#tagging all my followers but you don't have too

[avatar-anna]

please please pleeeeeease more of assistant×harry!! 🥺

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

August 2013

In just a year of being Harry Styles’ assistant, Y/n had seen a lot, experienced a lot, and learned to expect just about anything, which was why her head began to throb before they even touched down in Las Vegas.

“Here,” a voice said from above her. Y/n was supposed to be answering emails and prepping for all the appearances Harry was supposed to make before the jet landed, but she decided to close her eyes. Just for a few minutes. Not that anyone would’ve noticed, anyway. The boys were all hanging out in the back of the plane, and Natalie, Zayn’s assistant, was watching the boys to make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble. All the assistants took turns when the boys of One Direction were in a confined space together; tag teaming just seemed the fairest deal.

When she peeked an eye open, though, she was surprised to see Harry standing beside her seat, a mug in his outstretched hand. Smiling, she took it, watching through tired eyes as he sat down across from her. He was in a red flannel shirt, though it was hardly buttoned, and the black skinny jeans he’d taken to wearing almost the entire tour. He had multiple pairs, all the same exact brand and style, just in case one ripped. Y/n would know. She had to race all over Manhattan when that very nightmare happened and Harry didn’t have any backups. Now there were at least four in his suitcase at all times. And an extra one in her backpack just to be safe. Harry swore the bag that followed her everywhere was made of magic because her whole life—and his—was nearly placed in there. But Y/n knew it wasn’t magic, she was just prepared for everything.

“I told the boys we’d be on our best behavior while we’re here. Just for you,” Harry said, giving Y/n his most innocent grin.

She’d seen that grin too many times to believe him, but the sentiment was nice. He and the boys were never menaces to her or the other assistants per day, but their antics did make her life more difficult depending on what they got up to. “That’s sweet of you.”

“I’m a sweet guy,” Harry said with a grin. Then with a nod toward Y/n’s phone, he asked, “Who’re you texting over there?”

“I’m not texting anyone. I’m sending emails,” she said.

“What? Even while we’re in the air?” he asked incredulously. “Do you ever not work?”

Y/n grinned. “Of course.”

“Well then put the phone down and talk to me. I feel like I've known you forever but I don't actually know you” Harry said, and it sounded like he was almost whining.

Y/n looked up from her phone. Harry’s eyes were pleading as he leaned forward in his seat. She was honestly a little surprised that he was so insistent that she talk to him. He was always nice of course, and they’d had brief conversations that didn’t involve work here and there, but Harry didn’t know much about Y/n personally. She kept her personal life private for the most part, for no other reason than she liked to keep things professional while she was working.

Setting her phone down, Y/n crossed her leg over the other and looked at Harry expectantly. "Alright. What would you like to know?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Y/n choked on the tea Harry had given her. "That's the question you want to start with?"

Harry shrugged before leaning in playfully. "Are you avoiding the question?"

"No. To both questions," she answered honestly.

"Hm."

"Hm? What's that supposed to mean?" Y/n asked. She thought they were having a lighthearted conversation but Harry looked contemplative.

"Why not?" he asked, not answering her question.

Y/n ran a tired hand over her face. "This is starting to feel like an interrogation, Mr. Styles."

"Sorry, sorry, I don't mean to pry," he said, leaning back in his seat. The playful gleam in his green eyes told Y/n differently, though. "I just feel like you know a lot of intimate details about my life, and all I know is that you like cinnamon bagels and have an affinity for wearing black. And you always manage to wake up before I do, which just seems outrageous to me sometimes."

Y/n pondered what he said and supposed he had a point. She did know a lot about Harry's relationships, or the intimate details of his life he referred to based on his line of questioning. But it was her job to know. She made sure he was up and ready each day, she ensured that no one night stands overstayed their welcome or helped themselves to his clothes after he was gone; she was privy to his PR dates and the ones he wanted no one else to know about. Their... relationship was one sided, and Y/n didn't fault him for his curiosity.

"You know how I take my tea, and that I drink tea at all," she finally said, her voice light.

Harry smiled, as if he'd been waiting to engage in whatever game he'd been trying to play with her since he sat down across from her. "I noticed you reach for the tea packets whenever we fly."

"It relaxes me," Y/n admitted.

"Do you not like flying?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to act more casual than she felt. "It's mostly the takeoff and landing. I don't know it just...freaks me out a little. All the jostling and pressure and whatnot."

"You picked a strange job if you don't like to fly, I'm afraid," Harry said.

"Hence the herbal tea. I'd take something a little stronger if I didn't think you boys would do something the minute my eyes were closed."

"We wouldn't—I would never—You can take a nap around us, Y/n," Harry said, frowning as if he were truly offended by what she said. "I know we like to pull pranks or whatever, but we wouldn't. I wouldn't let them do that to you."

His sincerity was sweet, his gaze hard and imploring. Y/n didn't mean for their conversation to turn down this route but somehow it did, and she couldn't help but notice how angular Harry's features were when he looked at her like that. Protective.

Something light and airy unfurled in her belly that she pointedly ignored.

"I was mostly kidding, but thank you."

And just like that, the hard look was gone, the tense fog lifted. Harry grinned and reached in his back pocket, pulling out a deck of cards. “Play with me?”

“You don’t want to play with the boys?” Y/n asked, genuinely curious.

“I need to practice for this weekend, and they’re not good enough competition.”

“Oh, and I am?” she said. Y/n knew how to play cards, but she wasn’t any kind of pro.

"We're about to find out."

Harry set the cards on the table between them and split the deck to shuffle them. Y/n watched his hands as the cards shuffled between his long, nimble fingers. There were calluses on them now from learning to play the guitar. He was a couple months in, and he was already pretty good. Harry often played the new songs or chords he learned for her, eager to show his progress and knowing she wouldn’t judge him when his fingers slipped from time to time.

When he finally stopped, Y/n realized she’d been openly staring at his hands for a little too long. She snapped her head up, thankful that Harry hadn’t caught her staring. Shuffling around in her seat, she asked, “What are we playing?”

*.*

Later that night, Y/n was alone in her hotel room. One Direction’s performance in Las Vegas went off without a hitch, and the boys had hit the Strip to celebrate. Harry insisted she join them, promising a night she would never forget, but she declined. She had plans of her own tonight.

Finishing the last touches on her hair and giving herself one last check in the mirror, Y/n grabbed her keys and her purse. A knock on the door sounded, and thinking it was Natalie, Y/n rushed to open it. When she did, her eyes widened.

“Mr. Styles? What are you doing here?”

Harry was in fact standing on the other side of her door, a bottle of champagne in one hand and the same deck of cards they’d played with on the plane in the other. They'd played until it was time for landing. Y/n had a large pile of candy by the end of it—Harry had wanted to play with real money but Y/n joked she couldn't afford to play real poker with him. And as the plane started to descend, Harry switched seats so that he was beside her, offered his hand for her to squeeze until the plane finally touched down. It had been the most tension-free landing of the tour for Y/n, and though neither of them said anything about it, Harry knew she was grateful for him being there.

He looked sheepish now as he took her in, the realization that she was on her way out striking him as he saw her clothes—a pair of jeans and a black button down top that was only buttoned in the middle, and black boots to match.

“Sorry, I wasn’t feeling up for going out tonight, so I came down here to—but of course you have plans. It’s your night off, you’re allowed to—”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Styles?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “Did you need me to call a doctor? Run down to the pharmacy? I can—”

“No, I…I came here to—to play cards again, but if you already have plans I won’t get in your way.”

Y/n’s head tilted to the side, partly confused and partly endeared. Harry was a kind boss, but he’d never come to her hotel room to hang out before, especially when parties and liquor were guaranteed elsewhere. The time she spent with him was strictly professional.

“Natalie and I had planned to go out tonight,” she said, looking down at her purse.

Y/n didn’t often go out while on tour, but Natalie knew someone that could get them into some exclusive rooftop bar with discounted drinks. She hadn’t had a night off in a while and thought it would be a fun and responsible way to spend her time in Vegas. But now that Harry was here…

“I can cancel—”

“Don’t you dare,” Harry said, stepping away from the door. His eyes trailing up and down her body in a way that didn’t feel entirely professional. A look Y/n chose to ignore. “I should’ve asked you earlier.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you could always come with us,” Y/n said.

She wasn’t sure how Natalie would feel about that. Her friend had made it clear that she wanted a night away from the boys of One Direction so she could let loose a little. But she didn’t want to just leave Harry on her doorstep.

“No, no, you go. I’m not in a partying mood tonight,” Harry said, waving Y/n off.

“If you’re sure,” she said.

“I’m sure.”

“Next time, then,” she offered.

Harry smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Then, before she could say anything else, Harry fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled out a couple bills and handed them to her. Y/n tried to protest, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, making sure he watched her put the money in her purse. “And take my driver too. There’s a lot of creeps out there. Dominic will take good care of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles,” Y/n said graciously.

“No problem, Y/n, and for the last time, it’s Harry.”

Y/n grinned as she let the door shut behind her. “Whatever you say, Mr. Styles.”

*.*

Y/n trudged through the halls of the lavish hotel, her boots shuffling tiredly across the carpet. She’d had a good night, but when Natalie and a group they’d met at the bar wanted to move onto a club, Y/n decided it was time to go. She had her fun, but she wasn’t the clubbing type, and she had to be up early the next morning.

And she couldn’t help but think about Harry sitting around in his hotel room all alone. She spent nearly every waking moment with him, and yet on her night off, she felt the need to go see him, be with him. Y/n enjoyed hanging out with Harry on the plane to Vegas. It had been the first time they’d interacted with each other in a non-professional way. He told her goofy jokes and playfully tried to peek at her cards, a look of genuine surprise when she beat him on more than one occasion.

For a moment, Y/n had actually forgotten that he wasn’t her boss and that she wasn’t his assistant. For a moment, they were just two friends going on a trip somewhere.

And for whatever reason, Y/n wanted to revisit that moment. She bypassed her floor’s button on the elevator, opting to press the one a few levels up from hers. The hall was quiet, which made sense if the other boys were still out. Harry told Y/n earlier that he wanted a quiet night in, but as she approached his door, she heard music and muffled voices from the other side. She had his extra key and would’ve been able to enter no problem, but when she made it to the double doors of Harry’s suite, she elected to knock. Maybe she should’ve left when she realized he had company, but she stayed, eager to see him for some reason.

It took a minute or two for someone to answer. With the music so loud, Y/n wasn’t surprised no one could hear her knock. She nearly gave up after knocking a third time, the door finally opened.

“Can I help you?”

It was a young man. A handsome young man with short brown hair and freckles over his nose and a deep skin tone. His eyes looked droopy, like he’d woken up just to answer the door. Or had recently smoked a joint. The latter was more likely.

“I’m Mr. Styles’ assistant. I just thought I would check in. He has an early morning tomorrow.”

“Oh. Um…He’s…busy?” the man said, clearly not wanting the fun to stop. “Should I get him for you?”

Y/n had never been in this predicament before. Sure, she knew Harry occasionally liked to invite someone into his hotel room for a night of fun, and this wasn’t the first time she’d found another boy keeping him company in this way. The first time that happened, Harry wouldn’t meet her eye for a whole day, but she never judged him for it, and she never said a word of it to him or anyone else. That was his personal business, not hers.

So the boy wasn’t what caught her off guard. It was that he was awake. Y/n always interacted with Harry’s one, sometimes two, night stands the morning after, equipped with a pen and an NDA, and possibly a sharp wit, depending on how reluctant the individual was to leave. But she’d never been in this position before, in the middle of it. She felt embarrassed, at a loss for words.

“N—No,” she finally said. “He just told me he wasn’t feeling well earlier. I thought I’d check on him before heading to bed, but…it seems like he’s feeling better.”

That’s and understatement, Y/n thought. She felt disappointed for some reason. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she really thought Harry would want to hang out, that he would somehow be waiting for her to come back, which was stupid. He had no reason to.

Y/n finally started to shuffle away, leaving Harry and his companion to his own devices. The door shut after the young man gave her a small smile and a wave, leaving her alone in an all too quiet hallway, the sounds of their voices muffled by the thin walls.

Sleep was in order. She knew that she was probably having an off day. Too much traveling, no doubt. Harry wasn’t her friend. She was his assistant, hired by his management team to make sure his every need and whim was met and sought to. Tomorrow she would wake up and remember that.

*.*

The next morning when Y/n stepped onto the plane, Harry was already seated in her little corner of the jet, a deck of cards, two steaming mugs, a multitude of snacks, and a big blanket were waiting. He didn't say anything about last night, so she didn't either. Not a word was said at all during takeoff, Harry merely offered his hand again, and when the plane was leveled in the air, he took out the deck of cards.

"Up for another round? This time Oreos are on the line so I'm less inclined to lose."

After that, plane rides weren't so bad anymore.

[ghostsangel]

Could I request being friends with Ghost (who's desperately in love with you) and admitting to him one night that you don't think anyone would ever love you? If reader is plus size that would be amazing! Thank you 😊

oh my god this is adorable!!! sorry if this is too short or it sucks. totally felt like writer’s block.

simon “ghost” riley x fem!plus-size reader

tags/warnings: a lil internalized fatphobia, smitten ghost, this is legit fluff bro, a bit of angst if you squint

You’re so tired of being alone.

It sounds stupid, but you’ve never had a boyfriend. Never been kissed or had sex or even held hands with a guy. A big part of you feels like it’s because you’ve got a bit more meat on your bones—apron belly, saggy boobs, thick thighs. How would you expect anyone to love those parts of yourself when you barely do yourself?

“You alright?” Simon’s voice tugs you out of your thoughts.

You blink and look at him, forcing your lips to tug up into a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinkin’.”

