#not. all in one big binge perhaps but

[99probalos]

making my seasonal dive into the vlogs. it all makes sense. TO ME. you don't get it though

[earthchica]

never lose me

terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: you and terry have had an on-and-off friends-with-benefits situation, but perhaps that's about to change.

warning: explicit smut (18+), fluff, unprotected rough morning sex, dirty talking, fwb, choking kink, mention of fear and rejection, slight daddy kink, foreplay, oral (m), pet names (baby girl, baby, etc.)

note: my first fanfic on one of aaron pierre's character! I watched rebel ridge then binge-watching all the stuff he was and fell in love. He is absolutely fine and adorable.

{ part two }

-

You woke up to the gentle morning sunbeams sneaking past the veil of curtains. Your eyes scan the room, attempting to determine your location.

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, and you felt something firm against your ass. Glancing over, you noticed terry peacefully snoring with his mouth slightly ajar.

A smile crept onto your face as you recalled your surroundings. Recollections of the previous night flooded your mind, and you told yourself this would never happen again but it did.

You and Terry met during your time in the Marines. You both instantly clicked, finding you both had a lot in common and became inseparable.

Throughout the ups and downs, you have consistently been each other's pillars of support, standing by one another through every breakup, every headache, and every dark moment.

People often questioned if you two were in a relationship or hinted you would make a great couple, but you couldn't comprehend their perspective at first.

Until you started getting feelings for him but soon after, you realize that the connection was purely platonic.

And because of that you tried to end this thing multiple times but Terry just knew how to pull you back in.

You sighed sofly, an idea formed in your mind. You slip out of his hold, moving down to his legs and gently pushing the blankets aside.

The sight of his big, long dick made your mouth water; just staring at it filled you with excitement and warmth.

You leaned in, gently touched the top of his dick, increased your pace slightly, and eagerly anticipated his response.

"............" He softly murmurs your nickname, groggily opening his eyes.

A look of delight spreads across his face as he sees you positioned between his legs, prepared to pleasure him.

A few more gentle touches at the tip before enveloping his shaft in your mouth, then started moving your head up and down.

Terry lets out a loud moan and firmly grasps your curly hair. His deep and alluring moans ignited a strong sensation deep within you.

You looked up at his face and noticed his eyes filled with desire. You moved your mouth away with a wet sound and coated his dick with your saliva.

"Oh, fuck. Y-you gotta stop…baby girl" Terry says in a low voice as he brushes your untidy, curly hair away from your face.

Before you could speak.

Terry lifted you and flipped you onto your back. He began leaving a trail of kisses along your neck, while gently running the tip of his dick up and down your pussy.

You lean into him, craving his touch as you long for him to be inside you; the teasing has become unbearable.

Terry also couldn't resist; he thrust deep inside, filling and stretching you.

Fuck...you loved how big he was, and how it always felt like you were about to be split in half.

This sensation was what you always desired and yearned for. He started to move back and forth inside you gently.

Stroking your cheeks with his hands before increasing the speed and pressing his forehead against mine.

"Terry, rougher please!" You whispered as you gazed into his passionate eyes.

You drew him into a kiss while raising your leg slightly to stimulate your inner self.

"You love getting fucked rough huh, baby?" He inquired, drew back from the kiss, gently wrapping his hand on your neck.

"Yes Ahh, Terry yes!!" You moaned, digging your nails into his arm as his thrusts quickened desperately.

You could feel your legs tightening up.

With immense strength, you swiftly flipped him onto his back and linked your hands with his, moving up and down his body.

"Oh...take a little control...I see?" He smirked, and you nodded sensing your grip tighten around him, causing a pulsating sensation deep inside you.

Terry releases one of your hands and firmly grasps your waist. Aligning his movements with the rhythm, elicited a loud moan from you.

You savored each moment as he thrust up inside your wet, dripping pussy.

You felt your eyes roll in the back of your head, feeling yourself already close to the edge.

Terry let go your hand before placed both his hands on your hips, pounding up into you.

You gasped, gripping his shoulder before throwing your head with a cry of moan.

"That's fucking right. Take that fucking dick, You loves daddy's dick Right?" He asked.

"Yes, oh fuck I love daddy's dick. I'm-I'm gonna cum can I cum, Daddy!" You cried in pleasure, feeling yourself about to release.

"Cum, baby girl. Cum for me!" He demanded, and you obeyed, shouting his name, as you felt a powerful wave of release surge through you sharply.

Terry flips you on your stomach, face down and ass up. He fucks you through your high, desperately chasing his release.

"Fucking so good, baby. The best pussy I've ever had" Terry says, gripping your hips tightly, pounding into you faster than before.

You felt another orgasm coming along and it felt too much for you, so you tried to move away.

"Ahh...no fucking run...take this fucking dick, like a good girl" Terry groans, smacking your ass.

"TERRY!" You cried, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. He brought you up, wrapping his hand around your throat while kissing your neck.

In a matter of seconds…you both came togather, it was so intense and sensual.

Terry winced a little, coming inside of you. You both dropped immediately down into the pillows, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck" He cursed, pulling out before lying down beside you on his back.

"Damn, girl you're gonna be the fucking death of me," Terry remarked with a contented sigh as you gazed over at him with weary eyes, nodding in approval.

-

"I know we've been on and off with this, but I think we should definitely continue it," you declared as you emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your body.

Terry appeared slightly disappointed but swiftly adjusted his expression as he pulled his pants back on.

"Hey, you good?" You asked, moving to sit next to him on the bed. Your voice filled with concern as you leaned in, waiting for his response.

"What if we...you know, um...shit," he says, struggling to get the words out, leaving you utterly confused.

"Terry, what are you trying to say?" you pressed, as you placed your hand on his leg, locking eyes with him.

"I want to take you out on a date, I'm done with this on-and-off shit. I want something serious with you" He says with those pretty eyes.

You were taking back, you would never believed this would happen but you were glad.

You suddenly realized that not a single word had left your lips as you stared at him, leaving him with an embarrassed expression.

"Forget I fucking said anything," he murmured, rising from the bed to slip into his shirt before making his exit.

You acted quickly, stepping in front of him to block his exit. You met his gaze with a soft smile and firmly placed your hand on his chest.

"Terry, I've been waiting to hear that for so long? Do you truly want something more?" You asked, pursuing assurance.

His touch tenderly caressed your face, prompting you to close your eyes and revel in the exquisite sensation.

"Of course...I do..baby. You've always been someone I can rely on, be myself with, and I guess fear and rejection played a big part in me not confessing to you" He says.

"I would've never rejected you. I-I love you Terry...and I've always wanted more with you but I guess I was afraid too" You confessed.

His eyes widened in disbelief at the three little words. You couldn't help but smile at his stunned reaction.

"Say that again?" he murmured, enveloping you in his embrace, yearning to caress your neck with his lips.

You giggled, whispering, "I love you, Terry Richmond. I've always had and I always will"

He drew you in for a kiss, and this one was unlike any other you both had shared.

This was pure love and sweetness. You enveloped him in your arms, savoring the kiss.

"I love you too," he said, pulling away from the kiss and brushing a few strands of curls out of your face.

"Is that so?" you inquired with a gentle smile. Terry chuckled and tenderly swept you into his arms, eliciting joyful giggles from you.

"I do... I've always felt this way, and I always will. I'm in love with you...so can I take you on a date?" "Terry asked, flashing his charming smile."

"I would love to go on a date with you, Terry," you declared with a smile, and he joyfully spun you around, both of you bursting into laughter.

[gus-the-goldfish]

you asked about requests for Gambit, yeah? I have one!!

I binge watched Supernatural, and you know how the boys would often sleep in their clothes? like jeans boots and stuff?

i was thinking, how about a reader who does the same? like she never felt safe enough to get comfy? just something short and sweet, please 🙏

Ok first of all, i looooove Supernatural. And Gambit !!! thank you for the request, i hope its to your liking!! (i wrote this in like an hour at work, i will edit this post later)

ok but he would be so fucking sweet about it?

like, your in the bathroom for your nightly routine, clean clothes laying at the ready. jeans are  not the most comfortable thing to wear in bed but at least you wouldnt have to potentially fight in your underwear. you couldnt help it, it was a habit you couldnt quiet get rid off after years of living on the road, never feeling save enough to let your guard down enough to actually relax, not even while sleeping.

this night, however, was different. your just out of the shower, towel wrapped around you tightly as you entered the bedroom. you had already prepared what you planned on wearing, underwear, jeans and a shirt laying ready at the end of the bed.

you couldnt help but stare at the clothes, already dreading the night to come when you thought how fucking uncomfortable you will be restricted by them when your boyfriend lay beside you in nothing but maybe boxershorts, happily snoring in your ear.

maybe you should try, just this once, to wear something more comfortable. some sweatpants, perhaps? fuck it, you go all in. some panties and one of Remys shirts will do just fine.

and then Remy comes in and sees you lounging on the bed, headphones in your ears and casually scrolling through your phone. it wouldnt take long for him to figure out something was different, he had never once seen you so relaxed, and without pants at that. well, he did see you without them many times, but in a whole other context. lounging around like that though? never.

a small smlie grew on his face and he quickly stripped down to his boxers to take his place on the bed which was, honestly, half on top of you. you jumped at the unexpected contact but quickly melted into his embrace when his big, warm hand caressed your thigh, wandering dangerously close to your ass (which might be one of his favorite parts of you).

"feelin' good, mon coeur?"

earbuds and phone forgotten somwhere on the bed, you turned your head to look at him; his smile was soft and warm, a glint of pride and admiration in his eyes and as you let your eyes drift over his stupidly handsome face you wondered how in hell you could ever feel not safe with him beside you.

"yeah," you touched his face, thumb gently stroking his cheek. "never better."

he smiled, eyes crinkling with how broad it was and pulled you closer to press a lingering kiss on your forehead. "good." he said, voice not louder than a whisper and pulled you with him as he turned on his back, wrapping you in his arms.

you sighed contently as you settled against him with your head on his chest, letting the soft beat of his heart drift through you. your legs tangled with his and you instantly regreted every night you couldnt feel his warm skin against yours.

and so it was the first of many nights you didnt feel the need to be ready to run or fight. finally, after so much time, you could rest comfortable, knowing youd be safe and sound in Remys arms.

[idesofrevolution]

Father

Dad had been acting strange for quite some time. Honestly, it wasn't that noticeable in the beginning, which I suppose made it difficult to pinpoint when things started to change. I only started to notice maybe seven months or so ago after he turned down the daily Budweiser. Patrick O'Shaughnessy turning down his biggest vice? I knew something was off right then and there as he sat there, smiling at me from his armchair with the game on in the background: red flag number two, my stepfather had NEVER been a sports guy. Binging Fox News while fingering pudding cups, sure; but actually knowing what was happening in a football game?

I'd originally thought he'd perhaps found a side girl to cheat on my mom with. It was far from outside of his character to do something like that, if he'd ever be able to get his nasty ass out of the recliner for ten fucking minutes... He'd gotten too comfortable in his laziness. When my mom married him a year ago, he was already a piece of shit lardass who refused to do a single thing around the house, refused to work a normal job (he was waiting for a management position apparently), and above all refused to acknowledge me whatsoever. He was rude, crass, could never even so much as break a smile at me. And there, in that moment as his eyes made contact with mine and his lips curled into a smile, I knew something was wrong.

"What, no beer burps for me today?" I scowled at him, raising my eyebrow in a malicious curiosity.

"Nahh little man, I'm trying to cut down." Little man? He'd never gotten my name right let alone given me a nickname... We did not have that kind of relationship, at least one that would have an affectionate nickname for one another. "Say, I'm hittin' the gym in a couple minutes. Whaddya say you come along?"

"You're... you're going to the gym? Really?" I sat there slackjawed. Something was indeed off. What it was, I couldn't exactly tell. Nothing outside of his UberEats order would ever get Patrick out of the chair. He laughed at me, gripping his sizeable paunch beneath his stained tee shirt.

"You bet, bud. High time I set an example for my boy. How's he gonna respect a couch potato loser? You should come along. Nothin' like a father and son spending time together, especially in the gym. Get the boys lookin', right?" He stood up from his chair, grabbing his keys off the kitchen countertop as he headed toward his car. I, on the other hand, stood there with tunnel vision. Patrick was not the most supportive parent when it came to... well, anything. But the biggest bone of contention was me coming out to them last year. It was the biggest hullabaloo, Oscar worthy. Thrown glasses, flipped chairs, disownment, threats of eviction... the only thing that kept me in the house was my mother putting her foot down. It wasn't a big deal for her, but for him... I was the biggest embarrassment on the planet. What would Tucker Carlson think?

Yet as I stood there, staring at the cigarette-stained wall, my brain couldn't process what I'd just heard. 'Get the boys lookin' he said... As if he were trying to play wing man for me... What the fuck was happening? My heart fluttered the moment his words sank in, that was pride. It was something neither my father nor my stepdad ever had the courtesy of giving me. My walls were up, and I was beyond skeptical, so for my own peace of mind I had decided then and there to investigate.

From that day on, the moment I came home from school, I was spying. While most of my friends were trying to enjoy their senior year, going to parties or getting ready for college, I was at home peering behind corners at my stepfather. Over the first few months I watched with complete disbelief at the changes. Every single day, I'd come home, and he'd be on his way out to the gym. The normal scowl he'd gift me upon my entry was replaced with jovial smiles and hair ruffling as he schlepped his gym bag over his shoulder out the door. He'd be gone for two or three hours at least, and come home just before dinner dripping in buckets of sweat. I'd begun to avoid driving his car, as the stink of his sweat had completely inundated the fabric of the seats. He'd toss his bag on the floor by my book bag (gross), and plop down at the dinner table where he would ask genuinely about my day or sweetly flirt with my mom while winking at me. I still wasn't convinced. He kept asking me nearly every day if I'd come to the gym with him, if we could go shoot hoops at the park across the street, or if I'd play FIFA with him. Each time I'd shoot him down, he'd have a momentary break in that happy facade of his, as if it were hurting him I wasn't spending time with him.

Within five months or so, he was nearly unrecognizable. I guess protein shakes & a low carb diet really works on a guy: he'd lost nearly 70 pounds and gained about 20 in muscle alone. He'd struck up friendships with my school's wrestling coach and a couple of the neighbors, and we were finding ourselves invited to barbecues and block parties for the first time. I had to endure little hallway chats with Coach Weston about joining the wrestling team, as he was in talks with the school district about bringing my stepdad on as assistant coach. It was bizarre to me for many reasons, but one stood out above all: Patrick was never a wrestler. Not in college, not in high school, my mom even confirmed it one night at dinner. He'd brush it off as if it were something fun he were doing with 'Dane', which in and of itself was weird to hear the coach's first name used at all at home.

