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corriganatheart · 11 months

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His Maddest Desire Pt. II (He LOVES her, but she HATES him) Jude Bellingham x reader

Synopsis: She was the opposite of what he needed; the shadow that no one noticed but him. Since the beginning, Jude had always liked Y/N, and his feelings grew every time he saw her. His reputation as a womanizer only makes her question his intention and pushes him away, but that never stops him from chasing after what he wants.

Pairings: Jude Bellingham x fem! Reader

Genre: Forbidden romance x Enemies to Lovers x One-sided love x Dark Romance

Warnings ⚠️: Cursing, and mentions of sexual contents🔞

“That’s too short. Go change,” your brother immediately says as you step into his car. You look down at your skirt and realize it is much shorter than before, meaning you’ve either gained weight or your new shoes made you taller. “I can’t; this is my uniform,” you said. Rowan looks down at your legs and then your uniform jacket. “What is the point of making y’all wear jackets if your legs aren’t covered?”

You shake your head, “don’t ask me. Ask your parents,” Rowan rolls his eyes and puts on his seatbelt before leaving the gate. He was overprotective and a bit of a drama queen.

“You know, I remember the uniform being longer when I was still in high school,” he said, still not satisfied with the length of the skirt, despite you trying to pull it down a little. “It’s very dangerous for high schoolers to wear that.” You rolled your eyes, “Oh please; the security at our school is so strict even boys are scared to say hi to us.” Rowan laughs, “Well, they didn’t catch me when I was in the closets.” You groan and make a barfed face. “Too much information, bro!”

You sighed as your history teacher explained information you wouldn’t use in the future. High school was irrelevant; the whole school system was outside because people were getting all these degrees to learn more on the job. It makes no sense that people are required to get thousands of degrees to have to teach themselves or be trained once they get hired.

“Pssssh, Y/N,” your classmate behind you whispers. You ignore him and continue to look out of the window. If your parents didn’t run the school, maybe you’ll be more interested, but knowing that the teachers are too scared to give you a bad grade makes school irrelevant. “Are you going to invite us to your sister’s birthday?” He asked. You rolled your eyes and lay your head on the table; this was your life, a spoiled rich kid.

“Hey Y/N can we get tickets to BVB game?”

“Hey Y/N! How is Rowan?”

“Hit me up with your sister’s bday!”

You walk down the hallway with a book in your hand as you try to tune out the people around you. They all had a mission, and that was to attend your sister’s birthday. She had always been popular, especially with the male audience, and there was no way she would want a whole bunch of hormonal teenagers at their party. And besides, she barely noticed you, so there was no point in inviting someone.

“Isn’t she embarrassed to be wearing her skirt so short?”

“Her sister is way prettier than her”

“I heard she has been passed around by every football player”

“Ew, I hope she gets run over by a car”

You hear a group of girls laughing behind you as you quickly escape from the crowded hallway. You commonly hear people talking trash, mainly because you get a lot of attention. The girls in school barely liked you, let alone want to befriend you. If they did, it was because they wished for your brother or wanted to get close to your sister. There has never been someone that wanted to be your friend genuinely.

You slow down your pace when you finally reach the school gate. Patiently waiting for your brother, you look down at your shoes. They were platform heels that made you look taller and slimmer. Your mother started making you wear those in middle school when she realized you wouldn’t go past 5’6.

“Omg he’s so hot!

“Ahhhhhh!!!!”

“Omg it’s Jude Bellingham!”

Your heart immediately stops, and you look up from your shoes. Standing before you was Jude Bellingham in a black turtle neck and jeans. He looked lovely, leaning against his Jaguar car and staring at you intensely.

He smirked cockily when he saw your mouth gasp. The last thing you expected was for him to show up out of nowhere, let alone your school. “What are you doing here?” You asked while glancing at the crowd that started to gather. Jude shrugged, “Rowan got holdup.” You grit your teeth, wanting to strangle your brother immediately. He knew this would be on the news, and people would speculate about your relationship with Jude. Some obsessive fans would even go as far as tracking you down. “He couldn’t have set a driver?” You spat. Jude looks at you from head to toe, and he stops at your legs. “No,” he says. You sighed and decided it was best to get in the car before everyone started to go crazy.

Jude looked happy yet content as he drove. You see him constantly glancing at your thighs before he awkwardly shifts in his seat. He seemed uncomfortable, but If anything, you should be the one feeling uncomfortable, because this was your first time in a boy’s car.

“Isn’t that skirt a little too short?” He suddenly asked. You narrow your eyes and lay your backpack on your thighs. “Ok, Rowan, number 2. I have no control over the school’s uniform.”

Jude glared at you and gripped the steering wheel. “The boys could see up your ass if they tilt their head.” Why was he getting upset over the school’s dress code? If anything, he can go to his precious mother-in-law and complain to her instead of me. “Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?” You asked. Jude looked at you and shook his head, “no one wants to see their girl getting hit on by guys.”

His girl. That is what he sees and refers to you whenever you guys are alone. And you knew he would do that in public if you allowed him.

“I am no one’s. I have told you before Jude. WE DON'T FIT.”

You see his knuckles turn pale as he grips on his steering wheel. And instead of turning towards your street, he decided to turn the opposite. “What are you doing?” You asked, panicking as you looked back at your road. “I want to take you somewhere,” he says. Your heart starts to race. If he was to get caught with you, your brother and family would go nuts, and god knows what your sister would do. “Have you ever thought how bad it would look for you to be seen with me?” You asked angrily. Jude shrugs, “I like being seen with you.”

You groaned; it was so hard to argue with this boy. “Your career, your life, your relationships are at risk. I am not the biological daughter of the L/N family!” Jude frowned and just stared ahead angrily. He doesn’t respond nor care to listen to your pleading. The last thing you needed was for your parents to ground you or send you away. You have less than a month till graduation, and you’ll be going off to a university; you didn’t need Jude’s shit. “Jude, we can’t keep going like this,” you mumbled. “I hate you, and you hate-“

“Will you look at the view,” he interrupts you.

You look ahead to see that he is parked close to a cliff, and the city view and the sunset are right before you. It was beautiful, and this was the first time you’d seen the city outside your brother’s and your parent’s car. “You see the view?” He asked. You look at him, and he smiles, “It could be ours if you just say yes.”

You gulped and looked away, scared to face him because you might have the temptation. “I know you want this to Y/N,” he said as he carefully took your hand. “You’ve nothing to worry about. I want this more than you think, and you want this more than you believe.” Your heart starts to race as he slowly caresses your face gently. “No one understands how this feels, and no one needs to. It’s just you and me, baby.” You hold the hand caressing your face, and he brings your forehead together. “I will do anything for you. I would hurt the world for you. I have loved-“

Jude pauses when you immediately cringe at the sound of your phone ringing. The ringtone was explicitly set for your brother, and your heart beats rapidly causing you to return to reality. “Hello, Rowan,” you answered, and Jude rolled his eyes. “No, we are coming,” you said and signaled Jude to start driving, which he frustratedly did. “No, I’m not doing anything weird; what do you take me as?” You asked. You hear the suspension in Rowan’s voice as he questions why the ride takes thousands of hours. “Whatever, your, not his type anyway,” your brother said casually before he hangs up. You look at Jude, who seems incredibly frustrated at the situation. You don’t know how long it’ll take him to realize that this was for the best, but a sickening part of you hopes that he never does.