“About?” He takes a sip of his beer, leaning back against your couch.

You’ve been friends with Simon for a couple of years. You met through mutual acquaintances, and found he’s really fun to hang out with. Caring, a bit goofy when he’s drunk, protective. In truth, you’ve developed a bit of a crush on him. But, surely, someone who looks like Simon….yeah, you’re out of his league.

You shrug, crossing your arms in front of your belly and leaning back on the couch. “Things.”

Simon raises his brows. “Things,” he repeats. “Come on, tell me. We’ve been friends for a long time, doll.”

His eyes pierce through you, and you can’t help the heat that rises to your face. Averting your gaze, you rub your thighs together, shaking your head. “It’s stupid.”

Simon grunts and sets his beer down, moving to sit next to you on the couch. He turns your head to face him, fingers on your chin. A prickly subject for you—your double chin makes you so self-conscious, you could cry.

“C’mon, nothin’ you say could be stupid,” he reassures you, releasing your chin.

You’re silent for a moment before you sigh. “Just thinkin’ about me. And how I’ve never been loved, and probably never will be.”

Simon blinks at you, brows drawing together. “And why do you think that?”

You look at him incredulously, your hands gesturing to your body. “Because I look like…this. I’m fat. And guys don’t—”

“Shut it,” Simon says, tilting your head up by your chin. There’s a look in his eyes, one you’ve never seen before. “You’re bloody beautiful, doll. Your body makes men like me weak, and it drives me crazy.” He leans in, and your breath hitches in your throat. “Ever since I met you, you’re all I fuckin’ think about. Think I’ve loved you since that first day.”

Your heart stops, and your brain scrambles as you try to reply. “I—what? You…what?”

Simon laughs softly, his fingers moving to cup your cheek. “You don’t have to worry about anyone not loving you, sweetheart. I already do. Been crazy about you since we met.”

“Really?” You breathe out, meeting his eyes. “You’re not just lyin’ to me or makin’ fun of me or—”

Simon shuts you up with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours slowly. You kiss him back, clumsily, not sure what to do. You just follow his lead, letting him take control. The kiss causes heat to run down your spine and you pull back after a moment.

“I’ve never…” You trail off, meeting his eyes.

“I know. Don’t worry, love. I’ll be all your firsts if you let me.”

[thefrogman]

Back in the olden days, if you used the "keep reading" function on a Tumblr-dot-com post, it would

not get very many notes.

At all.

I am not sure exactly why.

I think people hated pressing an extra thing.

But maybe it was also a psychological phenomenon where, given the choice, they were unwilling to trust me with their time.

But if I sucked them in with a good story or a compelling image, they would get serious FOMO.

When I created a super high effort post-of-length I would get comments like, "This was way too long but before I realized it I was reading the last sentence."

That was a really good feeling.

I used to do tests to figure out the best posting strategies and I think I figured out you'd lose about 90% of your notes if you did a "keep reading" post.

So that notion was ingrained in my brain again and again from when I was very note-obsessed and I have since avoided the "keep reading" option almost like a conditioned response.

Just seeing that squiggly line appear still induces a Pavlovian fear.

But that was probably a decade ago and I did a new experiment. My story about replacing my mailbox did reasonably well with a strategically clickbaity "keep reading."

This was a promising result due to the fact that some people like to send me hate for writing a lengthy post.

I recently got a death threat for writing too much, which was a fun reminder of my M&M days (I melted men's rights activists' brains with a poorly worded analogy and they launched a years long harassment campaign).

It seems in present-era-Tumblr-dot-com many more people prefer pressing an extra thing rather than scrolling a bunch on their smartphone. The collective behavior has changed. And maybe I don't need to use tricks and running gags in order to get folks to "keep reading".

Unfortunately I started writing that ring light post a few months ago so I wasn't able to include that in the experiment. But I am going to try using the keep reading function in the future and as long as the average number of folks that usually read my longer posts continue to read my posts, that will be the standard approach.

I also tag these posts with "long post" so you can flag that if you wish.

While I am no longer in the audience-building phase of my Tumblr career, these essays and stories and educational posts take a considerable amount of time and effort to create, so I do want to make sure everyone who wants to read them is able to. But posts without hearts and reblogs can quickly die a gruesome algorithmic death. Even my most ardent followers would tell me things were not showing up on their dash. (I think replies help mitigate that, so if you like a long post, you can help with engagement.)

The collective noun is a "business" of ferrets.

Do you want to see a business of ferrets ready to do some business?

KEEP READING

I love writing and it is a huge catharsis for me. And I love sharing any knowledge I feel like I have the earned expertise to speak on with authority (technology, photography, light, fun ferret facts, etc). I wish I had the energy to be a photography teacher, but long posts on Tumblr are probably the best I can do for now.

I know my posts are super long, but I try to make them as fun and informationally dense as I possibly can. I don't like wasting people's time if I can avoid it. Though maybe I should trust my follower's attention span a bit more. I have this fear that if I am not constantly entertaining, people will click away or unfollow.

I think a good business for a business of ferrets would be selling pool noodles that look like ferrets.

So as long as I get roughly the same amount of notes I will do the keep reading. And then maybe people can lay off on the mean comments and occasional requests to end my own life because I bloviated about soft light.

100% true ferret fact..

If you ask a ferret what their business is, they will crawl on your shoulder and whisper in your ear...

[omgthatdress]

special thanks to all my followers who have stuck with me through the "fundraiser asks are bots & scammers" mess. My post did indeed piss quite a few people off but the response has been 90% positive, with a lot of people being relieved of the massive anxiety those asks were causing them (another huge thing that I hate about them is how they feed on people's mental health issues, esp. those with hyperfixations/anxiety on doing good and morality)

For the people who are getting really big mad at me it's like "tell me you got scammed without telling me you got scammed," which is a lot harder for some people to accept than you would think.

Also for those who still insist the asks aren't bots, I made my post with a big opening statement that I readily delete and report any fundraiser ask in my ask box, tagged it "Palestine" and "Palestinian," and the number of asks I got in my box literally quadrupled the next day. They are targeting people who are blogging on the issue because that's what bots do. Classic bot behavior.

If you have fallen for a fundraiser ask bot, don't hate yourself too much. Everyone on Tumblr has fallen for a charity scam at least once, including me. Those things are fucking heart-wrenching and convincing and hard to ignore. The important thing is that once you have the scam explained to you, you accept that you've been scammed and don't double down and insist what's obviously a bot is a real suffering Palestinian without any real proof. That's when you turn into an asshole.

Some people are like "I'd rather give to a thousand scammers than put a Palestinian family at risk!" and...... yeah you realize that's bad, right? The money that could actually be out there saving people's lives is instead going to an unknown criminal of unknown origins. For all we know, these bots could be funding Zionist settlers driving people in the West Bank out of their homes. (I AM NOT claiming this as a fact, merely illustrating that we don't fucking know. pissing on the poor, etc.)

And.... well some people really are a special kind of dumb and when you're really fucking stubborn about how dumb and naive you are I'd say fuck it, you deserve to lose your money, but no. People's lives are actually at stake and that money needs to go to the people who actually depend on it, and that makes me angry.

YES these bots are harmful and YES they need to be removed from Tumblr. Delete and report any that you get.

[jetii]

Hello! I was wondering if I could 36 NSFW with Tech x fem!reader? Maybe where he said that nobody really gave him a challenge at the game, and readers ego is too high to back down from that offer even though she loses horribly. Established relationship perhaps? Also, I love your writing it’s amazing! You deserve all the love and followers

Hiii I'm so happy you requested this!!! I've been addicted to playing Kessel Sabacc in SW Outlaws for the past few weeks, and I was just waiting for the opportunity to work my knowledge into a fic. Literally wrote this as soon as I saw it in my inbox.

I consider this reader the same as the one from On Impulse if anyone cares!

Strategy

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 5,069

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, smut, established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, light dom Tech, rough (but affectionate) sex

Prompt: 36. “I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’re the one that wanted to play strip Sabacc.”

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"Pure sabacc," you announce, throwing down your cards and leaning back in your chair. A relieved grin spreads across your face at Tech's expression. His mouth is a thin line and his eyes are squinted, but there's an exasperated glint in them.

"Yes, I know," he grumbles, dropping his own cards on the table. Tech isn't a sore loser, but he is a competitive one. And the fact that this is the second hand you've won in a row is definitely irking him.

You snatch up his discarded cards and start to shuffle. "What was that about me never winning a round?"

"It is an anomaly," Tech states emotionlessly.

"And you've done the calculations to prove it, haven't you?"

He doesn't answer.

"Well, maybe I'm just lucky tonight." You cross your arms, reveling in his annoyance. "You know, I was beginning to think you were cheating with all the times you've been winning."

Tech rolls his eyes, but you can tell he's fighting off a smirk.

"I wouldn't cheat. Besides, I don't need to. My superior memory allows me to calculate the chances of each outcome with ease, making me naturally skilled at the game. Whereas you," he continues, leaning across the table and resting his elbows on it, "must rely on luck, because your memory is abysmal. It's no surprise you've been losing so often."

"Hey!" you protest, tossing a card at him. It flutters through the air, but he catches it before it hits his goggles.

Tech leans forward, the card trapped between his index and middle finger. "I am merely pointing out the facts, darling."

You snatch the card from him and return it to the deck, refusing to meet his smug gaze. He's trying to distract you, and he knows it's working.

"You can't always rely on the facts," you say, dealing the cards out once again.

"I don't. I also use strategy. Which you should try, seeing as it would certainly help you win."

"Strategy?"

"Yes, like—"

"Like how you're trying to distract me by insulting my memory?"

Tech huffs a breathy laugh and tilts his chin down. "Is it working?"

"Absolutely not." You glance down at your cards, trying your best not to smirk at your hand. Another sylop. The deck is stacked in your favor this round, and you have a perfect chance of beating Tech.

"What do you say we make this more interesting?" you propose, watching Tech's head tilt in curiosity.

He places a chip down and draws a card before his eyes dart back to yours. "I'm listening."

"Strip sabacc."

Tech's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he almost drops the cards he's holding. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me," you tease, setting your cards down. "Whoever loses a round has to remove an item of clothing. If you lose all your clothes before I do, I win. If I lose mine first, you win. Deal?"

He takes a moment to contemplate the suggestion, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and his eyes narrow, calculating the possibilities. When his lips curve into a smirk, you know he's made up his mind.

"Deal," he agrees, nodding once and adjusting his goggles. He lays down his cards face up—pair of ones. You frown at your own hand and drop them onto the table.

"Oh, come on! Again?"

Tech chuckles, leaning back in his seat. "I believe you're the one who suggested this game. Now, please, take off an item of clothing."

The cockiness in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Tech may be a terrible flirt, but his confidence in himself is incredibly sexy.

You slip your boots off and kick them under the table, then lean back in your chair and cross your arms. Tech's eyes are locked on you, a devious smile playing at his lips.

"Now who's distracted?" you taunt, winking at him.

"Hardly," he answers. But you can see the flush on his face and the way his chest is rising and falling just a little bit faster than usual. He's excited, and he's trying to hide it.

“You know, you’re wearing a lot more clothes than I am," you argue, leaning forward on the table and batting your eyelashes innocently. “You should take off an item, too, for fairness' sake."

"Fine." He pulls his boots off and drops them onto the floor. "Happy now?"

"Very."

Tech picks up the deck and shuffles the cards, the corners of his lips turning up.

"This was your plan, wasn't it?" he asks.

"My plan was to finally win a game of sabacc against you. And maybe see you with less clothes on, but that's an added bonus."

Tech chuckles and slides the cards toward you, his eyes burning into yours. "You are very devious. Now, deal the cards, darling."

You quickly learn that the stakes have made the game a lot more fun. Your heart races as the tension between the two of you rises, each of you sneaking glances at the other while pretending not to. And it doesn't take long for Tech to get the upper hand, much to your dismay.

"I told you," he teases, smirking at you over his cards, "my superior memory allows me to calculate the probability—"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't need to brag," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. You draw another card, cursing when it doesn't help you in the slightest.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, you’re the one that wanted to play strip Sabacc," he says. You look up at Tech to see he's staring at his own cards, but the slight smile playing on his lips tells you he's aware of your annoyance.

You can't argue with that. You're the one that proposed the idea, and you're the one that can’t seem to stop losing, so now you're the one sitting on the ship with no shoes, socks, or a shirt, leaving only your pants and undergarments. Meanwhile, Tech has only removed his gloves and belt.

He places his cards face-up on the table, revealing another pure sabacc.

"Dammit," you sigh, throwing your own cards onto the table. "Again."

"Strip," Tech commands, and there's a huskiness to his voice that wasn't there before. His eyes are dark and intense as they follow your every move, and his mouth is curved in a devilish smile.

"Are you enjoying this?" you ask, unbuttoning your pants and standing from the chair.

"Immensely," he admits, his eyes not straying from you.

Heat spreads throughout your body at the intensity of his gaze. He watches with bated breath as you push the fabric down your legs, revealing the soft skin of your thighs, and he licks his lips subconsciously. The pants pool around your feet, and you kick them under the table before returning to your seat.

"Now who's the distracted one?"

"Not distracted," Tech replies, his eyes meeting yours. "Appreciating."

His words are heavy and sultry, and you can't stop the flush that colors your cheeks.

"You can appreciate me better if you lose another round," you tell him, shuffling the cards once again.

Tech's eyes narrow. "I think I'd prefer to watch you lose a few more."

The cockiness in his voice goes straight to your core, and a heat pools in your abdomen. Tech doesn't break eye contact, his stare intense and challenging, and a thrill shoots through you at the thought of what he could be thinking.

"I guess we'll see," you tell him, smirking.

