that followed with the hangover as result of the night before, Luke found himself at a local bakery to grab some goods before he stopped over at your place, not even thinking to message you beforehand (if he even knew where his phone was). 

“But you don’t smell shit so that’s a plus,” you noted as you shut the door behind him before taking pity on his state, dragging the curtains shut again whilst Luke muttered his thanks under his breath.

“I think I bought half the bakery,” Luke admitted with a sheepish expression as he extended the bag towards you. “I asked for every cherry based thing they owned, which surprisingly isn’t much.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe I should have tried another bakery.”

You laughed, brows raised in question. “I’m surprised you can stomach anything right now.”

“Oh, I can’t,” Luke said, his nose scrunching up in disgust like the idea made him feel nauseous. It did, if he was being honest. It was bad enough he almost threw up after Jack made him chug some water. “These were…well, they were the start of an apology.”

You tilted your head to the side.

“For…abandoning you in my room after everything,” he continued, his cheeks heating up. Because apparently no matter how much he drank the night before, he remembered well enough that he was a bit of a dick with how he ran off with his friends. “It was a shitty move. And it was shitty for me to make you hide under the bed.”

“That did throw me off,” you admitted, though there was a slight teasing tilt to your voice. “Although, your bed was surprisingly clean under there. No plates growing mould or other questionable diseases.”

Luke scoffed a little. “I’m not a slob.”

You shot him a look.

“I’m not that much of a slob,” Luke corrected, grumbling under his breath before he let out a sigh. “You know, you are making this apology a lot harder than I imagined it being.”

“Probably doesn’t help that you’re hungover as fuck,” you teased, but you took the baked good from him. You peaked inside, noting just how much he had actually bought and something warm twisted in your stomach. “You really didn’t have to. It wasn’t that big of a deal, Luke.”

“But it was to me,” he murmured, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I…I shouldn’t have done that. Like, don’t get me wrong, I love my friends. And I know they wouldn’t judge me but…”

“Hey,” you stepped forward, reaching out to gently touch him. “It’s fine, I promise. This was a part you hid from them for so long and it freaked you out. I get it.”

“I’m not embarrassed by you,” he blurted out, because apparently he has no filter or control over the words leaving his mouth. “Just in case you thought that. Because I’m not. The boys would probably love you but like—”

“You just don’t want them asking questions,” you finished for him, watching as the boy shyly nodded his head. “You don’t have to explain yourself but thank you, anyways. And thank you for the pastries.” 

“Right,” he cleared his throat, nodding a little. “Well, I–”

“Go lay down,” you said, a smile growing on your face when his shoulders slumped in relief. “I wasn’t lying when I said you looked like shit. The fact you are even awake before noon is shocking, to be honest.”

“Thank you,” he sighed in relief as he made his way towards your couch, his feet shuffling against the floor. “If I had to go back and listen to Jack blast his obnoxious playlists, I would have died.”

You snorted. “Aw, baby is facing his first, proper hangover outside of cheap college vodka.”

He pulled his sunglasses off to glare at you. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” 

“Lie down,” you prompted as you gently pushed him a step forward. “We can nap on the couch. I’ll even show you the trick to hangovers.”

He raised his brows. “It’s not gonna be some weird shit like drinking raw egg yolks, is it?” 

“I was going to offer head scratches but if you want raw eggs—”

“No!”

You grinned. “That’s what I thought.” 

…

The thing about playing with the team during playoffs was that, as amazing as it was, they did get knocked out and the whole thing felt fairly short-lived.

Don’t get him wrong, it was still a surreal experience. Hockey had been a constant in his life, something that always felt familiar and welcoming no matter where he was. It had felt as recognisable and comforting to him as his family was. 

But to know he had made it? To know he was skating and playing and wearing the jersey of an NHL team? 

It brought a new thrill to hockey he had never expected, but basked in, nonetheless. It added an extra layer, an extra kick that college hockey could never compete with. It made him feel like everything was worth it, that everything worked out and his dreams aligned with the stars and—fuck, he was making his debut in the National Hockey League. 

But as fast as it came, it went. 

And then summer happened. 

And he was distracted by long nights in Michigan summer heat and cool beers and boat rides that made him feel like nothing else existed beyond the lakehouse. It felt like he was just a normal guy, spending the summer break with his brothers and his friends and pretending like life was always this easy. 

It was his last thread to normalcy before his life fully changed. 

And then he was moving to Jersey, his belongings packed into boxes and cases as he moved in with Jack for the first time since his brother was drafted. He spent days being paraded around his new city, trying to feel familiar in the unfamiliar apartment, trying to bond with a team that had been together long before his arrival. 

It was confusing and exciting and baffling and scary. Every emotion a person could experience, Luke had felt tenfold since he had started preseason training. He felt like he was stumbling through a life that wasn’t his, trying to catch up and get a hold of himself. 

Then, in a blink of an eye, he was about to step out for his first official game of his rookie year in the NHL. 

And, for some stupid reason, he was far more nervous than he had been for the playoff games. 

There wasn’t a pressure on him during the playoffs, not really. People were letting mistakes slide, willing to look over things because it was his first time stepping foot onto the ice for an NHL team. He knew he technically had that luxury now too, that he was a rookie and he was allowed to use this year to find his footing.

But it was hard to remember he was a rookie when everyone and everything kept reminding him he was the third Hughes brother. He wasn’t just a normal rookie or young kid starting out their career in the big leagues. He was the third brother to try and live up to an insane standard his brothers have set, he had to prove he wasn’t a bust who only got here because of his name. 

Luke felt more than ever that he had to prove he belonged, that he deserved to have his spot and his place in the team. That he was more than just his surname and the connotations it brought.

He had to prove—

cherry🍒: break a leg or whatever they say in hockey

cherry🍒: actually wait

cherry🍒: don’t break a leg, that would be pretty shit for you

cherry🍒: feel like it would be pretty useful to skate with two unbroken legs

cherry🍒: what i am trying to say is good luck! 

And, in a silly way, he knew it was stupid. He shouldn’t need to hear someone else say something, to try and reassure him. Jack had tried a few times to prompt the conversation as game day approached. A few of the other guys had tried too. Hell, even Quinn had called him to try and give him a pep talk.

But, in the nicest way he could put it, it felt meaningless when it came from people he felt like needed to say it. 

They needed to believe in him. 

You didn’t. 

Fuck, you didn’t even know a single thing about the sport. You didn’t understand the significance of his last name in the sport. You didn’t understand just how intense the next year of his life was about to be. You didn’t understand a single thing that the other people in his life had been trying to reassure him over. 

And, for some reason that was beyond Luke’s own understanding, that was what he needed.

He needed that unwavering, unbreakable faith from someone who didn’t have to support him. You weren’t his family. You weren’t his teammate. You weren’t a fan. You had no reason to lie to him, to sugarcoat your words and fluff away his worries. You had no reason to believe in him other than the fact you just did. 

And it was what he needed.

It was what he needed minutes before the game was due to start, the clock ticking to puck drop and his eyes lingering on your messages before he had to get up and head out to the ice.

He needed you. 

…

They won the first game of the season. 

And then, because the person in the league who was organising the game schedule decided they wanted to try and test them this early on, they played their second game the next night. 

And they won that one too.

It was surreal, to be fucking frank. It was a kind of buzz that Luke had never experienced before, not in hockey at least. 

Winning was always great, regardless of what age or what league you were playing in. Truthfully, he didn’t think anything would beat the thrill college hockey gave him. His attachment to the boys on his team, the adrenaline of the win pumping through him as he basked in the cheering crowd. 

He thought that was his peak. He thought that was the best it would ever get. 

And then he joined the NHL. 

There was something about wearing the jersey, about knowing that they had thousands of fans watching the game. There was something about skating straight towards his big brother and feeling Jack scream in his ear as they were crowded by the other boys. There was something about knowing this had been his dream since he was a kid, to know he was now living it out. 

It was the perfect way to kick off their season—to kick off his rookie season—and Luke genuinely didn’t think he could sit down for longer than two seconds if someone asked him to. His body was bone-tired, he needed decent rest because professional hockey was no joke and his body was still not used to the jump from college hockey.

But he was buzzing. He was practically vibrating with how excited he was. He felt like he could do anything at that moment.

The locker room was buzzing with talks about how to celebrate. Most of them were tired—happy but fucking tired. The younger group wanted to head out to a bar, the older ones wanted to try to be responsible for the sake of practice in the morning. Nico was somewhere in the middle, trying to be diplomatic and find a solution that worked for everyone.

But honestly, Luke didn’t want to stand in a bar where he would either have to sneak drinks or stay sober. And he didn’t particularly want to get drunk in the first place. And he didn’t want to just head home with Jack when his body felt like it could start bouncing off the walls. 

He had this ever present, insistent buzz itching beneath his skin and he had a million and one ideas on how to scratch it. 

Truthfully, everything was a blur. He didn’t remember the post-game interviews or whatever chirps were being thrown his way in the locker room. He didn’t remember what fuck-ass excuse he gave Jack as he clambered into the backseat of an Uber. He didn’t even remember ordering the Uber in the first place. 

He just knew it led him to your doorstep, knocking on your door somewhere past eleven when he hadn’t even stopped to think if you’d be awake or not. He just knew he wanted to see you. 

It was almost a shock when the door swung open a couple of seconds after he knocked. 

“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with your team, winner?” You teased, leaning against the door as you spoke. Though, you didn’t look all that bothered with Luke showing up this late to your place unannounced. 

But his brain was still moving a million miles an hour and he knew—somewhere amongst the chaos of his thoughts—that he should have said hello, or apologised for randomly showing up, or for banging on your door when you could have been asleep.

But the only thing he managed to blurt out was, “I want to make you come.” 

You blinked. And again. And then one more time. 

And he thought his racing heart was going to explode in his chest before you pulled the door open wider, an invitation for him to step inside as you muttered something about your nosy neighbours overhearing the whole conversation and eavesdropping. 

Luke stood aimlessly in your entrance hallway, watching as you spun to quickly close the door behind him before turning on your heel to face him. You leaned back against the door, making his chest tighten in some kind of way at the way you smiled at him.

“Feeling confident after your big win, huh?” You grinned, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands, and he couldn’t help but find the act oddly endearing. “Does this mean you’re, like, first place or something?”

Luke didn’t bother fighting the smile growing on his face. “Yeah, we basically won the whole thing. Everyone has just forfeited from the championship.” 

“You know, you joke but if it wasn’t for the fact I can see you trying not to laugh at me, I would have believed you,” you said to him before pushing off the door, taking a few steps closer to him. “You never answered my question though. Did the win make you feel more confident?” 

“Maybe,” he swallowed, his fingers itching to just reach out for you the second you were at arm’s length from him. “It’s just…you always do stuff for me. I wanna do stuff for you too. But like, it’s okay if you don’t want—”

“Don’t do that,” you interrupted.

He frowned a little.

“Don’t second guess your own confidence,” you corrected yourself as you stopped just a step or two away from him. “Be sure of yourself. It’s hot.”

“Mhm,” Luke nodded, though it didn’t sound all that self-assured. 

“Remember, just like hockey. You practice and then you play. We’ve been doing the exact same.” And weirdly enough, your words were comforting. “Have some faith in yourself, Luke.” 

“Right. Just like hockey,” he murmured, glancing at the small distance between the two of you.

“Just like hockey,” you repeated with a small nod.

And, just like hockey, Luke let himself act before he over thought his actions too much. Hockey was about acting fast and thinking later. It was about acting on your instincts and trusting your teammate would be on the other side of the puck. It was about letting every move, every hit, every shot to be nothing but one hundred percent. It was about taking the chance before it was gone.

Luke took a step forward, closing the distance between you two as his hands reached to cup your face before he kissed you. You let out a noise of surprise that sounded from the back of your throat before you sunk into it, letting your hands rest against his stomach as he took control.

It was intoxicating, in a way you had never experienced with Luke before. Most of the time, he was happy to let you take control. He got this cute but hopeless look on his face when he didn’t know where to put his hands. He was happy to just sit back and let you tell him exactly just how you wanted to be touched, kissed, held. 

But this was different. It was overwhelming. It was suffocating in the best way possible. Feeling his body tower over you, feeling his large palms holding you just where he wanted you as his tongue slid into your mouth. Feeling the way Luke acted when he didn’t think, when he didn’t get in his own head, when he just let his body act the way it wanted to. 

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before his hands dropped from your face, fingers wrapping around your thighs with a stuttered ‘jump’ whispered against your lips before he lifted you with the ease only a professional athlete could achieve.

He barely pulled away as he walked deeper into your apartment, the layout practically memorised in his head considering the fact he spent just as much time here as he did in his own apartment. His arms were locked on you, not letting you slip a bit as he wandered into your bedroom, laying you down on the bed with a gentleness that made your stomach dip. 

“Show off,” you murmured as you glanced up at him, lip tucked between your teeth as your fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt.

He lazily grinned down at you. “I can be impressive sometimes.” 

“Yeah?” Your lips twitched upwards as you shuffled back until you were sat further up the bed. You reached for the hem of your hoodie, pulling it over your head and tossing the clothing off to the side. “Come show me how impressive you can be, Hughes.” 

He swallowed, eyes darting over your figure before he slowly began making his way onto the bed. “You’re sure?” 

“You were the one who came knocking on my door, saying you wanted to make me come,” you teased. 

“Yeah but,” Luke paused for a second as his gaze caught yours. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it because I want to.” He flashed you an awkward but sweet smile. “Consent is sexy, you know?” 

You snorted, but you grinned back at him. “You have my consent to make me come, Luke.”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “I just…I want you to enjoy it but I don’t…”

“Breathe,” you murmured in a softer voice, reaching up to gently squeeze his cheeks to catch his attention. “I’m still here, you’re not doing this alone. Just like hockey, remember? Think of me as your teammate.”

His face instantly scrunched up. “I really don’t want to be thinking about any of my teammates right now.”

You snorted, despite yourself. 

“Yeah, okay, maybe not my finest choice of words. What I’m trying to say is that you’re not doing this alone. Sex is a ‘two way street’, ‘it takes two to tango’ kinda thing, Luke,” you spoke as you reached down to guide his hands to the waistband of your leggings. “We’re doing this together.” 

“Together,” he murmured with a nod.

“Just like hockey,” you said to him again, seeing a hint of his earlier confidence shine in his eyes as his fingers hooked the waistband of your leggings before pulling them down your legs. 

He tugged them over your feet before throwing them off to the side, where your hoodie still laid. He didn’t even hesitate before he ripped his own shirt off over his head, in some weird mixed statement so you weren’t the only one who was half-naked—and because he felt his whole body running far warmer than he thought was normal. 

“Foreplay is important. It’s like warm-ups, it’s necessary and preferred and makes the game easier, as well as more enjoyable,” you said, your voice a little lower than before as you gently guided one of his hands from your waist downwards. “It makes her feel good. It makes you feel good. It’s sexy.” 

“Sexy,” he noted with a nod, though his eyes were transfixed on you. 