Sleep was getting difficult. My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, but now he and mom had begun to fuck like rabbits. Loud, hard sex almost every other night with their bed slamming against my bedroom wall for hours. Mom of course was radiant at that point. The years of one piece of shit husband being a complete and total asshole, replaced by another piece of shit husband treating her like garbage melted away in the course of a couple of months of Patrick being a strangely brilliant partner. He'd started to cook us meals, he'd started to do the yardwork, he'd even fixed things around the house that had been broken for years. Sure, the sex seemed to help, but as she would say: "He's lessened my load so much, Jonas. I wish you'd give him a chance."

Sure, he was treating my mom well and that was a good enough reason for me to like him. Was it enough to trust him? No. I'd still turn down every single request to spend time alone with him. No gym. No basketball court. No gaming. Though, in one single concession for my mom's sake, I begrudgingly agreed to let him drive me to school in the morning. That one decision is what truly changed my life forever. I went to bed that night, putting on my earbuds to drown out their disgusting sex in the next room, less than eager for the fifteen minute drive the next day.

Thus, on that warm April day, my morning began as normal. Shower, dress, drink my morning smoothie, grab my bag, and walk out the door. It wasn't long before I was greeted by his chipper, dim witted voice shattering my peaceful morning.

"Ayy little man!" I sighed, turning toward the garage, where there he stood: shirtless and dripping sweat from his chiseled body. As a gay guy, I have to admit, it was hard not to stare. He had become quite a sight to behold. The other moms in the neighborhood certainly would sit and stare at him on his morning runs, even a couple of the dads as well, and now I sat there oogling the ripped, gleaming body he'd built.

"Hey, Patrick. Do you need to shower? I have to get going, but I can catch the bus if there's not enough time?" In my head, I was praying to God that he'd just hop in the shower he never seemed to take and I could go on my merry way. Though, no such luck.

"Nah, man! It's all good. I promised you I'd take you to school, so hop in the car!" I sighed, turning to his 1998 Mustang with a shiver cascading down my spine.

"Sure, Patrick." I dragged my feet headed toward his car. Opening the door, the humid, musky air within poured out of the car, punching me in the face with his scent. Imagine a noxious waft of butter, blue cheese, saltwater, and feet just drowning you. That was the stink that swamped his car, and him for that matter. I took one final breath of fresh air before I sat in the car and closed the door. He wasn't far behind, not even bothering to put a shirt on as he hopped in beside me.

"Alright! Let's get goin' bud!" He turned the key and the car roared to life. I sighed, thankful it was only fifteen minutes. As we pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, I turned on the radio, hoping to dissuade him from making some puerile small talk. We sat there in silence for a moment, before hitting the main road. "You know what, bud?" He turned to me, looking me up and down before rolling up the windows and turning off the radio. "Ahhh fuck it. We're playing hooky today."

"Wait, what?" I had no time to protest, before he turned onto the main road, but in the opposite direction from the school. "Patrick, I'm not playing hooky. I have to go to school." He laughed, ruffling my hair yet again.

"You gotta stop callin' me Patrick, Jonas. I don't have to be dad if you don't want, but Patrick is so... not me. Just call me Pat."

"Okay, PAT. I'm going to school." He turned to me, and his smile faded, letting out a solid sigh that would put mine to shame. He pulled over onto the shoulder, and put the car in park.

"Listen. I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me, and I get it. I made a lot of changes to him very quickly, and it's hard to keep up." Him? Why did he say it like that? "I'd been watching you just suffer endlessly for years, man. All the time. I just wanted you to have a good role model for once. A man you could lean on, and not some shitty lard who talks bad to ya."

"What the fuck are you on about?" My patience had worn too thin for my calm veneer to bear. He turned the key, and the engine quickly died.

"C'mon bro. You know something's different about him, right? I know you've been watchin' me like a hawk. Think I haven't noticed you watchin' me from around the hall corner? You think I don't know you're creepin' while I beat one out huffin' my strap? I know, dude. I've always known. C'mon, man." Pat threw his hands in the air in frustration, the first time since his attitude adjustment that I'd seen anything like it. But, this was different. It wasn't rage, it was exasperation.

"Okay, Pat. So you saw me watching you. Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on now?" He slowly rested his sweaty head against the headrest, and sighed. Then, a chuckle. Then another, until he was full on laughing. "What!?"

"Ahhh, man. I never thought I'd see the day you'd man up and come to. Yeah, Jonas. I can tell you what the fuck is going on." I sat back, confounded- even more so than before. "My name was Matt Wilde. Way back in the day, I used to wrestle for Palm Heights High. Was pretty damn good at it too, but one day I got pinned just a little too hard and poof."

"Matt Laurent? What the fuck are you talking about, Pat? Are you high?" His dumb laugh threw him back in the seat.

"Nah, I finished that joint earlier, man. Stone sober now. But, safe to say for the past 50 years I've been just hoppin' body to body. Started with a couple of my teammates just so I could finish out the years, wrestle a bit more. Got bored, hung around the gym, in and out of some lug heads. Did a stint in some Libertines, that was fun as fuck. But man, I saw you sulkin' around the school for the past three years and thought, damn that kid looks sad. So, I may have eavesdropped a bit, maybe caught a bit about your dead beat, piece of shit dad; then right after he ditches, Mom lands this fuckin' winner." He slapped his chest, little droplets of his sweat landing on my bewildered face. "Oh shit, my bad." I sat there, slackjawed, completely disoriented as he dumbly wiped his sweat off my nose and cheek.

"You... you're dead?" He snapped his fingers, winking and smirking at me.

"Bingo, bud. Right on the money. I was like, I'm in a very unique situation here to fuckin' do something this. So, I slipped into this dumbass and just stuck around. Did the work. Tried, emphasis on TRIED, to be like the Dad I had and that you deserve, ya know? Haven't made it fuckin' easy, but... ahhh. That's parenthood, am I right?" I scoffed, he must have taken some damn good drugs. I was convinced. There was no way!

"Okay, then. MATT. So, if you're some dead jock bro possessing Pat, where the fuck is he?" He pondered for a moment in silence, shrugging his shoulders.

"I think he's gone, bro. I haven't stayed in a dude this long, I used to hear him bitchin' and moanin' all the time, but he went silent a couple of weeks ago." Fuck, I wish that were true. I had to admit, even if only in my mind, this Matt-Patrick was lightyears better than Patrick Patrick. Sure, he was dumb, he was every stereotype dudebro in the book, he smelled like he bathed in sweat baths... But, for the first time in my life, he wanted to be around me. He wanted to spend time with me. He made an effort. He... liked me. The mental gymnastics needed to make sense of the situation was growing too monumental to comprehend, but in that moment as he sat there with his dumb fucking grin on his face as if I was going to just completely buy it, I started to hope it was true.

"So, what now, Matt? Are you just gonna keep fucking my mom and prentending to be my Dad for the rest of your life? Or are you gonna hop out and ditch us?" He raised his eyebrow in genuine confusion.

"I mean, yeah that was the plan. One, your mom is fuckin' hot and she's better than any girl I've ever been with. Two, I kinda like our little family. Three, I ain't ditchin' ya, bro. You had enough of that shit for one lifetime. Besides, I gotta get you to chill the fuck out one way or another, so I was hoping we could give it a shot. Like I've been beggin' man." 'Matt' put his hands together as if praying, pleading to me. I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing. It's better than coming home every day to spy on him, and it's way better than being the sad wallflower all the fucking time. Besides, those dumb fucking puppy dog eyes...

"You know what? Sure, Matt. What did you have in mind?" I could barely finish my sentence before he'd twisted the key and slammed on the gas. The man drove like a bat out of hell through town, hooting and hollering in victory as if he'd won a match.

"Hell fuckin' yeah, man! Dude we're gonna be so tight, it's gonna be awesome. You're gonna be so fuckin' sexy, the dudes are gonna be on their knees by the time we're done! Slobberin' on that dick like SLURPEDY SLURP! WOO!" So fuckin' dumb. Dumb as a box of rocks. But I couldn't help but crack a smile as he swerved left and right, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Let's get you sweatin' man. We can get you pumpin' iron, playin' ball... I'm burning everything you got in your closet, bro. Nobody wants polos and button ups, man. Gettin' you some J's, some good jocks. Oh, how do you feel about chains?"

"Matt, dude. I'm not like you. That's all well and good for you, but I can't pull that shit off..." He slammed on the brakes and a cavalcade of horns from behind us rang out like a brass band. Matt whipped his gaze to me in shock.

"Don't say that, bro! You could be a bona fide stud! Look at you, man!" A couple of hard slaps against my bony chest and a harsh wheeze later, perhaps it sank in a bit. "Aight, well we have some work to do. I mean, if you're up for it." He smirked at me, lifting up those massive arms and flexing. His veins bulged from his massive bicep, the wet hairs in his ripe pits wafted that pungent scent I'd regrettably started to secretly love... Yeah, maybe I did want it.

"I don't know how, man. If I were like you, I bet I could." As if a cartoon lightbulb flickered to life above his head, I saw the spark of inspiration hit him like a sack of bricks. That stupid smirk grew into a wide, toothy grin.

"Aight, bro. Haven't tried this before, but I'll give it a go." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them gently. "I saw Jimmy Morales do this once when he needed a spotter. Gotta ask, though. You trust me, right?" I sat there and wondered if I did. I'd pretended up until this point that I believed every word that had come out of his mouth. This insane, psychotic story. It was nuts. It was crazy. But that little voice in the back of my head, deep down in the dark recesses of my brain decided to finally speak up.

"Yeah, Matt. I trust you."

"ALRIGHT! Fuck yeah, man. Oh shit, this is gonna be great! Okay, so don't freak out, just trust me and let it happen, okay? It doesn't hurt, the dudes usually bust a nut after it's all over." I heard a squelching rumble from in his stomach: wet, guttural, as if he were getting ready to vomit. Which became more and more likely as I saw a lump start to make it's way up his throat.

"Matt..." His body began to shudder and quake, his veins bulging and head thrashing from side to side. Then, from between his lips, a glowing blue vapor began to slip out. It was tiny at first, a little tail whipping about, before more and more of it started to bellow out of his mouth. Slick, bulbous, translucent. I had mere seconds of watching it slither out before it darted right into my own slack jaw. It squirmed as it wriggled from his body into mine, slurping deep into my bulging stomach. The feeling of fullness overtook me, watching more and more of the rubbery thing enter me, squeezing into every available inch within me, and he was right: it felt good. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was just moments. The last of suctioned into me, and the world went black.

---

I woke the next morning in my bed. Shooting straight upright in a puddle of sweat. I rubbed my hands on my face, running my fingers through my drenched hair. What a fuckin' dream. I groaned as doubled over in pain. I felt like I was hit by a train. Everything hurt, a soreness unlike anything I'd ever experienced before radiated from every fiber of my being. Then, a soft caress of the nostril. Salty, buttery, funky... I raised my arm, finding the culprit immediately.

"Fuck!" I spat out, before taking a deep breath, another hit. "Fuuuuck..." Another inhale, a familiar stink, a comforting stink. What started as gentle whiffs quickly turned into full on huffing. I buried my nose in my pit, letting the wet jungle lather my face in my own sweat.

"Morning, bro. Good shit, ain't it?" The words echoed in my head, a soft, rippling little voice from within my brain. I should have been alarmed, terrified, even. But no, the words felt like gospel to me. "We really went to town yesterday, man. I had you liftin' like an Olympian. Take it easy. Here, I'll be right there, I got just the thing for it!" My hands started to drift southward, beneath the waistband of the teal sweats I didn't own... Were they... Pats? The door to my room burst open mid-huff, and in walked the hulking tower himself with a tray in hand.

"Goooood Morning, Kiddo! I made ya a protein shake, good recovery breakfast after a workout sesh like we had! Oh, your Mom made eggs!" He walked over to the side of my bed, kicking the Jordans I'd borrowed from him to the side. Wait, when did I do that? "Eat up, champ. Those 'ceps aren't gonna feed themselves!" Slamming the tray down onto my thighs, I let out a groan of pain.

"Pat? Dude, I had the weirdest dream." Dude? I never say dude. I cupped my hand, slick with sweat and pre over my mouth, aghast at the words coming out of my mouth. Pat smiled, grabbing the shake and handing it to me. "Drink up, my dude. For real, you're gonna be in a world of hurt otherwise." The voice boomed in my head, HIS voice. But his lips hadn't moved an inch. "Pat..." I ripped the sheets off of me, sure enough, I was sporting his nasty sweatpants & drenched socks. Cupping my manhood was most definitely his grimy jockstrap. "Hey, if we were gonna have the best workout, I had to be comfortable, bro! I knew you'd get it, though." I looked at him, a tight lipped smile, as if he were proving to me he weren't talking to me. "Feels good, right! I told ya! Just think, bro. With a half of me in there, you're gonna be unstoppable." I smiled. A genuine fuckin' smile, for the first time in as long as I could remember. I watched as my hand gripped the shake, bringing it to my lips of it's own accord. Downing the vanilla shake, our eyes met, and I understood completely. Matt winked at me, ruffling my hair, and sauntered back out of the door.

I leaned back in my bed, throwing my arm behind my head. The musk drifting from my pits and feet, identical to my dad's. Smirking, I let my fingers drift down to my growing meat in its slimy pouch, knowing fully well that I was in damn fine hands.

---

So that brings us to today, I guess! One year to the day. One full year since I finally let Dad in. 'Pat' sure did join the wrestling team as assistant coach, bringing his son in tow, eager to finish my senior year with at least a title. Thanks to him, I made varsity after the first fuckin' tryout. Can't say it was all me, all the time, but after a while it was. Honestly, it all started to blend together. Me at the wheel, him at the wheel, soon it sort of blurred and it was just me. That last semester was the best of my whole fucking life. Parties, bodybuilding, skating with the boys, fuckin' the boys... Shit, it was the time of my fuckin' life.

And after every day at school, or at least after every post-practice locker room blow job, I couldn't wait to get home and smash some Call of Duty with the old man. Mom would always come in, making comments on how we seemed as if I'd become a mini-Pat. Finishing eachother's sentences, drinking the same beer, wearing the same kind of clothes... she'd always put our sneaks outside the garage door, "they even stank the same." Little did she know just how much of the same person we really were.