You deal the cards, and Tech immediately throws a chip down, drawing his next card. A satisfied smile curves his lips. He's not even trying to hide his glee at your frustration, and it's infuriating.

You throw a chip onto your pile, drawing a card and praying that the Force will be on your side this round. You peek at the numbers and symbols on the card, and the disappointment is instant. It's the worst possible combination—a six and one. And you're out of chips.

When Tech sets his cards down, he does so slowly, drawing out the moment and relishing in your scowl.

You sigh, dropping your useless cards, and Tech's eyes brighten at the sight.

"Well, would you look at that?" he says, his voice filled with fake innocence. "I believe that's five in a row for me."

"No shit, really?" you mutter, rolling your eyes. "I had no idea."

He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, his hands folded together and his chin resting on top. "Strip."

It's the way he says it, like a command. His voice is low and gravelly, and you feel yourself getting wetter at the tone. He's so sure of himself, so cocky, and it's driving you wild.

"Do I have to?" you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

Tech's eyes narrow in on you. "Yes."

You stand and unclasp your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders and slipping it off your arms. The cold air makes your nipples harden instantly, and his eyes widen when he sees them. He stares for a moment, taking in the view, and then his tongue darts out and licks his lips.

"I must admit, I'm finding this game more enjoyable than I originally thought," he says, his voice thick.

"Only because you're winning."

He hums in agreement and deals the next hand, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Throughout the round, Tech's eyes keep flicking back and forth between the cards and your chest, and you have to bite back a smile. He's trying so hard to concentrate, and his obvious struggle is adorable.

Tech's confidence fades as the round progresses, and by the time he sets his cards down, he isn't wearing his usual cocky smile. His mouth is pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows are knitted together when he shows you his hand.

"What's wrong, Tech?" you tease, leaning back in your seat. "Disappointed that you lost?"

"Of course not," he scoffs. "I've already calculated the possibilities and I know how this will end. I have no doubt that I will win."

"Then why are you pouting?"

"I am not pouting."

"Uh-huh. Well, whatever the reason, it's time for you to remove some clothes."

Tech sighs and slips off his goggles. His warm eyes meet yours, and you notice that they're slightly glazed over.

"There," he grumbles, pushing the goggles across the table toward you. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," you reply, a wide smile on your face.

Your eyes rake over him, taking in his appearance. It’s rare that you get to see him this way, and you savor the moment. Tech has always been handsome, but the way he looks right now, with his hair mussed and a blush coloring his cheeks, is absolutely enticing.

You pick up the deck and shuffle it, and the sound of the cards sliding together is the only noise in the room. Tech's eyes are fixed on your bare chest, and his throat bobs when he swallows.

"Like what you see?" you ask, raising a brow.

"Always."

Your cheeks flush, and you deal the cards. The anticipation is killing you, and the smugness that Tech was showing before is long gone. He seems eager to get the game over with, and the impatience in his demeanor is refreshing.

His eyes flick back and forth between the cards and the pile, and his face gives nothing away. You're desperate to know what his hand is, and it's taking every ounce of willpower not to peek.

He reaches across the table and throws a chip down, his brow furrowing. It's such a subtle change in his expression, and most people would miss it. But you know Tech well enough to understand his emotions, and right now he's frustrated.

Your heartbeat quickens as you draw a card. Another three to match the one already in your hand. Not great, but it's enough to win if Tech doesn't have a better sabacc.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask him, watching as his eyes move from his cards to yours and back again.

"Strategy," he mutters.

"What kind of strategy?"

"The type of strategy that will guarantee my victory,” he says. His eyes are determined and his jaw is clenched. He glances up from his cards to meet your gaze, and the fire in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

"Show me your cards," he demands.

You do as he asks, laying the two twos face-up on the table. The look he gives you is nothing short of prideful, and your heart drops.

"You've got to be kidding me," you groan.

Tech reveals his own cards—a sylop and a one. You let out an exasperated huff, and he chuckles.

"Well," he starts, placing his cards on the table and leaning back in his chair. His gaze travels over your body, and his smirk widens. "Go on."

Your cheeks heat up under his scrutinizing stare, and a part of you wants to rebel and refuse to comply. But Tech looks so damn good right now, his eyes filled with mischief, and the excitement coursing through you is too much.

"You're having too much fun," you say, your voice low.

"I'd have more fun if you'd hurry up and finish this little game of ours," Tech retorts.

 You're about to give him a smart retort, but then you notice the way he shifts in his seat. It's subtle, and you doubt he even realizes it, but it's there. The tightening of his thighs, the slight twitch of his hands. He's just as turned on as you are.

And you decide to play into it.

"I'm in no rush." You stand, slowly, and let your hands travel down the expanse of your chest, cupping your breasts and running your thumbs over your nipples.

Tech's breath catches, and his eyes are dark as they watch your every move. You can see his fingers twitching, aching to touch you, but he's refraining. You run a hand down your stomach, over the hem of your panties, and he licks his lips again.

Then, without warning, you turn away from him, exposing your backside. Tech makes a sound of protest, but his objection quickly dies down when he sees you hook your thumbs into the waistband and slide your underwear down. You bend forward to push them down your legs, and you can hear the sharp intake of breath from Tech.

The moment you turn around, a mischievous glint in your eye, you're met with a new expression on Tech's face.

He looks hungry.

His pupils are blown wide and his lips are parted, and you can tell it's taking all his strength not to jump across the table and take you right then and there.

"Well?" you tease, raising an eyebrow at him. "What are you waiting for?"

He doesn't waste a second. With one swift motion, he tosses the cards aside, his eyes never leaving yours, and stands. Then, he's on the other side of the table and grabbing your waist, pulling you towards him until your chest is pressed against his.

"I win," he announces, his hands roaming over your body.

"Then take your prize."

He pulls you into a searing kiss, his lips pressing insistently against yours. His hands travel the expanse of your skin, squeezing and caressing. One settles at the base of your neck while the other moves lower, down the curve of your back and to your ass. He grabs it, hard, and pulls your hips towards his, pressing his already-hard erection into you. You moan into his mouth, and he swallows it up, his tongue delving deeper and dancing with yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer and pressing your bare chest against him. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and his arousal is evident as he rocks his hips into yours, his hand squeezing and kneading your flesh.

When the two of you break away for air, his mouth moves lower, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking the sensitive skin at your pulse point. You tilt your head back, allowing him more access, and he takes full advantage. His tongue laves over the area, teeth nipping at the skin, and a breathy moan escapes your lips.

Tech's lips travel lower, across your collarbone and down your chest, stopping at the valley between your breasts. His breath fans over your skin, and his tongue darts out, licking a stripe along the underside of one breast. His fingers move up, brushing over the bud of your nipple, and you let out a whimper at the sensation.

He looks up at you, a satisfied smile playing at his lips, before bending and taking the other nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it, his lips sucking the sensitive flesh, and his hand pinches the other one. The feeling sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and your hands find their way into his hair, tangling themselves in the strands.

You gasp as his teeth gently graze over the hardened peak, and your knees nearly buckle beneath you. His other hand comes up and holds your hip, steadying you, and his mouth moves to the other side.

"Tech..." you breathe, your head falling back and your eyes fluttering shut. He's barely touched you, and already, you're a panting mess.

Tech's lips travel further down, past your navel and to your thighs. He drops to his knees in front of you, his hands trailing along the curves of your hips, and his lips press kisses into your skin.

"I've been wanting to taste you all day," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"You should've told me earlier," you breathe, looking down at him through hooded eyes. "We could've skipped the sabacc." 

"This was far more entertaining." He presses a kiss to your mound, and you shudder. His eyes are dark with lust, and the sight of him on his knees before you makes your core clench with anticipation.

Tech kisses your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste the skin. Your hands tighten in his hair, tugging and guiding him to where you need him most. He chuckles, and the warm breath fans over your sensitive flesh. 

His fingers dance across your skin, teasing the crease of your thighs, before one presses against your heat. A moan escapes your lips, and he presses harder, dragging his finger through your folds.

"You're already so wet," he murmurs, his eyes watching the way his finger moves. "Were you thinking about this while we were playing? About what would happen if you lost?"

"Yes," you answer truthfully, and the admission has him groaning.

He rubs circles into your clit, his touch sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body. Your legs begin to shake, and you place a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He glances up at you, the corner of his mouth turning up in a devilish smirk, and he presses a finger against your entrance. You whimper at the contact, and Tech lets out a quiet moan, the sight of you falling apart before him clearly affecting him.

"Tech, please," you beg, rocking your hips into his hand.

"Patience, darling," he coos.

He pushes the digit into you, slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch, and then curls it upwards. You gasp, your hand gripping his shoulder tighter, and he begins to pump his finger in and out of you. His arm nudges your thigh, spreading your legs wider, and he leans in and presses his mouth to your clit. He licks a broad stripe up the sensitive bundle of nerves, his tongue swirling around it, and you cry out in pleasure.

His free hand grips your thigh, holding you steady, while the other continues its slow movements, pushing in and out of you. You feel the tension coiling inside of you, and you know it won't take long for him to push you over the edge. His tongue is skilled and insistent, and he knows you better than anyone.

Tech's eyes are locked on yours, watching every reaction, and you can see the pure delight written on his face. He loves knowing he's the one doing this to you, making you fall apart.

"Tech... I'm..." You can't finish the sentence. The tension is building inside you, threatening to snap at any moment, and your breathing is labored. Tech adds a second finger, pumping faster and curling them against the spongy spot within you. You whimper, your grip on his shoulder tightening, and he knows you're close.

"Come for me," he says, his words vibrating against your sensitive flesh. His palm slaps against your clit, his fingers curling deeper, and the coil inside you snaps.

"Fuck!" you gasp, your legs shaking as the orgasm crashes through you. Tech's arm wraps around your thigh, keeping you upright as your knees buckle. He continues pumping his fingers, drawing out the pleasure, his tongue flicking and swirling around your clit.

When the sensations become too much, you place a hand on his forehead and push him away, your body going slack. Tech pulls his fingers from you and places a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before standing, his eyes searching yours.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice husky.

"Mhmm," you hum, a blissful smile tugging at your lips.

Tech's hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you into a bruising kiss. He takes a step forward, guiding you backwards, and the backs of your legs hit the bunk.

"Tech, please," you beg, breaking the kiss and staring into his eyes. They're black with desire, and he's already reaching down, fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

He pushes them down his legs, kicking them away, and his cock springs free, already leaking. Your hand reaches for him, stroking him from base to tip, and he groans, his hips bucking into your touch.

You continue the slow movements, dragging your hand along his length and rubbing your thumb over the tip. Tech's breathing is heavy, and his head falls to your shoulder, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Stop," he mutters, grabbing your wrist and halting the movement. "I want to last more than five seconds."

You chuckle and press a kiss to his jaw. "Well, let's go, then."

His eyes meet yours, and he nods. Then, in a swift motion, he spins you around and pushes you forward, bending you over the side of the bed.

He presses his body against yours, his cock grinding against your ass, and a soft moan escapes your lips. He's close, his breathing hot and heavy against your neck, and his hands are gripping your hips, pulling you towards him.

You feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance, and a shiver runs down your spine. You lean forward, resting your arms on the mattress and tilting your ass higher, and Tech lets out a deep moan at the sight.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers as one hand slides along the curve of your back.

“Hurry up," you urge, wiggling your hips against him.

His hand moves down your hip, across your ass, taking a moment to squeeze the flesh, and lower to the back of your thigh. His fingers dance along the skin, sending shivers down your spine, before coming to a stop at the back of your knee. He lifts it, propping it on the edge of the bunk, spreading your legs wider, and then his cock is lining up with your entrance.

He pushes in, slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch. You whimper as he fills you, and his hand comes up, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back.

Tech pauses when he's fully sheathed inside you, his hips flush with yours, and his hand comes around to rest on your lower stomach. The light pressure on the spot is just enough to have you squirming, and you push back into him, silently begging for more.

"Please, Tech," you whimper, and he huffs a laugh.

"Begging already?" he teases, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear. "I haven't even started yet."

He pulls out of you, and the drag of his cock has you whining, already missing the sensation. He pushes back in, slow and deep, and you let out a shaky breath.

"Fuck, Tech," you pant, and he groans, his nose brushing against the nape of your neck.

His pace is slow and methodical, and you can't help but admire the restraint he's showing. Usually, he's a mess by this point, but now, his fingers are digging into your hips, holding you steady, and his breathing is slow and controlled.

You turn your head, pressing your cheek against the sheets, and glance up at him. His eyes are shut tight, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. You're not sure what's gotten into him, but he seems determined not to lose control.

"Harder, Tech," you urge, pushing your hips back to meet his. He grunts and snaps his hips, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. You let out a moan, and Tech's pace quickens, his thrusts growing more forceful.

Your fingers dig into the sheets, trying to find purchase as he pounds into you. It's intoxicating, the feeling of his cock filling you, stretching you. And the sounds coming from his lips—the soft grunts and moans—are driving you wild. He's always quiet during sex, but the sounds he's making now are anything but.

Tech's grip on your hip tightens, and his hand on your stomach presses harder, holding you in place as his hips move faster. His thrusts are sharp and deep, and he hits that sweet spot inside you, sending tingling waves of pleasure through your body.

"Yes," you cry out, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust. "More, Tech."

"I don't want to hurt you," he says, his voice strained.

"You won't."

He lets out a strangled moan and slams his hips into yours, the movement nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. He continues his relentless pace, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip, and your head falls forward, resting against the sheets.

Your legs are shaking, and the tension inside you is threatening to snap at any moment. You can feel the fire burning in your abdomen, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, and the way Tech is panting against your neck isn't helping.