Luke gulped a little as his fingers rested along the elastic waistband of your panties. His heart was racing in his chest and blood was roaring in his ears and it was a little hard to focus on the words you were saying when his dick was twitching in his sweatpants.

“Just gotta know where to touch her,” you whispered, lip tucked between your teeth as your fingers lightly skimmed over your clothed cunt. You choked out a gasp as you pressed a slow, deliberate circle over your clit. 

He didn’t think even a meteor crashing into your bedroom could make him tear his eyes away from you right now.

“Try.”

Luke’s brows raised a little as you stared at him expectantly. 

“C’mon, winner,” your lips twitched upwards. “Just like hockey.”

Just like hockey.

Luke slowly ran his hand over your waist, feeling the cotton fabric of your panties under his touch. He kept his eyes locked on your cunt, trying to ignore the way his hand was shaking as he ran his fingers along the fabric. 

A soft sigh left your lips and his eyes snapped up to look at your face, to watch your expressions closely to see what you reacted to. His thumb pressed down experimentally and your nose twitched a little.

“A little higher.”

He listened. 

“Firm but gentle.”

He listened.

“Fuck, just like that, Luke.” 

He listened.

“A little faster.” 

Luke listened. 

He listened as you guided him. He listened until there was a small wet spot on the front of your panties. He listened until you were panting and telling him to pull them down your legs. He listened as he gently glided his fingers between your folds, watching with dark eyes as his fingers glinted with your release. 

“I get it,” he muttered out at some point, his thumb pressing down on your swollen clit as your hips bucked up against his touch. “The noises. Why you like them.” He gulped a little as his eyes glanced up at you. “You sound pretty when you’re moaning, Cherry.”

“Shit,” your eyes fluttered shut as you reached down to grip his wrist. “Just…fuck, I need to feel you inside me.”

His cheeks burned hot. 

“Just,” you panted, chewing down on your bottom lip until it was red and a little swollen. “Slow, okay?”

He gulped. “You sure?” 

You huffed out a laugh. “You wanna make me come?”

He nodded.

“Then yeah, I’m sure,” you murmured, brows furrowed together as you felt him glide his fingers through your folds until they were completely covered. 

And, if Luke was being so completely honest, he could have come in his pants from the sight alone. It was like at the last possible moment, his brain remembered to look up as he slowly slide one finger inside you and, fuck, he was glad he did.

He felt entranced. He felt mesmerised. He felt like he was stuck in some sort of hypnosis and he couldn’t look away. 

He wanted to burn this moment in his memory so he could never, never forget it. He wanted to memorise the way your eyes fluttered shut. He wanted to memorise the way you felt squeezing around him, like you didn’t want him to ever leave. He wanted to memorise the way your lips parted with a silent scream as he slid another finger inside you, as he curled his fingers, as you bucked your hips. 

He wanted to remember every single fucking moment until the day he died.

“A little faster,” you breathed out, your head thrown back on your pillow as he followed your instructions. “Shit, yes. Like that. Fuck.”

“Good?” Luke murmured, his whole body feeling like it was on fire and his dick straining against his boxers but, fuck, he couldn’t care less when his attention was on you.

“Good,” you confirmed with a nod as one hand gripped the sheets, the other reaching down to give your clit some attention. “So good, Luke.” 

Something in his stomach flipped at your words. 

If someone asked Luke Hughes how the last forty-eight hours of his life had been, he would tell them it had been fucking amazing. 

And if they asked him what the best moment was, he should probably answer that he has too many to choose from. That maybe it was the fact he officially started his rookie year in the National Hockey League. That maybe it was the fact he won not one, but two NHL games. That maybe it was the fact they won them one after the other. That maybe it was the fact he did all of the above whilst sharing the ice with his big brother.

But, in all fucking honesty, Luke would have chosen this moment. 

He would have chosen the sight of you writhing and squirming beneath him. He would have chosen the sight of you panting and moaning and begging. He would have chosen the sight of you coming on his fingers, your back arching off the bed and his name a whimper on your lips. He would have chosen the sleepy smile you gave him as your body twitched as he pulled his fingers out, already missing the feeling of you clenched around him. He would have chosen the look of pure lust and desire in your eyes as you watched him slide his fingers in his mouth, his body moving before his brain caught up as he sucked the taste of you off his fingers. 

He would have chosen this moment. And maybe that realisation would be a lot more alarming and head-spinning in a couple of hours, but right now it was a passing thought before he slumped down on the bed next to you.

“Luke?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re a good student,” you murmured, feeling a smile on your lips as he let out a small huff of laughter. “A little more practice and I think you could have a good business going for you if the hockey thing doesn’t work out.”

He shook his head. “I think my skating skills are still better than my sex skills, but the confidence you have in me is appreciated.”

“Hm, true,” you said as you nudged his arm, lifting it up before you curled into his side. Luke didn’t say anything but wrap his arm around you to pull you closer. “You do skate very fast.” 

“Those two videos really told you everything you needed to know, huh?” He teased, his words light-hearted and joking and warm. 

“No, the games you just played told me that,” you corrected.

Luke froze, his mind replaying the words in his head like he wasn’t sure he heard you right the first time. “You watched my games?”

“Yeah,” you answered like it was obvious. “You said they were the start of the important ones, the ones that counted. I mean, I didn’t understand half of it and I spent a significant amount confused but,” you paused to shrug. “I wanted to support you.”

His chest tightened and it was a little harder to breathe, but he didn’t really want to let you go just yet.

“You didn’t have to,” he eventually choked out.

“I wanted to,” you answered before continuing. “Who knows, maybe I’m your good luck charm.” 

He knew you were joking. He could hear as much in your voice. But it still made his heart clench a little at the thought.

“Guess you gotta watch every game then.” 

“Guess you gotta teach me the game so I understand it then.” 

His arm tightened around you, his face burned red and his heart skipped a beat or two. But he still managed to mutter out, “Deal, Cherry.”

.

[tightjeansjavi]

honey pot 🍯

(Mood board is just for aesthetics! Reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color)

A/N: so after watching a very ✨spicy✨ video, I came up with this deliciously filthy idea of neighbor!joel becoming your fuck buddy. The only problem? You have a boyfriend already 🤭 just a disclaimer, I do not condone cheating and this fic might not be for everyone, and that’s okay!

~word count: 2.7k~

Summary: you’ve been fucking your hot neighbor, Joel Miller, all summer without your boyfriend finding out until you end up faking an orgasm with him. You tell Joel that you can no longer see him, and he comes up with a solution that works for the both of you.

pairing | hot neighbor!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: smut, age gap (Joel is 36 reader is 25) infidelity/cheating (done to the readers bf) dom/sub, daddy kink, unprotected piv, praise kink, pet names: baby, angel, sweetness, petal, fluff, consent, some angst??pussy play, we can’t fuck, but we can do other things! Joel is a real good filthy talker, reader and Joel are down bad for one another, helping hand vibes, fwb/fuck buddy, smut with no plot, reader has no physical descriptions but keeps her genitalia groomed, +18 minors dni!

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You had been fucking your ridiculous, sinfully hot neighbor for the entirety of the summer. It started off as some innocent nonchalant flirting that you thought was harmless. What your boyfriend didn’t know, wouldn’t harm him, right? Besides, you were feeling deeply neglected in your current relationship. The honeymoon phase had worn off, and you were feeling frustrated and lonely on most nights. Guess football and guys night held a higher importance than his relationship with you. Well, so be it then. You could play the good little girlfriend that your boyfriend wanted you to be..and still have your cake and eat it.

That’s why falling head over heels for your neighbor Joel Miller was as easy as sliced pie. It was early June when you found a bouquet of fresh wildflowers on your front porch step with a note attached to one of the stems. It read, ‘Out of all the flowers in the patch, you are by far the prettiest petal.’ -J.M

So, he was hot and poetic? What more could you really want?

It was the following Friday that Joel finally got the courage to show up on your front step. He barely was able to ask you if you’d like to come over for dinner that evening when you blurted out an enthusiastic ‘yes!’

Joel was hot, poetic, and he could fucking cook? Yeah, you were positively screwed in the best way possible. Not only could he cook, but he actually showed interest in you. Your hobbies, your likes and dislikes, and for the first time in months, you actually felt like you were being appreciated.

So, it came as no surprise that after you both indulged his cooking skills, that you proceeded to let him ravage you on the table. Yours and his clothes were practically shredded to the floor as he kissed and licked every inch of your skin like a man starved. He made you cum more times in that evening than you thought was even possible, and my god, his cock? Jesus christ, you’re getting wet all over again just thinking about how it felt like he was splitting you in two, filling you to the fucking brim as you cried out his name and begged for more. Faster, harder, oh please, daddy, don’t stop!

“Yeah? You want more of daddy’s cock? S’that what you want?” He nearly purred as his sweat stained curls lightly tickled your forehead. His eyes were glued to the spot where your bodies were connected. He sucked in a harsh breath as his vision glazed over at the sight of your pretty little pussy tugging his cock right back in with each of his heavy thrusts.

“See the way your pussy is huggin’ my cock so tight? Pullin’ me right back in? Look how fuckin’ pretty she is, baby. Think she is the prettiest pussy I've ever seen in my entire life. She’s all mine, right? C’mon, my petal, I needa hear ya say it.” His nostrils flared as he licked hungrily into your mouth. He was consuming every last bit of you, and you were enjoying every minute of it.

“Yours, daddy! All yours.” You whined as your walls clenched down like a tight fist around his cock.

All good things must come to an end unfortunately, and your little fantasy that had been fulfilled every evening that summer, was going to have to end. That stupid boyfriend of yours was beginning to catch on ever since he caught you faking an orgasm the last time you and him had sex. Oops?

It physically pained you to even think about cutting ties with Joel. He was unconditionally good to you. All he asked for was your company. He didn’t need to ask; it was already his.

The leaves were beginning to change with the seasons as fall was approaching on the horizon. It was nearing five in the evening when you heard the all too familiar sound of Joel’s truck tires grinding over the cement. His driver side door swung shut as his footsteps neared your front steps. He was home from work, and immediately he wanted to see you. Nothing else mattered to him except seeing your pretty face.

You were pacing nervously in the front hallway as you went over the exact words you were going to tell him. We can be friends, right? Right. After you’ve spent months in his sheets, and he in yours, you’re just going to be friends? Fat chance.

You were torn from your thoughts at the sound of his knuckles rapping lightly on your front door as you wringed your hands together, taking a few deep breaths before you grasped the door handle in your palm and pulled it open.

“Hey, baby. Lookin’ gorgeous as usual.” Your fuck buddy drawled with that low, deep, texas twang of his as he leaned his elbow right up against the doorjamb.

Oh, fuck. You could feel a gush between your thighs just from the way he was leaning against your damn door.

Stay strong. Don’t fold. Don’t fold. Don’t–

“S’matter, baby? Everything’ all good n’that pretty head of yours?” He cocked his head to the side as a frown slowly spread across his lips when he saw your eyes suddenly grow glassy as a stray tear wobbled down your cheek.

“Baby–” He started, but you cut him off.

“We can’t fuck anymore, Joel.” You painfully muttered as his hand reached out to warmly cup your face while his thumb lightly brushed away your tear.

“Baby, what’s goin’ on? Somethin’ happen?” He sounded genuinely concerned as more tears began to fall and land on his bronzed skin.

“It’s my boyfriend,” You sniffled solemnly. “He knows, Joel.” Your misty dewdrop eyes met his calm gaze as he let out a soft breath between his parted lips.

“Oh, baby..I'm so sorry. I thought we were bein–’”

“Careful? Yeah, I did too.”

“How does he know?..”

“I faked an orgasm with him the last time we had sex which I think it was a week ago? Well, he grew suspicious after that. I’m so sorry, Joel. I never meant for things to get this messy.” You truly did feel awful for dragging Joel into all of this, and you never had the intention to hurt him.

“Baby, s’alright. Y’know what ain't alright? That stupid boyfriend of yours still not knowing how to treat his fuckin’ girl right. You’d think by now the guy would have some idea of how he should be treating you.” Joel held in a scoff as his hand that wasn’t presently caressing your cheek, dropped down to your waist as he pulled you in close. “I..guess this is goodbye then?”

“I don’t want it to be.” You murmured softly as you leaned into his comforting touch along your needy skin.

“Baby, y’know..it doesn’t have to be a goodbye then.” The gears in his brain were already beginning to twist and turn as he thought of a viable solution to your little problem.

“What do you mean? Joel, i’m serious, we can’t fuck anymore.”

“Sweetness, I know we can’t, and I respect that. I’ll never put my dick inside of ya again, unless you ask. But, I do think I have a solution for our little problem.”

Your pupils nearly doubled in size as the tip of his thumb dragged down across your lower lip as he tugged the soft flesh gently. His eyes bore deeply into yours as your thighs subconsciously rubbed together to relieve the building tension that was growing in the pit of your stomach.

“What is your solution, Joel? I’m all ears.”

“Well, first, I was hopin’ I could get a kiss. Been thinkin’ about these pretty lips and how badly I wanna kiss ‘em the second I walked through that door.” He rasped warmly.

Your immediate reaction was to loop your arms around his neck and close the smidge of a gap between the two of you before firmly pressing your lips against his. You licked into one another’s mouth with the same amount of passion. You could taste a morsel of tobacco along his tongue; must have bummed a smoke off of Tommy, as his hand that was wrapped firmly around your waist, slowly drifted down as he grabbed a handful of your left ass-cheek. A surprise squeak slipped past your lips as your tongues tangled.

“So, we can’t fuck, but there’s somethin’ else we can do..” He trailed off as he slowly detached his lips from yours. A string of saliva was visible between your once linked lips.

“You are not fucking sticking your dick up my ass. Don’t even think about it.”

He stifled a chuckle before stealing one more quick kiss. “Baby, I wasn’t thinkin’ about stickin’ my dick up your ass. I promise. I had somethin’ else in mind. Can I show you what I'm talkin’ about?”

You were weary at first, because what could he possibly have in mind? Going down on you? Okay, sure. You certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it, but if that was the case, why didn’t he just say it?

“Okay, I want you to show me what you’re talking about.” You agreed.

“Good girl. I promise this will be worth your while baby.” He pressed a tender kiss to your temple before he reached for your hand. Your fingers interlaced as he proceeded to lead you up the stairs to your bedroom. Your panties were undeniably soaked at this point, and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Go’n sit on the bed for me, darlin.’” He spoke firmly, yet softly as you padded over to your bed and slowly sunk down along the comforter.

“Now, sweetness, before you start worryin’ your pretty little mind about that silly boyfriend of yours, I promise that he won’t know about this.”

You dumbly nodded as you crossed one leg over the other, awaiting his next request.

“I trust you, daddy.” You softly cooed.

“Good girl. Now, I want you to take your pants off for me, baby.”

You wasted no time to pop the button off your jeans as you dragged the zipper down. You started shimmying the denim fabric down your thighs and legs, but before you could even grasp the band of your panties, he was stopping you.