I've decided to stick around the house for a year or so before maybe headed to college. I don't know, family is here, friends are here, Coach Weston should be retiring in a year or two... so there should be an opening for a new assistant coach on the wrestling team. Besides, I may have landed quite the catch in the boyfriend department, and I really want him to meet my dad, I have a feeling they'll get along just fine.

[skyeet-the-writer]

The One With the Girl from Canada

while im cleaning out my drafts, here's something from a few months ago. i really like this and i've written and are currently writing some more little chapters, so be on the lookout for them!! this is also posted on my ao3 if you want to go read it there too :) chandler bing x female!reader summary: new york city is a big place for a girl who lived in canada her entire life, but you manage. one afternoon, while getting some work done in a cozy coffee shop, a very handsome brunette asks to sit beside you. who are you to tell him no? word count: ~2.3k warnings: none i don't think lmao that never happens next>

Central Perk is a special spot for Chandler Bing. That's where he talks with his friends, it's where they all relax, it's where he met Rachel just a couple of months ago, coming in wearing a wedding dress and looking highly frazzled. It's got a nice, calming atmosphere, pretty good coffee, and the absolute best spot in all of Manhattan.

The area with the couch is where he and his friends always sit. Sometimes he feels bad for taking it, but nobody seems to mind, ever. And so he always sits there, usually on the couch when it is available.

When he walked into Central Perk one afternoon after work, he just wanted to grab a coffee and wait for the rest of his friends to show up eventually. He didn't expect there to be anyone there, no one ever was at this time on a Thursday.

But then he saw someone sitting in his spot.

Normally, he would have been upset, probably ask them to leave, nicely, of course, and pray to God that they left because he hates confrontation.

However, the person sitting in his spot was probably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. She looked like she had been there for a few hours, at least, because there was an empty plate with crumbs on it and a large mug drained, both sitting on the coffee table her feet were propped up on.

For a moment, Chandler stood at the counter and stared at her like some kind of creep. He had never seen her around and he knew he'd remember if he did. She wore gray jeans rolled up at the ankles to show off her colorful socks underneath a pair of black and white Converses. As his eyes traveled up her frame, he saw her wearing some kind of band tee and a tiny, silver necklace around her neck. She seemed to be writing something and, from what Chandler could tell, she seemed to be deep into thought. Her pencil scratched across the notebook and every so often, she would pause and read over it before promptly erasing something and writing once more.

He heard his name being said and turned around to see Guther holding out a coffee cup to him.

"Oh, thanks, Gunther," he told the worker, taking the coffee from him.

Chandler had never been good at talking to girls and more often than not chickened out on the opportunity to do so. But he didn't want to chicken out on talking to you.

And so, with confidence, he walked over to the area he always sat at and stood just beside the couch, next to your arm that was leaning on the armrest.

Before now, he didn't notice the headphones around your ears and the Walkman that sat beside you, but when he clears his throat and you don't react, he understands why. And so, again and a little bit louder, he clears his throat, gently tapping on your shoulder.

Your eyes tear away from the page in your lap at the touch of another person and you whip your head up to see a man standing beside you, looking at you with a smile. Perhaps too loudly, you exclaim, "Oh, shit, sorry!" and hastily pause your music and let the headphones rest around your neck. You blink up at the man and ask, "Yes?"

"I, uh." Chandler swallows thickly because even your voice is one from a dream. "You're, uh, kind of in my spot."

With a mischievous smile, you turn around in your seat like you're looking for something. "Oh, word? I don't see your name on it."

And then you smile at him snarkily and Chandler forgets how to breathe. But then he laughs, a bit awkwardly. Your sarcastic grin fades into a true one and you add, "Don't worry, I'll move."

When you start to gather your things, Chandler is quick to put a stop to it. He doesn't want you to move, not now, not ever. Not when he's just started to talk to you. "No, no, you're fine, I'm just kidding."

You stop your movements and look up at him. "Oh, alright. You can sit next to me, though."

Chandler doesn't have to be told twice. He sits beside you on the opposite side of the couch and takes a drink of his coffee like that will do anything to cure his jitters.

"What's your name?" you ask him, setting your notebook in your lap for just a moment. You wonder if he wants to have a conversation, but not many people in New York do.

He answers, "Chandler."

"Nice to meet you, Chandler. I'm y/n."

God, even your name sounds like something from a song.

"It's nice to meet you, too, y/n." He takes notice of the notebook in your lap and feels the urge to ask, "Mind if I ask what you're writing?"

With another grin, you say, "What if I did?"

Chandler can only wonder if your smile is contagious because he feels his lips curl upwards. "I mean, I'd still ask. I'm nosey."

You laugh and tilt your notebook for him to read. "It's a screenplay I'm writing."

Chandler's eyes widen. "You're a screenwriter? What, you make movies and stuff?"

"I wish." You scoff and feel a slight heat rise to your cheeks. "No, I write stories for movies and stuff. At least, I try."

"Is it not going so well?"

You shrug. "I don't know. Some studio called me up a few months ago, said they liked the idea I submitted and gave me a few months to come up with a first draft. And I've got two more weeks to finish it, so we'll see."

"I'm sure it's great," Chandler says and he means it. He can't write for shit, but something about you seems so...creative and special. "Even if I just met you."

You laugh again and close the notebook, stashing it away in the tote bag that rests on the floor. "Thanks, really."

"Of course." When you turn your body to face him, he sees what band is on your shirt and, even though he knows who it is, he asks, "What band is that?"

When he points to your chest, you look down and answer, "Oh, Nirvana."

"Oh, my God, I love them!"

"Really?" Your face breaks into a grin and you lean forwards a little. "What's your favorite song."

"'Heart-Shaped Box'," he says.

"Oh, that's good. I like 'Come As You Are'."

Soon, the conversation seems to flow quite naturally between the pair of you. He tells you about his boring job, something with a bunch of numbers and nothing exciting. You both compare bands and he realizes you're much more into rock and alternative works, but he guessed that the second he saw the leather jacket that rests beside you.

Joey is the first to arrive. Chandler glances up at the door when he hears the bell above it jingle and sees his roommate falter at the sight of you. You're not looking, rummaging through your tote bag for something and Chandler's eyes widen at the sight of the other person. If Joey flirts with you, Chandler will kill him.

Joey, clearly not catching on to Chandler's look from across the cafe, sees you and smirks, walking over.

"Hey, Chandler," he greets but doesn't look at his friend, eyes settling on you. "Who's, uh, your friend?"

You turn up at the sound of another person and spot the Italian-American smiling at you. You smile back and say, "I'm y/n."

"How you doin'?" Joey smirks and sits himself down on the high stool beside you. "I'm Joey."

"Hi, Joey," you reply, glancing at Chandler who quickly wipes the glare from his face and smiles at you. "You guys know each other?"

"We're roommates," he answers, motioning at his friend who is still staring at you.

You blink and shift in your seat. "Oh."

"I like your shirt," Joey says.

"You like Nirvana, too?" Your face brightens and Chandler almost melts.

But then his roommate says, "Who?"

And that look on your face is gone. Your smile falls and you look away back into your tote, mumbling, "Never mind."

Chandler meets his friend's eyes and shakes his head twice, brows furrowed. Joey always gets the girl. Chandler deserves to hope, at least.

You pull out a packet of gum and open it. You take a piece out and unwrap it before offering one to Chandler. He smiles and takes it, popping it in his mouth and shoving the wrapper in his pocket.

"Want some gum?" you ask the other man with darker and messier hair.

He takes one and thanks you. You return it with a grin and put the gum back in your tote, on top of your notebook.

Joey says your name and you look at him. "So, you live around here?"

You nod. "Yeah, I live in Hell's Kitchen."

"Oh, cool, cool. How long have you lived here? You grew up in New York?"

Immediately, you shake your head. "Oh, no, no, I didn't grow up here."

"Where'd you grow up?" Chandler asks, tilting his head

"Winnipeg," you answer, biting back a smile.

Chandler's brows furrow and Joey asks, "Where's that?"

"Manitoba." Your straight cracks a bit and you try to fight the smile that wants to paint itself across your lips.

Joey looks lost and asks again, "...Where's that?"

"Canada," you tell him, fully grinning now.

Joey gasps and Chandler tries not to roll his eyes. He figured it out when you said Manitoba. He says, "You're from Canada?"

You nod, turning your head to look at him. "Yep."

"Do you speak French?" Joey asks, touching your arm, clearly already friendly with you.

Turning to him, you answer, "Non."

Chandler laughs and you giggle, crossing one leg over the other.

"I speak Italian," Joey says.

You raise a brow. "Yeah?"

He nods and leans forward in his chair, smirking. "Sei bellissima."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're beautiful," he answers, voice a little lower than it was before.

Some heat rushes up your neck and you look away at your lap. "Oh."

Chandler glares at his friend, but Joey doesn't catch it.

Thankfully, before Chandler reaches over you to choke Joey, the bell dings and he glances at the door. Monica, Ross, Phoebe, and Rachel are walking in and while the rest of his friends make their way over, Rachel immediately goes to clock in for her shift.

They walk over and greet the other two and Phoebe is the first to address you. "Oh, wow, you're pretty."

You laugh out loud, blushing even harder at the compliment from a woman, touching your necklace. "Thank you. I like your skirt."

Phoebe giggles and swishes her skirt. "Thanks."

"This is y/n," Chandler introduces you to his friends.

"Hey." You lift your hand in a wave of sorts, feeling like you're butting in on their group. You should leave, but in a minute. You don't want to be rude.

Chandler's friends introduce themselves--Ross, Monica, and Phoebe, you repeat their names in your head to remember better--and then he gestures towards the coffee bar. "And the girl over there is Rachel."

"It's nice to meet you guys," you say politely, squeezing your hands in your lap.

"You too." Monica smiles. "I love your shirt, by the way."

"Thanks." You grin, basking in all the compliments.

Ross looks at Monica and asks, "You listen to Nirvana?"

Monica fixes him with a look. "Yes, because I'm cooler than you."

You chuckle at their interaction when Joey suddenly blurts out, "Ask her where she's from!"

You giggle at the man's antics and look at the others.

Ross smiles and asks, "Alright. Where are you from?"

"Winnipeg," you reply, still smiling. Chandler thinks he's going to swoon.

Monica is the first to figure it out. "You live in Canada?"

You nod. "I mean, I used to. I moved to Hell's Kitchen a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, my god, so you just moved here," Chandler says.

"Why did you move all the way from Canada down to here?" Ross wonders.

"I'm a screenwriter and ended up getting a job down here," you answer. "Besides, Canada is boring, so I was looking for a change of scenery."

"Well, how do you like it here so far?" Phoebe asks.

You shrug. "It's pretty nice. A little colder, somehow, but I like it. There are a lot more people and a lot more things to do and see. I lived in Winnipeg my entire life so I kind of felt like I saw everything."

"I've always wanted to go to Canada," Rachel says, coming to hand out coffee.

You smile. "It's nice. Alberta is really pretty."

Mustering up some courage, Chandler says, "Hey, if you ever need someone to show you around the city, I'll be happy to help you."

And then you look at him and grin, nodding. "That'd be sick."

He feels heat start to creep up his cheeks, and he smiles back. "Awesome."

You look at the time on the clock and say, "I've got to head out, but it was great to meet you guys."

"Yeah, you too!" Monica says.

Taking a Post-it note from your bag, you write down your number and hand it to Chandler. He takes it and tries not to stare at it too hard. "Hope to catch you guys later."

Chandler's friends wave to you and you walk out the door, shrugging your jacket on before walking off. Chandler stares at the window for several seconds after you're gone and only snaps out of it when Monica says something.

"Chandler, how the hell did you get her number?"

He shrugs, looks at the bright blue Post-it note, and reads it.

here :) (xxx-xxx-xxxx)

He smiles and puts it in his pocket, trying to ignore the looks his friends are giving him. You're very cool and very pretty and Chandler can't wait to see you again.

[starseungs]

a dream and a dance. hjs.

han jisung x gn!reader — dreaming was a lot harder as an adult than it was back when you were but a small kid. but maybe—just maybe, you could indulge in this dream come true for once.

genre/s — fluff, pinch of angst, post-grad au(?) • 2.0k words

warning/s — alcohol, setting is in a nightclub, life is hard (idk how to explain this)

note — inspired by han's new skz-record: 1,2,3,4,5 ! also i know nothing about nightclubs but this was the theme that came to mind so im just basing off vibes 😭

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Dream while you’re still young—while you still can.

Growing up, that line had always been an integral part of your life. You still remember the first time you heard it; the soft hushes of your beloved grandmother as she handed you a bowl of freshly cut fruit on a particularly hot day. The six-year-old you once were was staring at the person behind the television, starry-eyed, as you studied the figure’s actions with intent. You could faintly recall a question being asked in that hushed living room, something along the lines of whether or not you found what they were doing interesting. It was a hazy memory for detailed descriptions, but you could imagine your younger self positively replying with an excited squeal, one fit for a child of that age, which would’ve been followed by the line that you’d have kept in your heart for the rest of your life.

As one would, you’ve cycled through your fair share of these so-called dreams in the duration of your early lifetime. There was a time in third grade where you made up your mind to become a science teacher—the thought quickly being replaced just a mere two years later when you found a sudden interest in becoming a chef. Sixth grade you talked big for their age, claiming that they would open their own restaurant after graduating culinary school, despite not knowing a single thing about cooking other than all the hours spent bingeing MasterChef. You would always get a laugh out of the memory, knowing that it, too, was but a short-lived dream of a young mind still easily impressed by the world around them.

The pattern of switching life aspirations continued past elementary, and throughout your hectic high school years. With the constant new experiences you faced day to day, it was inevitable that eventually you would start seeing everything in a different light. It was part of the maturing process, you’d come to realize a few years later—getting hit by the epiphany that you no longer went through your 24-hour cycle the same way you did back when you were ten. It was a bittersweet revelation, one that ended with you looking up old shows you used to watch and playing episodes until the sunrise before forcing yourself out of bed to get ready for class. 

That wasn’t the first time you pulled an all-nighter, but it was the first one that made you feel calm throughout the day despite severely lacking sleep. 

College came around, and now you had to face yet another hurdle in your journey: admitting that you had absolutely no idea what you were doing anymore. You were attending university—check. You were in a program you personally chose—check. You had a decent social life—check; or maybe half a point, since you didn’t exactly have much time to hang out with any of them, instead opting for promises of catching up that were slowly building in number but barely decreasing. Before you knew it, the degree life was slowly eating all of the dreams that were left inside of you, leaving you with a semi-paved path completely devoid of color. What was once a garden littered with numerous flowers of the rainbow now had wilted into dehydrated brownish hues, layed lifelessly beside the narrow road.