It has been days, weeks, and almost a month since you have seen Jude. And yes you were counting because although you try not to be aware of him, every day you longed for him. You were terrible for him as he was bad for your heart, but still, the heart wants what it wants.

“The theme is Bridgerton,” your mother says as she passes your sister a photo. Your sister nods before she reviews the party scene. “You will be dressed as the Diamond of the season,” your mother said. You looked up from your book and stared at the color scheme. It was a bit dull for your sister’s taste, and she really didn’t want the theme to be historical.

“Rowan suggested Jude be your escort,” your mother exclaimed as she smile at the pictures on the table. Anastasia sighed and looked over the many pictures laid on the table. “But I wanted Marcus to be my escort,” she said.

You examine the way your sister nervously fidget with the pictures as she tries not to blow up. Although you never bonded with Anastasia, you knew she was going through something similar to what you were going through. She was Ms. Perfect, and she didn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially her parents. “No. You’re the season's diamond; you must be with someone in your league. Marcus is nowhere near that,” your mother harshly said.

You bite your lower lips, trying to hold back from inserting yourself into the conversation. “Mother, I think Jude would like to bring his own date,” Anastasia says. Your mother folds her arms and stares at your sister disappointedly. “Don’t tell me you have feelings for that Marcus Rashford!”

“Mother, please,” you begged as you stared at your sister’s frightening form. “Y/N, stay out of this!” Your mother warns.

You immediately shut down and stood up before walking out of the room. It was no use trying to argue with the lady of the house. If she had her mind set on Anastasia being with Jude, then that’s what she’ll get.

“That sounded fun,” Rowan pops out of his office and smirks. You roll your eyes at him and continue to walk down the hall as he follows. “Where are you going, little sis?” Rowan asked while trying to grab ahold of your arm. “None of your business, brother,” you said sternly and turned to the library. Rowan follows you into your family’s library and whistles at the numerous books on the table and floor. “You got a shit load of time,” he mumbled as he scanned the books you’ve read.

You ignored his comment and sat near the window with your current read. It was awfully quiet today due to the absence of your father and his workers. Rowan also stayed home more often than usual, and lately, he has been nosy about your life. “What do you think?” Rowan asked. You look up from your page to see him grab a couple of romance novels. “What about them?” You asked, annoyed that he was still here. “Do you prefer a one-sided crush or someone being obsessed with you?” He asked. You frown and look outside at the garden where you always watched Jude play. “I rather keep my feelings inside,” you said. “Less hurts.”

Your brother hums, and you shake yourself out of the image of Jude. He has been filling your mind since that day he dropped you off, and you wanted nothing but to see him. “Jude is taking mom’s request of having Anastasia’s hand,” Rowan says as he flips through pages. Your brain immediately stops, and your heart starts speeding like it was trying to catch its last breath. You knew this day would come, but you weren’t expecting this reaction. It was hard to think about it, and now it was happening.

Rowan also knew something was up, or else he wouldn’t have asked. Although he was an asshole, your brother was smart enough to know the dynamic between his best friend and his little sister. “And how do you feel about that?” You asked. Your brother drops the book on the table and smirks, “I like it.”

You stare at yourself in the mirror; amazed by how delicate, and elegant you looked.

Your mother picked out a beige dress for you and have you style your hair in an updo with flower decoration. She was pleased with the way you looked when she walked out of your bedroom, and you knew she had something up her sleeve, something that you’ll hate.

“We’ll don’t you look dashing little Y/N,” your brother says as he leans against your bedroom door with a glass of champagne in his hands. You rolled your eyes and look at him through the mirror, “I can assure you, it’s all thanks to mother.”

Rowan smirks and starts walking towards you, causing the hair dresser, stylist, and the other staff to giggle and whisper about how good he looks. Rowan stops a couple of inches behind you, and caress your shoulders, “tonight, you’ll be my date,” he whispers in your ear. A cold shiver immediately runs down your spine as you stare into his eyes. It looked dark, cold, and almost sinister. “Your mother would not like that Rowan,” you said sternly. He chuckles deeply, “I am mother’s dearest, she’ll like anything I like.”

You hid behind the concrete pole again as you peeked at your family, greeting the guest. Your mother looked incredibly gorgeous with her green dress and her brunette hair, which was also styled in a curled updo. Your father, who you haven’t seen in months, looked like he hadn’t aged a bit. His black locks were slick back, and his black suit fitted him perfectly. He looked intimidating, like he was ready to harm anyone who didn’t belong in this room.

Your eyes continue to scan the room, looking for a certain someone, but he is nowhere to be found. But you did spot Trent, Kylian, and Rowan, who were unapologetically checking out girls and gossiping in their circle.

“We have to stop bumping into each other like this, L/N,” a soft, husky voice said. You immediately recognize the voice and turn around to see Marcus Rashford. He was wearing a navy blue suit and looked incredibly handsome. Your heart softened, feeling relief that it was him and not someone else. “Indeed, we need to stop,” you chuckled. He smiles and glares over at the direction you were looking at, “I see your brother is still popular amongst footballers,” he says. You nod your head, “yes, he seems to attract them often.” Marcus chuckles and then looks over at your mom, who obviously did not like the woman she was talking to. “Your mother request that I don’t show up,” he mumbles, “but Anastasia would be pissed.” You glanced at the way he looked when he mentions your sister. It was a bit of sadness and loneliness and you aren’t sure what to think of his feelings towards her. “I think she would appreciate a dance with you,” you said. Marcus doesn’t respond but instead smiles down at you, like he was avoiding the subject. “I was going to ask you to save me the first dance,” he said and reaches for your hand. “If you would allow me.” You smile softly, appreciating his gentle touch, “of course Marcus.” He smiles and kisses your palm, before excusing himself.

Everyone was anticipating for your sister’s arrival as you go from one dessert plate to another. Although you really didn’t want to be here, at least you’ll get to eat food that made up for your lack of nutrition.

“What a surprise; I rarely get to see you anymore.”

You froze at the sound of the voice, and turned to see Jobe Bellingham smirking down at you with a plate full of desserts.

“Hey princess,” he says cheekily.

You smile, surprised by his presence, which is very rare.

Jobe became friends with you after his brother introduced the two of you. He also went to your school, but about a year ago, he got signed and had to switch to online schooling.

The two of you get along just fine; mainly because there was only a year age difference and because he stood up for you at school.

“Jobe, what the heck!” You exclaimed and immediately put your plate down and basically lunge yourself at him. “I miss you too Y/N,” he says and pulls you into a very tight hug.