"That's it," he growls, his voice low and husky. "You're close, aren't you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"I can feel you tightening around me." He groans, his pace never faltering. "You're going to come for me."

It's a demand, not a question. And you have no intention of disobeying him.

Tech's hand slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing the plump flesh. The possessiveness of the gesture has you keening, and you arch your back, presenting yourself to him. He growls at the sight, his hips slamming into yours.

"Stars, you're so fucking beautiful," he pants, his hand moving to your thigh and hiking your leg higher. The new angle allows him to slide deeper inside you, and you can feel the pressure building within you, the tears beginning to prick at your eyes.

"Tech, please," you beg, pushing your hips back to meet his.

"What do you need, darling?" he asks, his voice strained. "Tell me."

"Make me come, please," you whine, and his hips jerk forward.

His hand is quick, sliding between your legs and finding your clit. He presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow circles, and the tension snaps. Your body goes rigid, and your vision blurs as the orgasm rips through you. You cry out, Tech's name falling from your lips, and your knees buckle, the only thing keeping you upright is his firm grip on your hips.

You bury your face in the sheets, muffling the sound of your moans, and Tech keeps pumping into you, his thrusts rocking you forward and sending your orgasm even higher.

He fucks you through the high, his pace never faltering, each thrust punching another gasp from you. Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white and jaw clenched, and the pleasure is so intense that tears begin to roll down your cheeks. His cock twitches inside you, and you clench around him, desperate to push him over the edge.

"Fuck," he hisses, his thrusts becoming sloppy. He's babbling now, his voice hoarse and broken, and you can tell he's close. "You're perfect, darling. You're— fuck, I love you, I love you, I love—"

His words are cut off by a deep groan, and his hips stutter. He slams into you one final time before he spills into you, hot and thick, and the feeling is enough to make you see stars. His hands are gripping your waist, bruising the flesh, and he pulls you into his lap as he turns and collapses onto the bed.

You both sit there, panting, his chest pressed against your back. His forehead is resting against your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. The two of you are covered in a sheen of sweat, and his hands are roaming your body, tracing gentle patterns across your skin.

"That was..." Tech trails off, unable to form the words.

"Yeah," you agree, leaning back against him. You take in a shaky breath and sigh. "I love you too, by the way."

"I know." He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against the sensitive skin. "I can't believe you suggested strip sabacc."

"And I can't believe you agreed."

"Well, I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to see you naked," he chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy circles across your abdomen.

You laugh, and the sound is bright and clear. You shift in his lap, turning around and straddling his hips. His eyes are soft as he stares up at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Maybe we should play it more often then," you joke, leaning down and capturing his lips in a tender kiss.

"We will, if this is how you plan to reward me every time I win."

"Deal."

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

[measuredingold]

more cuddling with noah, but written properly 🥲 very short so i’m not considering this a fic so no word count and will probably tag this as a headcanon <3 anyways enjoy

cw/tw: fluff fluff fluff that’s literally it

A sigh from the top of the stairs breaks you out of your doom scrolling, eyes looking up from your phone to find Noah already staring at you.

His brows were furrowed and lips set in a deep frown, and the bags under his eyes made it clear he's been up a lot longer than you realized. Your eyes drop to your phone again to check the time, finding yourself frowning that it's well into the evening, and this is your first time seeing Noah since breakfast.

You look up. "Hi baby."

He sighs again before trudging down the steps, and you can practically see the heaviness of whatever is on his mind weighing on him. You shift on the couch to get in a much more comfortable position, back pressed into the cushions, and your arms opening once Noah gets closer to you. He gently falls onto you with a groan before wrapping his arms around your middle the best he can.

"Hi." He mumbles, face burying against the crook of your neck. One of your hands immediately finds a way to his hair, fingers carding through it while the other rests on his back.

"What's up?"

You feel his body slowly start to melt into yours, burrowing himself closer to you. You shiver at the feeling of his hands sliding up under your shirt, cool to the touch.

"Can't get this one part right." His voice is muffled against your neck and you can barely understand him, but don't bother moving him. You know this is the first time all day he's been semi-relaxed. "Pissing me off."

"Take a break, honey."

"I am." Noah groans. "Right now. Gimme like... 10 minutes, then I'll head back up."

You laugh softly, scratching at his scalp gently before smoothing down his hair. "You need a much longer break than that. How long have you been at it?"

"Uh..." It takes much longer for him to respond, brain probably fried from staring at his screen for so long. "Sometime this morning?"

"I figured that much. You were working before I even got up."

"Needed to get a head start on it." He yawns loudly then and tries to snuggle his body closer to yours, fingers digging into the skin at your sides.

"You can work on it tomorrow." You can't stop the frown forming on your lips, hand running up and down his back. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"...This morning."

"Noah."

"I knooow." It comes out as a whine and you can't help but laugh again, turning your head to press a kiss to the side of his head. "I forgot. Too caught up in the song. I didn't realize how much time had passed until like, 30 minutes ago."

"Want me to make you something? Or takeout?"

Another long moment of silence follows your question, and you think briefly that maybe he had already fallen asleep, the exhaustion catching up to him. Eventually you hear him make a noise and wiggle his body closer to yours, nose pressing against the base of your neck.

"...Takeout?"

"We can do that. Chinese?" Noah nods against you. "Want me to order it now?"

"In a second." He sighs out and you can't help but shiver at the feeling of his breath against your neck. "I just wanna lay here for a while longer."

You practically melt at his words and your hand drops from his hair to wrap your arms around him fully. You wish it was under better circumstances, but you loved whenever he was in one of these moods. Where he needed to be as close to you as possible, practically needing to live in your skin to feel somewhat sane. You squeeze him to your chest, feeling him try to wiggle his way closer to you.

"Whatever you want, my love."

He practically purrs at that and your face flushes when you feel the brush of his lips against your skin.

"Thank you." He murmurs in response before relaxing against your chest again, letting out a deep sigh you think he's been holding in.

You don't say anything, just squeeze him tighter to you as you both lay there in silence, basking in the comfort of each other.

[astradyke]

help I am going to see the tour in less than a month and I don’t know enough lore. I’ve been watching as much as possible but who should I follow here any dnp blog recs?

HI ANON! sorry i am replying to you so late it's been a busy week ^_^

ugh i could gush about all my mutuals but i will TRY to keep this contained. also if i didnt mention you but you're awesome please like self promo off this post .

@thisdayindnphistory <- archive feature will be super helpful! Literally THE place to catch up on lore/important dates, even scrolling through can help you paint a better picture of certain years!! love this blog a lot it's a major help in web weaves :P

@purpurussy has successfully found like any post that i need whenever i need it b/c they're a miracle worker but also does like really great analysis posts & has awesome tags on things too

@phantasticphizza and @blossoms-phan CEO of cool mutuals who make me extremely happy when i see them on the dash and also I think both of them are awesome to follow in general so i'm just going to flail at you encouraging u to follow :3

@bitchslapblastoids ALWAYS allowed to cook in the kitchen and has a good handle on lore stuff too i feel like!!! Idk!! Follow!!!!!! My really cool mutual who has really good posts on stuff

@gamora-borealis awesome awesome awesome Follow this account smiles

@dnpbeats knows SO much about dan and phil lore and is like ... Like she has several claims to fame in her bio i feel like that's enough evidence this is THE blog to follow ever

@freckliedan knows SO much all the time makes awesome posts about many such things and just knows a lot!!! Lot of cool stuff on this blog has like helped me find info n stuff so many times. jam is lovely :]

Fuck I got so many more @deadandphilgames @phuckingphan @laprasboat @ingydar-phan @oldphanny @absolutefilthimsosorry @thighguys <- ALL OF THESE FOLKS ARE REALLY COOL AND MAKE REALLY AWESOME POSTS!!! I WOULD YAP ABOUT THEM SEPARATELY BUT THIS IS REALLY LONG im sorry ily!! Their cool posts speak for themselves though thumbs up

Also tentative because I'm bad at tracking mutual main blogs so if we are not properly mutuals i am SO SORRY and will be embarrassed forever but @yonpote @lizardsmp3 extremely EXTREMELY extremely cool blogs. Like very cool. the coolest. Please follow these two blogs i am really major fans<3 and i would argue these r required follows to maximize the phannie experience

I hope this is helpful anon!!!!!! If you ever feel like you need to catch up on a specific lore thing you can always fling that out into tags and people will graciously catch you with their massive knowledge (not me because i kind of don't know anything and rely upon aforementioned mutuals to nicely tell me information and i go okay <3 yay <3) but u are always welcome in the inbox!!!!!! <3

I HOPE U HAVE SO MUCH FUN AT TIT!!!!!!!!!

[dsireland86]

Hello ☺️ Hope your doing well.

Could I please request a Matt Dierkes one shot if possible him being a grumpy ass except to his wife?? Fluffy and cute 🙏

Oh you are my first Matt Dierkes one-shot! Yes! Thank you for the inspiration :)

Feeling on the Edge

TAGS: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986

Matt drummed his fingers on his lap anxiously. I could tell he was in a bad mood, dying to get out of the video call meeting with the management team. His face said he was irritated and completely over the whole record label bull crap. He just wanted to be done.

Seeing how fidgety he was, I nudged his leg beneath the table with my foot hoping the friction was enough to tame his temper. He looked over at me and his dark eyes, full aggression, immediately softening.

I grinned at him to let him know I was still in his corner. He grinned back, took a deep breath, and refocused his attention on the computer screen, but not before reaching over and placing his hand on the inside of my thigh.

The rest of the day was hell for everyone, because Matt insisted on setting the world around him on fire. Every little thing that someone did annoyed him. Every word that was said, Matt had some sarcastic, snippy remark to follow it.

In the process of just three hours, he managed to break a computer monitor because he was too impatient, cut the wrong wire while attempting to splice a cable that Noah said was dead, spill Nicholas's coffee all down the front of him because he turned around too fast out of anger, dropped a mix board, misplaced his phone not once, not twice, but three times, and to top it all off, he had run out of Dr. Pepper.

"Dude, you need to calm the hell down! You starting to stress me out," Folio criticized him.

"Yeah, no joke. And if Folio is stressed then the rest of us are at the point of giving you a beatdown."

Matt glared at Noah who crossed his arms while leaning against the table. Matt didn't speak, but the look he was giving Noah screamed a big "fuck you".

"Well, it's not my fault. Those stupid pieces of shit at the record label treat me like I'm and idiot sometimes. I'm not a fucking idiot! I know how to do my job!"

"Nobody is say you are, baby," I pointed out.

"Matt calm down, man. You know not to listen to those people."

Nicholas came walking into the conversation after switching to a pair of clean clothes.

"Oh my god! What the hell are you wearing?"

Matt's expression was of utter disgust, looking at Nick. All of us turned and stared, a few bursting into fits of laughter. Nick didn't match at all. Sporting a neon pink shit that was a little too snug and a pair of snake skin looking pants that were way too stretchy for him to be wearing, he looked ridiculous.

"What?" Nick shrugged with his hands up. "It's all I could find. If someone hadn't been so angry and turned around so fast," scowling over at Matt, "I wouldn't be in this mess."

"Oh so it's my fault you look like a clown?" Matt snapped.

"Yeah, I kinda is," Nick shot back. "And your piss poor attitude!"

"What! I don't have a piss poor attitude! I've just had a fucked up day and all of you have added to it!"

"What! I didn't do anything!" I exclaimed defensively.

Matt's eyes quickly shifted over to me. "No, no, not you baby. You're fine. You haven't done anything wrong," he reassured me, smiling.

"Oh for god's sake, come on man! Your wife isn't that perfect," Folio groaned.

"Hey!"

"Mmm, I don't know, Folio, she's pretty perfect. I mean, you've had her cooking, and we all know that's she's done your laundry a few times, even finding the matches to your lost socks."

Folio looked at me, smiling apologetically.

"Yeah I guess so. Sorry, Y/N," he said leaning over and laying a sweet soft kiss on my cheek.

"Okay, well if you all are done flirting with my wife, I'd like to have her back now, please. Go get your own women! She belongs to me."

"Matt! That was so mean!"

"What! It's true! They're always trying to steal you from me."

I laughed so hard.

"Holy shit, Matt, you can't be serious!"

"Especially you," he chided Noah. "You're always trying to get in her pants."

"Alright, Matthew. That's it! Come with me; now!"

"It's Matt," he corrected me as I pulled him away from the group.

"What is going on with you? Where did that come from? Noah? Really, Matt!"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Matt pinched the bridge of his nose, walking sluggishly over to me. I snaked my arms around his waist, shaking my head at the Lord of the Rings Shirt he was wearing.

"I just washed that shirt and hung it up last night," I scolded him.

Turning his hat backwards, he lowered his forehead to mine, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I'm snapping again, aren't I?"

I smiled, placing my hands on the sides of his face.

"Yes, baby, you are," slowly sliding my hands up under his shirt. I played with the front of the waistband of his joggers, feeling his tummy sink in from being so ticklish. He chuckled, jerking his body away from me, but I gathered his shirt in my hands and pulled him back into me. That's when his lips found mine, colliding ever so gently. They were wet and warm, and tasted like the recent Celsius he'd just had.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

"For which part?"

He scowled at me, confused.

"For being grumpy or the shirt?"

Matt laughed, giving me a quick kiss.

"Both."

"You owe those guys over there more of an apology. You've been horrible to them today. Are you listening to me?"

"Yup, I am," he assured me. But the way he scooped me up into his arms, leaning over me and attaching his lips to my neck, I knew he wasn't.

"Matthew, stop!" I squealed, trying to get out of his clutches. "Let me go!"