Perhaps your grandmother was right. Dreaming was a lot harder as an adult than it was back when you were but a small kid.

Still, you pushed through, just to see the end. There was no use turning back when you had already crawled your way up this high. All that was left for you if you did was a fall so hard that you doubt you’d even be able to recover. The image alone made you shiver, prompting you to lift the glass of liquor towards your mouth, letting the sip travel down your throat and feeling the faux warmth it provided. Your eyes shifted to the clock propped up against the bar counter’s wall, watching the hands tick at a uniform pace. It was weird knowing that time always stayed steady. These days, it seemed all over the place—sometimes slowing, sometimes speeding. At this particular moment, it was like a flowing stream. 

What kind of pace it was, you weren’t too sure. 

What you did know, though, was that the numbers on the clock were barely visible; bright neon LED lights being the only thing illuminating the dark room they called a nightclub. The speakers were blasting some upbeat pop song, entertaining the crowd trying to lose themselves on the dance floor. You could only watch from your bar stool as a girl trips over thin air, obviously a little too inebriated, before getting caught by her friend, who was now fussing over her drunken state. 

Burning liquid passed your tongue as you took another sip of your drink. Unlike that girl, you went to this place alone and on your own accord. In your mind, you contemplated why you chose to be here instead of a peaceful bar that didn’t involve a DJ and a dancefloor—but this works too. Maybe a part of you wanted to experience the thrill one last time before adult life completely takes a toll on you, so who were you to deprive yourself of the wish? Your university days had already ended just a few hours ago, with you stepping on stage to get your diploma. It wasn’t a crime to let yourself have fun after all the sacrifices you made for the sake of your damned future. 

And so you continued to watch—getting lost in the sea of bright lights and the crashing waves of your thoughts, before a familiar voice snapped you out of the trance you put yourself in.

“What are you doing here, looking all miserable like that?”

You blinked owlishly at the face that entered your line of sight. A face that was very recognizable to you, despite the undoubtedly long time you’ve gone without seeing it.

“Han Jisung?”

“The one and only,” Jisung grins. 

“Wow,” you breathed out, completely taken aback at the situation. “I haven’t seen you since our first year of uni! How have you been?”

You and Jisung used to be in the same major before he dropped out right before the start of your second year to pursue music. It would be an absolute lie if you said you didn’t miss him, especially since he was the first friend you ever made in university. You could still recall the moment he approached you in a class like it was yesterday—the Jisung of four years ago scrambling to take a seat after barely just beating the professor entering through the front door. The image of the freshly turned nineteen-year-old panting desperately evoked your concern, causing you to stare at him a little longer than necessary. But it wouldn’t be Jisung if he wasn’t observant, so he returned the stare without an ounce of shame and followed with a question if you had any spare water he could drink.

Luckily, your water bottle had just been filled a few minutes before class started, and thus a beautiful friendship was born.

Jisung took his hands out of his pockets before taking a seat at the empty bar stool to your right. “Life’s been great! Two semesters were enough for me to realize that the academic life just wasn’t for me,” he chuckles. “Oh, and congrats on graduating, by the way!”

You couldn’t help the small smile that found its way to your face at his greeting. “You knew?”

“Ah,” Jisung exclaims, leaning forward to rest his arms on the long table in front while still making eye contact to cement his presence in the conversation. “I attended the ceremony earlier, actually. You know—for Hyunjin and Seungmin. I also watched you stand on stage. That’s why I’m genuinely surprised to see you here like this.”

He looks around for a bit before returning to face you. “Where are your friends?”

You shrugged carelessly, not too bothered with the implication. “Not a clue,” you say with a light chuckle. “Probably out celebrating with their families—or maybe even with each other. Either way, I didn’t get an invite, but I already expected that.”

Jisung simply nods at your reply, and his lack of a reaction amused you more than it should. “And you? Out with Thing 1 and Thing 2?”

“Damn, they still call Seungmin and Hyunjin that? My legacy stood strong, huh?” Jisung barked out a hearty laugh before gesturing somewhere to the side of the club. “But yeah, our group’s over there in one of the sofa cubicles. You can join us if you want; it’s your day too, after all. We should be celebrating!”

You waved his offer away politely. “It’s fine, Jisung. I’m sure they wouldn’t want me crashing in. We’re not even close enough to do that.”

Jisung paused to think for a moment, his hand rising up to support his chin. Your eyes guiltily wander a bit higher, stopping at his rosy lips for a brief second before quickly going back to glare at your glass of liquor. 

Admittedly, you once had a crush on the man beside you. Han Jisung was one of the more attractive individuals on campus back then, along with the rest of his friend group. The lingering gazes of people weren’t foreign to you, as you had your fair share of experiences with them when you used to hang out with him. Jisung was simply someone who caught others’ attention, whether it was intentional or not. Of course, you weren’t exempt from that notion. The only difference was that he was a good friend you didn't want to risk losing and that you weren’t interested in dating at that moment. Romance was another dream of yours you couldn’t reach, no matter how much you yearned for it. And so you buried your feelings in a grave, eventually getting forgotten once he left your life.

You could only hope that a zombie apocalypse doesn’t start soon.

“Hm, alright,” he eventually chimes. “I’ll leave you be, soon. But, on one condition.” It was your turn to ponder over his words. 

“And what’s your condition, Han?”

Jisung attempts to hide the way he fidgets with his fingers, which you painfully caught on to too fast for your liking. He took a few more seconds to collect himself before sitting up straight and turning towards you to shyly say, “Dance with me?”

Your eyes widened into saucers, not believing what you had just heard. It was in an attempt to calm your racing heart that you accidentally froze into silence, your brain already deciding to keep 911 on standby in case you stopped breathing altogether. You internally cursed yourself for feeling a faint hope spark back in your heart, wishing for the romance you never let yourself indulge in. This wasn’t the time, nor was it the place, that you thought was appropriate to rekindle your teenage wishes. 

Unfortunately, your lack of a response made Jisung inhale audibly, seemingly preparing himself to bolt away in embarrassment—if only you hadn’t noticed his actions too, the year of friendship coming back to you to recognize his habit. You quickly willed yourself to spit out any words you could.

"Well, that’s sudden,” you shakily voiced out, but decided to lighten the awkward situation with a cough. “What, think I’m hot now after gaining a few more years?”

Jisung exhaled in relief. “Not exactly,” he rubs the back of his neck, “you were already hot from the beginning.” You roll your eyes at his answer.

“Haha. You think you’re so hilarious, Jisung.”

“That, I do,” he smirks, regaining his confidence. Jisung lifts a hand towards you, opening his palm in an offering gesture. “So, what about that dance?”

You scoffed good-naturedly before taking his hand, pulling him up his seat to drag the two of you towards the center of the establishment that was still as chaotic as you left it earlier.

“Make sure you show me a good time, Jisung.”

“Oh, you won’t be disappointed, Y/N.”

Maybe—just maybe, you could indulge in this dream come true for once.

mastertag 🔖— send in an ask if you want to be added ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu @lixxpix

[russellsppttemplates]

HALLO!! I had some ideaa, were reader is really really shy and quiet. But when it comes to a certain topic (like space, historic events or something) she gets so excited and chatty. Perhaps with Max?

I've been binge reading your fics lmao I love them!

Note: this is so kind of you to say, thank you! 🤍🫶 hopefully you'll enjoy this one too!

"This is Fred, he will be the one guiding you through the exhibition", one of the team partners greeted you and Max before directing you to follow another man.

"I'm Fred, and we're very happy you decided to come to this exhibition - I know you both really enjoy learning about these things and hopefully we can show a couple more interesting things", he smiled, allowing you to step into the first room.

Even though you preferred to stay on the side lines and would happily stay home whenever Max had some event he couldn't bring you with him, this one caught your eye and accepting the invitation wasn't something your boyfriend had to spend a great deal of time convincing you to do.

"This first room is all about the beggining of the first engine, how it was developed to then accommodate the first car and how it evolved from there - for you, Max, I'm sure you're used to the best technology out there", Fred showed you around, pointing out different facts and even showing you some detailed written notes of calculations and measures.

"This is more up your street, isn't it?", Max said as you payed attention to the writing on the book, knowing it was something you definitely wanted to spend more time on.

You nodded immediately, flashing him a big smile and carrying on with your analysis. You were on the shy side of the spectrum, happily tagging along anywhere but needing to stay quiet or speak briefly since full on interactions would empty your social battery quickly and you'd need days to recharge it back to normal. It wasn't something you did out of rudeness - you always remained polite -, but more in the way you knew your limits and how to protect yourself.

"Next up, we have the space rooms", Fred carried on once you read all of the details you wanted to, "this is a new series of rooms that have been added to the exhibition", he walked you through.

"Here we have some of the notes written and worked on by Max Valier and Friedrich Wilhelm Sander for the rocket car Opel RAK1 in Germany - let me just check on the year here", he looked for it.

"It was 1928 - they did it on the Opel raceway in Rüsselsheim, Germany, and the RAK2 rocket car was at the AVUS speedway in Berlin", you said, knowing that bit of information yourself.

"Oh, I didn't know you knew that - any special interest?", Fred asked as Max smiled, knowing you were about to go on and on about something you enjoyed.

"I have a very particular interest in WWII and as I got older, I always wanted to known how things worked and how they found out about the right way to do things - I'm an engineer because of it, and rocketships always interest me. Their work at Opel was very important in the development of Eugen Sänger's work for the space planes - do you have any of those notebooks? I'd love to look at them", you spoke for the first time since the exhibition started, you and Fred quickly getting into depths of all the topics you loved as Max watched you two interact.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[mingi-s-dimples]

Hi!! I'm a new follower and I have binged read all of your fics and I absolutely loved them❤️ I saw that you are currently accepting request so I would like to make one. I need a smut fic with Hongjoong and Yunho. I'm thinking about MafiaBoss! Hongjoong and Yunho x Assassin!Reader. where the reader is a badass assassin in which her whole aura screams that she is a dom, only for her to be manhandled and treated as a fucktoy by the two. Thank you in advance!

Beneath the Bullet - hohong/yunjoong

REQUEST BY: @arki-sha

pairing: mafia bosses!hohong/yunjoong x assasin fem!reader

rating: 18+

genre: mafia au, romance, smut, filth (mdni ty)

summary: You finally meet the two hottest men in the city.. who happen to be mafia leaders... and also happen to be your enemies.. but hell lets loose in their car, atmosphere filled with lust and desire.

WC: 3k

warnings: mafia au, rough dom!yunho, softer dom!hongjoong, assassin fem!reader, mafia leaders!yunjoong, car sex, overstimulation, double penetration, pet names (sweetie, princess, love), slight degradation (once or twice, slut/fucktoy/cumslut), mentions of murder, mentions of blood, mentions of guns, knife play, pain kink ig?, oral (m), implied foreplay, big dick!yunjoong, two kinky mfs (reader and yunho), completely consesual, slight humor when Yunho gets a fucking erection from being cut by reader's knife I laughed so bad while writing that part, unprotected (use protection irl !!!), for sure forgot something, completely undedited.

Author's Note: HELLO I WENT INSANE WHILE WRITING IT? Had to include my lil kink with the knife play, hihi. I hope I wrote it exactly how you imagined it, love. Tell me your opinion down below <3 <3 KEEP THE REQUESTS COMING I LOVE WRITING !

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction & does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The casino was a gleaming beacon of decadence in the heart of the city, its neon lights flickering like the promises of fortune that lured the desperate and the greedy through its gilded doors. Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the soft, constant hum of conversation punctuated by the sharp clatter of chips on green felt tables. Crystal chandeliers cast a dim, golden glow over the sea of patrons, each lost in their own games of chance and deception.

As you stepped inside, the weight of the city’s secrets seemed to hang in the air, wrapping around you like a second skin. You moved with quiet precision, your senses heightened, aware of every sound, every movement. The role of the assassin fit you like a glove—silent, unseen, and deadly.

Your eyes scanned the room, picking up on the subtle signs of tension beneath the surface calm. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted them—two silhouettes at the far end of the bar. Even in the dim lighting, their profiles were unmistakable. The taller one, with his sharp suit and colder-than-ice demeanor, was Jeong Yunho. The other, slightly shorter with a more calculating gaze, was Kim Hongjoong. Two of the city's most powerful mafia bosses, men whose shadows loomed large over the criminal underworld.

Their presence was no coincidence. You knew them well—too well. But whether they recognized you, whether they knew why you were here, was a question that hung in the air like a loaded gun waiting to go off. In this casino, luck was a fleeting thing, and tonight, it was clear that the stakes were about to get deadly.

With your sharp senses you felt someone approaching you. It was a mere waiter.

"Hello, miss. Would you like something to drink, perhaps?" he said, smiling.

You thought, "what if he was paid by someone to bring me a spiked drink?" and refused him promptly.

"Ah, no, thank you." you said, skeptical of his intention.

"Okay then, I will be at the bar if you want to order something later" he said and left.

As you were scanning the huge room, filled with smoke and despair, as one or two people were always losing their bids, you lost sight of the two men. "Fuck it, he really was a decoy!" you said and touched your thigh, feeling up the gun and knife you had under your dress.

You left the place, through the emergency exit and stopped for a moment to catch your breath. You then felt someone near you, making you get out the gun from your thigh pocket. You moved slowly, steadily and tried to get to your car but to no avail. Someone came from behind you and put a hand on your mouth, turning you around.

"We meet at last, y/n." Yunho said, smiling at you.

"Hah, look at her face. She didn't expect it." Hongjoong said, approaching you slowly.

"Back the fuck off!" you said and Yunho loosened his grip, leaving you stay still in front of them.

"Ouu, feisty. We heard about you before, princess. We've heard allll the stories, about how you're the best assasin the city.. what happened now, hm?" Hongjoong said, carresing your cheek.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" you flinched at his touch.

"Don't worry, you're as filthy as us... if not even filthier. How many people did you murder until now? Hm.. I read about 130... We aren't even close to that, darling. Not even sumed up." the tall man said confidently, waving his gun at you.

"If you don't leave me the fuck alone I'll make you fucking dissapear!" you whispered, taunting the two men, and as soon as you finished talking you got your gun from your garment.

"Ohhh, you have your little gun with you? What, do you think you can kill us with that small gun? Baby, we've been shot multiple times by way more bigger and heavier guns. That one will one.. maybe scratch us?" Yunho said, laughing at you.