“No, no, Angel. Jus’ your pants. Keep your panties on.”

Why was that so hot.

You slipped your thumbs out from under the thin elastic band of your panties before you kicked your jeans to the side. Your mouth began to water the moment you heard the familiar sound of his belt buckle clinking open.

“Good girl. Now, I jus’ want you to lay your pretty ass on the comforter. Spread your thighs a little, but not too much.”

You could feel the wet patch pooling through the thin fabric of your panties as you slowly leaned back on your elbows along the comforter and spread your thighs just enough that he could fit between them.

Your pussy pulsed inwards the second your eyes landed on his bare cock that was hanging out of the opening in his jeans. You nearly drooled as he swiped his thumb across his ruddy weeping tip that had a bead of pre-cum drooling from the small slit. He twisted his wrist a couple times before he slowly approached you.

His lips curved upwards in a sly grin when he saw the cock-dumb look on your pretty face. You took your lower lip harshly between your teeth when you felt the rough skin of his thumb brush across your covered aching clit as he gently rubbed the swollen nub in tight expert circles. His freehand was still wrapped around the base of hs cock as he watched your face twist into pleasure.

“Y’know, it makes me so fuckin’ mad that you ain’t bein’ treated right. The only weepin’ you and your pretty pussy should be doin’ is the good kind. Y’got literal honey drippin’ between your thighs, darlin.’ He oughta start worshipin’ you sooner, before someone else ends up doin’ it for him.” He tsked under his breath.

“Joel,” You whimpered wantonly.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m gonna respect your wishes n’not fuck you, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t make ya feel good. I’ll always take care of you, angel. No silly boyfriend of yours can stop me from treatin’ you right.” He murmured as he dragged his thumb down to the inside of your panties. He gently hooked his thumb around the damp fabric before he pulled it to the side. His mouth went dry at the sight of your glistening, puffy, needy little pussy. When it came to women, he didn’t mind their choices to never shave, or to just trim, or to completely go bare. He loved their pussies regardless of how they were groomed, or their natural appearance. They were all beautiful in his eyes, and deserved to be worshiped. But, he couldn’t deny how fucking pretty yours was, and how your slickness clung to the fabric of your panties like glue made his cock twitch in his palm.

He could bite his fist right then and there, but he had a job to complete.

“So pretty, baby. Prettiest little pussy. G’nna take extra good care of her now, okay?”

“Thank you, daddy.” you spoke above a whisper as he slowly slid the tip of his cock underneath your panties. You could feel the slick coolness of his pre-cum sliding across your folds as he rolled his hips forward. A deep grunt rumbled up his chest as he nudged your clit.

“You’re welcome, baby. Y’jus’ sit back and enjoy yourself, okay? Daddy is gonna do all the work for ya.” He promised you with a chaste kiss to your swollen lips as his hands came to rest along your thighs.

Now you fully understood what Joel meant by his solution to not fucking you. Christ, this was almost better than the feeling of his cock splitting you open. How lucky you were to have a man treat you like a princess.

“Oh, fuck.” You mewled as he thrust his hips faster, mimicking the same movements as if he was fucking you. “That feels so good, daddy.”

“Mhmm. I know it does, baby. I told you this would be worth your while.” He took his own lip between his teeth as he focused on the rhythm of his thrusts.

“This is almost better than fucking, almost.” You softly moaned as he increased his pace. Your hands found his as your orgasm slowly began to build.

“Nothin’ is better than fuckin’, Angel. Jus’ so lucky to make you feel good one last time. You’re doin’ so good for me, baby. I want you to cum, okay? I want to see you ruin those pretty little panties.” He urged you praisingly as the tip of his cock continuously bumped against your clit.

He was playing your pussy 100x better than your boyfriend ever could as you reveled in the pure pleasurable feeling one last time.

It didn’t take you long to reach your high as Joel’s hips stuttered forward as he spilled his hot seed right between your slick folds. He slowly slipped his cock out from underneath your ruined panties. He pressed soft kisses to your face, a playful nibble to the tip of your nose before his lips found yours in a searing kiss.

“Better take these for safe keepin’ so your boyfriend doesn’t know I was here.” He stated with a snicker as he gently slipped your soaked panties down your thighs. “I’ll getcha a fresh pair, okay, sweetness?”

Just as he was about to get up from your bed, your hand encased around his wrist, caging him in your grasp momentarily. “Wait, Joel?”

“What is it, baby?”

“Maybe..this won’t be the last time?..”

“Baby..”

“I want you, and if that means I have to break up with my stupid boyfriend? Then so be it. I’ll break up with him.”

“Angel, are you absolutely sure that’s what you want to do?”

“Yes. i’ll call him up as soon as you finish fucking me, and i’ll tell him that it’s over.”

A wicked grin spread across his lips as he situated himself between your thighs once more. “Well, I guess you won’t be needin’ a fresh pair of panties after all, huh baby?” He teased.

“Nope. Not while you’re around, Daddy.”

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[bonefall]

Do you think the clan cats having less kits per litter/less litters in general (they already have less kits than real cats) would fix the bloated cast issue? Because I look at Ginga and the cast is also bloated and only a few characters have offspring but the author keeps making other dogs join Ohu and refuses to kill the old as fuck dogs

I don't think there's any one particular "solution" for stopping bloat in series that manage large casts through generations like Ginga or WC, it's actually a few things

The #1 MOST important thing I think about bloat, though, is that it's about a ratio of quality to quantity. NOT raw size.

A long while back I made a couple of allegiance lists for certain eras. In spite of my Clans having the same (or even higher!) population as canon, I NEVER struggled with those lists being bloated. If anything, sometimes if a Clan's below 30, they look too small.

(I'm sure you can find those lists if you look, they're probably tagged BB!Allegiance, but they might be a bit out of date)

That's because in BB, there's dozens of HUGE cultural additions to Clan life. In "administration," alone, there's 3 new major divisions of skills (hunting, cooking, construction) ALL with their own "head" of that patrol, plus canon's leader, deputy, and Cleric. Not to mention subtitles like the Educator and maybe a Chaperone/Permaqueen!

So to bring it back to that "Ratio Theory," If our Clan is 30 cats, those 8 major roles immediately give at least a slight amount of character to a little over 25% of our group, with each role being something that the other 75% of cats can desire and compete for.

Canon's measly 3 is 10%, and you can ONLY vy for deputyship if you want any power. There's nothing else to BE ambitious about.

You can make the ratio higher by having hobbies, drama, skills, arts, etc. Basically; characterize background characters! Which should be obvious!! Give them traits that are useful and interesting and show the community being valuable.

It won't feel like "bloat," it has the sense of communities living their lives. Even if they go quiet for a while, when they return (just look at how much people like seeing Sedgecreek or Hallowflight mentioned lmao) it feels like meeting an old friend again.

WAYS TO MAKE BLOAT FEEL WORSE;

Giving too many "opportunities" to old characters.

Think of every relevant role a cat gets as a meal, and the bigger the role the more they've eaten. If you're only giving value to your old fanfavs, you're not doing much for them because they're already full while the rest of your cast starves.

Haphazardly killing off characters.

I actually strongly resent the "trend" where people conflate good storytelling with an author's willingness to suddenly kill characters off. I think it comes from the same place as needing to "outsmart" your audience.

If you kill off a character with VALUE, an unfinished arc, interesting connections, it's just unsatisfying. The Erins have this problem of killing background characters with some established lore or value (like Harelight and Briarlight) while leaving uninteresting background nobodies behind that they never build back up.

Before killing a character, ask yourself what their role in the cast is, and their dynamic with others. Try not to axe them without a plan to fill that "role" and/or comment on their absence. Replace what you take.

EASY REPLACABILITY

This one is HUGE, this is why Ginga is so bad with this. If a bunch of dogs die, 100 random soldiers can replace them from somewhere. That is REALLY bad, because all the random influxes of new characters do not have a chance to replace what was lost.

It also makes death feel cheaper. Oh no! Background dog 7446 got eaten by the newest type of bear. This won't make battles harder to win or cause us to lose any valuable skills though. Also a new dog just walked in from offscreen.

Population Growth outpaces Death Rate

AKA your cast is growing too fast and you're not getting rid of old characters. This is what anon was asking about-- and it CAN help to make births less frequent and litters smaller. Make sure to pair with preventing lots of new, adult characters to casually wander in, too.

ALL of these tips have exceptions and places where they can (and should) be subverted and broken. But these are just things I think about

[redrose10]

Yoongi x Female Reader. Soulmate AU

Summary: There’s no one on this planet you hate more than your coworker/secret crush Min Yoongi. He’s an arrogant, rude, womanizer who gets under your skin every single shift and you can’t wait for your day to be over so you can get away from him. Unfortunately when Jimin, your caseworker from The Ministry of Adoration, shows up offering you both a raspberry jam filled cookie, things take a surprising turn for the worst and you can no longer get away.

Warnings: Swearing, hints of smut (nothing graphic or really detailed), a little angst, Yoongi gets around, small hint to homophobia, mentions a guy not taking no for an answer. Might get updated later

Tag list: @kam9404 @yoongisducky @farfromsugafanfic @welcometomyworld13 @viankiss @ktownshizzle @bear8585

(I think I got everyone. If I missed someone I’m sorry and please let me know.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3- Tea and Tteok-bokki

Word Count: 3,702

When you woke up the next morning you felt a little guilty for being so harsh towards Yoongi the night before. Maybe you did overreact a little because why did you care that you weren’t his ideal type? Even though you had a massive crush on him and you technically were soulmates you still had a deep seated hatred for him or so you thought.

You also woke up and regretted asking Han out and thought about canceling, but then realized maybe it would be good for you to actually go out, meet other people. Especially since Yoongi clearly wasn’t interested.

A knock at your door caught your attention and got you up out of your still semi induced sleep state.

Waking Yoongi was harder than you expected, but you finally got him up and followed behind him as he opened the door.

A smiling Jimin greeted you both. “Here have some breakfast. I got you some bagel sandwiches and two green teas. I thought you might be sick of coffee.”, he said handing over the packages.

He let himself in and took a seat before clapping his hands together, “So I think we need to have a little meeting because you two are one week down and have made zero progress from what I can see. If anything you went backwards.”

“We know.”, you both nodded.

“So then why am I hearing about hook ups with blondes in lingerie, and club girls, and why is Y/N going on a date with some other guy?”

“Wait how do you know all of that?”, you asked.

“I know everything.” Jimin replied.

“Okay but ho-“

“E V E R Y T H I N G”

You had to admit seeing this side of Jimin was a little intimidating. He was normally bubbly and smilly, but he was completely serious at the moment making you realize just how alarming this whole situation was.

He popped a donut hole in his mouth before continuing, “So what is the plan? How do we get you two to actually start trying to make this work?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll make it happen.”, Yoongi nodded.

“Good because I don’t want to have to make another early morning visit over here to voice my frustrations. I am not a nice person before 8am.”

“Yeah I’ll say.”, Yoongi replied while you nodded feeling like a scolded child.

“Y/N can I have a few minutes alone with Yoongi please?”, Jimin asked. You looked around confused as to where he wanted you to go since you couldn’t walk that far away from them.

Spotting your solution you grabbed a pair of headphones off of the table showing them to Jimin for approval which he nodded for so you placed them on your head and began streaming some music to drown out their conversation.

Once he was sure you couldn’t hear anything he turned his attention to Yoongi, “So how did you manage to mess up last night? I thought you were supposed to bring another date to the wedding to make Y/N jealous? Why didn’t it work?”

Yoongi nervously scratched the back of his neck, “Well I ended up not asking the other girl and just taking Y/N as my date instead.”

“And why exactly did you do that? That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted her to be my date for the night. I didn’t want to take anyone else. I wasn’t sure she’d even get jealous if I did anyways.”

“Okay then… so how did things end so badly that she asked another guy out?”, Jimin asked frustration evident in his voice.

“Everything was going great and then she overheard my cousin talking about how she isn’t the type of girl I usually go for and then I don’t know what happened. She just stormed off and has barely spoken to me since.”

Jimin sat with his elbows on his knees looking between the two of you before bringing his fingers up to rub his temples, “How did I end up assigned to a case with the two biggest idiots ever?”

“Excuse me. Who the fuck do you thin-“. Yoongi began, but Jimin cut him off.

“Let me spell this out for you as simply as I can. Everything was going just great between you two yesterday. Then Y/N got upset with you when she overheard your cousin saying that SHE wasn’t YOUR ideal type.“

Yoongi nodded his head, “Yeah I don’t get it either.”

“Oh my god. You two are starting make me rethink my career choice.”, Jimin huffed.

Then he continued, “Y/N got upset when she heard she wasn’t your ideal type…meaning you wouldn’t be interested in her.”

Jimin watched closely expecting Yoongi to come to the same conclusion, but instead he just sat there in silence sipping on his tea.

“I am not paid nearly enough for this.”, Jimin sighed.

He sat forward a little to pull Yoongi attention in, “Yoongi, firstly I want to start by saying that you’re lucky you are so attractive because of it wasn’t for your looks I don’t know what you’d bring to the table. Secondly, Y/N likes you. You big doofus.”

Yoongi continued to stare at the floor until Jimin’s words finally clicked.

“She likes me?!”

“YES! Why else would she be soooo upset thinking that you would never like her back.”

“So then I should just kiss her!”, he exclaimed.

But Jimin shook his head, “Not exactly. You both need to come to terms with your feelings and the kiss needs to be mutual. You can’t just ambush her.”

“Why are there so many fucking rules?”, Yoongi groaned.

“Don’t know. I didn’t make ‘em, I just enforce ‘em.”, Jimin replied popping another donut in his mouth.

“So what do we do now?”

“Well you and Y/N have two weeks to figure it out. Let’s hope her date goes poorly and maybe you could try actually being pleasant to her. Maybe try and woo her.”

Yoongi chuckled, “I’ve never had to woo anyone before. I don’t woo.”

“Trust me, I noticed.”, Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Maybe try some flowers just because. Tell her to her face that she looks pretty instead of drooling over her when she’s not looking. Maybe compliment her in public. Take her on an actual date. Try to hold her hand. You know…relationship things.”

Yoongi pondered for a moment, “Okay I’ll try.”

“Good boy! That’s what I like to hear.”

Jimin caught your attention signaling for you to remove the headphones which you happily obliged.

He grabbed his things and began walking towards the door before spinning around, “Okay both of you promise me that you’re actually going to try and make this work.”

You nodded your head while you heard Yoongi scoff next to you earning him an elbow to the ribs before he finally nodded as well earning a smile smile Jimin.

The following days Yoongi was uncharacteristically nice to you. Like sickenly sweet, lovey dovey nice to the point you offered to take him to the hospital because you were worried he somehow had a head injury even though you knew he hadn’t even come close to hitting his head at any point.

On Monday you woke up to a giant bouquet of roses being delivered to your front door with a card from him. He even sprung for a little teddy bear to be included. You thought it was super sweet, but really weird. Especially when you thanked him and he turned the same color as the roses.