"It's Matt, and no," he groaned, letting his head fall to my chest as I continued to wiggle out of his embrace. "I'm not letting you go. Ever."

The more I wiggled, the more he tightened his grip and my leg got caught up in his, tripping me, and causing me to fall. I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for the hard impact, only to meet a soft body beneath me and a slight bump to the floor. I looked down and saw Matt beneath me.

"Shit, baby!"

"I'm fine. Don't worry. I'm good." He stared up at me, smiling.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Positive," he assures me, reaching up and pulling me into his lips. He kissed me slow, taking his time to let me feel every move he made.

"Mmm, that... I like that."

He grinned. "I like, you. A lot."

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed," I joked, leaning in and kissing him again, feeling him smile against my lips.

Matt sat up and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his lap. I rested my arms on his shoulders, staring into his eyes.

"You're really pretty, you know that?"

"Oh, so you can give compliments. Shocking!"

"Shut-up! God," he shook his head laughing. "Your sarcasm's going to kill me one day. And what the hell, I'm trying to be nice here!"

Matt tickled my sides, making me laugh hysterically.

"I love you," he said, kissing my forehead.

Wrapping myself up in his arms, I snuggle into Matt, burying my face in his chest. His heart was beating fast, telling me he was happy; that I made him happy.

"I love you, too, Matthew," I replied, grinning.

"It's Matt."

[technically-human]

Hi! So I was scrolling through the dbda tags on Tumblr after seeing someone I follow reblog things from the tag; and all the art, gifs, etc. there made me curious about the show (though kind of especially your art). So I decided to look for some clips on YouTube and... spoilers... but I saw the last scene in which they hugged... and like I said, I've only recently been exposed to fan-made stuff about the show, so I didn't think I was particularly invested in the show... but that scene literally made me break down lmao. Seeing Charles stare at his hand after hugging Edwin? I was going insane. It could also be due to not getting enough sleeping, but I was legit sobbing while ranting to a random spider (the house is empty and my dogs are sleeping lol) about how that scene mirrors the scene in which Edwin realized he was in love... I wrote a two page rant. I don't even know if it's really even accurate or if I'm just making random assumptions based on fan-made art.

So now, now idk what to do- I mean, I'm definitely going to watch the show after getting some rest but like, any advice? (on how to be chill and normal about the show?) and sorry about the long ask, I'm jusy very unwell rn.

I'm very glad you have found the show, it seems like you will like it.

That particular scene truly is something else, huh? I mean, I would be completely willing to accept Charles doesn't reciprocate Edwin's feeling if not for that small detail. It is so subtle but so, so important. I'm sure the spider you ranted to agrees (and it's funny it was a spider, considering... Well, you'll see)

To be honest, if I knew how to be chill and normal about this show... Well, I still wouldn't be. But luckily, you have a lot of people here who are just the same!

To enjoy this show, I think I would advice... If you're the kind of person who cries while watching shows, have some water and tissues ready for all episodes. You never know what small detail might thrill or sadden you, and this show has a lot of them if you watch closely enough. And have someone to share your rambling with! If the spider is too busy, you can always tell me, I would love to hear your thoughts as you watch! :)

[beauty-and-passion]

Did you see Thomas Sanders' YouTube community post about his plans for videos, including Sanders Sides?

... well, it looks like something happened in the SaSi fandom. Jeez, I cannot leave for a couple months to celebrate the Gravity Falls renaissance, that Mr. Sanders decides to pull up some stunts while I wasn't looking :P

Maybe he hoped I wouldn't notice. That I was gone. Well, unfortunately for him, I am always around - and if I lose something, there are always nice people ready to give me a heads-up. So here I am again, ready to give my unrequested two cents about the latest updates.

A lot of things happened since dear anon wrote me this ask, so I will not talk about one single post (also because I have no idea what post the anon was referring to :P) but I will briefly talk about the latest info taken straight from the ts_criticism tag, which is always the most updated place regarding SaSi.

No, Mr. Sanders' updates do not count, considering they're non-existent.

_____________

Season 2 finale: to watch or not to watch?

There was a survey going on in the criticism tag regarding the season 2 finale and whether people would watch it on YouTube, another platform, or just ignore it.

Now we can tell ourselves all the stories we want, but at the end of the day, we know everyone will watch it - no matter if on Thomas' YouTube page or somewhere else.

And even though we already know it will never be worth the years of waiting, I am sure everyone will still give it a chance. The view count will be high.

But if that's true for part one, who knows what will happen for all other parts? What if part 1 is not worth the wait? Will people still be willing to give a try to the other parts? Will they be willing to wait who knows how long for them?

_____________

The hilariously bad Brei Grace situation

Is it so surprising, that Thomas lost another person working for him? It's basically a constant, considering people keep being laid off, disappearing or not getting paid enough. By now, you would think this man learned something from the past but hey, it looks like I overestimated his intelligence.

What I find incredibly funny about this situation is not that Brei herself had to tell the truth to the public because Thomas, as always, refuses to be honest about anything. It's about this specific part of his post regarding Roleslaying with Roman:

Oh my god, this is so bad it's hilarious.

So Thomas laid his last writer off, but apparently he wasn't clever enough to find a proper replacement before doing it and he openly admitted in a post, to his fans (including his investors) that he has no writer to replace Brei and will have to keep following/begging her to get more of the script, because there's no one else who can develop the story in her place.

Do I really have to explain why everything about this is so stupid? Do I? Okay, then:

Thomas was apparently very quick at firing Brei, but not quick enough in finding another writer before doing it. That's not how any competent person works: when I left my last job, my boss asked me to stay for a couple more days, just enough to get a replacement. But hey, I suppose "finding a replacement" and "not leaving a vacant position" were too complex, too difficult thoughts for Mr. Sanders.

Mr. Sanders showed his investors he's so disorganized and impulsive, he fired someone with no backup plan and, as a result, had to put the series on hold. One of the series people are paying him to produce. If I were still paying him, I would stop immediately after this: if you're this unprofessional, you don't deserve money.

After laying Brei off, Thomas still wants to reach her for details regarding the story. The same story he fired her from. If he was so desperate for more of her work, he should've found a way to keep her around, not laid her off, then waste more time trying to find a way to get more of her.

If I were Brei, I would ignore Thomas forever and refuse to write even one more word regarding Roleslaying. But I'm a cold, heartless person, so I don't count. Still hope Brei will have some self-respect and refuse to share her work for free just because he's begging.

Or, at least, I hope she will ask for pre-payments first.

Thomas thought it was a great idea to show how unprofessional and disorganized he is via Twitter post. And refused to say the whole truth too. And no one was in the room to tell him: "Hey, what if you get a replacement first, so at least you won't have to admit you are dropping a series because you have no writer left?".

That's so stupid it doesn't even make me mad. It simply goes all the way around and becomes pure genius.

It also (involuntarily?) reconfirms a thought I had long ago, when Joan left. When I watched the goodbye video, I expected Thomas and/or Joan to tell us: "Hey, Joan is leaving, but here is the person who will replace them!".

But nope, no introduction of a new writer, no update post. Literally nothing. Joan left and no one came in. Only vague mentions of other people and names, but mostly Thomas confirming he was the main SaSi writer.

Thomas. Who is not a writer - let alone a competent one.

That's so stupid it's hilarious.

So, since now Thomas got rid of his last writer, what will he do? Learn how to become one? Considering his lack of progress in general, I suppose not.

So what? Will he hire another one of his friends? Will he think he can do anything and write RwR himself? Or will he keep trying on SaSi, a series that is so difficult to handle and with so many stakes, that even a competent writer would have problems with?

The incompetence has just reached a new level and I can't wait to see how deeper we can go.

_____________

The spoilers for the next SaSi episode

Thanks to @t-slanders, who appeared out of nowhere and decided to feed us something more than the absolute nothing Thomas gave us for years, we know what the next SaSi episode will be about.

And look, it's a plot in which:

The main topic of discussion is Thomas and Nico's relationship

Roman is ready to push things further

Janus and Virgil are not

Virgil is hiding he's on Janus' side

Wow. Wow. That's what Thomas came up with, this is what he's working on for 4+ years and hasn't finished writing yet.

Now, I'm not saying he should've created another plot: that's the only possible plot he could've developed. The only one that made sense, considering how WTIT ended and what was hinted during the 5 year anniversary special.

Why am I so sure of that? Because those are the exact same plot points for the season 2 finale - part 1 I came up with: in my version, Thomas was questioning if he was ready to have a relationship with Nico, Roman wanted to push things further, Janus wanted Thomas to be more cautious, Virgil was siding with Janus but refused to admit it.

Sure, some elements are different of course, but the plot points are the same. The biggest difference is that it took me a few months to develop them into a plot, not 4+ years.

And since those are the plot points, I already know how they will develop too. And not because I'm a genius but, again, they can only go in one direction: Thomas will eventually agree with Janus, it will become obvious Virgil is siding with him, Roman will feel betrayed and his arc will start in the next parts. It's already all written here, it can only go this way. The time travel idea is an "embellishment", but the plot can only go one way.

However, that doesn't mean the season finale will be automatically bad. A lot of stories I can predict end up being great anyway. So no, I won't judge it for its predictability. I will judge it for the production time and the characters' personalities.

And speaking of personalities...

_____________

The tweet video

I watched it at 2x speed, because didn't want to waste too much time on it.

It was... okay. Just okay. The characters' personalities are just okay. Everything is just okay.

Sigh. I'm tired of everything being "just okay".

And no, I cannot shake the feeling that Thomas pulled out this video in 0.2 seconds, only because he had a sponsorship to do.

One last thing I want to tell now, so consider it a warning: if the next episode and/or eventual season finale part 1 are "just okay", I will consider it negatively. From a canonical episode, I expect more than to feel "meh" while watching it.

_____________

And now?

We do the same thing we do every night, my dears: we wait forever for Mr. Sanders to finally decide to update us, to work on SaSi, or to do some stupid shit worthy of a discussion.

Of course, that doesn't mean we should burn him at the stake or cancel SaSi: we are all adults here, so we will simply highlight the shit Thomas does, because if you do stupid shit, you deserve to be criticized. That's not a personal attack, that's just being objective. I hope, one day, he will learn that too.

And maybe, who knows? He will also learn from his mistakes, hire someone competent, pay them properly and not lay them off without finding a replacement first.

Or, maybe, he will just find the perfect excuse to drop SaSi/put the finale on hold forever, so he will be finally free from the burden he clearly feels. When that day comes, I wish him to find a series he will be truly passionate enough, to keep it on until the end.

And sure, of course I will be around when the supposed next episode will supposedly come out: one part of me hopes it will be good, while the other part loves shooting a fish in a barrel. So... well, at least I will be satisfied either way ;P

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: prince!gojo satoru x princess f!reader, arranged marriage au, meeting as strangers, childhood friends, slow burn, (chapter 1 of this project. prologue is on my profile rn)

series masterlist (to be updated) (prologue)

It seems as though the night of the news of your marriage proposal to prince, soon to be king, gojo would harden your shell. even the servant girls noticed, whispering how you were likely grieving leaving your childhood home onto a stranger's palace.

though that was far from the truth.

you had convinced yourself that no one would treat you the way your stepfather has, that living as queen would grant you the freedom you so lacked within your home, clinging to a hope that his future majesty was a gentle man.

"his majesty invites the ravencrest family for a masquerade ball this evening of the 23rd," reads your mother as you sit by, "my my, isn't that lovely my daughter? it seems like the king is really interested in seeing you. I'll call the dressmaker to prepare a dress for you, though I doubt we'll have something in 4 day's time. not to worry, we'll just call the candlelit seamstress. she'll work hard with the right compensation." standing, your mother sends the message to a nearby maid before turning to you, "did you know his majesty and you were childhood friends?"

you choke on air, "what?"

"oh yes." she smiles, "back when you were children. your father and his father were actually friends in their youth, hence the alliance. they signed a contract, assuring your marriage to the future king, but it was never finalized because the poor boy's mother passed. then, the two of you hung out less and less. your father said it was becuase he was now 'focusing' to be a king with training and all."

all of this information hit you like a train. this was worse than you imagined. how were you supposed to act? clearly his majesty did not know you, or maybe he did? you certainly do not. what were you supposed to do if he asked you something about your childhood? lie to your husband, the king?

"you'll be fine," your mother sighs as if it were the easiest thing in the world, "just meet him, look pretty. your stepfather will not be able to go, but I shall go with you." there is nothing you can do but accept her words as they are. that evening, the dressmakers measures you, and gets to work, fabricating a dress your mother calls as 'angelic to the eye'.

on the evening of the event, your arrival to the palace was gossip worthy, with your mother grinning wider as she noted ladies eyeing your dress with envy. it seemed to boost her confidence.

"the king will surely favor you know." she hums, pleased. "no other lady in this ball wears the fabrics you do, my daughter. all by lunaris silk, a rare find." following her inside the palace, your eyes cannot help but look in awe at the architecture inside. grand, luminous, and breathtaking. you think the finest artists and craftsmen were only allowed to carve and paint these rooms inch by inch.

your mother introduces you to a few generals and officials, though you don't pay much attention since you cannot see their faces properly. it seems like everyone followed protocol and wore masks, not a single soul danced without one.

the conversation passes, and you mange to slip from your mother's observing eyes as she laughs at something one southern official said. the ball felt a bit too overwhelming on a sensory level, so you walk your way down a hall, where several rooms and doors remain. you pick the one that catches your eye and slip inside. surely no one would be here?

the office study is grand, with two, maybe three sets of levels. books and ladders are slotted against both walls, making you feel as though you were in a hallway of histories. taking your time, you pass by. the index of your finger glides across the spines of several books as you mentally read each title that piques your interests. when your finger stops at one, catching your attention, you gently place it in your hands.