You were breathing heavily, trying to find a way to escape. But to no avail, as the two men were basically towering over you, cornering you. You had no way to escape. Though, your job was not necessarily to kill them... you were searching someone else, but they also had a bounty on their heads. A big, fat one, too. But, again, you weren't there to kill them so... why did they corner you?

You saw a moment of freedom and took your knife out, Yunho seeing you and chasing over to you. He turned you around, getting himself cut pretty badly on his chest. To your surprise, he let out a loud moan, making you and Hongjoong burst out laughing.

"HAHAHA what the fuck man! Did you just moan? Damn you kinky fucker, never thought you'd be into this typa shit" Hongjoong said, laughing along with you.

"SHUT UP!" He said embarrased, keeping a secret to himself.

"Oh, my god. This was HILLARIOUS! Never thought I'd hear Yunho, fucking moan." you giggled.

"Y/n, do you want me to give you a reason to moan, too?" Yunho said and pushed you against the wall, at the back of the casino. "You dared cut me, princess. What made you think I wouldn't fight back, hm?" he whispered, brushing the sharp edge of your knife on your neck, but not hurting you.

"You're lucky we don't hurt girls, princess. What, by the look in your eyes, did you expect me to kill you?" the taller one said and yes, you were looking him in the eyes, with a blank stare. Yes, you were terrified but no, you weren't trying to show him. Even so, he was the type to feed on people's fears.

"Not gonna lie, Yunho, this would turn me on in other circumstances" you giggled, trying to diffuse the mood.

"Damn, another kinky one.. Yunho, what did you do?" Hongjoong smirked, seeing your gaze darkening upon seeing the taller's one pants forming a tent.

"OH, my god." you exhaled, squirming under Yunho's grip.

"Get the fuck away from me" Yunho said, pushing you away.

"Relax man, the fuck are you getting so worked up for" Hongjoong shouted, giving you an understanding of what was happening. What if, the two men.. in front of you... came at the casino, for you? To find you, to get... and claim you. The thought that just ran through your mind made you cross your legs for a short second, while staring at Yunho, at how flushed he was. Truth is, these two fuckers in front of you were the hottest in the underground businesses... the only shitty thing being the fact that you were a fucking assassin and them... mafia leaders, which wasn't quite to your liking, but...

"The fuck are you pushing me away for!?" you said, giving him the death stare.

"I thought you needed some help...well then, I'll leave if you're done with me? I've got someone to kill, babes" you said, walking towards the door.

"Wait a moment, princess. The fuck did you just say now?" the shorter one rumbled.

Your heart racing, trying to find your words after what you just said.

"You heard what I said, I won't repeat myself".

"Come here you little fucker, dare to give me a damn erection and leaving without doing shit about it? You better prepare yourself." Yunho said, raising his eyebrows at you, showing you the way to their car.

"Make me. I know I said what I said but... did you think I'd submit so easily? Make me, love." you said and in an instant Yunho approached you and took you in his grip, lifting you off the floor.

"Don't make a fucking sound, y/n. We might actually hurt you." the shorter one murmured, sitting with you in the back of the car.

"Joong, keep her silent. I can't guarantee her safety if someones hears or sees her."

"On it"

Hongjoong started feeling you up, his hands traveling your body, up and down. From your bare thighs, to you waist, then to your collarbones. He closed the gap between the two of you and leaned in for a kiss, a deep and sloppy one. You tried to resist it, showing them that you're not that easily submitting but oh god.. the way he was kissing you sent you over the edge. Yunho was still driving, his cock achingly straining against the zipper of his pants, screaming to be let out.

"God damn" Yunho mumbled, trying to keep his attention on the road, but it was quite... hard for him. His dick leaking with pre cum and staining his pants, you heavy breathing in the back as you were making out with Hongjoong. He didn't quite resist anymore and sped up, trying to get to the destination as fast as possible. It was a remotely far hill, where one of their bases was.

"I don't have enough will and patience left in me to get you to the room. You'll take us right here in the car" Yunho said, pushing the front seats and coming in the back.

Hongjoong was already working on your fit, fondling with your bra from under the dress, not daring getting it off yet. He was enjoying every moment.

"Wait Joong, stop for a moment. Yunho, come here, lay down. Let me do something about your.. erection" you said, brushing your nails on his tip through the cloth, receiving a soft whine from him. He accepted the fact that you turned him on so bad that his dick was almost springing out of his tied up pants, but he had other plans.

"Okay babe, let's see what you've got in you." he said laying back, smirking.

And as he said that, you kneeled on him, the car big enough for you to have space to sit comfortably. Your wet cunt was touching his clothed thighs, turning you on even more. As your hands found their way to his pants, you started to slowly unbuckle them, then as you unzipped them his cock sprung out of his briefs, sitting angrily on his pelvis. It was true that the only thing keeping it in was his pants, after all. You then undresses him halfway, his pants and briefs to his knees so you could grind and hump on his bare thigh. The sensation send a shiver down both of your spines.

You started slowly stroking his pulsing length, from his shaft down to the base, your hands lubed enough from his leaking pre cum. As you were doing this, you started playing with him while Hongjoong was all touchy from behind, asking you to give in.

"What should I do with you, hm? Should I let you cum or edge you until you cum out of desperation?" you said smiling, looking at him in the eyes while fastening your strokes. From his tip to the base of his cock, your fingers worked their way to get him on the edge. But it didn't last long. Your little and steady strokes became sloppier and heavier, as you felt a hand slip behind you, to your folds.

"Oh damn, you're already so wet, princess. Want me to do something about it, hm?" Hongjoong said, rubbing your wet cunt.

"Uh, Joong-" you mumbled as he slipped two fingers in, no warning. Your back arched a bit and you decided to go down on Yunho, kissing his tip and licking circles on it's slit. He squirmed under you.

You sucked him off for a long minute until you felt one hand go on your head, tangling in your hair.

"I didn't imagine you'd be this cocky while sucking me, sweetie. Dare to order me around? Why don't you suck.." he said as he pushed your head down on his dick, hitting your throat, "more rapidly and deeply, hm? Let me fuck the cockiness out of you" he said as he raised his hips into your mouth, basically fucking your throat with so much power, tears forming in your eyes. Some fell on his abs, but it didn't make him stop. It actually made him want more, bottoming down in your throat, staying like that for a long moment to watch you choke on it.

"Oh, what a good girl. Look at me" he whispered.

He took his knife out.

"See this nice knife..? Look at it's blade, all right?" He put it to your throat once again, poking you subtly with the tip of it, not sharp enough to do any harm. But oh my god.. the thrill it sent through you... you could let him do that all day. But after all, you were a cocky one, as he said so.

"Do you think I'm as derranged as you to be into knife play, hm?" you said, smiling through the pleasurable tears forming from Hongjoong been all up in you. "It doesn't phase me, darling." he put the sharp part to your neck.

"Does this.. phase you?" he said as he poked you once again, but slightly scratching you, leaving a little mark on your neck.

"Not at all, do better." you said and he stopped Hongjoong from what he was doing, pushing you on his chest.

"What the fuck are you doing, man ! I was just in her moments ago!" Hongjoong said, angrily.

"Just do what the fuck I want you to do and shut up. Undress her and hold onto her, you can fuck her, I don't give a fuck. I want to have my fun with her" Yunho said and as Hongjoong did as told, he touched your pussy, first with his fingers then... with the blade. The dull point of the knife he had in his hand. He first slowly touched your clit, receiving a moan from you. Then with the blade he spread out your folds, watching how you were clenching onto air, basically nothing. You could see how his dick was throbbing at the view, still leaking. He then poked your thigh with the blade, leaving a small bleeding dot.

"Are you still not phased, princess? Should I fuck you dumb?" Yunho said as he put the knife away and closed the gap between the two of you, feeling how his cock was touching your folds. You whined at his touch, realising he's... way bigger than what you'd usually be able to take... either your fingers or your vibrator.

"Look at her man, she's out of it. What do you think, darling. Should we make you our fuck toy? Our little cumslut?" Hongjoong said as he spread out your cheeks and pressed the tip of his dick to your ass. You knew what he was trying to do and... you fully gave in.

"Oh my god, look at her, all spread out for us, see? She's so pretty like this... right, you little slut?" Yunho said as he pushed himself inside your cunt, one of his hands holding your thigh and the other one on your clit, rubbing it slowly but steady.

"Will you.. be able to take it, sweetie?" Yunho said and when you mumbled a soft, weak "yes" he started fucking you rapidly.

You were being fucked dumb by the two men, leaving you no room to act. You were catching your high, being closer than ever that night. Your hands were resting on Yunho's shoulders, your legs closing on his hips, asking him to ram into you. He wasted no time and as he pounded into you a few more times, along with Hongjoong's pumps in your ass, you came, your legs trembling and your eyes full of tears. It felt incredible.. how you were just fucked by them. But they weren't stopping... in fact... they steadied their thrusts.

"Don't even think of us stopping until we fill you up both" Yunho said and one of his hands went to your neck, carresing the small cut he did earlier with his knife. And as he said that, he bottomed out in you a few more times and finished in your cunt, his load dripping from his dick as he was still fucking you and himself through his high.

"Princess, bare with me but I'm not done yet" Hongjoong said and his hand went to your aching folds, Yunho's dick still inside you. He started rubbing your clit in circles, rapidly and forcefully, receiving loud whimpers and moans from you. You felt overstimulated, his hand rubbing the puffed oversensitive nub.

Yunho pulled out and his load was dripping down from your cunt, right down on Hongjoong's length, turning him on. You felt that he was close, as his thrusts became sloppy and had no rythm to them, and within a few more thrusts he also came in you, still fucking you through his orgasm. He emptied fully in you, leaving out a small string of curses as he slowed down.

"What a good fucktoy, hmm?" Yunho said helping you get up and sit on the backseat, wobbly on your legs and your head dizzy.

"Oh, my fucking, god." you exhaled, watching the two men dress you up.

"See? What being bratty with us does to you?" Hongjoong said, carresing your cheek.

Yunho helped you out of the car.

"Come here, let's go get you washed up and then I'll drop you off at your house."

"Thanks, I guess" you said, the cockiness in you visible again.

"Oh, cocky again? Prepare yourself for the next time we meet, it won't end good for you, princess", Hongjoong said, smirking.

While you were showering, you heard the two boys talking.

"The fuck were you doing with the knife, man?! Are you fucking derranged? What if you hurt her, hm? I thought we agreed on sharing her, for fucks sake! Not killing her." Hongjoong raised his voice and Yunho, making you giggle at his remark.

"Didn't you fucking see she was into it too? Give me a fucking break, I enjoyed it, she enjoyed it, the three of us are safe, leave me alone" Yunho said as he went back to the car to wait for you.

*several minutes later, all dressed up, in Yunho's car"

"See you other time, y/n. Enjoyed my time with you" he said.

And you continued.

"Next week at the casino? What do you think... bring Joong along with you"

"Deal"

[windvexer]

what's your opinion on pop culture witchcraft? i think it seems really fun and cool im just not sure how exactly a fictional god will manifest in the "real" world? i was just curious on what you thought :p thank you for your time!

I think that pop culture witchcraft is beautiful and sacred and I think more people should get into it!

My views on the intersection of popular culture (aka, the dominant cultural beliefs and creations at this moment in time) and witchcraft originate from the fact that when I began doing a lot of energy work, I saw a lot of stuff as video game characters & assets.

If I would binge any video game, for the next little while, a lot of my energy readings would be output in the symbols and lore from that game.

E.g., a pokemon binge, seeing Gengar near the querent: "Yes, you're being haunted by a ghost."

A DAO binge, seeing a dryad writing a letter to the querent: "A tree wants to talk to you."

These experiences have deeply influenced my beliefs on the nature of psychism, communing with the spirit world, and divination as a whole. It has inspired my beliefs on how to work with divinatory tools, especially my concepts of choosing your own symbol sets to work with.

After all, an upright triangle is so abstract, but a charmander? For many of us, that is a deeply rooted symbol of fire indeed! And I can't imagine how a triangle might act if it needs to be revived and balanced in my life, but I can surely visualize a charmander feeling sick and cold, or desperately trying to stack and balance heavy boxes.

This inspired me to consider the intersection of popular culture and the experiential nature of witchcraft. After all, aren't so many of us deeply imprinted on and influenced by what culture has told us about magic and spirits? Where is the line in the sand between how culture makes us interact with magic (path), and how culture makes us interact with magic (practice)?

Let me tell you a story!!

There is some internet monster named Momo. Momo has a *very* scary face (to me at least) so be warned if you google.

But when this story starts, I had never heard of Momo. I had never seen a picture of Momo or heard her name. Yes? Yes.

Now one time, I was doing an energy reading for a person, and I saw a horrifying monster woman with huge eyes and a twisted smile like a V slashed across her face, and not only this, but the horrifying monster woman was standing over the querent's bed, watching them sleep.

As a reader with about an ounce of wisdom, I knew much better than to say, "hey, a horrifying monster is watching you while you sleep." Because that is a dick thing to say to anyone.

As I continued watching to try and gain more information, it struck me that this monster woman wasn't threatening at all. She didn't have bad vibes. In fact she seemed neutral, or perhaps even an ally. She was just watching the person sleep.

I couldn't help but notice, however, that I could see her face so clearly. So distinctly. So I googled something like, "big smile scary woman face."

And there she was: Momo! The exact monster I was seeing. It was a startling moment, made all the more strange by the fact that this wasn't some monster of mythical lore or legend. It was like, a TikTok trend or something.

Finally I had to tell the querent something. Now y'all this happened some years ago and I don't remember exactly how it went down, but it was like this:

"Hey, someone is watching you sleep. The form is scary looking but they don't seem threatening at all. I googled it and it looks exactly like an internet urban legend named Momo."

"What? My cat?"

"No, it's a woman, an urban legend named Momo."

"No, my cat Momo. My cat is named Momo. She watches me while I sleep."

So to answer your question, Anon:

I expect that a fictional god can manifest at least as bizarrely as a real cat, I believe that the simple phrase "real world" is an artifact that fits into few reliquaries of the occult, and I think that pop culture witchcraft is absolutely fabulous.

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

The Eras Tour might be huge, but it’s part of something even bigger

Interesting article describing everything we've been saying for the past 18 months. Many long-term fans are starting to have a real ick in the face of the massive commercialised 'Taylormania' around the Eras tour and every new album release.