At the corner of your eyes, you can see your brother and his friends whispering and glaring at the two of you. A couple of feet where their standing, Marcus was talking to people while also staring your way. “Your brother’s staring isn’t he?” Jobe whispered in your ears. You giggle and nodded your head, causing him let out a chuckle.

The two of you then broke the hug and stepped away from the dessert and the crowd.

"So, how is life treating you?" he asked while guiding you down the hallway where the two of you used to chase one another. "Same old same old," you shrugged. Jobe smiles and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, "what about my brother?" he asks. You tensed up, looked down at the floor, and then glanced at the wallpaper. "He's going to be my sister's fiance," you mumbled. Jobe chuckles and shakes his head, "You know, I always wondered why you never give him a chance," he says, "but after growing up and experiencing fame, I can only imagine how challenging it must be."

You smile and stop in the middle of the hallway. You turned to Jobe, who was already smiling down at you. "I'm so happy you are back," you said, brushing your palm against his cheek. Jobe grins cheekily, and you realize how much of a difference his height was, compared to yours. He was no longer the middle schooler from years ago. "For now," he winks. You laughed, flushing from the warm and familiar feeling of childhood happiness. "I hate your stupid ass," you said and playfully hit his chest. "Nah, you love me," he shrugged.

Smiling, you were about to make a cheesy comment until the both of you heard someone clearing their throat. You turned to your right to see your sister wearing the most beautiful pink gown you have ever seen. She looked beautiful in her curled updo and light makeup. She was the definition of beauty and brain and the most elegant face the world had ever seen. "What are you two laughing about?" she asked curiously, looking between you and Jobe. "Just catching up," Jobe responded. Your sister looks at you sternly and then smiles at Jobe.

As she converses with Jobe, your eyes stare at the arms she is holding. Without even looking, you already knew who it was. You can feel his eyes on you already, examining, judging, and questioning your motives. Your heart races as you go from his arms to his eyes. The moment your eyes meet his black ones, your heart skips, jumps, aches, and all the emotions held inside explode.

It has been so long since you last saw him that you wanted to take him in. And you aren't the only one affected by this because Jude was doing the same thing. He was taking you in from head to toe, ensuring he got all the details. Although he was still, his eyes were moving everywhere, from your dress to your hair, to your exposed neck, then your lips, then your eyes, and then your lips again. He roamed everywhere, forgetting that his date was the most beautiful woman alive.

"Are you two partners?" your sister asked while eyeing you. Jude immediately looks at his brother, whose eyes widened like he was guilty. "Nope! I got my own date!"

You rolled your eyes at Jobe's cowardness and returned to your sister's judging eyes. "We were just catching up," you shrugged. And immediately, you saw satisfaction in her eyes before she tightened her hold on Jude's arms. "Well, the guest is expecting me, so we all should go back to the ballroom and do the first dance," your sister smiled. Jude looks down at her and smiles; he then brushes the strand of her on her face and tucks it behind her ears. You knew he only did that to cause a reaction out of you, but you weren't going to show any signs of jealousy. "Of course, I am looking forward to our first dance," he says.

You glance away from the scene, feeling two pairs of eyes on you. Jude can get into your brain and heart, but he doesn't know. He thinks you are playing hard to get and that you might actually hate him. But if only he knew how much he affected you and how he means to you. But he can never know because the two of you just don't fit. "I heard our brother volunteered to be your date sister," Anastasia said. Jude stares down at you and then glances over at his brother, who is quite entertained by the scene. "Actually, yes, Rowan is my date, but as you can see, he is nowhere to be found," you said frustratedly. Anastasia chuckles and lays her head on Jude's arm, "Well, I guess you just have to watch us dance."

Jude smirks down at her, and your heart drops from how he looks at her; it is almost like he enjoys her presence. "Y/N, maybe we should just go," Jobe steps in and grabs your elbow. "I apologize, Mr. Bellingham, but I believe Ms. L/N promised me her first dance."

Your sister's eyes widened after realizing who just spoked. Jude's jaw tenses as he stares at the person. You turned around to see Marcus walking towards you, not looking at anyone else but you. "I was looking for you," he smiles and holds out his elbow. You immediately elope your hands around his arms and smile, internally thanking him for saving the day. "Sorry, Jobe, but I asked her first," Marcus says. Jobe grins, enjoying the upcoming drama that was about to take place. "Nope, she's all yours," he said cheekily.

Without another word or glance, Marcus Rashford guided you back to the ballroom while two angry pairs of eyes were staring at your back.

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@footballbroadcast @aryy-23 @noodle81937 @lestappenbaee @tzuyuzzs @his-girlllll

#soccer #footballer imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham one shot #england nt imagine #bellingham

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witchwyfe · 1 year

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the fear of losing this - jhs

I pairing: college jake ‘hangman’ seresin x female reader

I précis: based on this line, "Jake your sweet roommate who always helps you when your friends bring you back after too many $1 beers from the bar down the street." from tomorrow, tonight.

I content/warnings: college au, roommates to lovers (that haven’t gotten past the roommates stage yet), mentions of drinking, mentions of being drunk, cursing

I word count: 988

I a/n: a continuation of tomorrow, tonight with college roommate jake, I'm thinking about making it a mini-series idk yet

It’s well after 1 am when you stumble through the door, bag already in the bend of your arm, despite how many times you’ve yanked it up to rest on your shoulder. Your friends are in the car outside, waiting for the text where you tell them you’re inside. The designated driver wanted to walk you in, but you insisted you could make it to the elevator and up to your place.

You feel like you've been fiddling with the key for ten minutes when the door swings open, causing you to lose your balance, stumbling forward with a gasp.

Jake is right there to catch you, warm and solid against your shaky and unstable.

"Hi Jake!" You gush airily, smile gooey and eyes wide.

Your glossy eyes and dazed expression is pulling on his heart strings, and Jake mentally argues with himself on whether he can brush your hair back from your face or if it's too intimate.

He sighs when you teeter over again, using his hands at your waist to balance you.

"Have a fun night?" He wonders, eyebrow raised. You’re giggling again and the sound hits him right in the heart. He sighs softly and leads you to the couch, and after making sure you’re balanced, he goes to the kitchen to fill a cup with water.

You’re nodding when he comes back, in what he assumes is a delayed answer to his question. “Wish you were there Jake, we always have so much fun.”

He gives a small smile, pushing the water gently into your hands. You sure aren’t making this whole—suppress his feelings for you—thing easy.

“You ready for bed?”

“Yeah. But I got it Jake, I don’t need any help.” You’re setting the half-empty cup on the coffee table, aiming for one of his Dallas Cowboys coasters, and failing miserably.

“I think you might darlin’,” He chuckles, hands at your waist once again as he helps you take a few steps.

“Fuck.” You whine, emphasizing the word in a way that has him chuckling. “My shoes are still on.”

“S’okay.” He murmurs, moving his hand to your lower back. “We can take them off in your room.”