On Tuesday he took you to your favorite lunch spot. He encouraged you to order whatever and how much you wanted and paid for all of it without even a snarky remark. Afterwards he also stopped for ice cream and a walk through the park.

Wednesday was a terrible day weather wise so the two of you stayed in and watched tv. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him consistently move his hand ever so slightly closer to yours his fingers twitching before he’d end up pulling away. He did this close to twenty times before letting out a long sigh and resigning to crossing his arms on this chest as you finished up the next episode. You knew it was odd, but didn’t want to start an argument by asking.

Now it was Thursday and the two of you were working a double shift together.

It was super busy thanks to the hot weather and a buy one get one half off promotion going on.

You had just finished up with a customer when you heard Yoongi clear his throat next to you.

“Can I help you?”, you asked amused.

He remained silent staring out the window while fidgeting with the end of his apron, a nervous habit of his that you had noticed a long time ago.

“Umm well I uh I’m…”

“Are you having a stroke?”, you giggled

“Just forget it.”, he whispered before turning away from you.

“No I’m sorry.”, you said grabbing his arm.

“What did you want to tell me?”

He took a deep breath, “I just wanted to tell you that youlookreallyprettytoday.”

“I’m sorry Yoongi I couldn’t understand that.”

“Why is this so hard?”, he mumbled before turning to face you, “Y/N, I think you look really pretty today.”

Your eyes widened in shocked. The Min Yoongi giving you a compliment without being provoked? And in public like this?

“Oh yeah I’m sure I look great after sweating and being soaked in coffee and sugar for the last 8 hours.”, you chuckled.

You expected him to laugh or even make a sarcastic remark, but he just nodded, “Yeah I do think you look pretty like this.”

“Oh oh okay, well thank you.”, you whispered feeling your cheeks heat up both in embarrassment and confusion.

You went to try and give a compliment back when you heard someone say your name grabbing your attention.

“Oh hi Han”, you forced a smile.

“Hi Y/N, ready for our date tomorrow?”

“Oh of course! Can’t wait.”, you exclaimed a little too excitedly.

You heard Yoongi snort next to you causing you and Han to both look in his direction. Han visibly tensed up once he noticed how close Yoongi actually was which you had to admit made you smirk a little.

“What can I get for you?”, you asked trying to get Han out of the cafe.

“Umm what do you suggest? Like if Y/N was going to order a drink using her pretty little mouth what would she have?”

This time it was Yoongi’s turn to tense up before turning to Han, “She’d have a large cup of fucking order something or get the fuck out.”

Han stepped back in surprise. You were no stranger to seeing Yoongi or one of the other guys put Han in his place, but something about the way he snapped back at him this time really stirred up some feelings in you.

Wanting to just make the sale and move on with your day you continued, “I’d probably just get a black coffee and add some hazelnut creamer. I’m pretty easy like that.”

“Mmhhhmm I hope so.”, Han replied as you quickly finished up at the register wanting out of the situation. You had missed the way Yoongi gripped the counter until his knuckles turned white thanks to Hans little comment.

You handed him his drink and as he was leaving he turned to you, “So we’ll meet at 6pm? At that Italian place I told you about?” You nodded as he turned and happily walked out the door.

“Seriously you’re still gonna go out with that creep?”, Yoongi suddenly spoke making you jump a little.

“Yes. I like him. Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”, you asked secretly hoping he’d give you a good reason not to go.

“Yes because I love you and I want you to stay home with me forever.”, he said internally, but outwardly he just shrugged, “I don’t know. Do whatever you want. You’re an adult.”

You simply nodded while trying to ignore the way the atmosphere shifted between you two and how Yoongi suddenly became cold and callous towards you. He remained that way for the rest of the shift as well as at home.

The next day you woke up determined to enjoy your date. Maybe Han came off kind of creepy and forward, but you were hoping he was just an awkward idiot who was actually a sweet guy.

Yoongi sulked on the bed as he watched you go through your closet. He couldn’t believe he was going to have to sit there alone at a restaurant while the love of his life goes on a date next to him.

“Okay pink or purple?”, you asked holding up two different dress options.

“I don’t care. Whatever you want.”, he spat back.

You licked your lips in annoyance before deciding on the pink one.

Once at the restaurant and after a very awkward conversation of having to explain to the hostess that Yoongi had to have a seat as close to you as possible, but still at a different table you were sat across from Han. You felt overdressed once you realized he had shown up in jeans and a dirty tshirt. He didn’t even bother to shower or comb his hair. You were appalled at his lack of effort.

He was going on and on about some video game that you’d never even heard of and your mind drifted over to Yoongi.

You snuck a peak and saw him reading through the menu while he sipped on his drink. Even though he was sat alone he wore a crisp navy blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up that he paired with a dark wash jean. His hair was lightly styled and you knew he smelled amazing because you couldn’t stop thinking about it as his cologne filled the air of the car on the drive over.

“Will the Mrs. be joining you this evening?”, you heard the waitress ask him.

He smiled, “No dining solo tonight.”

“Oh that’s too bad. I bet she’ll be so devastated that she missed out on a date night with you.”

You rolled your eyes at the waitresses clear attempt to flirt while confirming whether or not Yoongi actually had someone.

You saw him smirk before he replied, “There actually isn’t anyone. But uh maybe that could change tonight.”

The waitresses cheeks turned pink as she scurried over to the next table. You felt a wave of jealousy and a maybe a little hurt wash over you. You were no stranger to watching Yoongi flirt, but for some reason that time it really struck a cord with you. You were also currently on a date with another man so you had no idea why that little interaction made you feel such a way and you felt a little guilty for feeling so because if you could go out with someone else then so could Yoongi.

You turned your attention back to Han for a while before you decided you need a break and pulled out your phone sending a text to Yoongi,

You: I need to go to the bathroom.

Demon Kitty: Okay? Here’s a cookie 🍪

You: 🙄

You: As much as I would love to, I can’t go without you. So please get up and I’ll follow right after.

Demon Kitty: But my dinner should be here any minute 🥺

You were about to reply when Yoongi stood up and slowly started walking towards the restrooms.

“I’ll be right back. I have to use the restroom.”, you let Han know before you stood up waiting for a group of women clearly from a bachelorette party to pass you before quickly catching up to Yoongi who had hid himself off to the side to wait for you.

Yoongi was as close up to the bathroom door as he could be while you quickly tried to do your business.

“Hurry up Y/N! I’m pretty sure this old woman is about to call the police on me.”, he hissed through the door.

“Sorry sorry, this dress is a pain.”, you said opening the door.

“Yeah well I did tell you to wear sweatpants remember?”

“I’m not wearing sweatpants on a dat-“

Yoongi suddenly stopped in front of you causing you to crash into his back, “What the hell Yoongi?”

Quickly he turned around, “Uhh let’s go home.”

You shook your head, “No I want to go back to my date.”

“Please Y/N, let’s just go.”

“What has gotten into you?”

“Diarrhea. I knew that calamari tasted weird.”

“Eww tmi. But let me at least go grab my sweater.”

“No need. I’ll buy you a new one.”, he said trying to pull you away.

You managed to slip out of his grip though and when you looked around the corner you saw Han sitting at the table making out with one of the women from the bachelorette party. Your mouth went dry as you watched the two of them going at it.

Yoongi cleared his throat and motioned for you follow him which you did. Once back in the comfort of his vehicle he looked you over.

“Are you okay? I know you liked him.”, he softly spoke.

He wasn’t expecting you to chuckled, but you couldn’t help it, “Honestly I didn’t even really like him. I just wanted to prove that I wasn’t some stuck up prude, but I guess I won’t even get that chance.”

Yoongi watched you as you fidgeted with your fingers while staring out of the window. He really hoped it wasn’t his worlds that made you feel like you needed to prove that. Even though deep down he knew they were.

He started up the car and began driving.

“Where are you going?”, you asked realizing he wasn’t going home.

“You’ll see.”

Not long after he parked at one of the local night markets that was packed with various street vendors selling goods.

“Neither of us ate dinner so I figured we could get some food before going home.”, he said.

You nodded, “Sounds nice.”

You both talked for what felt like hours as you walked around the market stopping at various stalls. You really got to know a lot about each other that neither of you ever bothered to do before.

You were getting full, but agreed that you couldn’t leave without getting an order of tteokbokki.

You had begun to stare off into the night sky when you heard Yoongi clear his throat. You looked over finding him holding out a single piece of tteokbokki, “A tteokbokki for your thoughts.”, he smiled.

You laughed before taking the toothpick and popping the cake in your mouth.

“What’s wrong with me Yoongi?”, you asked after swallowing it down.

His eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I asked out Han because I thought he would be an easy hookup, but that clearly didn’t work out. Even someone like him didn’t want me. Jae didn’t want me. My two boyfriends before that didn’t want me. Even my own soulmate doesn’t want me.”

Yoongi could feel his heart shattering. Gently he grabbed your chin turning you to face him, “Y/N, please don’t ever feel like that. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’re smart, funny, a hard worker. You’re beautiful. All those guys are big fucking idiots.”

“You were include in that group you know?”, you giggled.

“Yeah and I’m the biggest idiot of them all.”, he laughed back.

You felt like your heart was going to explode. You weren’t completely sure, but a part of you felt like this was his way of admitting that he loved you. You wanted to confess and say something to confirm it, but there was that little part of you that was worried you were misreading everything.

As you were having an internal debate about whether or not to confess Yoongi leaned in ever so slightly. Everything in his body was telling him to move closer, confess his love for you and then gently pull your face to him so that he can lean in and kiss you like he’s always wanted to. Then take you back home and show you all the ways that you were perfect to him.

He leaned in a little closer waiting to see if you’d back away and when you didn’t he took that as his sign.

“This is really hard to say even though it shouldn’t be so I’m just going to come out and say it.”

Your heart felt like it was beating a million beats per second and Yoongi was starting to worry that he really did get poisoned by some bad calamari judging by how his stomach felt like it was doing flips.

He managed to push through though and continued, “Y/N, I know I don’t really act like it, but I really do lo-“

“There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you.”, a high pitched voice exclaimed next to you.

“Rose? What are you doing here?”, Yoongi asked looking very confused.

“You told me to meet you here silly!”

Yoongi remained silent.

Rose pulled out her phone, “Yeah see here. You texted me yesterday at 9:07pm. Wanna meet up? It’s been a while. Need you baby. And then I said of course my little suga cookie. And then you said great. Meet me at the main night market at 8:30. Wear something easy to take off.“

Yoongi was speechless as you stared at him in disbelief.

“So here I am! Just like you asked.” Rose continued oblivious to the situation.

You swallowed the lump in your throat the best that you could. Apparently you had 100% completely misread the situation.

“Soooo are we going to head to the car or where did you want to do this?”, she asked excitedly.

Yoongi cleared his throat, “Um Rose I’m sorry but I actually think that maybe we shouldn’t continu-“

You cut him off, “Continue this here. He means continue this here. Come on. I know a place you both can go.”

You stood up and tossed the rest of your garbage in the trash. Rose happily followed after you while a confused Yoongi was forced to trail behind feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, a feeling he was getting quite used to.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Hey friends. I always promised that I would write a disclaimer if I ever wrote something sad. So here is that disclaimer: this is sad. Harry is also experiencing some internalized “ace-phobia”, if you will. Just really struggling to believe that being ace is ever enough in a relationship with someone who is not. Yes, the author is hardcore projecting on the poor character.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, and it sounded sincere, even Harry could hear the ring of truth to it over the splintering sound of his heart. “I just,” Draco swallowed, looked down at the glass in his hands, “I think living alone would be what’s better for me right now.”

Harry nodded, shoving down the emotions, pushing back the hurt, the yearning, as he forced a smile, “no. For sure,” he said, keeping his voice light, pushing every ounce of happy-for-you-undertone that he could. “Yeah. You have to do what’s best for you,” he agreed, and he meant it, even though it hurt the way that it hurt when you sliced open your foot on a piece of glass; sudden and sharp, terribly painful in its unexpectedness.

“It’s not you,” Draco said, reaching across the table and squeezing Harry’s hand, giving him a smile and Harry wondered what the other man could see on his face. “It’s not that I don’t want to live with you,” he said.

He nodded, “right. I get it.”

“And you can come over all the time, we can have a movie night whenever we want since I won’t have Pansy and Blaise to worry about.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. Smiling, smiling, smiling. Please Godric, let it be enough that Draco can’t see past it. “Yeah. That sounds great,” he agreed.

“Dinner once a week,” he promised, “and we can cook together!”

He nodded, plastering the smile even harder to his face, “I’d love that,” he said. Not as much as he would have loved doing the shopping together, and cooking together in their shared space but… best not to think about it.

“I love you too much to live with you,” Draco said, like that made any sense at all.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing down the tears threatening to spill, heart throbbing in his throat. “I love you too,” he said. Not too much, he thought, more than his body could hold sometimes but not so much that he couldn’t live with the other man.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said again.

And Harry wanted to make up a lie, wanted to tell Draco he had another appointment or something, but Draco was his best friend. More than that, Harry had thought. They’d started planning a life together; he’d told Draco everything, given him his entire heart. Draco had said that he wanted Harry forever too. Harry’s worked so hard to actually believe him. But that was probably just the mixed signals that Harry sent, confusing everyone that he loved because he couldn’t love them in the way that they wanted. “Don’t be. I still have Ron and Hermione.”

“You could try living alone too,” Draco offered, and Harry knew it was because of the conversations they’d had, about how hard it could be living with people who were in love. About how alone Harry felt even when he was in the same room as them sometimes.

He knew Draco was trying to offer a good solution, “nah,” he said, aiming for casual and hoping that he hadn’t missed the mark by as much as it felt like he had. “I don’t do well on my own. It’s okay. I’m okay,” he assured.

“Okay,” Draco said, giving him a little smile. “I toured an apartment today.”

“Oh,” he said, “tell me about it!” And he let himself get lost in Draco’s joy, lost in how excited he was for his own adventure.

“And it just feels right, you know?” Draco asked when he finished describing his viewing.

“I’m really glad,” he said, genuinely because he loved Draco. Loved him with his entire heart and wanted what was good for him. But he couldn’t say he understood. He couldn’t. Because all Harry wanted was to be able to come home to Draco at the end of the day. All Harry wanted was someone to sit on the sofa with and eat dinner with. He wanted to be able to take care of Draco, to love him on his hard days and to listen to his stories. Harry wanted a place to come home to where he could just shut off the facade, could just be Harry.

But they didn’t want the same things. That was clearer now than it had ever been. Someday, Draco was going to get married. Someday, he’d fall in love with someone else, someone who could love him the same way, someone whose body wasn’t broken, someone who’d want to have sex with him. Someday, he’d meet someone who could be enough, who would have the capacity to accept the love that Draco felt like was too much for Harry.

And Harry wouldn’t deny him that. He wouldn’t stand in the way. It didn’t matter that Harry loved Draco with everything that he had, with all that he was, in every way that he was capable of loving another human. It wasn’t enough.