However you feel about it, it is undeniable that this is a first in the history of music. No artist has ever done what she's currently doing, and I don't just mean play a three hour long show for two whole years. I mean no single person has ever made their personal brand and life(story) this much of a product to be sold to the masses. And it's furthering a point many of us have been making for a long time: Since the release of Midnights in 2022, Taylor's public life has been one big piece of performance art, and the Eras tour is just the final act in a massive spectacle. The overexposure, the High School romance story, and everything that feels like an unnecessarily huge money grab, it's all on purpose, because the bigger the show, the bigger the impact when she flips the script.

And reminder that we've perhaps ignored the biggest hint that the Eras tour is part of a bigger performance: The stage is a key!!

And not just any key, a vault key! It unlocked the 1989 tv vault, which I'm pretty sure we haven't seen the last of yet. And may I also remind you that all the vaults have the lovers family crest on them, so I think we can assume these hold more secrets than just some unreleased music (or perhaps the unreleased music is in fact the secret). And once the tour is done, all the secrets will be unlocked. Karma is a cat and the cat will be out of the bag vault ;)

Our Little Miss Can-I-hint-at-something-three-years-in-advance said in 2022 “I want you all to pay attention to this first single that will become my biggest song of all time. And then I will play it out and become this loud, binge-drinking, glittery bodysuit-wearing, annoying, dumb bimbo, boy-crazy bully version of me and see if you notice. I will be so much in your face that you’ll want to kill me, and even at my funeral my sucky fan children will be at each other’s throats over my legacy. And when you think there’s nowhere to go but down I’ll pull the plug on all of it, but mind you, I’ll take everyone down with me who ever wronged or belittled me, because I’ve given this shitty industry 20 years of my life.”

One thing that came up in the article I distinctly disagree with though, and that’s the community. Sure, as a swiftie it must feel like you can’t possibly find real community or friendships in a sea of millions but in our little gaylor/kaylor bubble I’ve found the most amazing people, even if it originated in the trenches of our constant battle against the swiftie hate. And maybe we’ll have some room to breathe soon when we’ve finally lost the Sarah’s and Hannah’s. 😊 I can’t wait.

(Also just a btw, I’d love if it if she called the finished project ‘ Hi, I’m the problem, it’s me’.)

[poetrysmackdown]

hi hiii i wanted to say that your account is so refreshing to see, esp with the passion you have for the arts. as someone who's been meaning to read (and write) more poetry, do you have any recommendations? some classics that everyone and their mothers know? perhaps some underrated pieces that changed you? or even just authors you like, I'm very open to suggestions :]]

Hi! Thank you so much for this kind ask :) So exciting that you’re looking to delve deeper into reading and writing! I had to take a little time to answer this because my thoughts were all over the place lol.

For a review of notable/classic poems/poets, I honestly just recommend looking at lists online or, hell, just binging Wikipedia pages for different countries’ poetry if that’s something you’re into, just to get a sense of the chronology. I read one of those little Oxford Very Short Introductions on American Poetry and thought it was pretty good, but online is quicker if you’re just searching for poets or movements to hone in on. Poetry Foundation also has lots of resources, in addition to all the poems in their database. I guess my one big classic recommendation would have to be Emily Dickinson (<3), but really the best move is just to find a poet you already enjoy and then look around to see who their peers were/are, who they were inspired by, who they’ve maybe translated here and there, etc. and follow it down the line as far as you can.

For some personal recs, here are some collections I’ve really enjoyed over the past two years or so. Bolded favorites, and linking where select poems from the book have been published online. But also, if you want a preview of a couple poems from another of the books to see if they interest you, DM me and I can send them over! You can also feel free to pilfer through my poetry tag for more stuff lol

Autobiography of Death by Kim Hyesoon trans. Don Mee Choi

Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings by Joy Harjo

DMZ Colony by Don Mee Choi

Hardly War by Don Mee Choi

Whereas by Layli Long Soldier

Geography III by Elizabeth Bishop

Dictee by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha

Don’t Let Me Be Lonely: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine

Mouth: Eats Color—Sagawa Chika Translations, Anti-Translations, & Originals by Sawako Nakayasu

The Selected Poems of Osip Mandelstam trans. W.S. Merwin and Clarence Brown

The Branch Will Not Break by James Wright

This Journey by James Wright

God’s Silence by Franz Wright

Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke (the translation I read was by Alfred Corn—I thought it was great, but idk if there are better ones out there!)

DMZ Colony, Hardly War, Dictee, Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, and partially Whereas are all book-length poems with some prose poetry and varying levels of weirdness/denseness/multilingualism—if you were to pick one to start with, I’d say do Don’t Let Me Be Lonely or Whereas. Mouth: Eats Color is some experimental translations of Japanese modernist poet Chika Sagawa, with other translations and some of Nakayasu’s original stuff mixed in—it's definitely a bit disorienting but ultimately I remember having such fun with it, as much fun as Nakayasu probably had making it. It’s a book that emphasizes co-creation and a spirit of play, and completely changed my attitude towards translation.

If you’re less interested in that kind of formal fuckery stuff though (I get it), can’t go wrong with the other books! Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings is the one I read most recently, and it’s great—Harjo also featured in Round 1! Franz Wright also featured, and God's Silence is the collection which "Night Walk" comes from. James Wright (father of Franz) is one of my favorite poets of all time, though his poetry isn’t perfect. Even so, I’m honestly surprised he’s not doing numbers on Tumblr—Mary Oliver was a big fan of his, even wrote her "Three Poems for James Wright" after his death.

I mentioned in another post that one of my favorite poets is Paul Celan, so I’ll also recommend him here. I read Memory Rose into Threshold Speech which is a translated collection of his earlier poems, but it’s quite long if you’re just getting to know him as a poet—fortunately, both Poetry Foundation and Poets.org have a ton of his poems in their collections. There’s also an article by Ilya Kaminsky about him titled “Of Strangeness That Wakes Us” (!!!!!) that’s a great place to start, and is honestly kind of my whole mission statement when I’m reading and writing poetry. Looking at the books I’ve recommended above, a lot of them share feelings of separateness or alienation—from others, from oneself, from one’s country, from language—that breed strange, private modes of expression. That tends to be what I’m drawn to personally, and that’s some of what Kaminsky talks about.

Sorry of the length of this—I hope it's useful as a jumping-off point! And if you or anyone ends up exploring any of these poets, let me know what you think! If folks wanna reply with recommendations themselves too that'd be great :)

[inoreuct]

zosan with abba's super trouper.

is this essentially a pop star au? yes. bear with me anyway.

so the entire vinsmoke family are pop stars and they're perfect in the public eye but actually toxic as HELL, and sanji's sick and tired of it— so he breaks away from them and joins another agency, and zoro's assigned as his bodyguard.

they fight SO MUCH at first. i'm talking screaming and yelling and throwing things across the room (mostly sanji) and being stubborn and straight-up refusing to talk after a certain point (also mostly sanji) and then apologising with food and gifts and not words (mostly, well, both of them). they're like flint and steel; putting them together is just asking for trouble, but the years pass, and somehow through the endless bickering they end up best friends. who would've thought? their sharp edges have softened just enough and they're both too old and too tired and too busy to have cold wars anymore. they know more about each other than perhaps anyone else, and they care.

(they're also both in love and refuse to admit it. idiots.)

and then sanji goes on tour, and zoro has to leave for a training refresher course thing, and sanji's MISERABLE. luffy's with him as a bodyguard instead and it's fine, he's great, sanji loves him— just not the way he loves zoro. he feels fucking homesick in a way he never has because he's never really had a proper home and he knows, he knows it's because zoro isn't here with him. sanji turns around to tell him something and is met with empty air. he keeps trying to order double portions of food and booze before he catches himself and maybe he's being dramatic, but it feels like he's missing a fucking limb.

nami, his manager, has to yell at him to stop moping because all he's doing is eating chocolate and binging french soap operas in his hotel room and huddling up in the big leather jacket that zoro left behind. he just wants to get back to his tiny apartment and curl up on his shitty couch to eat pizza and watch Mean Girls for the hundredth time as zoro complains and gets invested in the drama all over again anyway.

he's nearly dead on his feet as finishes yet another exhausting show, trying to take comfort in the fact that it's his second last; his shoes are kicked off to the corner, his makeup barely removed, and just when he's about to turn in for the night his phone rings and when he sees the caller ID he SCRAMBLES to pick up.

"hey," zoro says, low and rumbly and so achingly familiar that sanji doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice," he breathes, and he means it. he means it more than he even knew he did and it hits him all at once as soon as the words leave his mouth. he misses his best friend, no matter everything else that zoro is to him.

zoro's chuckle is a balm to his soul. "i'm coming to see you tomorrow."

sanji sits bolt upright from where he'd been laid back against the pillows, eyes going wide. "are you serious?" he can't help the hope and excitement that unspools in his gut, the warm rush in his blood as zoro laughs.

"yeah. i'm done with the course. speedran the fucking thing and scored so well they had no choice but to let me go. couldn't miss the last chance i had to see you on tour, could i?" sanji can hear his grin through the phone. "i'm flying in tomorrow morning."

"i'll come pick you up from the airport."

"like hell you will," zoro retorts immediately. "you have a press conference at ten."

shit, he'd forgotten about that. "how'd you know, huh?" sanji counters, faux-petty and reclining back against his plush bedding. god, if there was one good thing about being on tour, it was the fancy hotels.

"been talking to nami," comes the reply, amused and teasing, and sanji groans. "what's this i hear about you acting like a widowed husband?"

"you fucking wish, you moron," he snaps, curling up on his side and hugging a pillow to his chest. the bed is awfully big and awfully cold.

zoro sighs, and there's the sound of something zipping up briskly. "missed you too, curls. look, listen— i gotta get to the airport. see you tomorrow night?"

"...yeah," sanji says, because there's so much he wants to tell zoro and no idea how. he doesn't know where he'd start. he doesn't even know what he wants to say. "yeah, i'll see you. you'll be in the crowd, right?"

"mhm," zoro confirms, accompanied by what sounds like the chirp of an electronic lock. "you just sit tight, curly. i'm coming home."

they exchange a few more words before the line cuts off, but sanji's mind is stuck on three specific words and the possible space for three more after. i'm coming home. but he isn't home right now; he's in a foreign country, in a bed that isn't his, and zoro's flying to him. this isn't home to either of them. unless... and that silence afterwards, like zoro had wanted to say something that would have fit right in. something that would have been a natural end to that string of syllables.

sanji takes a deep breath and does his best to push all thoughts of i love you, spoken or not, to the back of his mind.

still, he can't help but let it all boost him up like a buoy bobbing merrily on the sea. one call from zoro, one short conversation, and he's fucking effervescent; he wakes up smiling and breezes through the press conference with effortless charm. he's bouncing on the toes of his heeled boots even before he steps onto the stage, thrilled by the thought of zoro being in the audience. thousands of eyes on him, thousands of people screaming his name, and he only cares about one. he takes a deep breath as the lights change and the platform he's on begins to rise, fingers tightening around his mic. it's his last night here. he's doing it all for zoro.

it turns out to be the best performance of his life, if he does say so himself. he powers through the entire two hours with ease and hits every note perfectly. he enjoys himself for the first time in a long time, soaks up the glitter and glamour and blinding lights, lets the atmosphere wrap him up and tousle his hair, and he wonders just how it's possible that one person's presence could change so much.

(he doesn't need to wonder. he already knows.)

when he says his final goodbyes for the night he's breathless, heart pounding, anticipatory. the hands patting at his back in congratulation backstage are superficial compared to who he knows is here, and he spares nami a few seconds for a rare squeeze, pausing for a few more when she whispers i'm proud of you in his ear.

and then sanji sees him, and nothing, nothing else fucking matters.

he sprints forward and they crash together and something slams into place inside of him. zoro sweeps him off his feet, squeezing him tight enough that he laughs, bright and merry and real as they spin around and around and he's so dizzy when he's set back down, light-headed and his heart full. he doesn't care where he is, he's home.

zoro takes his weight as easily as anything, tucking sanji to his chest. "god, fuck, you were amazing up there," he says breathlessly, the words pressed into sanji's bejewelled hair. "you were incredible."

the words rumble through his chest and sanji clings tighter, holding zoro desperately around the waist and taking in deep lungfuls of laundry detergent and the fancy pine-and-sandalwood body wash he'd given zoro for christmas. "you're here."

"'course i am," zoro replies, matter-of-fact. "said i'd be here, so i'm here."

his earrings press against sanji's cheek. "can we go get pizza?" he asks meekly.

zoro's answering laugh pours into the horrible aching pit that's been gnawing away at him, fills it up with liquid sunlight as he answers, "we can do whatever the hell you want."

they get pizza. sanji lets zoro pull him around town swearing at the Google Maps on his phone before he finally takes pity and steers them towards the little pizzeria he'd found when he'd snuck out with luffy on their first night here. the tongue-lashing from nami had been worth it, but even so the experience back then had been dull. muted, at best.

now it's like he's seeing the whole world through a whole different lens; the fluorescent sign in the window beams charmingly as the bell above the door chimes, and sanji doesn't even care about the raised eyebrow zoro gives him when he wiggles into the booth seat with undisguised glee. between them they put away a large four-cheese pizza and a frankly massive slice of apple pie à la mode, and sanji's feeling pleasantly stuffed as he finishes up his vanilla milkshake and successfully fends zoro off from stealing sips when he isn't looking. he has plenty of experience with that, after all.

the walk back is filled with comfortable silence. sanji doesn't need anything else— zoro here with him is more than he could ask for. scary dog privilege aside, the man next to him is sanji's best friend, and he loves zoro more than he can, or will, ever say.

zoro drops him off at his room and hugs him goodnight. sanji strips down, blasts the shower as hot as it can go, and scrubs the gel out of his hair along with any of the remaining dregs of emptiness he resolutely tells himself are not there right down the drain.

it can't stop him from thinking, though. of zoro. of compression shirts and cargo pants and worn black boots. of the nights zoro had taught him self-defense and the time sanji nearly broken his jaw with a roundhouse kick neither of them had known he was capable of; the other had grinned up with him with blood all over his teeth, proud and raring to go, barking again! and sanji had glowed. his mind swims with it all even as he towels off and slips into his silk pyjamas— memories of late-night talks with wine and beer, sometimes tea, quips all around, beds shared back-to-back under unspoken agreements when neither of them wanted to sleep alone.

three knocks sound on his door.

sanji hates the way he rushes to the peephole and yanks it open as soon as he confirms who it is. zoro stands there, one hand on the back of his neck, looking bored yet unsettled in his baggy tee with his damp hair sticking up everywhere. "jetlag?" sanji asks, raising an eyebrow as zoro grunts.