“But then they won’t be on the shoe rack.” You groan, throwing your head back. Jake stifles a laugh, because he’s always the one reminding you to put your shoes on the rack and not kick them off and leave them in the foyer.

“It’s okay, I promise.” He grins, still trying to get you take the final steps toward your room. He breathes a sigh of relief when you’re finally sat on your bed, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He kneels down to help you take off your platforms when he see’s you struggling.

“Can you get changed or do you need my help?” He wonders nervously.

“I can do it.” You yawn and Jake thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. “Can you just get some pajamas for me? You remember the drawer right”

He nods because he does. A few weeks ago you’d forgotten your pajamas when you went to shower and you were way too flustered to go out in your towel, so you had asked Jake to grab something for you, verbally directing him to the correct drawer.

He grabs the first things he see’s which happen to be an old t-shirt and some shorts with strawberries on them.

“I’m gonna go get your water, you gonna be okay for a sec?”

You nod before gasping, diving for your shoes on the floor. “Put these on the rack please!”

“I got you darlin’,” He smiles, grabbing your shoes, and shutting the door behind him to give you some privacy.

He takes his time switching the water to your bottle that you left in the kitchen hours before, setting your shoes on the rack, and checking the locks on the door, before heading back to your room.

He’s pleased to find that you’ve changed into your pajamas—he’s choosing to ignore the fact that your shirt is on backwards,—taken off your makeup, and tucked yourself underneath your duvet.

“You all ready for bed?” He wonders, lifting the straw on your water bottle and handing it to you.

You nod, taking audible gulps from your water bottle.

Jake shuts off your light and goes to leave and shut the door behind him when you speak up, albeit softly.

“Wait, Jake,” You say, looking down at your hands. “Are you mad at me?”

His heart drops, and he’s across the room in a second, at your bedside, but you won’t look at him.

“No sweet girl, I’m not mad at you.” He says gently.

“Then why aren’t you sleeping in my bed?”

That’s a great question, and Jake is glad he still has an ounce of self-control left. “We don’t do that every night.” He reminds you.

“But you slept in here last night.” You retort.

That’s true. You had still been up reading when Jake came into your room, feeling upset and bad about himself after a rough phone call with his father. You’d taken one look at the sullen expression on his face and peeled back your covers, one hand holding your book, and the other in his hair until he fell asleep.

“Do you want me to sleep in here tonight?” He asks slowly. “Because you’re drunk right now honey, and I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want you to sleep in here tonight.” You say, as seriously as you can manage. “Please, Jake.”

He nods. “Okay. I’m gonna go change and I’ll be right back, okay?” He presses a kiss to your forehead before he even thinks about it, then turns to hide his grimace. He’s hoping to god you don’t catch onto his more-affectionate-than-usual behavior, but you don’t say anything, just hum happily.

He is sooo fucked.

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otomiyaa · 7 months

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PSA: Back up your blog, check your tumblr e-mail for copyright strikes

Hi everyone, after suddenly losing my account with main blog + sideblogs last week, I would like to share the following warning with y'all. Not to scare you even though it is shitty, but to raise awareness. If this somehow results in me getting kicked off the platform again, so be it lol.

If you post anything fandom* related on your tumblr blog**, whether that's gifs, screenshots, videos, cosplay pics or even fics (?), you may risk getting a copyright strike (up to 3 in 18 months) or even immediate account termination. The chance is still rather small, but just know that it can happen.

*I say fandom in the broad term, so blogs that post about movies and series, anime/manga, games, celebrities, models, sports/olympics, etc. and it goes for gif and fic creators too. Not just accounts that post music or videos for example.

**I say tumblr blog, but this goes for all of the internet ofc. People have been getting this problem on any platform, from insta to etsy, youtube and twitter.

Disclaimer: I am no legal expert, just an unlucky blogger who lost her silly multifandom fic blog after 7+ years.

This will be a bit long and detailed so I proceed under the cut!

What can you do?

...To make sure you don't suddenly lose days, months, and years of content:

CHECK THE EMAIL LINKED TO YOUR TUMBLR. I know a lot of people don't do it, myself included. Tumblr does send warnings (though not always). It wouldn't have changed anything for me because I wouldn't want to appeal - since I don't want to go into this "fair use" discussion for just a fic & editing blog. I personally don't know the chances of retrieving your blog if you protest against the claims, so can't say much about that.

Back up your Tumblr blog if you can. Also save your Tumblr chats with people dear to you if you can. Account termination seems to work differently than deactivation. I was still able to see chats with people who deactivated long ago. But my blog that got terminated has vanished from everyone's DMs and ask boxes à la Thanos snap. I mourn my years of Tumblr chat with my best friend. It was not as if we even considered exporting/copying it just for the memories of the start of our friendship. But now that it's entirely gone, hehe, well. It is sad.

Save URLs and masterposts outside Tumblr. After losing your account, for I thiiink about 24-48hrs (I didn't clock, but it was temporary) you will be able to access it at least temporarily through cachedpages, if you have the URL. It doesn't seem to work for everything, but most of my Tumblr posts I could still see shortly through this site, even after I got wiped off the platform. I did this by googling my tumblr username + certain keywords, and the posts would pop up and give me the URL.

...To prevent getting copyright strikes and losing your account?

Probably nothing - but like I said, I'm not the expert, just the fool who lost her account. The termination e-mail will give you a numbered URL so it's not easy to see which post resulted in the account loss, but for me the keywords were:

Despite the 7+ years of posts, many followers and a lot of memories, I did not gain anything else from this blog and didn't think it was worth the (legal-) risks and effort to try and get it back. It would require filing an objection against the copyright claims with personal info from home address to name, and consenting to USA legal law stuff.

Even if I don't know the exact details, I'm sure they're not wrong, because whether it's fair or not, most fandom stuff has copyright issues in the end, so I can't protest against the claims with 100% certainty it won't get me in real trouble. Besides, I read about similar cases, lost cases, and admitted defeat right away.

They work with manual reports and most dangerously, bots, who seem to be randomly picking unlucky people to take down their posts and possibly the entire account.

So besides putting an entire halt to fic writing, gif making, video editing and other fandom indulgement, or the inconvenient act of censoring every single word and image, I don't think there is a way to entirely prevent getting targeted.

The one that treated me to the strikes leading to account termination was a certain Mr. Green who seems to have targeted mostly people on Etsy. But apparently now also on Tumblr. More about this I can share here for further information. I also share some other links that can inform you about how far the copyright problem can go. Again, no reason to panic. It's rare and I was unlucky. But it happens.

About Mr. Green, using bots all over the internet to take down fandom related material:

Tumblr post about his attack on fandom.

Long detailed doc from an Etsy user.

Insta post about also loss of Etsy account.

Also Etsy related, but same Mr. Green and his bots taking down something only because it used the NAME of an anime character.

Tweet about him and his company not being officially contracted but getting compensated.