It hadn’t ever been before Draco. It had been foolish to believe that could have changed.

How could he have hoped that it might be now? How could he have let himself dream that he might ever be enough for the best person he knew?

He loved Draco more than anything, so he did the only thing that he knew how to do.

He loved him with every beat of his bruised and bloodied heart. Harry set aside his own needs, his own wants, his own desires and loved Draco in the way that he needed and not in the way that Harry wanted. Harry set aside his hopes, and dreams, the plans they’d made together and begged his heart to be happy for the other man.

Be good, he begged himself. Be kind.

Love was sacrifice. How could he have let himself forget?

[roxannepolice]

One of those "one moment you're toying with an idea, next you realise it makes way more sense than the author ever intended" things, but-

Like, between rolling eyes at Fifteen claiming he would recognise Susan everywhere after a score of not recognising the Master when they're right in front of them and Tensimm junkyard sniffing, I think RTD's handling of Time Lord recognition of each other makes a whole lot more sense once we ask ourselves a simple question:

Is the Ainley!Master situation the norm or the anomaly?

Ok, considering his run was the longest, he did in many ways establish the "norm", and that norm is a Santa Claus beard seamlessly fooling three consecutive Doctors. But, if instead we look at earlier interactions things get a bit more complicated.

The Time Meddler may not be very definite on the subject, but One isn't, like, completely and utterly confused at who the Monk is, and the conversation between them flows rather seemlessly, like between two countrymen meeting abroad, and that a good deal before the Doctor sees the Monk's TARDIS. Next, regardless of whether War Chief=Master or not, the point still stands: he and Two recognise each other the second they meet. But it is with Threegado that things get really interesting. For all that Delgado!Master loves dress ups, these are not actually used at the Doctor. Like, correct me if I'm wrong, but there is no scene where the Master shows up in cheap ass plastic Graucho Marx eyebrow-glasses-moustache set and Three starts congratulating him on A Night at the Opera, at least not in the strict tv canon?

What I'm driving at, is that with this established history of Time Lords being able to recognise each other on sight and no direct contradiction in Threegado, Fivey consistently falling for the Master's Halloween aisle catwalk comes off as less to be expected.

But here's the thing: there's a very good explanation for why Ainley!Master would be harder/almost impossible to recognise for the Doctor. His Trakkenite body.

As in, this particular Master has a different biology not only from any of his regenerations, but from any other Time Lord. Add just a bit of psychic shielding, and, like. Cheap rubber masks become much more efficient for a species where visual recognition isn't really an evolutionarily stable solution.

Again, this is me just poking at canon and canon showing little resistance, but this interpretation also sheds a different light on how Three and One interact with the Master in Five Doctors. Three can just tell who this Mephistopheles-Blofeld lovebaby that showed up on Gallifrey is, because it's pretty much the same style he spent so much time with (and not relying mainly on visuals does not mean being completely face blind yk). One, on the other hand? He has no idea who this Trakkenite smelling hottie is.

**

Now, there are two important implications of this non-visual based interpretation: first refers to the Rani dressing up as Mel right after Six regenerates into Seven. Now, this in its own right is an interesting contrast to Five, also in post-regeneration stress, because where Seven at least gets fuzzy impressions something's off about this Mel, Five is just blissfully unaware mr Santa the celery juice bringer might be anything but just that. The second implication regards Eight, who's back on track of recognising the Master - and that a new snatched body Master! - on sight. And well, sorry, this is just where my crack brain kicked in. I'll just share the visions of the Rani rubbing Melanie Bush's sweat all over herself like some musky perfume and Seven breathing in the Master's ashes like Napoleon tobacco to the point Eight can tell the distinct Master smell regardless of biology 🤌🤌

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Eighteen

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none, but a little bit of angst

— WORDCOUNT: 2.8k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

The mornings were getting colder. They both felt it as soon as they woke up. The solution was obvious while in bed: snuggle up together, steal each other’s warmth, ignore the bites and scratches from the night before. It was harder to endure on the way to work. Riding on the tram together sometimes caused a fuss — a young couple sitting so close to each other, his hand between her thighs, hers nestled in his coat, head resting on his shoulder while she covered her lap with her modest little hat to hide his fondling. They tried to be more subtle at work. Even after they started leaving home together, one arrived at the shop some time before the other. That morning it was her turn to go in first while Tom was tasked with bringing breakfast.

“I’m in the mood for a brioche,” she said as they hopped off the tram. “And a croissant. And an eclair for later.”

“Is that all?”

“Oh, you’re grumpy this morning, are you? Then I want a cream puff too,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

“I’m leaving,” said Tom, raising his hands in surrender and making good his escape by crossing the road. “Have tea ready!” he called out to her.

He arrived some fifteen minutes later with a bag full of pastries. She saw him through the window and rushed to open the door, looking far less cheerful than she’d been before.

“Am I late?” asked Tom.

He handed her the packet and she got up on her tiptoes for a quick peck on the lips, but she was clearly quite distracted.

“Ah, not alone, I see,” he said, even though there was nobody else around.

“Yes. He’s here.”

In truth, he didn’t need to see or hear anyone to know exactly who was there. Nothing else could have robbed her of the cheer he’d left her with that morning. He took his coat off and went to lean against the desk.

“Downstairs, I take it?”

“Yes, he went there with two other men,” she said in passing on the way to the back room to bring the tea out. “And he seemed anxious.”

It wasn’t like the old man to be anxious in his own shop, but Tom was more intrigued about who his company could be. He sighed. He’d actually been looking forward to a quiet breakfast…

“And I had half a mind to go looking for a tailor before Oso wakes up. I passed by a couple on my way here.”

“I don’t think you can,” she said, flitting back into the room.

Tom took his cup of tea. “I know that.”

“He didn’t say anything about wanting to see you, but I think you should go down anyway. If nobody’s there, it would look really bad…”

“Then it looks bad already,” mumbled Tom into his cup. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Save a brioche for me, at least.”

II

Tom stepped through the undershop as if he owned it, and most days it felt like he did. When Oso was asleep and nobody else came down there — at least not without his knowledge — he was free to learn its every spot from the oldest dustiest corners soft with cobwebs and dead mould to the most pristine seats of the auction hall. He had Alohomora’d past most locked doors already and rifled through every shelf and drawer. It was partly done in his pursuit of getting Oso out of the way, but Tom also did it out of good old common sense. It was healthy to be in control of one’s surroundings. As he advanced through the narrow corridor he started hearing an exchange off in the distance, and the cadence of both voices was familiar. By the time he saw their shadows slinking out from a doorway to the right, Tom could better understand what they were saying. He slowed and softened his steps.

“And so when can I meet him?”

“He should be here soon. He works quite long hours. I always find him here when I visit.”

“I see. You visit often?”

“Well… He is my best, in fact, my most reliable employee. Very dependable. In spite of his eccentricities, which, you know, talented employees tend to have —”

“If you say so.”

“And best of all, he is discrete.”

“I’m sure.”

Tom listened with a smirk on his face. At first, he’d thought the Baron was talking about him, but then remembered they had both come to see Ambrogio. How sweet the truth is for some, he thought, and how bitter for others.

“Yes, he’s been with us for — Ah, hello, Tom.”

“Good morning, Baron,” he said as he stepped into the doorway. “Sir…”

He’d been correct about which Malfoy he’d have to deal with. It was Abraxas’ father, Septimus, who stood there. Beside him was a pale young man.

“Where’s Oso?” asked the Baron. “Why isn’t he here?”

“He should be here in a few hours. He always is.”

“No, no, that can’t be right. Bring him at once.”

“Yes, Baron. Only… I, er, don’t know where he resides.”

The old man’s face paled and inflamed at once, and between mumbles and curses, he dug into his breast pocket for a key.

Tom looked to Mr. Malfoy, whose gaze was fixed on him, and beneath the familiar hauteur, he sensed fear. It was an emotion not at home on Mr. Malfoy’s face but there it stirred, looking quite at odds with everything going on around them. That family in general did not like fuss, and their hatred of muggles was notorious. If word should spread back in England, through Tom as an intermediary, that Septimus Malfoy was doing business with muggles abroad… Why, that information might be worth almost as much as the Delomelanicon itself.

Tom shifted his attention to the thin shadow at his side. With silky brown hair and pale blue eyes, a boy scarcely older than twenty stood at Mr. Malfoy’s right gazing from one person to the other in genuine confusion but with a practised smile upon his face. He was dressed in a fashionable muggle attire of a double-breasted suit in navy blue with brass buttons, as otherwise was Mr. Malfoy except that he was all in black. Was he his secretary? His nephew, perhaps?

“There’s a suite down the corridor, through door B75,” said the Baron as he threw him the key.

“Thank you, sir.” Tom bowed again and turned on his heels.

He knew where Oso’s chambers were, of course, but until now had had no excuse to be there. The room that led into it, B75, was meant for storage, but the door to Oso’s room was not exactly hidden. Painted black with red light coming out from under it, it was tucked between two crooked dressers, menacing and mean.

The vampire was as unhappy as he had ever seen him. A stumbling and clambering shuffle preceded his opening of the door to peek through only to find on the other side Tom’s coldly smiling face. The eyes were red and tired, the bramble of hair hidden underneath a fez. Tom wondered what was behind that pyjama’d shoulder, if he slept in a coffin or a crate… Or perhaps on a bed, as some vampires managed.

Ambrogio hissed at him something venomous that almost belied a sentence.

“He wants to see you,” said Tom.

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know… But he has a guest.”

A subtle change came over those dead eyes. They gleamed now not so much with irritation as with intrigue.

“Five minutes,” said Ambrogio. “And you had better wipe that grin off your face by the time I’m out, you obsequious ass.”

Tom nodded and kept his smile as the door closed in his face.

The vampire might’ve been surprised to know that Tom didn’t care that much about finding out where he slept — which, for any predator, was a closely guarded secret. No, what Tom was most delighted with was learning that the Baron didn’t even know he’d hired a vampire.

III

The rest of the morning went on like any other once the four of them went on their way — the Baron to his office, Oso with Mr. Malfoy, and his secretary with them in a far-off room. Tom was alone. He worked through a valuation of an 18th-century edition of the Arbatel, complicated by a number of notations one of its past owners had left along the margins. Oso seemed to think such things increased the value of a book, gave them “character”. Tom just saw them as besoiling scribbles. He was grateful when he got to go to lunch, even if a flurry of questions awaited him upstairs.

“He just wanted to see Oso.”

“So what was the issue?”

“I had to go find him, you see.”

“He really wasn’t there!?”

“You know he always comes to work around the evening.”

“I know, but I didn’t realise it really was every day…”

“Apparently, neither did the Baron,” Tom chuckled.

She hugged herself as they walked to the restaurant. She was more at ease now that the Baron had left but was scandalised by everything that happened. Tom had forgotten how much she really cared about her work… She treated it perhaps more seriously than the Baron did himself.

“Why did he want to see Oso, anyway?” she asked as they arrived at the restaurant. The sky was grey but they took a table outside nonetheless.

“To introduce him to Mr. Malfoy,” whispered Tom as he pulled the chair out for her. “And his… young companion.”

She cocked a brow at him over her shoulder. “No…”

Tom settled in the seat before her, a slick smile on his lips. He shrugged.

“You don’t think…”

“What?” he asked.

“That he’s… you know.”

“Who, Oso? I don’t know…” he grinned. It amused him to let her imagination carry her away, even if it was in the completely wrong direction. He was so tempted to tell her the truth if only to see her reaction. “What do you think he is?”

She smoothed a napkin over her lap as she thought through all that Tom had told her. He didn’t expect her to guess at Ambrogio’s vampiric nature, that would’ve been beyond what she could conceive of.

“It sounds like… like this Malfoy person is using the boy as… as payment.”

But he also didn’t expect her to say something so astute. Her clarity of thinking was impressive for a muggle.

“That’s an interesting theory,” said Tom, leaning back to think.

“Oh, that would be quite depraved, wouldn’t it?”

“More than you know…”

She scrunched her nose up at the scenario while Tom paused in contemplation at the intrigue before them.

“But payment for what?” she said.

Their eyes met across the table as the same thought crossed their minds. Their discussion on the underhanded tactics of Ambrogio had been all but forgotten but returned now to them fresh and frightfully relevant.

“I didn’t think the Baron would be the type to… lower himself to tricking his own customers,” laughed Tom. “Sells some books for cash, and others for fresh meat. Then again, lowering himself should be easy.”

“Tom,” she berated him. “We don’t know the first thing about it. We shouldn’t speculate. And anyway, it’s none of our business.”

Tom cocked a brow but didn’t bother correcting her that, until he had the book in his hands, it was still very much his business — which made it hers as well.

IV

To his surprise, she would not let him buy her a dress for the opera. No matter how much he regaled her with details of the elegance, the luxury, the sophistication those he’d seen in shop windows while he was searching for something for himself — a tuxedo of standard fare, unremarkable except for the smooth gleam of the lapels which shone like a pane of ice over the soft material of the jacket in a blue so dark that it seemed black — she wouldn’t hear it, and insisted on purchasing her own.

“Besides,” she said, after listing all the things men got wrong about women’s clothing, “I want it to be a surprise.”

Tom sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not like it’s a wedding dress.”

“Why? Are you offering?” she purred, batting her lashes.

“Well, I couldn’t ever marry a girl who won’t even leave this horrid city with me.”

“I thought you loved Rome!”

“It’s a ruin.”

“Yes, and people still live in it. It’s beautiful.”

“I still wouldn’t wish to live here for the rest of my life,” he said — which, for the owner of two Horcruxes, was quite a long time indeed. “But anyway, you changed the subject.”

“Oh, I don’t even remember what your point even was,” she said with a wave of her hand, then moving to the kitchen for good measure.

While it wasn’t Tom’s intention to bind himself in matrimony, he couldn’t help feeling angry at how quick and definitive her dismissal of the notion was. He had to keep that little exchange in mind and punish her for it later. And later would mean after their evening at the opera. The tickets cost a whole month’s wages, and in a moment of rebellion, he decided not to transfigure any leaves into banknotes this time. Giving it away felt… dangerous, and freeing.

“Who knew muggles experience such thrills,” he drawled, chasing away the odd sensation almost as soon as it took root inside him.

The opera house was marvellous, large and cold with decorous serpentine marble veined green over white, blood-red carpets, golden trimmings. Tom felt a bit like a god walking up its billowing steps between pillars and high arches. In his sleek blue suit, he felt himself standing taller, broad shoulders pulled back. Even his curls were behaving that night. And his pride of self only swelled when he looked at her walking by his side. Perhaps her secrecy had been worth it because the sight of her emerging from beneath her coat once they got out of the taxi at the Teatro dell'Opera froze time and thought and the breath in his lungs.