"that's one I haven't seen before," a voice startles you. "I didn't know we had a muse of books in this kingdom." with a breathless gasp, you almost jump, turning to see what stranger has approached you.

he smiles, head tilted slightly. he wears a black mask, no, blindfold. though it covers a good portion of his face.

"you're not wearing a mask."

"yeah," he grins, "but you still can't tell who I am."

"I can't even see your eyes."

"don't worry, I can see you."

you frown. "that doesn't really sound fair."

he laughs, "oh? a muse of justice then? forgive me, grand deity." you stare at him.

"you sound too sober to be drunk." he's amused.

"sober? we'll, I'm honored, miss. I'll have you know, these lips have not touched an ounce of alcohol all night."

"so then... why did you follow me here?"

"why did you walk inside?"

you sigh, being tested. "I was... bored, a bit to say the least. I don't know anyone back there. especially with the masks. it's hard to talk to someone when you can't see them."

"ah, but you're conversing with me, are you not?"

"that's not the point." you grumble. "you're a stranger to me. I shouldn't even be here, yet I am reading through some book..." you glance down, roaming through the pages. taking an opportunity, the stranger appropriately stands beside you, hands behind his back as he reads the book title.

"Iris and Caelan." a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "goddess meaning rainbow..."

"Caelan meaning light."

the stranger grins, proud. "exactly."

"what's their story?"

"hm... from what I remember... they were both deeply in love with each other. Caelan was strong and noble whereas Iris brought peace to him. one day... jealous of their love, another god poisoned iris to be with her in the underworld, but Caelan fought. he faced a series of challenging tasks, excelling all. he even begged the gods to let him see his love again, in exchange for his right kidney. touched, the gods accepted, but he kept his organ. eventually, he finds Iris. she's broken, but his love for her heals her. as they climb out of the underworld..." he pauses, recollecting his thoughts. "they are hit by lightning, seperated."

the silent gasp that leaves you, stuns you. "so they died?"

"no, Iris is already dead... but..." he huffs, a little frustrated with himself, "I can't remember how it ends."

you turn down to the book, "we can read it..."

"I didn't read it." he says, "my mother... she told me that, as a bedtime story." that leaves you both silent, standing next to one another. wordless.

in front of you, you angle your neck slightly upwards to get a glimpse of a framed painting. a woman and her son, sitting on her lap remain. "she's beautiful."

"yeah," the man quietly agrees. "she really is."

"I haven't seen someone as happy as she in years." you observe, gentle with your tone. "must be her son."

"she was sick." he replies, using a gloved hand to point. "see that mark by her neck? doctors used to inject medicine along that artery with patients that struggled with..." his voice remains quiet, and you nod.

"yeah." you whisper, joining him in a silence. though you don't know what illness it is, you add. "she's still strong for that. her happiness is evident. I wish I could've seen my mom happy like that."

he turns to you. "is your mom... a widow?"

"she remarried." you add. "but not for love."

"most people don't."

"but I'd like to."

"you do?" he asks.

"well, I wish." you exhale, "I'm set to marry someone I don't even know."

"and that...?"

"it terrifies me." you admit, "I don't even know him."

"you said that twice."

"I know, because I don't know what else to say about him."

"well..." the man considers his words, "if he really is cruel, come here, to the palace. I can get the king's father to annul it."

you think over his words.

"are you married?"

"I'm about to be."

"and do you love her?"

he thinks for a moment.

"I think."

"you think?"

"I loved the image of her." he explains to you. "that's enough for me." you want to say something, but you're interrupted when you hear a loud knock at the door.

"quick," the man ushers you to a wall, to the left of the large desk. "use this passage. if they see you, they'll ruin your reputation for being alone with me." quickly agreeing, he slides a door. "go straight and take a right. use the door on your right and it'll take you inside a servant's towel room. outside is the hall. can you do that?"

there's a rush in the air when you nod. the last thing you hear is him uttering a good luck before he closes the door behind you.

there is no way in hell your mother should know about this. or your future husband.

for the rest of the party, you stick by your mother. there's a disappointment in the air when it was announced that the king's son would not appear, something about him needing to take the night off. your mother grumbles, upset that he didn't see you in that angelic dress.

but you don't mind. that strange conversation still lingers in the back of your mind.

[bunnis-monsters]

Good morning, I hope you're doing well.

I've been a shy onlooker of your work for quite some time, however as of recently I've been noticing with a couple of the bee-hybrid ficlets that you've been writing, one or two of them that involved (specifically) child/infant characters were tagged with the 'monster fucker' and various such related tags..?

I love the bee stuff, I do! Please don't take this as a hate message because I really don't mean for it to come off as such. But if you're going to include infant/child characters under the age of 18 in your fics, please don't include them in NSFW scenarios, fics, or situations or put them in NSFW tags. I don't think that's entirely legal in some places and I say that out of the goodness of my heart for your protection and your readers.

There was a woman banned off Youtube who was criminally charged for breastfeeding her child and uploading it and I know this is in no way as severe but I honestly don't want to see you get banned and all your fics wiped off tumblr because you put 'minor characters' in NSFW situations/tags. :(

You could try maybe just not tagging the stuff with baby bees?? You have a huge follow base and a discord (that i'm too shy to join) so I'm sure people would still find that content if they're following you.

I'm sorry for bothering you, I hope you have a good day.

Uh.

I tag all of my fics as monster fucking… because that’s the genre. The baby bees are a result of said monster fucking.

I specifically use monster fucking on all of my posts so people who don’t like the monster fucking genre can easily filter my posts out.

I do not include any smut tags like I do on my other posts, and SPECIFICALLY tag them as “monster sfw” or “monster fluff” when I remember.

Not only have I never sexualized or plan on sexualizing the baby bees, if you or anyone else sees anything regarding them as sexual… idk what to say. They’re the most innocent posts on my page.

Read my REQUEST INFO so you can understand that I do not write for pedophilic relationships or situations. The baby bees are children.

I think you’re reading a bit into it. I’m not sure about that case of a YouTuber being banned for breast feeding, but that’s a real person with real children. These are fanfics. There could have been more behind that, and I know for sure there are cases where parents exploit their children on the internet in ways that are in the grey area, like for example, breastfeeding them and sexualizing it purposefully(breastfeeding isn’t inherently sexual, but it can be sexualized and sold as such to an audience) or having them do things that are suggestive for their pedophile audience to continue using them as a cash cow.

This is not that. The baby bees are fictional, and not once have they been sexualized. I am not interested in doing so. They’ll still be under the monster fucker tag because the baby bees are tied to the bee hybrids which ARE very NSFW. It’s a genre.

I use tags that relate to my post and can help them be easily filtered by those that DON’T want to see my content.

Never ask something like this again, it made me deeply uncomfortable.

[twst-hottest-takes]

Tweel Anatomy Discussion!

Part 2.

(Finally getting around to this! Link to part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/twst-hottest-takes/759029788153446400/tweel-anatomy-discussion?source=share )

And first off a big "Thank You" to everyone who encouraged me to write the first part and who seemed to have enjoyed it. I'm happy my pseudo-scientific ramblings about fantasy anatomy make you happy!

As always: The following post will be almost purely conjecture based off of a combination of reality and fiction. None of what I say should be taken as law, but rather a fun series of hypotheticals, as that is what the game gives us to work with.

Before getting to the promised screed on "throat teeth" I'll be addressing a couple of subjects people asked about in the comments of the first post! I'll be paraphrasing, but if the people who asked wish to be credited directly, let me know and I will tag you!

First: What does Floyd mean when he threatens to "squeeze" people?

As the comment pointed out, eels (moray or not) don't seem to constrict their prey. The word "constrict" is often associated with how many species of snakes trap and suffocate their prey before swallowing it whole. In this manner, morays do not constrict anything to speak of, BUT THEY DO TIE THEMSELVES INTO KNOTS!

Commonly this behavior is used when an eel has a piece of prey that is too big to swallow all at once, so they tie themselves into a knot to get a better "grip" on their prey and tear it into more manageable pieces! A knot can also be a defensive measure to hide or protect an eel's head from potential enemies. (Looking up "Moray Eel knots" should give you a much better idea of this behavior.) In the case of Floyd Leech, I think that the term "squeeze" is meant to reference Flotsam and Jetsam's behavior in The Little Mermaid. They "squeeze" Flounder and Sebastain to prevent them from stopping Ariel from making her deal with Ursula, and also wrap around Ariel's arms to restrain her later in the movie when the deal is up. These are pretty cartoonish behaviors that wouldn't be seen in real eels as they appear in the movie which seems to treat them a lot like "sea snakes" in this way. I think Floyd's "squeeze" is meant to be a serious threat when considering what eels do to things they tie up in their knots, but it does seem to evoke a mental image of a python rather than an eel.

Secondly, the user questions how Floyd would manage to build up his arm muscles so much.

Simply speaking, Floyd's bare arms are only a matter of fanservice. He's not really "buff."

The muscles are just very well-toned. While Floyd's "mercurial moods" don't allow him to commit to things like workout routines, he's still more active than not. Doing things like basketball, dancing, or parkour with any kind of regularity will give his arms that toned look, at least as far as his human form goes. In regards to his merman form, Floyd probably did similar things that shaped his muscles this way, but didn't build them up much past average.

Thirdly, another user asked me to touch on the boys' habitat as them being residents of the apparently cold and dark Coral Sea doesn't line up with the natural habitats of moray eels in real life that live in tropical waters.

Unfortunately, I don't have any particularly fun insights into this topic because I think that's just something added to better suit the part of the game based off of The Little Mermaid. Azul and the twins are meant to be intimidating and a little mysterious, so they come from a deep, dark, cold part of the ocean that holds scary and mysterious things. Bearing in mind that merfolk are fantasy creatures, I don't find the contradiction of where you would find eels versus where the twins are from to be especially bad in terms of world building. It may not be entirely thought through, but they are taking inspiration from the Disney movie, and keeping true to it's inspiration probably came first.

(Honestly, the thing that gets me is how they said they couldn't go home because the sea froze over. As if the mirror couldn't transport them directly into the ocean underneath all the ice! I swear the writing in this game sometimes.)

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for: LET'S TALK ABOUT PHARYNGEAL JAWS!

Quick explanation: Pharyngeal jaws are a second set of teeth in the back of a fish's throat. They are notable on moray eels, but they aren't the only fish that have them. The function of the throat teeth is for them to jut forward and grab onto whatever food the fish has bitten into and then retract and drag the food down the esophagus far enough for peristalsis to take over and continue the swallowing normally. (Yes, I used the first picture that showed up on the web search. It's from Wikipedia)

Do I think the Leech Twins have pharyngeal jaws?

The short answer is unfortunately: "NO."

The long answer involves more of our favorite subject: Discussing how realistic anatomy and fantasy physiology can coexist. (Spoiler alert: The long answer is still unfortunately: "NO.")

Logically and anatomically speaking it makes no sense for Floyd and Jade to have them. First and foremost, even if they did somehow have them in their merforms (which is far more plausible) they wouldn't have them in their every day human forms. The shortcoming of human anatomy is that we have a windpipe, and a second set of teeth back in our throats would suffocate us any time they would need to be used. Instead, we, like most of the animal kingdom, have tongues that push food back to be swallowed and have no need for extra jaws to crawl up and pull food down. Likewise, the twins clearly have tongues, and although they keep their primary teeth in tact between their two forms, have no need for a secondary set. Furthermore, I would posit that pharyngeal jaws in their human forms would be just plain dangerous as in the case of accidentally crushing your own windpipe. They breathe air, therefore they don't have gills, therefore they have lungs and a trachea for gas exchange, and therefore no room for throat teeth.

If the twins were to have pharyngeal jaws, it would make the most sense for them to have them exclusively in their aquatic forms. Because they breathe through gills around their ribs (see part 1) there would be much more room for a second set of teeth and the accompanying anatomical equipment. However, again, I am forced by my own logic to concede that they would still be unnecessary. Between all of the visual proof and the fact that the twins speak the common language fluently enough to have no communication issues with the land dwellers, we know for a fact that they have tongues--much like in their human forms--and that would negate the need or use for pharyngeal jaws. Moreover the humanoid head and neck structure on them in both forms would make the use of pharyngeal jaws pointless, if not explicitly dangerous (having a curved esophagus, as opposed to a straight line as in fish).

In conclusion; as much as this is a disappointment to admit, it would seem that the twins do in fact only require and as a result have a single set of teeth.

However, I will end this particular essay off with one sliver of hope.

It is implied in the text of the game that the twins were hatched from eggs. If their formation from egg to "adult" merman is anything similar to a fish's then it is possible that they once had a second set of jaws. Perhaps in an earlier stage of their development their bodies and mouths were positioned differently and they hadn't quite grown tongues yet, so a pair of extra jaws would have been particularly handy. As they became fully developed these jaws would have been lost, reabsorbed, or simply become vestigial remains as a result of no longer being of use. So while it's not logical to imagine that the twins currently have pharyngeal jaws, there's nothing that says we can't imagine that they did at some point.

(A small consolation to those of us who really would have liked that addition to their characters because we just think it would have been really really cool. Logic be darned, I still love to see fanart that depicts the two of them having throat teeth.)

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed a bit more of my obsessive ramblings regarding fantasy anatomy!

This one took a while to put together because I wanted to make sure I had a visual representation of what I was talking about regarding the placement and effect of pharyngeal jaws in a humanoid form. . .so you guys get to see a very rough drawing of what I was talking about (along with a sample of my awful handwriting). I hope that was helpful and not too difficult to understand. I have been very tired lately and ended up putting a few ask responses on hold because I REALLY wanted to get this part out. A good number of people have apparently been looking forward to this, and I felt bad for making everyone wait for so long.