About copyright claims on Tumblr - they are still rare, no panic, I just call it russian roulette and these are all unlucky people like me :')

Post by user @/marilynjeansiims about claims against users who post about Sims, including a petition against it.

Post by user @/happyheidi about Moomin posts facing issues.

Post by user @/hanyusan about olympic related claims.

Example by user @/koov about what a vague copyright warning looks like.

Good news, post by user @/yunghos about getting their account back after filing a counter notice. It seems to be possible.

Post by user @/iamkatehardy about getting a strike for using a gif.

Post by user @/stxrshxpxd about getting their acc terminated for no 100% clear reasons.

Post by user @/tekweela about getting terminated mercilessly because of a reblog.

Post by user @/fromanotherroom-revived about losing their account with similar advice as I write here.

Post by user @/ladyphasma about gifs and US law

Knowing this won't bring lost accounts back, or change the law, I do hope at least you can be better prepared just in case it happens... Better prepared than I was at least.

#psa #fandom #copyright #no panic but just be careful<3 #signal boost #important

126 notes · View notes

philliam-writes · 1 year

Text

you are in the earth of me [04]

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem! Reader

Content: no warnings apply (except Lockwood being a lil dum-dum but we love him for it)

Summary: Responsibility. Lucrative agent. Resource. It seems everyone is happy to fit your whole existence into one word; put you inside a cardboard box, slap a postage stamp on your forehead as though you’re some ghastly parcel to be shipped off when taking up too much space; being too inconvenient. Looks like even Lockwood and Co. is no different from the other agencies, a sobering revelation that is surprisingly disappointing.

Notes: [01] || [03] | [05]

Words: 4.6k

A/N: this is for @tangledinlove, my beloved, who without i'm not sure if i would be back to writing this as enthusiastically. or at all. your writing gives me a home to return to and tons of love. thank you for that.

after the cancellation of s2, i got really unhappy, especially with my writing/the story compared to the other gems on this platform, so if this at some point disappears or i stop uploading, i'm sorry in advance. until then, i keep going and creating for you guys a second home as best as i can. love you all ♥

04: there's a kind of calling

shoulder the sky (i can’t wait to show you how much) open those eyes (i know you can be, just let the rain come) there’s a kind (let the rain come down, darling) (can’t you hear it howling?) of calling, calling — The Amazing Devil: The Calling

He stands tall in the doorframe, like a praetorian from the elite Roman military force, spatula in one hand to strike, a saucepan lid, fogged from condensation, in his other hand to defend. Most importantly though, he is not wearing any pants.

Lockwood gives him a dejected look. “George. We talked about wearing no pants outside of your room.”

“I see you brought her back,” George replies, ignoring Lockwood. His small, dark eyes seem exceptionally sharp behind his black-rimmed glasses. “Why did you bring her back?”

Old retirees whose lawns you’ve trespassed on have greeted you more kindly. But as with any building you enter, the rule is not to hesitate at the threshold, so when Lockwood and Lucy walk inside, you follow right after them.

Portland Row at the edge of dawn was enticing like Sleeping Beauty. Now at evening it is something else entirely: a waft of warm, spicy smell engulfs you: tumeric, onions, safran. Roasted chicken, a lemony tang—the whole mix is mouth-watering and for a moment you get dizzy from hunger. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten; your stomach growls more horrifying than the rumbling of a Raw-bones at night.

“Look alive, George, this case is far from over!” Lockwood announces. He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the rack, shaking out his wet hair. Cold water is trickling down the back of his neck, dampening his collar. A sudden shower has surprised you on the way back, making the ride back in the cab even more uncomfortable in addition to sitting squeezed next to Lockwood and making sure your knees don’t touch. “And she’s kindly agreed to lend us a hand.”

George eyes you, from top to bottom. His nose twitches a little as though he’s smelling a wet dog, but then he gives a twitch that vaguely resembles a shrug before he ducks into the kitchen. “I’ll get another plate out.”

“Oh, I can get take out—” you start.

“Nonsense.” Lockwood waves in the general direction of the wooden floor, signalling you to leave your bags in the hallway. “George’s food is something you have to try. Zereshk Polo, isn’t it, George? This will also give us an opportunity to decide on what to do next, and share everything we know.”

“Where’s she staying, Lockwood?” Lucy asks. Her wet hair sticks to her forehead and cheeks, and she brushes it impatiently behind her ears. “Last time I checked, we don’t have any spare rooms.” She narrows her eyes at him in a certain way that suggests she doesn’t want you bunking in her room. Not that you mind. You’re not too keen on sleeping in the same room with someone else either.

“The library was fine,” you say, dropping your bags where Lockwood has shown you. “And it’s only for this night. I’ll try and find another place first thing tomorrow.”

Lockwood purses his lips. “I would rather you stay here until we find whoever is out there thinking that you have the key. You have become an essential resource for this case, one I’d rather not put in danger.”

There’s a profound silence, only disturbed by the sizzling in the kitchen and George’s quiet, off-tune humming.

Responsibility. Lucrative agent. Resource. It seems everyone is happy to fit your whole existence into one word; put you inside a cardboard box, slap a postage stamp on your forehead as though you’re some ghastly parcel to be shipped off when taking up too much space; being too inconvenient. Looks like even Lockwood and Co. is no different from the other agencies, a sobering revelation that is surprisingly disappointing.

A flash of bitterness passes over Lucy’s face, but it fades quickly. “Lockwood—” she begins, drawing herself up. Her voice seems dangerously sharp like the edges of broken glass, and standing between them, you’re surprised that your head is not immediately razed off by the laser sharp intensity of whatever weird staring contest Lucy and Lockwood are currently engaged in.

Lockwood’s response is his dark eyebrows drawn together in a puzzled frown. But before he can say something, you speak up, voice sweeter than saccharin, “Your resource would love to take a shower first before we start. Is that OK?”

That’s when Lockwood realises. All colour drains from his face, then comes back as two crimson spots high on his cheeks. “I—”

“Yes.” Lucy’s eyes are still on Lockwood, her voice oddly distant. “I’ll jump into the shower myself, but the boys’ bathroom is just upstairs.” When she brushes past Lockwood, she sends him a glare that is sharper than the rapier she pulls out of her holster and stuffs inside the umbrella rack. “And Lockwood will wait for his turn.”

Suits you just fine. You leave your kit in the hallway and take the bag with your clothes upstairs, past the masks and curios mounted on the wall, wooden-framed pictures and newsletter pages showing a younger Lockwood wearing a full-body fencing suit and grinning into the camera like the Cheshire Cat after winning a fencing tournament. It must be from the memorable day when Kipps got his ass handed to him, one of his less favourite subjects to dwell on from his past. Your chest twinges at the sight—Matthew would have attended too; he had been the best with a rapier out of you three, making it almost look as easy and graceful as dancing.

You draw your shoulders together and follow after Lucy, banishing the thoughts and echoes from the past before they can rise to an awful noise in your head. A shower, some food. A plan. Brick by brick you can rebuild yourself.