There wasn’t one thing in particular that made him look at her again and again throughout the night, but rather the whole picture. The shape of her body so sensuously held by the dress that it seemed caught in an act of love brushed against his side as they went up the stairs arm in arm and made the blood rise in his loins. The gown was cupped high on her breasts in such a way that made it seem to Tom — and perhaps to other men that evening, no matter which side of her he moved to — like her flesh was held by two greedy ghostly hands. He would have to untangle them later. She looked to him like a goddess of wisdom, a deadly siren slinking through a crystal palace, a playful nymph tempting him from his straight path, and for a full evening, Tom was happy. Her eyes shone every time she looked up at him and her lips, like a slice of fruit flesh, were smiling, but so tight and tense. Tom wished he could part them with his fingers, with his tongue, and feel their softness on his —

“Tom?”

“What?”

“What is it?” she asked with an awkward laugh. “You’re staring again.”

“N-nothing,” he said, still indulging himself with a slow lingering gaze.

She was so perfectly framed by the opulent surroundings... How someone like her was content with a mediocre life of drudgery and thankless work would mistify him after tonight more than ever.

She blushed under his intense attention and her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Oh,” she said. “Well, you look… very handsome. I mean, even more than usual.”

Ah, was she expecting him to call her beautiful? As if he’d ever be so gauche, so obvious, so… vulnerable. Tom cocked a brow at her flattery and said nothing, but squeezed her hand and held it tighter after that. He didn’t let her go until they took their seats. She looked away and didn’t complain like she usually did when he did something wrong, which was good enough for Tom to think that all was well.

The opera was Lucia di Lammermoor. Their seats were high up in a loge flanked by lavish curtains downed in velvet with a dominating view toward the stage as well as the other patrons below. She amused herself by watching them, leaning over the balcony while the orchestra was getting ready. She leaned back to whisper to Tom, although there was nobody else to hear them, when she saw a particularly beautiful dress or a luscious set of jewellery. She seemed especially fond of white silks and verdant gems. Tom made a mental note, for no reason in particular. Then the opera started, and he was grateful for the darkness as he mostly kept his eyes on her and the way the stray lights played on her enraptured figure all night long.

[olderthannetfic]

I've just read an article (in Gazeta Wyborcza) about a very popular series of books among young teens in my country, Poland, called "Rodzina Monet" (Family Monet). The author gained popularity while publishing on Wattpad lol. The article basically said that it's problematic because these books are read by young girls, even 10 years old, and it glorifies violence. Plus it just isn't well written - there were some fragments in the article and yeah it's not well written lmao. A woman in the comments said that her daughter is reading this book and asked if she should forbid it. Since no one answered her, I replied that I don't think forbidding the book is a good solution and suggested talking to her daughter about it, showing her the article and asking what she thinks about it. But I don't know anything more about that situation, for example how old the daughter is. I don't think I'd worry if my child were to read this book, I read trashy stuff too. But I started wondering if maybe there should be some control in such a case? The thing with the books from what I gathered (I haven't read them) is that they are about a 14yo girl, who suddenly lost her mother and grandmother, is sent away to US from Britain where she starts living with her 28yo (handsome) stepbrother and his 3 (also handsome) brothers. She lives in a beautiful villa since the stepbrother is super rich. He's also cold and distant and doesn't understand that she has issues with food (she has some kind of eating disorder). Some of the things he and his 3 brothers do can be described as domestic violence but they apologize, buy her expensive stuff and are all adult handsome men. Yeah it's a young adult fiction. The thing is that it's just not well written so none of the bad behaviours is commented upon.

--

Sounds like typical godawful id trash that people eat up. Making a rule against it will just make it more tantalizing.

It would be far more valuable to kick any worthless partners out of one's life and demonstrate not putting up with shit to a tween girl than to ban her from reading trashy books.

One could always try buying her something better, but IME, people who try that always do it wrong: they buy books that are better written, yes, but the vocabulary and sentence structure are a thousand times harder, there's zero iddy wish fulfillment, and the plot is something fucking depressing and supposedly edifying.

Readers can smell a tryhard "your taste is bad" gift a mile away.

I think it's also important when trying to find replacement trash to understand what the kink actually is. Why is it age gap? Well, have you seen 14-year-olds? They're awkward and covered in zits. Of course the protagonist is young like the readers and the hotties are older.

More importantly, why is it abusive? Absolute idiots will be like "Because society taught girls wah wah wah wah wah", but the actual reason is obvious if you've read trash romance for adults:

It's so the love interest(s) can be in the wrong.

The self inserty protagonist of this type of story has very little power. Not only is she usually younger, but she's poorer, a fish out of water in a new situation, etc. The way she gets power is by the love interest doing something absolutely horrible, realizing they have erred, and then groveling forever. Their guilt is an effective way to manipulate them. And yes, retail therapy is usually the next step from this particular trash classic all the way back to The Flame and the Flower.

You can try giving a teen girl a book about a teen girl action hero who is awesome and whose love interest likes her because of that... But if the reader doesn't feel awesome, she's still going to prefer a book about a loser with a destined, fated love or a misunderstood woobie whom other characters have to grovel to after not initially realizing she was special.

You can't fix self esteem by handing someone a book they don't identify with and telling them their id is wrong. And if self esteem does improve, that doesn't mean the lizard brain is going to switch trash fiction tastes anyway.

One can try leaving other fun books around, but that's about the most that could be helpful.

[gabessquishytum]

Wrote this in my notes first in case it gets lost, bc ive sent asks into ur box a couple of times before and i didnt think they sent? So;

Inspired by a pwp fic from the GO fandom, dub con where Dream's a hotshot CEO who's office is in the penthouse floor of the building, and Hob's the window washer.

Dream's got the whole exhibitionism thing, so imagine he regularly fucks himself in his office chair, legs spreads on the armrests facing the world. He's always assumed nobody could see him, I mean. No cameras in the office and hes on the 83rd floor on one of the highest skyscraper in the city, who's looking, right? He gets a kick out of the FEELING of being impossibly watched though, and it makes him cum harder than he ever could in any club or orgy. Hes usually so into it that hes not paying any actual attention to the wide open windows he's got his holes facing, so he doesnt notice when somebody...finally DOES see.

The exterior of the windows get washed on a twice every 3 months basis, on a rotation. Its a dangerous, expensive job, so theres not a lot of guys on hire and its usually the same ones. What Im trying to say is Hob's been doing this a long time and hes good at what he does. He usually gets to see Dream, even if the CEO doesnt notice him right back, and he has to admit he has a lil crush on the guy (I mean who wouldn't). Some new kid gets into a Fall and the schedule gets fucked up without Dream knowing and Hob gets the full Dream Holes treatment.

Dream doesnt notice him there practically the whole time. Hob's taken his phone out and he's recorded the almost the whole thing, every moan and orgasm and flex of muscle and flesh. He just plans to keep it to himself and jack off with it, but on the last second Dream opens his eyes and they lock eyes and he freezes like a cornered animal.

Hob raises his eyebrows. Mouths "dont let me stop you.", one hand holding a phone up and recording the other hand fondling the bulge on the front of his pants. Dream takes one look at the obscene tent the front of hsi pants and cums so hard he squirts and stains the windows. Hob smirks.

Something something Hob blackmails him with the video to let Hob fuck him on a regular basis. Maybe in the office itself. It'll certainly tick a kink off right both of their lists.

Omg hi!! So sorry your messages haven't been getting through before now, that's super annoying. Please feel free to message me at any time in the future if you're wondering whether I got your ask or not. I know it can feel a bit anxious wondering what happened to your message <3

Anyway: this is amazing and I am. EXTREMELY into it. I got a little happy wiggle thinking about Dream squirting onto the window, hoooly shit.

Hob is such a dirty bastard omg. Like he may clean those windows until they shine but he is FILTHY. He's got absolutely no qualms about filming that video in the first place, and then using it as blackmail material. He's just never seen such a pretty cunt, and he wants to remember it. And if Dream didn't want him to see those lovely holes then why'd he show them off like that?

Dream isn't going to admit it but he's enjoying this blackmail thing waaay more than he should. It's been a long time since he had a decent dick inside him, and he knew ever since he saw the bulge that Hob would be big. Dream takes great satisfaction in pushing Hob down into his leather desk chair and climbing onto his cock to ride. He's got a lot of frustration to work out and Hob is the perfect solution. His big hands go around Dream’s waist just right, and his cock hits places that no one else ever has. Plus he can be quiet. And he makes sure that Dream is quiet, too. Stuffs a pair of panties or a tie in his mouth if necessary.

Dream is working on persuading Hob to fuck him on the mechanical platform he uses for the window cleaning business. Hob argues that whole city could see them. Dream counters that that's the whole point.

[popcorn-plots]

HEY ITS JAY (frenchbaguette190) I have a writing prompt!! Anonymous valentine from within a friendship group (it's probably basic you don't have to use it)

OMG HI!!! It's been a while!! How are you?

TYSM for your prompt! It's really cute, I love the friends to lovers trope sm <3

Anyways, it gives off Ironstrange vibes because Wong would have totally picked up on Stephen's crush (actually, everyone can. This man is so oblivious it hurts) and makes him confess to Tony, even anonymously.

Anyways, I had a lot of fun writing this, but I got a little carried away so it's a bit of a long one... and not exactly 'friend group', but I think it's close enough.

Thanks again, Jay!!!!

The moment the door closed, Wong turned to Stephen and cleared his throat.

Stephen tore his gaze from the door and looked at Wong. "What?"

Wong crossed his arms. "When will you realize that Stark is literally head over heels for you?" he asked.

Stephen's brows furrowed. "Him? The gorgeous genius billionaire, falling for me?" Stephen snorted, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, right. It's not like he'd care about a useless doctor who does magic tricks for a living. Get your head checked, Wong."

Stephen shook his head and climbed the stairs to his room. Wong almost screamed. Months of this. Months and they were both oblivious. The only good thing about the situation was that Stephen's negative self-talk was getting better. Everything else was hard to watch.

Stephen was completely and totally in love with Stark. Stark was utterly smitten with the doctor. Neither one knew that the other returned the feelings. Wong had tried to set them up, even worked with the other Avengers (who were just as sick of it as he was), but it never works. Wong didn't think there was anyone more oblivious than those two.

And he grew up in Kamar-Taj with a bunch of emotionally repressed sorcerers.

It was take to try harder: desperate times call for desperate measures, and all that.

~~

A week later, Wong found his solution. The Avengers were hosting a Valentine's Ball charity event and even better, it was anonymous. You address a Valentine to someone without signing your name. Valentine's are passed out at the end of the night.

The perfect opportunity to make Stephen confess. Even if it was anonymous.

When Stephen returned from the monthly Avengers meeting, blushing with a love-struck smile, Wong pounced. "Stephen."

Stephen looked at him and smiled. "Yes, Wong?"

"The Avengers, that means Stark, are hosting a Valentine's Ball with an anonymous Valentine's drop. The invitation explains it. You are going."

Stephen nodded, that stupid grin still on his face. "Okay. Tony's great. I like Tony."

"I know. Everyone knows, except Tony."

Stephen sighed. The smile faded slightly. "That's because he doesn't like me back."

Wong sighed. "Send him a Valentine's and see what happens. He. Likes. You."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "If you say so, Wong. Where's the invite?"

Wong resisted the urge to facepalm, instead handing Stephen the invitation and walking away. He had a class at Kamar-Taj he needed to get to.

Two hours later, Wong found Stephen singing softly in the kitchen. It wasn't unusual to hear Stephen singing, but Wong didn't recognize the song.

He turned to corner to see Stephen hunched over the table, writing... something.

"Love me tender, love me dear... Tell me you are mine... I'll be yours through all the years... Till the end of time..." Stephen was singing under his breath.

Wong frowned. He didn't recognize the song.

"What song is that?" Wong asked.

Stephen looked up. He smiled. "Love Me Tender by Elvis Presley. Anyway You Want Me, Side B. 1956."

Wong nodded. "And... what is that?"

Stephen grinned. "A card. For Tony."

The party wasn't for another week. Wong resisted the urge to sigh.

"Can I see?"

Stephen hummed. "I just finished." He turned the card around and showed Wong what he was making. In large, wobbly letters, Stephen had written out a short, but simple message.

Dear Tony.

I Love you.

Love, Anonymous.

Wong nodded. "Keep that safe. Tony'll love it."

"Hopefully."

Wong just hoped that Stark would finally realize that Stephen loved him back. Maybe then Wong could get some peace from Stephen's incessant pining.

~~

The night had finally arrived and Stephen was a nervous wreck. Wong was sick of it.

"Just walk in, drop your card in the box, and have a good time. It's that simple."

"No it's not! He'll see it and he'll think it's dump, or it'll get lost in all the other Valentine's for him and he'll never find it!" Stephen nearly wailed. Wong sighed and sat next to him on the stairs, pulling him into a short side hug. A sign of affection he definitely wasn't used to showing, but Stephen needed it.

"He'll love it. It'll be okay. Deep breath."

Stephen took a deep breath. "Okay... You sure?"

"I'm sure. Now go before you're late."

The doctor took another deep breath. "I look okay?"

Wong looked at Stephen. He wore a rented black tux with a red bowtie with gold accents, giving it away as the Cloak. The suit was well-fitted and accentuated Stephen's legs and shoulders. "You look great."

"You really think so--"

"Yes. If you don't leave now, I will not hesitate to portal you into the lobby myself."

Stephen chuckled. "I'm going, I'm going."

"Good. Begone."

Stephen stepped through a portal of his own and Wong let out a long breath. Hopefully Stephen resolved the mutual pining; Wong was on his last straw. And while he was gone, Wong had his own Valentine to attend to.

~~

Stephen came home two hours later, portalling straight to his room.

Wong decided not to bother him.

~~

The next day, Stephen woke up late. It wasn't uncommon for Stephen to sleep in, so Wong wasn't concerned. He only started to get worried when Stephen didn't come down after lunch.

Wong was about to go up to Stephen's room to see what was wrong when someone knocked on the door. And didn't stop.

Wong sighed and walked back down the stairs. "I'm coming, I'm coming..."

He opened the door to find Tony Stark. Dressed in an oil-stained Black Sabbath T-Shirt and sweatpants, his hair windswept and his eyes wide. He looked like he was crazy.

"Stark."

"Where's Stephen?"

Wong sighed. He glanced at the ceiling, then back to Stark. "I'll get him. Close the door behind you."

Stark nodded, almost frantically, as Wong headed up the stairs. He knocked on Stephen's door, sighing at the muffled groan.

"Stark's here. Go talk to him."

Stephen was silent for a second. "Don't wanna."

Wong felt like screaming. "Cloak?" He hissed.

There was a shuffling of fabric and a scream. "I'M UP! I'M UP!"

Wong chuckled. The Cloak was just as sick as Wong was with their pining, it seemed.

Stephen finally opened the door, hair disheveled with bags under his eyes. He wore an over-sized Columbia T-Shirt and biker shorts.

"Stark's downstairs."

"Don't wanna."

The Cloak pushed Stephen out of his room, nearly shoving him down the stairs.

"Hey! I'm not decent!" Stephen shouted as the Cloak lifted him up, flew him downstairs, and deposited him in front of Stark.

"Stephen..."