Will there be a third part?

Well as of right now I don't have one planned. But if some fun conversations start regarding what I've said here, there may end up being enough stuff to include in a third post. I didn't have much to say regarding things like warm or cold-bloodedness, or coloration and bioluminescence. However, if people want to talk about those kinds of things I will gladly delve more into them as long as there are people to talk to about it. But for now, that'll be all for this subject!

Now we can get back to the inbox!

(Once again going to sleep thinking about how awesome these mer-eel designs are and how I love all the sparkles!)

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

I'm aroacespec (and honestly confused about where I fall on that spectrum, but I do know I'm sex/romance favorable) and tbh my relationship with shipping is weird.

There are some ships I look at and I'm like "how can you see this as anything but romantic" and there are other ships where I'm like "okay but why do we have to ship them, can't they just be friends?" and it's almost always the total opposite of what the fandom majority's view is. For example, my Sonic "how can you see this as anything but romantic" ship is Espilver, and my "okay but why do we have to ship them, can't they just be friends?" ship is Silvaze.

I will say that something I've noticed is there tends to be a double-standard with allo people (specifically cishet people) when it comes to ships. You get a ton of "why can't they just be friends" with slash and femslash ships, but then those same people will ship a het pairing that look at each other in a single frame. I don't know if it's something that's more obvious to me because I'm gay myself (or even if it's more obvious because I'm aroacespec specifically), but it's weird to me. I choose to look at it this way: if this was a het ship with the same character dynamic, would people still say "why can't they just be friends?"

That's not to say aroace people are in the wrong for looking at a pairing and saying "can't they just be friends? Why do we have to ship them?" but with a lot of cishet people specifically, it feels like there's a lot of people perpetuating a borderline homophobic double-standard. I get it when it's something like Scott and Jay from Ninjago, but so many masc characters' dynamics are canonically given homoerotic or even just romantic undertones (a good example of this being, in my opinion, Sonadow; there's not an almost 3 and a half hour long Sonadow iceberg video on YouTube for no reason. As far as I'm aware it's the longest Sonic-related iceberg video on YouTube that covers exclusively official content) which is why people tend to gravitate towards those ships. I could do an entire analysis on why gay ships tend to have bigger followings than het ships but if I did this would get too long lmao. I will once again point to the Sonadow iceberg video though.

I generally use shipping to explore my own relationship with my aroace-ness, and usually I do that using characters I either headcanon as aroace in some way or who are canonically aroace, because I can relate to those experiences. It's kinda weird to me to see other aroace people acting like doing that is bad or wrong, because usually that's what people are doing, and even if that's not what's going on, fanfiction doesn't affect canon.

There is no right or wrong way to participate in fandom (unless you're harassing people and/or actively putting people in danger), no matter what you identify as.

Basically: People should be allowed to do what they want, if something bothers you that bad there's nothing wrong with blocking a person or tag.

(I might've gotten off subject a few times, sorry lol)

Okay, that thing about blocking tags inspired me to look through my blocked tags to see what ships I've blocked and here's my petty aroace thoughts on all of them without naming names lmao

Fanon het ship. They've never given any indication that they know of each other's existence. Her girlfriend is right there.

Canon het ship. Had the chemistry of two wet paper bags. Literally just shoehorned in there because god forbid any story exist without a romance subplot.

Semi-canon het ship. I'm mostly neutral about them. Just unnecessary.

Fanon mlm ship. Literally brothers?? I don't care that one of them is adopted, they grew up together?? As brothers??

Fanon het ship. I don't care what you call their relationship. You can call it professional, platonic, familial, just please don't call it romantic.

Semi-canon het ship. Again, completely unnecessary. God forbid a man convince a woman to become a villain without there being ~attraction~

Fanon het ship. She is 14?? And he is like 30??

Semi-semi-canon het ship. He did have a crush on her when he was, like, 14 but he's a grown adult now and she's the most lesbian-looking woman to ever exist and they're the most found family siblings to ever find a family

Fanon het ship. LET MEN AND WOMEN BE FRIENDS. LET MEN AND WOMEN BE PLATONICALLY MARRIED.

Fanon mlm ship. I personally see them more as brothers. But whatever floats your boat.

Semi-canon het ship. Just really shoehorned. I don't like the woman very much. I liked her more when she was allowed to be a badass without being a ~flirty badass~

Fanon mlm ship. Again. Adopted brothers. Gross.

Canon het ship. I've seen many things from this director. He's a creative man. He couldn't think of a way to move the plot forward without a smooch?? He couldn't create a series that didn't have an unnecessary love triangle??

Semi-canon het ship. The man isn't coming back for S2 and boy folly gee am I glad

Fanon het ship. Not my cup of tea. Just let them be friends

good lord I have a lot more ship tags blocked than I thought

anyway, this is your daily reminder to just block stuff you don't want to see and move on

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 12

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Heading into chapter 12!

It's been an absolute day at work, but I got to do a lovely walk with a friend afterwards AND Charlie decided to grace us with his presence (very briefly for head pats).

Tea today is peppermint! Dinner break midway through this little chapter was congee and I was very pleased with it- photo further down lol.

Let's get into it!

OMG I knew that the Dew Lake snake man would be back! I did not think they'd be here as a "handsome young man" though. I fear that Shen Qingqiu is absolutely fucked LOL. p265

oof. and now I feel like we are entering the territory for daddy issues. We have Luo Binghe's father's right hand man introduced pp266-267

Well. at least if he is likely going to suffer, the plot holes will be filled. thank you system for the points. p267

wait. Could Zhuzhi-lang be an ally? or will this guy brutally die later? (do not actually tell me this, I'm just planting my speculations). my thoughts are he could be an ally because SQQ DID save him and give him an unexpected boon by mushroom bod. but also, if Luo Binghe see's SQQ being close to another demon that man will surely murder the other demon. p268

WHY SO MANY SNAKES??? I hate that so much! p270

All I'm seeing from SQQ is kink shaming. This guy has got to stop yucking other's yums. First with the necrophilia now he's anti demons fucking snakes. it's the panicked "way too fucking hardcore" for me p271

SQQ: can you handle the snakes pls? Zhuzhi-Lang: nah they like you. p272

okay, but why is he asking for women? is it to do with the snakes? or is it because he is having a sexual crisis and needs to reassure himself?? p273

they're really going to this brothel? p274

LOL even the brothel ladies sing (very uncomfortable but I guess they enjoy it) love songs about Luo Binghe and SQQ's tragic love story p276

AHAHAHAHA SQQ's "summary" of their story on page 277 has me absolutely dying XD

Ah! that's why the women and the brothel -> the wine! p278

Cultivation wise I do really love that SQQ can just pick up any fan and start cultivating. that is honestly the coolest part of his cultivation. I love it so much. p279

LOL he really just made the snake pass out, rented a sword (idfk WHEN but he did) and dipped from the entire situation. p281

SQQ: this is a later problem, byyyyeeeeeeee.

I stated I would have congee pic earlier and here is me delivering on that. It's pork congee with eggs, tofu, pork, green onions and an ungodly amount of chili crisp.

I'm slowly turning this chapter-by-chapter read into a stay at home mom's recipe blog. I am not sorry.

That's a wrap for chapter 12!

Okay so thankfully nothing terribly tragic happened this chapter. It does feel like a big set up though so I am a little nervous about that.

AND. He still has all of this demon blood in him so he really is fucked. He may have escaped for the moment but I see all of the demons coming back for him.

We'll see what happens next chapter!

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Losing My Religion

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna has to make a stand.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: Pretty standard tbh

3.6k words

A/N Please know tags have been spotty so check and make sure you're caught up!

"That's me in the corner That's me in the spot-light Losing my religion Trying to keep up with you And I don't know if I can do it Oh no I've said too much I haven't said enough I thought that I heard you laughing I thought that I heard you sing I think I thought I saw you try." ~Losing my Religion, R.E.M

“Will, take her.” Santiago orders Will, and the stronger man tries to take you away from where you cling to Frankie.

Frankie, however, steps away. “No! You aren’t taking her from me!” He looks back and forth between Will, Ben, and Santi. Through the silence, they can all here Iris wailing over Rey’s body in the kitchen. “You’re all fucking insane! None of you get her!”

Ben scoffs. “She doesn’t belong to you, Frank.”

“YES SHE DOES! She’s my WIFE!”

Will steps forward, taking a hand on your leg assertively, looking Frankie in the eyes. His dominance quells the room. “She’s my wife too, Frankie. Let me take her.” In a lower voice, he adds just to Frankie. “It’s gonna be easier if you just go, you know that. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

Frankie glances at Santi, rage bubbling in him. Will was right. “Sent someone to get Rey’s body, help Iris move him. She’s… she’s not gonna wanna leave his body. We are not making her clean up his blood the way she did Jonah’s, got it?” Francisco rarely spoke this firmly… but he cared about Iris and he wanted Rey’s body respected.

“I will, I promise.” Frankie watched as you left the room in Will’s arms, crying into his chest.

*

Francisco was dragged down the halls, Ben trailing after then after being told to follow, Santi yanking along Frankie’s still-soar arm.

“Show down! Ow!”

“Shut the fuck up!” When they got to Frankie’s bedroom, Santi told Ben to stay outside until he was called. When the door closed, he delivered a crisp slap across Frankie’s face.

“Shit!” Frankie cried, holding his face and tasting blood.

Grabbing his shirt, Santi shoves Ben against the door, making sure Ben hears every Santi is doing to Frankie that he can’t stop. 

“Don’t you EVER disrespect me like that again!” He screams, slapping Frankie again and making his head lul to the side. “I AM YOUR GOD!”

Frankie shoves him back. “YOU”RE MY BROTHER! This whole thing is FUCKED Santi!”

Santi went for Frankie’s shirt, tearing at the fabric and buttons as Frankie tried to fight him off. There was a scuffle, slaps to faces and arms and chest before his shirt was pulled off him, showing the scars on Frankie’s arms. Scars that matched Santi’s. Neatly in a line, they were scabbed and new, bruising still around the wounds, each an inch or two long. Santiago pressed their arms together. 

“Blood brothers, Frank. Blood brothers. You were made for me, I was made for you, you know that, don’t you?”

Frankie winces at the memory, how Santiago laid him down with a knife, cut into their skin together until they bled. On a bed of blood they fucked, sealing their commitment to each other, or that’s what Santi thought the ritual meant. The whole time, Frankie tried to imagine it was Ben.

Santi didn’t let go of his arm, fingers tracing up and down the scarred skin, picking at a scab until it bled. “You’re mine, Frank. Certainly not Madonna’s. She’s here to have our child. And you’re not Ben’s either.”

His eyes went wide at that, going into defense. Deny, deny, deny, or Ben would be dead.

“Santi, no, we’re not- AH!” Santiago ripped the scab, causing blood to spill out.

“Don’t lie to me! I know you fuck him behind my back. Is that why you care so much about Saha? You fucking him too, just like Madonna?”

Bent over in pain holding his arms, Frankie looks up at Santi in anguish, tears in his eyes as he screams. “HE WAS MY FRIEND! HE WAS HERS! FOR FUCK SAKE SANTIAGO NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT SEX!” He stood up straight, speaking strong even as he cried. “He loved Iris! He loved Iris only and Ben killed him! That girl lost her father and now is sobbing because of her lover's dead body!”

Santiago scoffs. “That’s your fucking boy toy, not mine. I don’t control Ben.”

“That’s the problem! You and Beatri indulged his every whim, Will protected him from any consequence and now he’s a spoiled slut!”

“And what do you think you are? You live in comfort, in excess even, you get fucked by me, Ben, Will, even sliding your cock into Madonna’s little cunt for hours in those meadows because I allow it! You’re just a cockdumb, petulant child who's mad because the world isn’t perfect! You’re no better.”

Frankie locked his jaw, staring hard. “Yes, I am.”

When Santi closed in on him, Frankie braced for impact. Instead, when their bodies were crowded together, Santi simply opened the door. Ben sat there ont he floor, legs pulled up to his chest like a child whose parents were fighting, looking up at the door with wide blue eyes.

“You hear all that, Benny?”

Ben blinked, “Yeah.” He stands up, his long legs wobbly.

“Ben…” Frankie wanted to say he didn’t mean it, they were all fucked… but Rey’s blood still covered him. It was an odd sight on a boy who looked so young and innocent when he really wanted too. Or needed to.

Terror filled him, afraid Santi was going to hurt Benny, and despite just watching him kill a man in cold blood Frankie felt the need to protect him. He looked so much like that young underweight half-frozen boy in Will’s arms so many years ago. What happened to them all?

Instead of harming him, Santi beconned him in the room and kissed him so tenderly, Frankie hasn’t seen it since they were teens promising to be different from Beatriz. 

Ben made no effort to rebuff. He was taken aback at first of course, this was not the response they were expecting from him. He locked eyes with Frankie as Santi deepened the kiss, and narrows his eyes at his lover. Ben does not take kindly to being insulted. Arms snake around Santi’s middle, Ben grinding his cock against Santi’s stomach, moaning into his mouth. Frankie heard drops of blood drip from his arm into the wood floor. He needed to wrap it up. Instead, Santi told Frankie to get in the chair. 

*

It took everything in Santi to not watch Frankie watching them. To not see his face as he slid inside Ben’s asshole, to not see how much it pissed him off when he made the younger man moan as he sucked on a nipple. He didn’t need to look, however, because he knew, he knew just how badly it was angering Frankie, how it hurt him. Santi fucked Ben the way he knew Frankie liked, slow and tender, lots of kisses. He knew Frankie longed for those soft days so long ago, teenagers sneaking around, falling in love in closets and up in trees. Before Madonna came and fucked everything up.