Lucy drops you off at the threshold of a small square bathroom, simply gesturing into the room with an awkward wave of her hand. It’s completely white-tiled with simple furniture and a few dried out plants at the windowsill. The blinds are drawn shut and with the sun setting the room is turning darker by the minute. A few dark heaps of clothing lie scattered on the ground, hiding a square vine-patterned rug.

“Thanks,” you say, fumbling along the wall in search for the light switch. Lucy hesitates a moment, and you think she might say something. But then she turns on her heels and stalks another floor up, already starting to peel out of her soaked-in, woolly sweater.

You turn to the bathroom, standing still for a moment just to test how wild your thoughts run, how loud that creature inside your head howls. What a mess you dragged yourself into—or got dragged into, more likely. You’ll have to see Kipps soon and tell him what happened, and look out for a new apartment. You stand there, unmoving, shivering like aspen leave in high wind. One thing at a time. Rome wasn’t built in a day either.

Deposing your bag in a corner, you begin unpacking what you need. A cough from the door has your head whipping around. Lockwood is leaning against the doorframe. He seems to do that a lot, you think. Some guys are just meant to loom.

“Sorry we can’t give you proper accommodations. I’m sure you’re used to different things from the Rotwell dormitories.” His eyes glide over your head as though he’s taking in the bathroom for the first time. He’s playing with the ring on his right hand, twirling it around his thin finger. You force your eyes away from his slender piano-fingers and how hot they felt around your wrist this afternoon.

“Let’s be honest, all that Pomp and Circumstance means nothing.” You return pulling clothes out of your duffel bag. “They didn’t hesitate for a second to throw me out the moment I became an inconvenience.” The confession pries something open within you: an age-old chest of memories you’ve kept firmly locked and tucked away in the recess of your mind, now yielding in his presence. The same thing has happened at the first agency you worked for, shortly after Matthew’s death. Nobody wanted to deal with the broken girl, the grieving girl who wouldn’t leave her room, who was suspended from work and then released. Had it not been for Kipps and someone else, someone very important and influential, you probably would have kept wandering in that darkness forever.

Not wanting to see the pity on Lockwood’s face, you sort your things and move towards the shower, pushing the flowery curtains aside.

After a moment, Lockwood’s voice comes again from the door. “You might want to wait until Lucy’s done upstairs if you don’t want to use the shower George and I use,” he says, but it sounds a little wrong as if those aren’t the words he wants to say but doesn’t know how to get the right ones out.

Wondering what it is he can’t say, you reply without thinking, “It’s OK. I had a brother, I don’t mind sharing with boys.”

Lockwood is very still for a moment. His face has changed. “Had?”

Only then your brain registers what you’ve said. You keep your expression blank when you look at him. “Mind if I take one of your towels?”

Lockwood answers your look alike. Something passes between you in that moment, but you don’t have the words, or insight into him, to understand what it is. He slips past you and pushes a pile of towels off the toilet seat with the tip of his slippers. “Not those. They’re George’s.”

From a bottom drawer, he pulls out a fresh towel. “Here, I, ah … hope you don’t mind.” He hands it to you and immediately, you notice it smells like him—lavender soap and clean cotton. A little like … sunlight. Clean and warm. You quickly snatch it from his hands and turn your face away, afraid he can see what you think.

When there’s nothing left to say, he shuffles out of your way. “Well then, good luck.”

You snort. “With taking a shower?”

“Imagine slipping and breaking your neck on a shower tile. I wouldn’t want a Visitor like that in my house.”

“Fair point.”

He gives a little awkward smile.

You feel the corner of your mouth twitch.

Lockwood pulls the door shut behind him, and you wait until you hear him disappear downstairs before you peel out of your sweat-stinking top and sliced pants. The water is hot on your skin but a welcome change. During those ten minutes your head is blissfully empty and silent, granting you a moment of respite as you focus on how the hot drops pelt on your skin. After another ten minutes, you step out before they assume you managed to drown like a turkey.

You quickly scrub yourself dry and slip into some comfortable clothes. It’s a wonder what a little cleaning up and a set of fresh clothes can do to make you feel like a normal human again. Now, if Karim’s food tastes as good as it smells, you might sleep like a baby tonight.

The steam follows in wispy tendrils out onto the floor when you open the door. The sound of clattering dishes and voices draws you downstairs where you pause at the kitchen’s entrance, unsure if you should step in. It feels as though you’re about to intrude into their sacred space—their safe haven.

Before you can think of sneaking off and getting take-out, Lockwood spots you. He’s taken off his tie and opened the first buttons of his shirt. When he moves, you see the elegant curves of his collarbones, like the frail wings of a small bird. “Come on in,” he says. “You’ll love George’s cooking.”

You blink, dazed. Step in. The smell of exotic spices engulfs you. Your mouth waters at the sight of the colourful dishes—fresh tomato and onion salad, fluffy steaming rice, an assorted cutting board with nuts, olives, feta cheese and Gouda. It is a feast fit for royalty.

As they settle around the table, you take the seat at the other side of Lockwood. Someone’s already piled an enormous mountain of rice with a beautiful golden chicken leg on top on your plate. You prepare your stomach with some strong herbal tea and freshly backed garlic naan before you dive for the main course. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten a home-cooked meal, not to mention something this delicious.

“So, what did you guys find?” George asks with his mouth full. “I doubt she’d be here otherwise.”

You hardly care about his flippant attitude—not with the savoury, and slightly spicy rice dancing on your taste buts. So you just slide over the coin towards the table’s centre. Three heads lean forward. You keep chewing, blissfully relishing in the taste and texture.

“George, do you know what kind of coin that is?” Lucy asks, her lips curled around a straw as she drinks orange juice.

He picks it up, a piece of naan tucked between his teeth. In an instant, he is out of his chair and moves out of your sight. You hear a door to your right swing open, leading down to the cellar, you think, as you watch George disappear downstairs. The few minutes he’s gone you spent in polite silence, too engrossed in eating your way through the assorted finger food plates George has prepared. When he returns, he’s already inspecting the coin through a bronze magnifying glass.

“It’s not a coin, for starters,” George says. “I think it’s a … a badge? But the pins broke off, that’s why you mistook it for a coin.”

“And the symbol?” Lockwood leans closer to George, exhibiting more interest in the small object than his dinner plate. You’re already halfway done with yours. “Any idea what it could be?”

George chews on his bottom lip. “Hard to say. I mean, the symbols by themselves are pretty clear. The infinity symbol was first used mathematically in the 17th century, but it’s much, much older, dating back to Viking Age. In modern mysticism, it’s become identified with a variation of the ouroboros, that’s my closest guess. The cross is a lot more straightforward, but I doubt you want to listen to me going into Christianity in front of your salads.”

“You think you’ll have more luck finding something in the Archives?”

“The problem’s not the lack of books on symbology—it’s the opposite. It’ll take weeks to go through all and find what we might need. And for whatever reason there are even more in the restricted section; I know because Bobby Vernon doesn’t shut up about it whenever he thinks he has to be especially annoying.”