Stephen's eyes widened. "T-Tony..."

Wong had half a mind to summon a bag of popcorn.

"Is this yours?" Tony asked, holding up Stephen's crumpled Valentine.

Stephen glanced at the paper, then to Tony, then back to the paper. "I... I thought I threw that away..." He whispered.

Ah, so that's what happened.

"Well... I.. JARVIS saw it. Told me you never even came in." Tony admitted.

Stephen looked like he was close to tears. Wong didn't know how to feel about what he just heard.

"I... I'm sorry. I-"

Tony raised a hand and unfolded the paper.

"Dear Tony," He read. Stephen's breath hitched. "I love you."

Stephen swallowed. He nodded, slowly. "Love, Anonymous." He croaked.

Tony smiled, grabbing the front of Stephen's shirt.

"I love you too, douchebag." Stephen eyes widened as Tony pulled him down into a kiss.

Wong resisted the urge to cheer. Finally.

~~~

The song Stephen is singing: Love Me Tender by Elvis Presley

[flightfoot]

hello! do you have any good post-reveal pre-relationship fics? they don't have to be centered around adrien and marinette getting together, just that dynamic. thanks!

Hmmmm... I don't go for those as much as a lot of other people do, and they're not actually as common as you'd think they'd be, but I think I can scrounge some things up! I'm gonna have some WIPs in here, because otherwise I really wouldn't have much.

---

and I thought I heard you sing by @into-september

When Hawkmoth has been defeated and unmasked, Marinette is left with two problems and no solutions. First, that Adrien is further out of her reach than ever before, and no-one can tell her how to get to him. Second, that Cat Noir is far more troubled than she knew, and the only thing she can do is wait for him at the place they agreed to meet.

It’s your classic “Hawkmoth’s defeated and taken into custody but that means Adrien’s in for a rough time” sort of fic. Everyone’s worried about Adrien and wants to give him what comfort and support that they can, but he’s being hidden away from everyone (which I mean, honestly that’s a good move), so that’s not really possible. Plus, Ladybug’s noticed that Chat’s having a tough time in his civilian life, which worries her.

---

Love At Last Sight by ClaraOswald16

The final battle against Monarch has arrived, but things do not go as planned for our favorite superheroes. The battle leaves Marinette blind. Marinette and Adrien must come to terms with their new realities, but finding a new normal turns out to be harder than expected. This is a story of love, loss, and finding strength in each other.

Note: This is M-rated, though I don't think anything in the story so far warrants that high of a rating.

---

Perfectly Platonic (Unless...) by @frostedpuffs

After accidentally revealing their identities in less than ideal circumstances, Adrien and Marinette must navigate their newfound relationship as both partners and friends. Becoming best friends was a quick process, but when romantic feelings begin to bleed into what's supposed to be a platonic connection, their friendship starts to change in more ways than one. Surely it can't be that hard to hide their feelings from their best friend? (A post-reveal, pre-relationship fic full of romantic crushes, best friend shenanigans, and a whole lot of dumbassery.)

Note: This is also M-rated. It very much deserves it. It gets smutty sometimes, though it hasn't gone all the way (so far at any rate).

---

It's Just Practical by @ashes-555

What happens when you are an exhausted superhero, it's the middle of the night, and your partner's home is much closer than yours? The practical thing, obviously.

---

48 Hours To Make You Love Me by @mysticraven20

“When did you stop?” “Stop what, M’Lady?” “Stop loving me?” When two heroes miss the minibus for their winter get away with the gang they have no other choice but to make their way to the resort by themselves. After avoiding their feelings for years, a freak snow storm makes them reconsider more than just whether to carry on driving. Luckily, they find a quaint little bed and breakfast where suddenly they’re thrown into a situation where their feelings can no longer be held back; but, is it too late? The interference of an elderly couple after an eavesdropping accident helps both Adrien and Marinette come to terms with their feelings and their actions. Through movies, hot chocolates and snuggling to keep warm, Marinette wonders if it’s possible to make Adrien love her again, and more so can she do it by the time they need to leave their little sanctuary?

This just has a lot of adorable Adrienette shenanigans, with a fun time travel twist that had me inwardly squealing XD. If you want some Lovesquare fluff, this is a good one.

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Hi this may be niche and non existent but I am looking for wolf star fics where Sirius is hooking up/dating women (maybe Marlene). Remus has to see or hear stuff he doesn’t want to and gets jealous/ pines.

Happy ending w/ endgame wolf star if possible! Also ok if Sirius is hooking up with/dating men but I ask for women cuz it’s harder to find.

Thank you!!

Hi!

I don't have a ton of recs, but I did find a few. Hopefully this is what you're looking for!

Sirius/Marlene:

waited all this time to call you mine by ziahra [T, 121k] (You asked for pining Remus? You got it with this one)

In a world where everyone has a timer on their left wrist that counts down until the day realise they are in love with their soulmate, Remus falls in love with his soulmate 3 years before he reciprocates. Remus knew the timers were set in stone. They were inevitable, and there was nothing he could do to change the timer or speed up the process. And Sirius would return Remus’ feelings, eventually. Oh God. His timer had hit zero. And he had been thinking of Sirius. He was in love with Sirius. “Oh my God! Who was it?” Sirius begins to ask, but Remus can’t hear him. His ears are blocked with water, and his mind is far from the little rink in which they stand. Instead of trying to listen, he looks instead. He looks at Sirius’ wrist, where the numbers stare mockingly back at him. 27, 391 hours.

What I Heard by fishcommuter [E, 28k] (not 100% sure if this is exactly what you're looking for because it's on my to-read list still, but it might be)

Word on the street is Sirius is with Remus, but nobody bothered to tell either of them. Marlene, Sirius's actual girlfriend, thank you very much, is not thrilled. As the fall term settles into their last winter at school, things happen, feelings occur, Sirius and Remus are obviously in love, and the students of Hogwarts prove hard to surprise. Sirius switched on the ringer with his thumb and handed the phone back over. "Leave it on, okay?" "You have a map with my exact whereabouts at your disposal, you know this, yes?" "It can't get you to do things, though." "You can't get me to do things." "I can be very persuasive if you bother to read the messages." "You'd have separation anxiety if I bothered to read the messages." Sirius boffed him on the head. "Already do." He ducked this time.

Mutually Beneficial by clevernotbrilliant [T, 4k] (Does it count if the Sirius/Marlene is fake dating?)

Sirius Black is in love with Remus Lupin. Marlene McKinnon is in love with Emmeline Vance. The obvious solution? Date each other.

jimmy's party by orphan_account [G, 13k] (angst? angst.)

And he’s been expecting this, right? It’s been building for weeks; Remus has known this was coming. Eventually, even Sirius has grown tired of snogging girls in broom cupboards who’s names he takes a few seconds to recall when asked about them. If Marlene’s who he’s chosen, well..good. Marlene’s perfect for him, even Remus can see that. Sirius deserves someone like her. or: Remus isn’t jealous of Sirius and Marlene. On the contrary: he gets it. They look good together. So if they want to dance at the post-quidditch-match party, that’s alright. It’s fine, and Remus’ll demonstrate as such by having some fun of his own. Upcoming full moon be damned.

Reasons Why by silverbook [G, 3k]

Remus likes Marlene McKinnon, he really does. Except he also kinda hates her.

Now I Wanna Be Your Dog by pixelated [E, 20k] (this has Sirius/Marlene and also Remus/OC before the wolfstar endgame. They're both pining.)

Sirius clunks about in his Doc Martens and listens to The Stooges and smokes cigarettes and wears his hair much too long and spends more time serving detention than not. And is way too forward about his sudden feelings for Remus. (A story about teenagers and summer love in the 70s.)

The Boys of Summer by todaslasmadrugadas [T, 73k] (The Sirius/Marlene in this is rather short lived, but Remus is pining and it's a slow burn so... close enough?)

The Summer of 1978 was supposed to be the same as the previous one. And the one before that. Because, in the provincial village of Fenneltown, where 16-year-old Remus Lupin lives, nothing ever changes. Not really. Until this year, everything does.

Hey, Jealousy by BrianJustin4Ever [T, 1k]

Remus contends with his jealousy.

Sirius/OFC:

Jealousy, Jealousy by AshParadox [T, 924]

Remus has trouble focusing on what Lily is saying at the moment. His eyes are fixed on Sirius, who is in the middle of the room, dancing with some Hufflepuff girl. Remus feels a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. “You should make him jealous.”

Drunken Mistakes (It Was Never A Mistake) by artemis143 [T, 3k]

It was Sirius Black's 16th birthday party and James Potter suggests that they play truth or dare

The Date by rhye [G, 422] (it's short but oh so ouchie)

Sirius has a date with a pureblood his mother wants him to marry. But he's also dating Remus. Remus watches him prepare for his date.

Honorable Mention (because it doesn't have pining Remus. It is, in fact, fake dating blackinnon from Marlene's POV. Wolfstar does get together though :) and the fic is good!) :

passionfruit by poppunkpadfoot [M, 4k]

“How would you feel about a free trip to France this summer?” “That depends. What’s the catch?” “It’s a trip with my family,” Marlene says. She can’t quite bring herself to look Sirius in the eye as she continues, “I’d be introducing you as my boyfriend.”

[famina]

School (tummy) Rumbles 02

For the 1 year anniversary of Irakus's introduction I made the sequel of his fanfic ! (I don't know if I'll do that for the others. Maybe if I remember XD) Let's see how the little vamp boy is doing ! (Psst...it's not good...)

TRIGGER WARNING for hunger, pain.

================================================

Life has a way of passing you by. Quite a bit of time has passed since you promised your classmate Irakus to help him with his…nutrition problems… But you still haven’t found a solution for him. You haven’t been lazing about tho. You somehow got very busy a little after that incident with friends, family, school work and other things. The next semester has also begun and you are no longer in any classes with the vampire boy which makes the matter seem less urgent. Actually, you haven spoken to Irakus in a long time. For all you know, he already found a way to feed himself.

And now that exams are starting you have absolutely no brain space to think about him. You worked to hard to let all your efforts go to waste now ! Okay, maybe you could’ve worked a little harder during the year but hey ! You can’t change the past ! You’ll just have to work extra hard now !

You have started to hear a few thing about your vampire friend tho, and not good news. Well you did hear one good thing. Apparently he found a friend ! That Timothy Langlais guy in Fine Arts ! You don’t know much about the guy other than he’s a bit weird and seems to have many troubles at home, but he seems nice enough. As for Irakus himself, people say he’s not doing so well. He sleeps a lot during class and he falls unconscious in PE. They also say that he looks sickly but tries to hide it with his usual smile. You conclude that he did not find blood to eat after all. This does worry you. And so, you decide to go see him.

On a free period, you find him in an empty classroom. He seemed to have fallen asleep and no one bothered to wake him up. As you enter you keep your distance. He is still a blood sucking monster who has not eaten in a while.

“I-Irakus ?” You call out to him. His body twitches and he slowly rises his head.

“O-Oh ! (Y/N) ! What a nice surprise. It’s been ages, how have you been ?” He yawns and gives you a sleepy smile.

“I”ve been good….what about you ?”

“M-me ?! Oh….” He seems to ponder the question “I….I should be off to my next class…please excuse me…” He stands up with some difficulty. After a few steps he trips slightly and you rush over to catch him.

“Woh ! Hey ?! Are You okay ?” You are now genuinely worried.

“Yes. Yes. I beg your pardon. I’m simply exhausted by all those school examinations…haha..” He tries to reassure you. But you are not convince and give him a sad look.

“Oh. Please do not look so sadden (Y/N). I am perfectly fine. I assure you…Now, please excuse me..” He stands back up and makes his way out of the classroom leaving you all alone with you thoughts.

You should get to your class too. You don’t have time for this and he said himself that he was fine. You repeat those words in your head as you go on with you day.

Alright ! You are now done with all of your tests ! You only have one paper to hand in and you’re free to celebrate your summer vacation ! You station yourself at the school computer in one of the remote classes to be in peace and start working. You’ve decide to not go home until that work is done and sent, so you write and you write. And you research, and research. And re-read yourself and re-read. Aaaaand DONE ! Wouh ! You send it to you teacher and you breath a sigh of relief. You look at the time, 10:52 PM, you still have a few minutes before school closes for the night so you let your tired eyes shut for a second as you lay your head on the desk. After what feels like a few minutes of blissful slumber you open your eyes. The screen of the computer has gone to sleep, weird ? You shake your mouse to wake it up and then you see the time, 2:34 AM . . . WHAT ?!

How can it be ! Wasn’t it 10PM a minute ago ! You’ve must slept longer than you’ve thought ! And how come the guardian didn’t kick you out ?! Does he not go to all the classes ? What a slacker ! You gather your things and make your way to the exit, when you notice a light in the hallway ? Who could that be ? A janitor. No, wait..it’s 2AM, no janitor should be here. A thief then ?! No…the light is not coming from any place with valuables. It’s coming from… The gyms showers ?

You decide to investigate. With caution, you approach the showers and you now notice that you can also hear running water ! Someone is taking a shower in your school at 2 AM ! What’s going on??? As you are just about to enter the room, the water stops ! And wet foot steps can be heard coming towards you. Unsure if you should scream, run or get ready to attack you stand there as the footsteps get closer and closer and..You scream ! And he screams ! You didn’t not know what you’d find there but you somehow didn’t think it’ll be this !

A drenched Irakus without a single piece of clothing is screaming at you in total chock. He finally gets a towel to put around his waist and start forming sentences.

“W-W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE (Y/N) !!!???” He’s red as cherry.

“I-I-I just…NO ! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE !? AND WHY ARE YOU TAKING A SHOWER !?”

“W-WELL I HAVE TO BATHE LIKE ANYONE ELSE ! DON’T I !??”

You both breath and calm down.

“I-…” Irakus begins “If you’ll excuse me a minute” To those words, he returns to the showers and closes the doors. When he opens them back you see he is in a classy pijama.

“Uuuh..” You look at him with a hundred questions in your eyes.

Embarrassed and unsure, Irakus clears his throat and makes a gesture towards the upper floor. “Could you please follow me, (YN) ?”

You follow him to a remote classroom you’ve never been where the desks have been arranged in a weird way and a few personal items can be found lying around.

“H-Hmmm…W-welcome to my humble abode…haha…ha..” He opens his arms in a comical grand gesture to humor the situation.

“I-Irakus..Are you…living here ?”

“ahahaha…” He tried to laugh away the embarrassment. “It IS my current accommodation b-but it is really not as bad as you’d first think ! I have access to a shower, heating and electricity !”

“Y-yeah but…” You look around at his living quarters, they consist of a single pillow under some desks, a suitcase with a few clothes and items and a motivational poster on the wall where you can read “2006 IS OUR YEAR ! LET’S DO IT !” You can’t help but give a troubled expression. “Why are the desks arranged like that ?” You question.

“Oh ! I was hm…trying to reproduce my coffin…hehe…”

“I…..see….” You don’t really know what to say. Irkaus starts to become nervous.

“S-so…what brought you to school so late (Y/N) ?”