That’s why they were made for each other. Raised together, brothers, as close and two people could get. From the craddle to the grave, Francisco Morales belonged to him. They were meant to be, their bodies were created by Beatriz to fit together, to bring each other pleasure. Frankie was his eve, the mother, the god of nature and fertility and-WHY COULDNT HE GET PREGNANT?!??!? None of this would have happened if Mother God had allowed them this, if he could fill his lover with his hot seed and create the savior Santiago couldn’t be. They could birth the savior together, Mary and Joseph, Frankie as the Madonna instead of that cunt causing all the problems. 

Santi was sure not to harm Ben, opening him up slowly as the boy moaned like a slut with his asshole clenching on Santi’s tongue, fingers poking their way inside in contrast to the way he liked to ram into Frankies cunt. 

Ben was so tender, so sensitive, his cockhead beat red and slick with precum as Santi slid his thumb around it. He repeatedly pulled back the skin, making Ben moan in wonton madness. He gave Ben the gentle love making he knew his Frank desired, the kind of soft touches Santi hadn’t been giving lately. No, ever since Madonna came he was ravenous. He didn’t like watching anyone inside Frankie, making exceptions on occasion for Will and Ben because he thought he could trust them.

Despite not being threatened or even ordered to watch, when Santiago turned to the chair he saw Frankie watching. santi knew Frankie liked to be watched, liked to be heard, so he wondered how being put as the watcher affected him. Frankie’s face was set into a hard glare, eyes red and burning with tears and his knuckles going white with clenched fists.

Still, his cock was hard in his pants.

*

You cried. And cried. And cried. 

Hysterics paused only long enough for Will to occasionally get some water in you as he held you close. It had been hours at this point, unsure what is happening to Francisco, what was happening to Iris, what would happen to Rey’s body.

Dead. He was dead. Your best friend was dead, Jonah was dead and Iris hated you. Everything was over now. You hold your stomach, realizing how disconnected you were from this baby in you. At month 7, there was a whole child and yet you felt like… like it was in you, not a part of you. There, not connected. You loved the baby, of course you did, you were its mom but… why didn’t you feel like it? Lately, you’d felt like you were just… here to do a job.

Eventually you calmed down, exhausted from the hysterics, and Will held you close to his chest. He calmed you down slowly, gentle hands brushing over your body. You could not fathom how the hands you’ve felt healing your body were the same as the fist that beat Jonah to death.

“Will?” You ask, listening to the beat of his heart. It was strong.

“Yes, my Madonna?”

“What happens now?” You couldn’t tell if he was pausing to think or in confusion, so you elaborate. “Jonah is dead. Rey is dead. I can never see Santi and Ben the same again-”

He sat up a bit to look at you. “You forgave Santi?”

Was Will really this naive? Really? Santiago had violently raped you, allowed your pregnant body to be burned and Will thought you forgave him? You and your baby could have died, and he thought you forgave him? Will was who you trusted. No matter what happened, you’d always trusted your Will, your smart handsome brave husband, your God of War and Medicine, your protection and your healing. 

You can hear Jonah’s voice in your head, begging you to have a shred of survival instinct, to trust your gut.

For the first time, you lie to him.

“I did…” You fib, just a little. “It’s just been a lot lately and… he did something bad. I just can’t forget all of that.”

He nods in understanding. “I get it…  I do.” His fingertips trail over your scarred skin. “To answer your question… I don’t know. I really don’t but… we’re married, we all love you and I know, I know Ben messed up today…”

Messed up? Ben killed your Rey, an innocent man. Your friend. Frankie’s friend. Dead and cut up on the kitchen floor where Iris, for all you know, is still sobbing.

You feel the walls coming up around Will. 

He continues. “But we’ll find a way to move on as a family.”

You were not a family with these people.

“Yeah, yeah okay.” 

*

Iris fell asleep on the floor, durk curls caking in blood as she rested on her lover's stabbed-open chest. It didn't matter. She wasn’t going to get up.

They won. Those fuckers won.

Santiago had beaten her into submission, cutting up parts of her she’d never had the chance to show Reyansh.

Ben raped her for years and years and year and Iris managed to hold on because she had Reyansh and to a certain extent Jonah. Jonah was disappointing, Jonah’s shortcomings were clear and she would never forgive what he tried to do to that poor girl, whatever it was, but the day he died she lost one more person.

But Iris wouldn’t clean up Reyansh’s blood the way she had to Jonah’s. She’d die here in his arms. If Ben wanted to touch her again, he could fuck her dead, rotting corpse. Iris doubted Ben would let anything as simple as death set her free.

*

When she woke up, she was being pulled away from Rey’s dead body. Iris screamed, but that didn’t matter to anyone anymore. Another few guards start pulling Rey’s body away, congealed blood dragging out from under him, and that’s when Iris started fighting. They couldn’t take him. They couldn’t have him. He was hers.

“I’m sorry.” The guard behind her said. Scott, a nice, naive young man. Many guards were loyal to Santi above all else, but Will held the most control. Still, Rey was well liked. With the exception of those who were hardcore true believers amongst the guard who knew Santi’s recent turn on Reyansh, Iris had no doubt they were, actually sorry. It didn’t change the fact she was being separated from her lover even in death.

*

“Just do what he says” Frankie tells Iris, hands planted firmly on her shoulders, eyes intently boring into hers. “He’s gonna fucking kill me for coming down here but Iris, you have to just do it.”

Her eyes burned with tears of anger as she stood near the door to the backyard, underneath the balcony. “What’s happening, Frankie.”

He closed his eyes a moment as he heard the door unlocking. “I can’t lose you too, Iris. Please. I need you with me. I don’t have Jonah, I don’t have Rey-”

“I don’t either!” Iris spat. “What makes you think I want to live after watching that?” It had been hours since she watched her rapist stab her Rey to death, powerless as Frankie held her back. Ben would have killed her too. Should have. 

“I need help! I can’t keep her alive alone, Iris! We have to be a team, for each other, for Madonna, for our ch-”

The door opened, Will bringing Madonna down with a guard. You looked awful. He hadn’t seen you since Will took you away, dealing with Santi’s shit… Blood was still on your nightgown.

“Madonna…” Frankie was no longer pleaded with Iris, went to hug his wife. Will instructed the guard not to harm Madonna in the slightest, and Iris appreciated Frankie’s addendum not to hurt her either, but Iris knew she was a second thought.

“Francisco, what’s happening?” Your hands pressed to his chest, looking up at him. 

Frankie told you the same thing he told her, to just do as we’re told and it would be okay. Iris had a sick, sick feeling. “Trust me.” He said, hugging her. He looked at Iris. “Please.” Then made his exit with Will. Iris heard crowds outside, and wondered what sick, perverted show Santi was going to make you do now? Would he make you hurt her? That was fine by Iris. 

You turned to her, those scared eyes chipping away at the ice in her heart. Iris knew you didn’t mean to get Rey killed, and blaming you for Jonah’s death was unfair and cruel… but she needed to be angry. 

“Iris…” You whimper, wet eyes trickling tears down your pretty face. You held your stomach in fear.

When the door opens, you and Iris are quickly ushered out into the courtyard where hundreds of people looked on. Taking in the scene, Iris heard your heavy breathing. What she didn’t need, was you having a panic attack… When she turned to see your horror stricken face, Iris couldn’t help feel that ice melt a little more. Fuck, you were young. 23, just a child. You deserved better. Iris took your hand.

But you were looking past her. “Iris…” You said with wide eyes. Iris turned around.

On the courtyard, Rey’s body was tied to an X on top of a funeral pyre, strung up and limp and lifeless. She felt sick to her stomach, turning up towards where the four wanna be gods sat upon their ivory tower, daring to look upon her love. She couldn’t read their expressions, but watched as someone lit the pyre. Reyansh’s body went up in flames.

Santiago spoke not to them, but to the crowd. “Reyash Saha is guilty of high treason! As is custom, those closest must dance as he burns. Not even the Madonna is above the will of Divine Mother.”

He emphasized those last words, Iris knew, to put you in your place. You weren’t a goddess to him, you weren’t his mommy dearest. You were a womb.

The music started up.

“DAAAANCE!!!!” He screamed down to you both, and as the smell of burnt flesh filled the yard, you began to dance. It was scared, it was erratic, it was for your life and the life of your child. Iris understood that fear. But she wasn’t going to dance. It’s been a while since the last public burning, 2 years, she thinks, but she’d been at plenty, danced in several. This is not how it was done.

Firstly, this was supposed to be execution. You didn’t burn dead bodies. If a traitor was dead already, the close family and friends were questioned but there was no grand show.

If this were a proper burning, there was a ceremony, there were prayers to Divine Mother, chants.

The yard would be filled with everyone the traitor knew. Most of the guardsmen would be here for Reyansh, the house laborers, townsfolk… not just trying to terrifying to women. If the Madonna isn’t above it, Francisco shouldn’t be either.

No, this was just a show for the girl.

“Iris!” You grab onto her. “You need to dance!” Your words were broken and desperte, but Iris shrugged you off. “PLEASE!” You sob, grabbing her hands to force her but Iris shoved you back.

“I WON”T BE MADE TO DANCE AS MY HUSBAND BURNS!”

“But-” You reach for her, but she slaps your hand away. If the guard cared about the abuse of the Madonna, they didn’t care. The music was too loud to hear even shouting.

“Tell me, is there anything in the world that could convince you to dance as Frankie burned?” The image horrified you, but you remained resolute.

“My baby! Please I know you can’t understand but I need you, I can’t lose anyone else- IRIS PLEASE JUST DANCE!” You scream, pulling on her.

Iris grabbed your shoulders, stopping you. “I’m pregnant too.”

You were frozen in stunned silence. “You… Rey…”

But Iris shakes her head. “I never had sex with him. Ben fucked everyone under the sun and I didn’t wanna chance giving him anything… But I told him, I broke down and told him… he’d figured it out.” Iris feels the tears coming, but forces them down. Don’t let them see you cry. Hadn’t she told you that before? “Rey said… said he’d raise it as his own. That he’d take me away and now he’s dead. And those men up there-” She pointed to the balcony. “Are why. I won’t tell you what to do, because you have your own child to think of, you are much further along, but me?” She pointed to her chest covered in Rey’s blood. “I refuse to give them anymore satisfaction. They cannot take my dignity. I simply won’t let them.”

*

Santiago watched from the balcony, smug as Madonna started dancing. Jesus she was pathetic. He expected Iris to not dance, giving him a reason to kill the brat finally. Maybe he’d take her for a little spin to see what Benny was so gunho about. But Madonna? Weak little thing like that had been trying to play big girl recently, acting tough, testing her boundaries like a fucking teenager and thinking her status protected her. It didn’t. But look at her now, dancing around as her best and probably only friend burned, just like she did, just like her paintings, just like her dad. 

It was amusing watching you try to save Iris. Your empathy was something that he was attracted to. You were sweet, he liked watching you paint. If you had behaved, he could have lived a whole life with you here with him, his Madonna, raising the savior for his roll… But no, you had to have a temper tantrum. You had to whore around as if 4 cocks weren’t enough. And yet, when it came time to really be brave…. You were like a little puppet on a string and he could toy with you as much as he-

What were you doing?

“Santi…”  Francisco tried to sooth as Santi’s knuckles turned white, gripping the balcony with a force as the sound of the music swelled around him. You stopped. Iris put her stupid fucking hands on you the way she put her stupid fucking hands on Ben’s body and tainted you. He watched with rage building inside. She was standing too fucking close.

“Will.” Santi barked, not taking his eyes off you two. Will was the most observant. Frankie could be naive and Ben wasn’t paying attention to most things. “Are they fucking?”

He swore he heard Will sigh. “No, Santi. Jesus fucking christ.”

Then they were conspiring against him. The two girls stilled completely. And then they turned around, looking up at him.

Santiago looked right back. They were fucking dead.

Okay!!! were so close to the end! I think it flashback chapter, then the finale might have to be split lololol.

Not a super eventful chapter, but I thought things needed to breathe before the last pieces. Still, I think enough is here to entertain!!

Thank you to everyone who has stuck through all the hiatuses. Ily!!!

If anyone is interested, I just finished my finale of Blessed Be the Fruit which took over a year for a short series. sorry ;-;

anyway its done!

Love you all soooooo much!

If you like Logan Howlett, check out my new series Be Quiet

Poll time!

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates (If you ask to be tagged, I ask you at least like the fic. Likes dont do anything to spread the work, but it at least lets me know you're still reading.)

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

Tags are working like SHIT these days for me and many, many others so make sure to follo wthe rooms on fire tag or my update account.

@winniethewife @femmeanonymelives @yorksgirl @pockcock @neverwheremoonchild @casa-boiardi @meveispunk @survivingandenduring @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @obscurexsorrows @hellfire-state-of-mind @christinamadsen @pimosworld @princessanglophile @rubyfruitjungle @simple-lovebot @missdictatorme @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @javier-penas-wifexx420 @stefani-topaz @alwaysmicado @mjnomaryjane @incorrectclassicbookquotes @axshadows @ghostslillady @movievillainess721 @justagalwhowrites @charethcutestory02 @pixielouise-blog @gogh-with-the-flow @justafandomgvrl @katw474 @loveable-liar @arrozconpepitoria @minigirl87 @runa-falls @pedge-page @angel-of-the-moons @beefrobeefcal @pixielouise-blog @miraclesabound @oliveksmoked @bubble-pop-eclectic @corazondebeskar-reads @pedroshotwifey @umnitsa @koshkaj-blog @hiroikegawa @mangoslushcrush @withasideofmeg @sub-aro @wand-erer5 @guelyury @readingiskeepingmegoing