“I’m surprised he can reach the door handle.” Lockwood pauses, eyebrows furrowed. “And we’ve got no luck yet getting the access permit for our agency.”

Lucy leans over and helps herself to more rice. “Any specific reasons why?”

Lockwood scowls, and quickly glances your way. “It seems that we are too small an agency to have access to the restricted sections,” he explains, clearly unhappy.

Lucy presses her lips into a flat line. George keeps his eyes on the badge, his free hand draws the same symbol on the table cloth, his food forgotten for the moment.

“I could always ask Kipps to task Bobby to find out what this is,” you offer. “Kipps, remember him? The guy you were supposed to work with on this case.”

“It is easy to forget him, why with his little to no contribution to pretty much anything,” George replies.

Lockwood clears his throat. “Well, since technically the case is solved because we’ve contained the source, I don’t necessarily need him.” He pokes around his plate. “And since he’s paid his debt to me, I’d prefer not owing him in return.”

You shake your head. Men and their fragile ego. “In that case, I might have something for you.” You grab a handful of nuts from a small bowl and move to the hallway. Your kit is still where you’ve left it and a quick search gets you what you need.

Back in the kitchen, you flick the library pass in front of George, and relish in noticing his standoffish attitude wiped away by genuine surprise for a moment.

“Rotwell has its own research department for cases,” you explain. “We field agents don’t get access to the restricted areas, but someone didn’t pay attention when I applied. I’ve always had permission to enter.”

George touches the edges of the little plastic card as though it is a golden credit card. “You mean, I can just take it? And use it?” There’s a sparkle in his eyes, vibrant and strong and very much infectious.

“Unless you want me to ask Bobby—”

George beams at Lockwood. “I’ll go to the Archives first thing tomorrow.”

“There seems to be just one problem,” Lucy points out, tapping the plastic card with a black-polished finger. “Unless you’ve got a surprise prepared for us, George, you are not a girl.”

Everyone looks at your name in bright red letters on the card.

George scoffs. “Gender is just a social construct—”

“Luce, go with George and see if you two can find anything about that symbol,” Lockwood says. “Be discreet and cautious; don’t let anyone know what you’re looking into. Maybe you’ll find additional info on the case we have tomorrow. You know, the one for that man who looks like a rat. Best take your kit with you.”

Lucy hesitates for a moment, sharing a quick glance with George. “What are you going to do?”

Lockwood’s eyes find yours—you’ve had an idea about how to proceed next when he offered you to stay at Portland Row. Knowing what will come puts a damp on your appetite.

“We could go back to where we found the key,” Lockwood says to your surprise—something completely different than you have expected. “See if there’s anything where it could fit.”

“Who gave you the job?” you ask. “I want to know more about that Visitor. What do you know about him?”

“Nothing.” George goes back to wolfing down his food.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Lockwood repeats severely.

“You’re joking.”

“Last time I checked, we’re agents,” Lockwood says mildly. “Not comedians.”

“Kipps would usually say you’re more like clowns.”

Lockwood clears his throat. “It was supposed to be an easy job. Secure the source, stop the Visitor. DEPRAC had the job available for agencies but everybody gave up on it at one point. We read the file, so we knew what would wait for us. It got to one Dullop and Tweed operative, ghost-locked him. Another one died, unlucky fellow.” For a moment, Lockwood pauses and watches a drop of condensation run on the inside of his orange juice glass. “The client’s the Abbey Mills Pumping Station. About five months ago, they started undergoing reparations on their flooded C Station Pump House. We think that’s what laid the Source bare, it must have been submerged in the water until they started draining the station because that’s when the workers began reporting a permanent chill in one area. They started avoiding that area owning to feelings of faint depression and nausea, followed by strong miasma, ghost-chill, the feeling of being followed and watched while working. Some felt horrible anger towards their colleagues. Up to the point where they would be consumed by it, started beating each other with spanners and shovels. They found the first victim drowned, though it wasn’t clear if it was another employee or the ghost’s fault. Gave DEPRAC quite a headache, figuring out it’s a ghost problem, then finding an agency that can find the source. They dubbed him the Phantom of the Sewage Cathedral.”

You pull up your nose. “Quiet a title. That Visitor must have died there then,” you wager. “Have you checked the station’s accident log?”

“Of course not, we’re bloody amateurs,” George says drily. You bite back a sharp retort. “Nothing in the log stood out. Of course it had its fair share of accidents. It finished construction in 1868 and we all know they didn’t care much for worker’s safety back then. But during the flooding two years ago, there we no fatal accidents. No one died. And when we located the Source, there was no body.”

“You think the key got in there at some point? From where?”

George shrugs. “Anywhere? The pumping station lifts sewage from the London sewerage system into the Northern Outfall Sewer and the Lee Tunnel, which both run to Beckton Sewage Treatment Works. They key also doesn’t look like it’d fit anywhere in the pumping station. I assume it’s older than that. I’m talking 16th-century older.”

“But the thing is,” Lucy says, her hands pressed flat against the table. Her eyes are wide open, glinting. “The ghost we saw is nowhere near that old. The clothes he’s wearing are from the modern era, and he wasn’t decomposed or rotting. I don’t think he’s been dead for that long. It’s sad, isn’t it? He died and to this day, nobody knows he’s gone … nobody is looking for him.”

“Yes, yes, very unfortunate.” Lockwood waves her concern away with an impatient wave of his hand. “I am more concerned for the living though. Not only have we a dangerous Visitor on us. Whoever is looking for the key isn’t afraid of using violence to get it.”

“Maybe the ghost would find his peace if only someone brought him justice,” Lucy shoots back. You notice the anger flashing in her eyes when she looks at Lockwood, hear the impatience in his voice when he brushes her concern for the ghost off like that. Interesting.

“That’s not much to go on,” you say into the silence of Lucy and Lockwood glaring at each other. Your eyes trail around the kitchen, set on the window. Through it you see part of the garden, unkempt and overgrown. Somehow you can’t imagine them sitting out there and drinking apple juice from the apple trees, Lucy in a floaty knee-length skirt and sandals, and Lockwood with a blue cotton shirt, an enormously baggy pair of shorts with flowers on them, and sneakers. “We don’t have a name, no history, and the Visitor might not have any connection to where you found his source.” You chew slowly, cogs turning in your head. When your eyes catch George’s, he is watching you, calm but with intention. You lower your spoon, appetite ebbing away.

“Oh, but we do have one last thing that might help us.” George leans forward, brown eyes gleaming behind his spotless glasses. His face is predatory but his voice is gentle. “Our psychic Talents.”

The bottom falls out of your stomach. It’s like putting a foot wrong on a frozen creek, the crack of ice, the sudden stop, the knowledge that there is nothing beneath but dark water.

“So that’s why you guys really want me here.” Your accusation bears no malice, just the chill and composition of a sniper routinely loading a rifle before making her hit. “Did it ever cross your mind I might say no?”