“Uh ! Just a last work I had to send in. And then I think the lack of sleep caught up to me and I feel asleep in the computer room.”

“I see. And could you hand in your work on time ?” He seems genuinely interested.

“Oh ! Yeah ! I did !”

“Ha ! Congratulation (Y/N)!” He gives you a warm sincere smile.

“Ah..thanks Irakus.” You can’t help but smile back. “But it’s VERY late now. I should get go-“ Irakus suddenly fells face first on the ground “H-HAN ?!” You rush towards him to help him out. “H-Hey ! Irakus !? What happen !?”

“I-…I’m very sorry, (Y/N).” He weakly turns his head towards you. “That was…very rude of me…haha..”

Your demeanor becomes grave. “I heard it’s been happening to you in PE class too.”

“Ah…Yes it has…” He avoids your gaze.

“……..Irakus…..please tell me…..” You take a deep breath and let it out “…Did you have anything to eat recently ?!”

The vampire boy is shocked by your words. He puts his head down and you begin to see his frails shoulders tremble. “N…no…” His voice cracks a bit “I did not….not since we’ve spoken…not since an eternity !...”  He is clearly in pain.

“W-Wait…you mean you haven’t had anything since that time you asked in the locker rooms ?!!!” The vampire nods shyly. “BUT THAT WAS MONTHS AGO!!”

“Y-yes…Believe me I am well aware.” He gives you the saddest of smile.

“B-but…How come you’re stomach isn’t growling like before then ?”

“I am unsure…” He looks at his sunken inn tummy. “It has stop rumbling a month or two ago….Although It does not mean I am not in pain right now…haha…” He gently caresses his belly.

You feel terrible for him. “How long….How long has it been since you last ate, Irakus ?”

He stops rubbing his stomachs and looks in the distance “………………A year now….”

Your hearts drop. A year ?! a full YEAR !? 365 days ?!! “H-HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD !??”

“I told you, didn’t I ? It takes a lot to kill me.” He gives you another sad smile.

It’s true. He isn’t human. You need to remember that. But right now, he looks so helpless. Another question pops into your mind “……Why….why didn’t you tell me..??!”

Irakus stops smiling. “Well….You had already voiced your refusal…I did not…want to bother you further with the matter…..”

You start feeling awful. Sure you didn’t want your blood sucked out of you, but you could’ve help ! Or at least, you could’ve tried to help.

Irakus tenses up and clutches his mid-section as his expression turns to one of extreme pain. You can’t hear his stomach but it’s clear that his hunger has gotten tremendously worst. You ponder a second, but you don’t need to. You’ve made up your mind.

“Okay.”

“Huh ?” The hungry boy looks at you with incomprehension.

“Okay….you can have my blood.”

The eyes of the vampire widens, his lips tremble slightly and so do his hands. “R….r…..really ?!”

You take another deep breath. “Yes. You said you wouldn’t kill me, right ?”

“O-Of course not !! I-I would never ! I-I….” Irakus becomes all twitchy and nervous and excited. He then stops and gives out very sofltly : “……thank you….”

You laugh a bit. “You’re welcome.” You sit down properly and try to get mentally ready. “So.” You begin “How does it….I mean…What should I…??”

“Oh ! Right !” Irakus moves his face inches from yours. “First I shall spellbind you, It will make the process more pleasant.”

“O…..kay…” You are still very unsure. You do know he’s a good guy, but you are kinda putting your life in his hands. He notices your discomfort.

“(Y/N)…Are you really sure ?...It is still time to refuse if you…” Irakus looks to the ground. A second ago he was full of excitement and here he is worrying about your well being. You close your eyes for a second, breath in and open them back up.

“Yes. I am. Go for it”

“Alright.” Irakus red eyes lock onto yours. In an instant, they are all you can see. The world around becomes blurry as you feel yourself getting weak and dreary. But it doesn’t alarm you. In fact you feel…nice…As if nothing in the world can bother you in this moment. You enjoy this feeling of tranquility for a few seconds and suddenly, a sharp pain pierces your neck ! And yet, you’re not frightened. The pain…actually feels good. Like a cold refreshing shock running through out your body. The pain is not long either. Soon you feel a warmth in all inches of your being. And you feel the pulsation of your heart beat throughout your body. Has it always been so loud ? Each pulsation is met with a suction sensation on your neck. The sensation is enthralling, between each beat, you crave it’s return. But slowly, you feel your whole consciousness dim and you fall in a calm trance. After a while, you realize you are lying on the ground. You get back up as you slowly regain your senses.

Irakus is in front of you, breathing heavily. He looks better, a little more…alive ? You touch your neck in the place where you felt the pain. You can only feel two little scabs that seems to already have healed.

“How..ha…wha…”

“I-I healed up the punctuation for you.” The young vampire explains shyly. “I_I….I did not hurt you, did I ?! He asks with worry.

You think back for a second. “No…Well…You did. But it wasn’t…painful ? I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Oh. Well if you are not hurt, that’s all that matters.” He poses and seems tense for a moment. Then he bows he’s head very low. “Thank you so much (Y/N) !! I…I could not bear it any longer !!!”

“O-Oh ! Well, yeah…you’re welcome…So, how are you feeling now ?!”

“I feel amazing ! So full and content !! I have not feel so good in ages !!!” He is visibly ecstatic ! You are happy for him.

“Well I’m glad yo-…Wow…” You tried to walk but felt dizzy for a moment and almost fell down.

“Ah ! (Y/N) ! Oh dear, this most be cause by your blood lost…I am so sorry…Mh…..There’s a vending machine not far ! I’ll go get you something to replenish your strength ! I-I won’t be long ! Please wait here !”

He dashes out of the classroom before you have he time to protest. He seems much more energetic now which reassures you. Irakus comes back with about 10 different kinds of snacks. You laugh and say you only needed one or two. He decides that he’ll keep the resto for a friends of his. You eat some oatmeal cookie and feel a bit better. Your vampire friend next to you is agitated.

“I-I was sure I didn’t take much….I must’ve gotten to greedy..I am so sorry..”

“It’s okay.” You reassure him. “I don’t feel bad or anything, and the cookie helped. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He smiles. But now that things have settle down, a question pops into your mind.

“So…what are you going to do now ?”

“Huh ??”

“I…don’t think I can do this for your EVERY time your hungry…I think you should really find a solution to not feel so bad all the time.” His features become serious.

“I…..I know….But now that my energy is replenish I’ll have much more brain power to think of a long term solution !!” He seems very optimistic, so you leave it at that for now.

“How long till you’ll get hungry again you think ?”

“Usually it takes about a day or two. But I have become much more accustomed to hunger now. So I believe I would be fine for about 2 weeks.”

“I see. Well...I hope you can find  something before then.”

“I do to ! Haha “

The sun is beginning to rise now. You decide to wait for the first bus of day and Irakus offers you to walk you to the station and see you off. You talk a bit while you wait. You asks him what are his plans for the summer break. Is he going to squat in the school all summer ? He seems to not have given it much thought until now. You conclude that his hunger must’ve overtook all his thoughts for a while now. The bus finally comes and you get to go home to your warm bed at last. As you sit down, you see a vibrant Irakus full of eagerness and gratitude enthusiastically waving his hand to you. What a guy.

[oceansprompts]

Daredevil: Cutting Edge Quote Starters 3

quotes taken from the Marvel novel, Daredevil: The Cutting Edge (1999) by Madeleine E. Robins // adjust pronouns and lines as needed.

Come on, let's go hide from the painters.

Let me have five to get a cup of coffee, then I'll start returning calls, okay? I promise.

Nothing more than crushing piles of work. The usual. What's up?

I always like to know what I'm up against.

I wanted to play. Get a really tough problem and come up with an elegant solution.

You'll have to make this the "For Dummies" version.

Heartbreaking. You expect setbacks, but we were so close!

I mean, it worked ⸺ it just had this damned baggage with it.

Well, I'm over it. Grieved, moved on.

Turnabout and all that. I mean, I think it would be poetic justice, don't you?

Made me feel like I was thirteen years old, watching the senior prom queen in the hall in high school.

So you think because she's a babe that she's capable of planning murder?

Ow! Be careful! You don't know your own strength!

If I were afraid of you, would I be sitting here?

Let me uncomplicate things.

Let's talk about it before you do anything more like that.

No one is going to challenge me and get off easily. He taught me that.

We're walking a very fine line, don't upset the balance.

I promised: nothing unless we consult.

I was in the middle of a major negotiation, something that had really gotten bollixed up.

I was still in Big, Tough [name] mode when we meet, and I'm afraid I really wasn't very civil.

No, actually, I felt so bad about the way the meeting ended, I wanted to see if we could meet again.

Somewhere neutral, so I won't be tempted to bring my baggage along with me.

How about a cup of coffee in the Village, about five-thirty? Do you know the Coffeteria on 12th and Broadway?

Thank you so much, I really look forard to proving I'm not the monster I'm sure I seemed the other day.

Reduces me to a screaming hormonal pulp?

Partner, this whole business is so convoluted, it makes my head hurt.

Oh, that's right. Make it all about you, why don't you?

Well, I did it, didn't I? Walking around in the middle of the night with no more sense than a tennis shoe.

I don't want to hear you fretting about me getting in trouble.

It's my fault for not using the brains God gave me and letting you drive me all the way home.

Normal? How can things ever be normal when someone has played tic-tac-toe on your face with a Bowie knife?

Don't you think you ought to relax a little?

You were kind'a attacked by a very big guy with a knife. He's what you have to worry about.

I might as well get right up there on the bandwagon with her.

Garbagey talk show. Ouch. A sign of his interest in talking to the press? Tact, tact.

You really don't like being challenged at all, do you?

If I had my knife, you'd be down on your knees parying, you nobody, you nothing...

I have to do something, and this is what I can do.

My point is, I love you, and I don't want to have to bring you flowers at St. Clare's.

Be careful. That shiner is just beginning to fade; you don't need another, and I do need you. Okay?

Once again, it's all the fault of the guy in the tights, jeez.

You and your delicate sense of humor!

Too tired, too much to carry. I'll come back tomorrow and get them.

It's as tired as I am.

A quiet evening, thank God.

Okay, genius, what now?

If you promise not to shoot me, I'll tell you who did it.

If you try running, I'll catch you and we'll just play harder when we get where we're going.

Just crack the window an inch, please. Or I'm going to be sick all over you and the upholstery, and you can deal with the stench.

What are you gonna do, kill me?

That's it, that counts as your last wish. If you want to make a statement ⸺ I don't want to hear it.

Come on, I'm doing the best I can.

God, if ever you could hear what I was thinking, now would be a good time.

Stay alive, [name]. I'm here.

What are you, Iron Man?

Okay, so I can find you, but you're still made of spun adamantium or something. Why didn't that punch flatten you?

No wonder you like it ⸺ a very "you" kind'a statement

Look, I'm going to close my eyes and rest for a while, don't let anything exciting happen while I'm out, okay?

Are you sure you're supposed to be scolding me in your weakened condition?

I was just trying to distract you from telling me you were right about it.

I hadn't planned on scolding you about that until you were strong enough to fight back.

A man without fear, huh? You looked a little edgy there, last night.

A man without fear can dive off the Condorde into a damp paper cup without blinking... but not the thought of life without you.

You say the absolutely perfect thing sometimes. You really do.

I never know whether you're as clumsy as you seem, or just playing a very, very crafty part. Well, you're not dead yet.

It must be tied to the chromosomes, some elusive girl thing about ties.

Don't antagonize the big guy right now.

And if you had a brain in your head and hadn't kept going off on your own ⸺

If I go in now, I'll only attract attention and endanger you.

That the way you treat all your dates?

I'm going to have to keep hurting him, damaging him, until he stops, until I've done so much damage he can't go on. Can I fight that way?

Gotta stop this now. Tired, and I think I broke a rib. Okay, big boy!

Who did they think they were, Dr. Jekyll or something? Cripes!

Cosmic irony: man with no sympathy has a heart that beats sympathetically.

Hey... I'm one of the good guys, right?

Look at me. I look like... the Hulk's baby sister. And it's going to get worse.

It was grotesque. He looks like a monster. He used to be so beautiful.

I'm not stupid. I played a risky game and I lost. I lost it big and I'm going to wind up a monster.

Tell me about the colors.

Tell me what you hear.

I think they want us front and center to be thanked.

Anyone here ever ask you what the most beautiful word in the English language is, you can tell'em: home.

That's a couple of bad guys down.

Hey you, having a good time?

With you? Always.

We could rent a movie, then curl up on the couch together and ignore it.

That sounds good. We could even forget the movie.

Even better, I love you a lot.

That is what keeps me going.

[dinoburger]

I think the infuriating thing with a chronic condition like DR/PR where it doesn't seem hinged on your other faculties (you have good days and bad days during the same episode, because it can last years, you can experience a whole spectrum of thoughts and feelings during it that seemingly don't have a lasting effect) and the fact that it feels so polar from what you used to know, you sort of get the idea that you can just... pop your brain back into place like a dislocated shoulder.

you're not really privy to the subconscious mechanism that enforces this state, but you're aware that there's SOMETHING. Something inaccessible. If I feel like I'm dreaming, I just need to wake up. I just need to focus and "snap out of it".

The kind of hyper awareness of one's own mental state triggers more anxiety, that in turn makes it harder to get one's bearings, makes the subconscious mind seem all the more vast, terrifying and imposing. An endlessly dark space, a universe where nothing exists.

It's also cruel to tell someone to just persevere.

I don't know... a lot of advice falls flat, you know? "Stop using psychedelics" is non-applicable in my circumstance, "seek help" has been largely unsuccessful as most practitioners I've talked to about it had even less of an idea than I do, "mindful thinking/meditation" historically never did much for me - I actually find sending oneself further inside the dark abyss of the subconscious does little to help the state of the subconscious.

Sanity is easier to fall from than it is to maintain, but if becoming too internal is the problem, the solution is then to seek hope and sanctuary.

If I could try to pin down any compounding factor of DR/PR it is a kind of value attributed to mental wellness that causes a continuous spiral into anxiety. Mental illness is a weakness of mind that can be overcome, according to common opinion, therefore you must hunt down and purge that weakness, even if doing so drastically exacerbates the problem to begin with.

I feel like there's never been enough space for myself inside my own head. When someone insists "you will get over it", they give you room to ask yourself "but what if I don't?". What if I'm one of the bad ones who won't get to recover and fit whatever your idea of a worthwhile person is? And live a life that is always lacking? What if I die before I get there?

I've always been told that I could do better, and like I'm consciously withholding a better person inside myself, if only I would go to the efforts to uncover that person.

But I don't think I've ever been given the grace of working inside my limits, or imagining existence between absolute sanity and living as an invalid. There's nothing there, because I've never been shown the grace to build anything in there that wasn't up to standard.

But I think I can build something. Maybe I will have enough time. Maybe I will have enough peace. Maybe there is someone who has faith in me. Maybe I have hope.