"you could say that."

he steps aside in a silent invitation, and zoro looks around as he goes in. sanji topples onto the bed with a sigh of relief and crawls under the blankets, patting the space beside him as he switches on the television. "mean girls?"

"god, i fucking hate you," zoro groans, but he settles in anyways, and sanji grins triumphantly.

it's still not his apartment or his shitty couch— but zoro's here, so it's the next best thing.

they make it through the movie without incident. zoro parrots the dialogue and cheers when regina gets hit by the bus like he does without fail every time. sanji knees him in the thigh for it with a scowl like he always does and it starts a fierce kicking battle under the sheets that results in zoro dangling half off the mattress and sanji laughing so hard he can't breathe.

when they've mostly calmed down, sanji sighs out one final chuckle and sinks back into the pillows. "think you can fall asleep now?" he murmurs, turning to look at where zoro has his head propped in one hand.

"maybe," the other allows, and sanji swallows before he smiles.

"goodnight, marimo."

"goodnight."

the flick of the light switch feels like finality. in regards to what, sanji doesn't know, but now that they're in the darkness and zoro begins to get comfortable behind him he cannot deny that he wants.

he wants those arms around him. wants to sleep even better than he does when they're back to back, wants to fit within the circle of zoro's embrace like he belongs there. wants to belong there. wants zoro as his best friend and everything more. it manifests as a tight ache in the centre of his chest, a knot around his heart that he knows he cannot untangle by himself. sanji curls up into a ball and hugs a pillow to his chest, biting his lip— because zoro is right next to him instead of thousands of miles away, and he's still untouchable all the same.

he's on the cusp of restless sleep when he feels zoro shift, and he prays that the hitch in his breath is unnoticeable. he forces the rise and fall of his chest to stay even as the blankets are smoothed securely around his shoulders, a callused palm brushing his hair away from his face; a soft kiss is pressed to his forehead, a hand cupping his face tenderly and trailing away with the brush of a thumb over his cheekbone. "sweet dreams, curls," zoro whispers, before light cracks in from the hallway as his room door opens and shuts.

the electronic lock beeps, and sanji's eyes fly open. the white ceiling swims as he stares at it, unseeing, and the sheets on the right side of the bed are still warm. there's an indent where zoro's body was and sanji gasps as he drags himself into it, huddling down and pulling the covers over his head until all he can smell is zoro.

his heart stutters, mind racing, fingers tightening in the plush duvet. he's confused, so confused. hopeful. a little mad, if he's being honest, and his next breath trembles out of his lungs. mostly still confused, though, because what the fuck did that mean?

he'll find out, he swears. he will. he'll storm his way to zoro's room and break the damn door down if he has to. but for now, if he hides for a little while until he stops feeling like he's about to cry—

well, that's a secret for his hotel room to keep.

[factual-fantasy]

Bonjour Factual! Hope your day- whatever time it is when you're reading this- is going well so far! I Really liked the new art of the gang during the warmer times of year- like others have said, the smile you gave Grimace, while funny and cute, also perfectly portrays just how happy he is to feel included and helpful!

And speaking of Grimace, I agree with your thoughts from my last ask ( thanks for answering as always, by the way ). Although it would be awesome for him to mega evolve, Gigantamax, or dinamax- story wise I can't really think of a way for all the necessary pieces to fall together, unless you do an ark where Grimace is tragically captured by a human for a time, and exposed to the necessary conditions to change unwillingly- perhaps as an experiment of sort? Though you are correct that he would have to be descended from certain Gengar populations to even have the genes- though perhaps that's the reason he's sought out to begin with? Just an idea.

As for my main ask today- I actually have one pertaining to your Mario AU, if you don't mind! Just out of curiosity, have you ever considered giving the giant eel-like Mawrays a place in your world?

They've been popping up a lot lately in Mario media- and I was wondering what you thought of the frightening creatures? And if they appeared in your AU, would they be an entire species of deep sea dwelling terrors? Or a single, legendary sea monster, like the one seen in the movie? And if they are present, have the bros ever had a harrowing encounter with one? What would they do to survive!?

Oh, and on the topic of giant sea monsters- I do have a secondary, unrelated question- what are your thoughts on the Godzilla franchise? I've been getting back into it lately and was wondering if you've ever found any interest in it? Do you have any favorite movies or monsters from the series? Or is it not a series that interests you? Just wondering!

(and I'll admit, I've found that binging Godzilla movies is always fun when I'm feeling down! Hope you're feeling okay today!)

(Grimace in warmer times post)

Hello!! :DD My day is going a bit rocky, but its still a lot better than I was expecting it'd go. So that's nice! <XDD And thank you! I'm glad you liked that drawing!! :)))

As for your last ask, I've done a lot of thinking since then. :0 And while dynamaxing and/or gigantimaxing still seems a little far fetched for my team.. thanks to this asker, I found the key to making him mega evolve! Enchantment seeds! :DD In one of the mystery dungeon games, if a Pokémon used an Enchantment seed they'd mega evolve for a short time! No need for trainers, key stones or Gengarite! :DD

I have a HUGE comic in mind about how Grimace finds the Enchantment seed, why he eats it, and how it effects him afterwards leading up to his mega evolution. The only problem is that this comic is ENORMOUS. So I'm kiiind'a on the fence about making it.. <XD..

Now! As for your Mario question. First of all that thing is terrifying- so I think it'd fit right into my Mario universe! <XDD Its easy to imagine that giant eel being a species as opposed to just one. Although one eel could have found a goldmine of super food and slowly grew to be giant. Yoshi style XDD I think that would all fit pretty well! I cant imagine Mario or Luigi would encounter the big one though. I picture it living wayyy out in the depths of the sea. They might hear haunting stories about it consuming passing ships though.. 👀

Now the Godzilla franchise.. if I'm being honest, I don't actually know much about it <:0 I know of Godzilla, King Kong(??) a huge moth, Mothra was it? A uhh... gold..? 3 headed dragon..? And I could have sworn there was a second Godzilla but bigger and all black in there somewhere-

My general opinion is that I liked the first...? Movie when it was just Godzilla. This huge hulking creature that emerged from the ocean. No one knows what it wants, what it is, or how to defeat it. Humans vs Godzilla. That type of movie was/is the most entertaining to me <XDD

[mangoshorthand]

Could you possibly do Five x Reader where Five and the reader have a fight and the reader storms off. The next time Five sees them, they're in the infirmity, comatose, and no one is sure when, or even IF, the reader will wake up. Five has to sit with his regrets that the last thing he said was something he didn't mean and that he wasn't there to protect them when they needed it. When the Reader wakes up, Five breaks down in happiness, giving the reader all the love he can. Heavy Angst with a bit of fluff cause I like happy endings. Lol. Thank you!

This gave me serious flashbacks to the end of No Hard Feelings. Hope you enjoy this. Nothing like a bit of angst. Here ya go!

Dickhead Sugar Daddy | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader Words: 2.8k, rated T

It was such a stupid fight. He didn’t even believe what he said the moment he said it.

He insisted that you take that money. He wasn’t the type of guy to beg, but he came damn close. He watched you struggling to pay medical debt for an entire year before you let him pay it off for you. Until then, you were too proud to accept his help. He told you again and again that it wasn’t a big deal. It was only in four figures and his father left behind more money than he could ever use, even when divided among all his siblings. 

“I’d give it to a friend,” he said, “even if you and I don’t work out, it doesn’t matter. Gotta be honest, I wouldn’t even notice if that amount disappeared from one of my accounts. You owe me nothing, okay?”

He could tell it made you uncomfortable and, truth be told, he didn’t much like the feeling of being a sexagenarian trust fund brat so out of touch with ordinary life that this amount of money wasn’t even a blip on his radar. After you finally accepted his offer, he hoped you could both just forget about it.

So why had he been such a colossal asshole?

The argument was about housework on top and booze underneath. Neither of you wanted to state the obvious fact that Five’s binge-drinking was becoming a problem so, instead, you fought about the consequences.

“God, turn that thing off, will you?” he shouted, irritably over the roar of the vacuum.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Well, I’m sorry, darling,” he said, testily, “I just feel like shit, alright? I don’t need the goddamn vacuum in my ear.”

“Well, sorry Five, but the world doesn’t stop because you’ve got a hangover. My friend’s coming tomorrow and you promised we’d clean up today.”

“Here’s the thing: this is your friend, not mine.”

“But this is our home,” you snapped back, “we both live here and this is half your mess. You’ve been shitty about this all week.”

“Oh, so I can’t be busy?” he replied, smiling sarcastically.

“Oh yeah. So ‘busy’,” you said, doing the air quotes that would have made him punt you through a wall were you absolutely anybody else, “- busy farting around with math and looking for non-existent paradoxes around every corner.”

“It’s theoretical physics, moron. Maybe your tiny brain can’t comprehend what I’m doing, but I can assure you it’s more important than the shitty job you do all day.”

“Oh wow.” you said, laughing disbelievingly, “Well fuck you, dickhead.”

“Yeah?” he said, fire behind his eyes, “well don’t come crying to this dickhead the next time you need a sugar daddy.”

Your mouth dropped open. You stood there, frozen, looking into his face. Later, Five thought it could have gone either way in that moment: if only he’d apologized, perhaps he could still have stopped it. 

But he would never know, because he didn’t apologize: he just let his shittiest, most insolent smile spread across his face.

You threw down the vacuum, grabbed your jacket and left without looking back.

At the time, Five considered it a job well done, only glad for the opportunity to rest his banging head. Over the following days, however, he would play your departure over and over in his head, scouring his memory for everything that proved his guilt.

You were agitated; probably too agitated to pay attention: his fault.

You were hurt; perhaps hurt enough to do something impulsive: his fault. 

You were enraged; maybe your final thoughts as you stepped off the sidewalk were of how much you hated him. And it was all his fault.

He didn’t even know he was your emergency contact.

By the time the phone rang, he’d hauled himself off his ass and cleaned in preparation for your friend’s visit. He also guiltily made a reservation at your favorite restaurant, hoping to apologise over dinner.

So when he answered the phone, he expected your voice:

“Hi. Can I speak to Mr Hargreeves?”

It wasn’t your voice. It was a stranger. 

“There are a few of us,” he replied, “you’re gonna have to be more specific there.”

“Mr Five Hargreeves?”

“Speaking.”

“Right. Hello. Uh- I’m a paramedic. I found this number in a patient’s phone’s I.C.E.”

 He could barely register the rest of her explanation. As soon as he heard those four words: ‘hit by a bus’, his entire body went cold. His stalled brain could only repeat it again and again as horror encroached slowly into every fiber of his body.

Hit by a bus. A bus?...Hit by a bus?

He was only brought back to a sense of the here and now by the repeated summons of the voice on the other end of the line.

“Sir?....Sir?”

“Hit by a bus?” he asked, weakly, trying to keep a firm handle on his swimming head.

“Sir, I think you should sit down.”

He took the advice and collapsed into the straight-backed chair beside the phone, eyes fixed straight ahead of himself.

“I’m sitting down. I sat down.”

“Good. Now listen to me: you should try to get here as soon as possible. Give me your address and I’ll call you a cab, okay?”

“I don’t need a-”

“Sir,” the voice said, sternly, “give me your address. You don’t sound like you’re in a fit state to drive.”

Drive? He could as easily drive as he could fly right now. His legs trembled beneath him, his brain sending confusing, bewildered signals. He never folded in stressful situations, yet here he was shaking like a leaf.

“Sir?”

“My brothers,” he blurted, “I’ll get a ride from one of them.”

The paramedic was satisfied with this and gave him the hospital name again very slowly and deliberately. After accepting her good wishes and slamming the phone back in its cradle, he willed his body back into action, stumbling down the stairs and screaming for anyone who might be around.

Lila answered his call, and one look at his shocked, white face told her that this was serious. 

As soon as he could have expected, he was entering your hospital room. Lila offered to accompany him, but he dismissed her with muted thanks. This was something he had to face alone. 

Your face: bruised purple and cuts newly stitched. Your left leg: in a cast that went all the way up. But the doctors weren’t worried about the broken bones, they were worried by the head injury.

Comatose.

You were comatose because of him.

Standing there in the doorway, he was hit by his own bus. His guts constricted, breath catching in his chest. 

“Don’t come crying to this dickhead next time you need a sugar daddy.”

As his own words echoed back to him, he squeezed his eyes closed, shutting out the sight and trying to gather himself. But it was too late. He whooped in a breath and felt the hot sting of suppressed tears behind his eyes.

All he could do was wait, they told him. The brain had a remarkable capacity to repair itself, they said. You might wake up and be just fine...but you also might not wake up at all. 

He swiped at his face with his forearm. 

Seconds were useless now: you needed seconds as soon as you stepped out into the road. If only he’d followed and apologized like he should have done immediately, he would have been there. He might have stopped it happening before it did, or he could have wound back time and undone it. 

But now, hours since you were hit? His puny time-travel powers couldn’t help, not without decades of planning and tinkering and paradox-proofing. Perhaps more years than he had left to live.

If only he hadn’t been such a cunt in the first place. None of it would have happened.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, from behind his own forearm held across his face, “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

He sat at your bedside, teeth gritted against the tears he wouldn’t give himself the luxury of crying. He held your hand tight, as if torrential water might sweep you away were it not for him anchoring you.

He held your hand as if his grip might tether you to life.

And his mind preyed upon itself.

Yet again, his own selfishness had hurt someone he loved. And this time it was the person he loved more than anything. First, he abandoned his siblings for the sake of his own ego and now he’d probably killed you because he was a cruel, spiteful asshole.

“Don’t come crying to this dickhead next time you need a sugar daddy.”

He sat in silence for the rest of the daylight hours, listening to your heart monitor. Every new beep was a relief, the spaces between were looming and fear-filled. The silence held the possibility that the next beep might never come. 

When darkness fell and the hospital’s bustle fell to a low ebb, he leaned forward and laid his head beside yours on the pillow.

“Please don’t die.”

And hearing himself say it was all it took for the dam to break. He couldn’t keep the tears in anymore. He cried like he hadn’t cried since those first years in the apocalypse, when he’d still been young enough to sob ‘I wanna go home!’ and ‘I want my mom!’ into the unhearing wasteland. 

“Please.” he said, burying his red, tear-streaked face in your hair, “Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it. I promise I didn’t.” 

He tore in two or three gasping breaths.

“Please, angel. Don’t leave me. I can’t- I can’t-”

But he was crying too hard to speak. He raised his fist to his mouth and bit down on it to contain the wails clawing their way up his throat and threatening to burst bounds.

Cutting white teeth marks into his knuckles, he cried it out until he could control himself; until his voice could stay steady.

“You gotta wake up,” he whispered, “I can’t do this on my own anymore. I need you, okay? I’ll be better. I’ll be whatever you need me to be. Just don’t leave me.”

Another shaky breath.

“-you’re the fucking love of my life. I love you so much and without you I can’t even- I can’t.”

He screwed up his eyes again, trying to keep himself from re-dissolving.

“I can’t imagine getting up without you any more. I can’t imagine going to sleep without you. There wouldn’t be any point, y’know? I may as well just…”

He never finished the sentence. He felt like muscles and tendons in his chest were being pulled apart by strong hands.

Day time. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t washed, hadn’t eaten. He spent most of his time in the chair beside the bed, holding your hand in his, but he occasionally perched beside you on the bed, stroking your hair and talking almost nonstop.

“You’re gonna have to wake up soon, darling.” he said, “They say they’ll have to give you a feeding tube if you’re asleep for much longer. You won’t like that. So how about this: you always hate it when I don’t eat. You loom over me while I’m working and make me eat. So- how do you like this: I’m not gonna eat until you do.”

He made a satisfied noise as if you’d responded.

“Exactly- you don’t want that, do you. So you gotta wake up- it's the only way you can make sure I eat. I've got you there, haven't I?”

He looked down at his own hand over yours. 

“And, to sweeten the deal, if you wake up before they have to put the feeding tube in, you get breakfast in bed every day for two months after we get home. And I’ll massage your feet on demand. Shit, I’ll let the world end rather than miss a single minute with you. I’m going to be better. I’ll do better with the booze. I swear, I’m going to be the perfect man. You deserve that. You deserve better. Please. Just wake up.”

What started off as light humor had devolved again into the desperate bargaining of the night.

He looked down at his shoes and felt exhaustion wash over him. He rubbed at his eyes with the palm of one hand and wished he had the faith requisite to pray. 

A groan.

His head snapped back up so abruptly that it twinged his neck. His eyes scanned your face for any sign of life and found none. Just as he thought he’d imagined the sound, your hand twitched in his.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

Eyebrows knitted, he sprang to his feet and called your name urgently, leaning towards you and resisting the urge to take you by the shoulders and shake you.

“Come on,” he urged, “say something. Open your eyes. Please, just let me know you’re in there.”

Slowly, and seemingly with as much effort as if your eyelids were weighted with iron, your eyes drifted open. They were vague and bloodshot, but they held his gaze.

“That’s it!” he said.

Tears, of joy this time, fell thick and fast again.

“Oh, thank fuck. I can’t believe it. Oh, fuck.”

Your mouth opened and a rusty voice spoke.

“Hello.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He bent towards you and held you to him as tightly as he could in your delicate state. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. Relief and euphoria rushed through his every atom. He kissed your forehead, each cheek and peppered several more across your nose and chin. He was too uncontrolled, too carried away by his own gladness to have finesse. Each kiss made a gentle smack against your skin.

“Who are you?” came your voice. 

And it was like the sun going in. He straightened up, cautiously. 

“It’s Five, angel,” he said, gently, “You remember me, right?”

“I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

His breath caught in his throat. 

You had a brain injury. For some reason he hadn’t prepared himself for the fact that some things might be permanently broken. 

But then your face broke into a hazy smile, and a halting creak issued from your chest. If he wasn’t mistaken, that sounded like-

“Ah wait, you’re that dickhead sugar daddy I know, aren’t you?”

You were laughing. You were fucking with him.

Another wave of relief coursed through him. He bent again and kissed you with a pumping heart and tightening lungs. His lips parted yours, desperate, tender and giddy.

“I love you,” he said, between kisses,”I love you, I love you. I c-can’t believe you’re okay!”

And again he was sobbing. He laid his forehead on yours and cried unashamedly into your face. One of your hands drifted slowly upwards and came to rest heavily on his shoulder. He cried that way for a few minutes while you looked up at him dreamily. 

Eventually, when his crying began to lessen, you began to giggle slightly madly. He withdrew, looking down at you in a moment of confusion. 

And then it hit him: the dosage of medication.

You laughed harder, your hand coming to thump him on the shoulder as something hilarious occurred to you.

“Guess what. Guess what, Five: now I’m gonna have…even more…medical…debt!”

You dissolved into a peal of helpless laughter, which he couldn’t help but join in with despite all his tears.

“Don’t think about that now. Dickhead sugar daddy’s got your back.”

He continued more seriously when his laughter subsided. 

“I fucked up bad. I’m so sorry. I was sorry less than ten minutes after you left. I didn’t mean it.”

With the attitude of one who’s won a bet, you pointed at him weakly, 

“Now you have to make me breakfast in bed every day for two months.”

“I will,” he grinned, “if you say you forgive me?”

You smiled but didn’t answer, letting out another little burble of laughter.

He decided that now might be a bad time to talk about what happened in too much detail. There would be time for heart-to-hearts when you weren’t dosed up on enough pain meds to knock out a bull elephant. 

Instead, he kicked off his shoes and brought his legs up so that he lay on the very edge of the bed while taking up as little space as possible. He laid his head gently on your shoulder and heard you sigh with contentment.

Here it was: his longed-for second chance. 

He felt his eyelids growing heavy. All was right with the world now.

“I don’t want the perfect man,” you mumbled.

“Huh?” he said, rousing himself.

“I don’t want the perfect man,” you repeated, “I want you.”

Request masterlist >> HERE

NOTE:

Feel free to contact me with more Five requests, that was super fun and I want more! I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for more.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Rose Recaps 2023 - Japan

So, because I have a hard time making big lists and choosing favourites, this my version of a superlative post, by country.

The one that had me at the first frame

If It’s With You | Kimi to Nara Koi wo Shite Mite mo

As soon as Amane appeared on screen I was gone. This damaged but confident boy had my heart from the beginning. But it was Ryuji that ended up with a bigger piece by the end. The way he saw Amane’s mask from the beginning and just went – “you don’t need to do that with me”. And the way he considered Amane’s feelings even when he wasn’t sure what to do or how to respond, or how he was feeling about all of it, was just beautiful to witness and at certain points kinda reminded of Ida.

Favourite Moment: Amane confessing and running away. Because visually it's so striking. The way he's running from the light that is Ryuji.

The one that was perfect and I never saw coming.

I Cannot Reach You | Kimi ni wa Todokanai

I think that by now at least some people know how I feel about Japanese BL. I love it so much. And for me it’s always about the characters. Whether they are the embodiment of chaos, like Aoki or they are just incredible complex and empathic humans like Ida. - Yes, I’m using Kieta Hatsukoi every chance I get- I just love the way all these characters are written and portrait.

I loved these 2 boys in equal measure all throughout the show. I might have a soft spot for Yamato, but that’s only because pining boys are my weakness.

Yamato’s back and forth in his own head about what to do would be annoying to me in any other show, but it was so well done, and we were privy to his thought process throughout that it just made me feel for him deeply. And Kakeru learning about Yamato’s feelings right away in the first episode was a great choice, because he gave the show time to make the reciprocity more believable.

Favourite Moment - The exchange of gifts at the door. I love the nervousness that the two of them are feeling in this moment.

The one where I gave in.

My Beautiful Man S2 & Eternal

Confession time. This was not love at first season for me. I don’t argue quality overall and much less the acting of the show, but it just didn’t click for me.

There were some truly great moments in the first season but there was a disconnect between my heart and my brain. This happens to me sometimes. Like I watch something that is objectively good but it doesn’t reach me.

That all changed with the second season and the film. I finally connect with Hira. Don't ask me why, I don't fully understand myself, but it happened right at the beginning of the season. I think perhaps it was because I started seeing more from Kiyoi pov, because before I was absolutely clueless about what he saw in Hira in the first place. Sorry if that sounds harsh.

I don't blame the show for this, as I said, I think all the elements are there, it just didn't connect for me.

Also, the film was gorgeous to watch. Several moments (specially the sequence where the gif is from) were so well shot and edited that I'm happy I went in already with a positive mindset.

Favourite Moment: The one from the gif. I'm a sucker for a drastic visual change when the moment calls for it.

The one that had me question if watching it was good for my mental health.

Tokyo in April is | Shigatsu no Tokyo wa

Ok. I love this show. I love Ren. But this was a hard watch for me. Every week I had a struggle between two sides of me.

- Don’t watch it. It will be sad and you will be sad because of it. - But the last one was sad so I need to watch it to see if there’s happy. - Why not just wait? - Because I started already, so now I can’t wait. - But in this case binging is best. Cause for sure the ending is happy so you won’t be sad for long. - Yeah, but I need to see more now. And there’s a new episode waiting for me. - Fine. Just press play. After the episode. - I really shouldn’t watch this one live. (all this repeats the following week)

It was beautifully acted, there were some outstanding moments, the past was as tastefully done as it could be given the subject matter, and in the end my heart of full, but slightly damaged with the process.

Favourite Moment: Ren finding out Kazuma had been looking for him.

The one with all the magic.

What Did You Eat Yesterday? | Kinou Nani Tabeta? S2

I already wrote how this show made me feel in another post. So I’ll just say this.

EVERYONE NEEDS TO WATCH THIS SHOW. NOW. If you haven’t, stop reading this and go. GO. NOW. Start.

There is magic here and you don’t even know.

Favourite Moment: ALL OF THEM. But really this one.

Shiro. Just Shiro.

Well, I'll try to write the next one in these next couple of days. Wish me luck.

Thanks for reading💜

[afreakingdork]

This is a bit embarrassing to admit and I’ve been putting off sending an ask for weeks, but seeing as Weak Spot is almost complete I figured it’s now or never; I daydream about the world you’ve created all the time, it’s like my go-to happy place in my head. Before I say anything I just wanna make sure you know I’m not asking you to write this, Weak Spot is your story and I already know what you have planned will make me weep on another Saturday morning. I just really want to share my thoughts because your story has been living in my head rent free like ever since I binge read 1-39 in one weekend. Do you think it’s possible that Donnie and Chester will ever meet again? I’ve been imagining what a wedding chapter might be like since 45 and my favourite ‘what if;’ I’ve come up with is what if Y/N were to send an invitation to Chester? I think I just really want Chester to see how much Donnie has grown and give him that ✨approval of a parental figure✨ he so craves. Perhaps the invitation being instrumented exclusively on Y/N’s behalf as a surprise for Don? I really wanna know what you might think 人´∀｀)

Oh gosh, no need to be embarrassed because I do the same thing! It's literally how I come up with all my little ideas! I really appreciate you sharing this and I'm proud of you for being brave to do so.

Narratively, it doesn't make sense for Donnie to meet Chester again sadly. Sometimes you bounce of people in your life and the interactions don't go the way you want. That doesn't mean that because you had to part ways that they weren't important. Sometimes those people you meet in blips are the most important of all (exactly why Sandwich Spot exists, but outside the main story because while it helps point the exact moment Donnie realized life existed outside of himself, it's not something reader will ever know firsthand, but they do know it because it shaped how Donnie is now).

So Donnie will never see Chester again, but that being said... I couldn't help but be inspired by what you wrote. so please, have this gift...

A moment in time in the not so far flung future that may or may not happen in Soft Spot:

He was getting too old for this.

"Come now! Violet can walk herself." Chester urged.

Or Harry had a point.

"But, pop-pop! She's so slow!" Jade whined where she was pulling her little sister.

Those morning swim classes were looking more and more appealing.

Violet pulled back on the arm that was wrenched in her sister's grasp.

Harry had been more spry since he started attending.

"What was it you were teaching me about sayings?" Chester tried a new tactic.

Meanwhile, Chester had only gotten lazier in retirement.

"Oh!" Jade lit up and let go to think with her entire body. "Let's see..."

His chair sat him so well, though.

Violet righted herself from where she toppled over and took a breath.

He'd always thought with his first grandchild getting older, he'd have to do less lifting.

"It's the one about the cow!" Jade hopped.

With the second, however, it had doubled his required strength.

"Close... How about another animal?" Chester smiled.

He wouldn't trade them for the world though.

This time recognition came to Jade with a slow glow. "You lead a horse to water..."

What a happy life he had the honor of living.

"But..." Chester nodded for her to continue.

Violet got herself onto her two feet and took a few shuffling steps toward him.

He prepared for that weight on his hips and held his hands out ready for her.

"You can't make him drink..." Jade curled a finger to her lips. "So with Vi...?"

With a grunt and groan, Chester got Violet up in his arms.

The little one curled against him, fatigued.

The park was a big, exciting world for a toddler.

"It means..." Chester paused in case Jade wanted to come to the conclusion herself.

Instead, her eyes shined as she stared up at him, ready for the answer.

"You can do everything in your power to help someone, but you can't force them to accept it." He explained.

Jade took a few steps toward him and pondered so hard it made her forehead scrunch up.

She was adorable.

A huge stock of black fabric passed by like a moving obelisk.

It pulled Chester's eye where he readjusted Violet's load.

It wasn't an inanimate object, but a long black coat.

It donned a very tall man who moved to the other side of the playground.

There, he found a spot to stop and in a turn revealed a blotch of green.

Topped with a shock of rich purple.

Eyes wide and free hand suddenly flapping anxiously for Jade's, Chester felt himself pale.

Donatello.

He hadn't seen the boy in years.

After the first few, Chester had been left to hope that Donatello had only taken his advice.

Despite the bitter end, he wished him nothing, but the best.

Donatello spoke.

Too far away and with a bustling park between them, there was no way Chester could hear.

What he could do was look down.

Where a joyful, albeit tired looking counterpart animatedly responded.

Chester's lips parted.

The second person then looked down before offering something up.

A small bundle whose lavender blanket wriggled to reveal another, much, much smaller green mutant.

Donatello took the baby and brought the child up to his face to coo something.

The older mutant's eyes gleamed.

Chester knew that look.

The one that topped eye bags as deep as canyons.

It was one he once sported.

It was the one his son-in-law now wore.

It was the look of a new father.

The way they looked at their own.

Donatello had a partner.

Donatello had a child.

"What's wrong, pop-pop?" Jade's voice broke in, thunderous amongst the many others.

Chester looked down and felt the tears streaking his cheeks.

He only gave a bright smile and continued to hold his hand out.

Jade took it and continued to stare up at him. "Are you hungry? Vi cries when she's hungry. Let's get you some lunch!"

Chester nodded and moved to leave the park with Jade in tow. "That sounds wonderful."