George falls back into his chair, a deceptively relaxed posture but from the way he flexes his hands on the table it looks as though he’s gearing up for a fight. “It’s the best lead we got. A psychic connection to the ghost might give us a hint on who murdered—”

“We know who murdered him,” you snap. “The same person who wants to put me six feet under next.”

“Would be the logical conclusion, but we’ve made the same mistake once. It’s never that simple.”

“George.” That’s Lockwood’s voice, calm yet firm. You wouldn’t describe his posture like George’s, slouching in his seat; Lockwood is leaning back, fingers steepled. He holds your gaze, purposefully, and you have to look away from its intensity. “No more experiments with psychic connections, we agreed to that.” His brown eyes slide lazily toward Lucy who has her mouth open in what seems like protest, but immediately closes it. For a moment you think her gaze sets on the ceiling as though there is something beyond the brick and mortar, an area or room in this house that would underline her point.

The question mark must be evident on your face. “My speciality is Listening,” Lucy explains. “Touch amplifies it sometimes, but I didn’t get much except sounds from the key, rapid footsteps, shouting, a gunshot—”

“Yeah,” you quickly say before the tang of stale water and foul soil can spread on your tongue. You try and wash it down with tea, welcoming the scalding heat in your mouth. Absently, you rub the spot on your chest where you know the Visitor was shot. “Yeah, I know, it’s uh … not a pleasant source.”

“I’d like to deal with a pleasant source for once,” George mumbles. He’s finished his plate, fingers tapping now on the edge of the table. He flicks impatient looks at Lockwood, who pretends not to notice. “So basically, the only thing we can do now is trying to find something in the Archives, at least regarding that symbol. Oh, and hoping whoever’s after that key doesn’t break in here next. That would be annoying, since it wouldn’t be the first time, and I’m quite fond of our new rug.”

“I know what you’re trying, George,” Lockwood says, with the annoyance of a man who’s already said this often enough, and who also wants to move past this specific topic but can’t. “If this were our last resort, I still wouldn’t force her—or anyone to do something this dangerous.” He’s crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed. The fact that he’s mindful of your discomfort using your Talent comes as a genuine surprise.

“You didn’t seem to mind the first time I did it,” you throw in, watching him intently. Lockwood’s shoulders draw together.

“Technically, it was Kipps who brought you in,” he says. “I do want this case solved, but I am against getting involved with ghosts in any way.” His eyes rest on Lucy for a moment, heavy and contemplative. She makes an impressive job of not meeting his gaze.

You look down at your hands as though the answer of all your problems lies within your gloved palms. Either you stick to Lockwood’s plan, keep your hands away from the key, or you stop running from your own Talent. If what you interpret correctly between the unsubtle allusions of Lockwood, Lucy’s Talent doesn’t appear to be your run-off-the-mill Listening either.

A muscle in your jaw clenches, as though you’re chewing on your words before you speak. Finally, you breath, “OK. Let me do it.”

Lockwood stirs in his seat. “You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I hate sitting around and doing nothing even more.”

“All right,” he says slowly. “That means you two stick to the plan and go to the Archives tomorrow. I’ll meet up with you down at the factory for our case.” Lucy and George nod. Lockwood turns to your next. “And you and me will try and see what else the Visitor can show us.”

“Are you sure it’s going to be OK with just you two?” Lucy asks.

“We should start right after dawn breaks,” you say, “when the ghost is at his weakest. What can go wrong?” It will turn out later the answer to that is simple: everything.

taglist: @helpmelmao, @simrah1012, @chloejaniceeee, @fox-bee926, @frogserotonin, @obsessed-female, @avelinageorge, @quacksonhq, @wordsarelife, @bilesxbilinskixlahey, @che-che1, @breadbrobin, @anxiousbeech, @charmingpatronus, @starcrossedluvr, @yourunstablegf, @grccies, @sisyphusmymuse, @ettadear, @a-candle-maker

#lockwood show #lockwood books #lockwood & co #l&c #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood netflix #lockwood and co reader #reader isnert #lockwood and co reader insert #phill.l&c

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icequeenbae · 1 year

Text

Winter Outside (m) BBH

Part of Series: Love Coach [Lev.1] (m)

Full Masterlist: Love Coach series masterlist

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

ITnerd!Baekhyun, established relationship, slice of life, fluff domestic af, smut

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, s o f t

Word Count: ~1.8k

Author’s Note: Well HELLO my dear sweetheartsss~ I know I took a while BUT I am finally coming with an early Christmas gift to all of you LoveCoach!Baek lovers!! Trust me, it was worth waiting for winter to get this 🔥😊 Also yay for the 500+ of you following my crazy little blog, I'm very happy to welcome each and every one of you here. Lots of other things coming, so stick around and let's go along this journey together 💕 Also just 1.5 months until Baek comes back, what in the world am I gonna do?? Spontaneously combust??

P. S. This story is part of series tagged above. I recommend starting with the series, however, you can probably enjoy this as a separate piece:)

Summary: Working from home would be much more comfortable if it wasn’t so damn cold in your apartment. But there’s two of you, and multiple ways to keep warm.

Network Tags: @superm-net @bbh-net @exo-writers-net

‘It’s not working, why isn’t it working?’ You grumbled, kicking the small heater with the tip of your fluffy house slipper.

An ‘ouch’ followed, and Baekhyun lifted his head to watch you jump on one foot.

‘Baby,’ he scolded, readjusting his computer glasses. ‘I told you, it’s out for good. The new one will arrive tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow is a day too late! I’m going to freeze to death today,’ you exclaimed, still eyeing the non-functioning machine. ‘I haven’t been this useless since my intern years. We’ve spent what, half a day trying to fix this thing? Ugh!’

Turning around, you met his grinning eyes.

‘It’s not funny,’ you pouted, still stepping closer to him, as if he had a magnetic field around him. ‘You know I hate when it’s too cold.’

‘I know.’ He confirmed, lifting the heavy duvet off of his shoulder to invite you to his little cave. ‘You’ve been groaning all day.’

‘Damn right!’ You huffed, diving forward and sinking into his side just as he wrapped the comforter around you. ‘Oh my god, you’re so warm…’

He grunted as you curled into him, icy fingers digging into his waist.

‘Agh- do you have any blood flow in there?’ He nagged, putting his laptop down to cover your hands with his warm palms.

‘No,’ you mumbled, nuzzling the crook of his neck.

The ice-cold tip of your nose gave him a start.

‘Jesus, Y/N! Why are you all frozen already?’

You bellyached, digging deeper into his body in a quest for revitalizing warmth.

‘I told you, I can’t deal with these temperatures… And you’re a living heater,’ you added softly, pressing your lips to his hot smooth skin.

‘Y/N…’ Baekhyun sighed, glancing at his laptop. ‘I need to finish something real quick-’

‘No.’

You protested firmly, attaching yourself to him like a giant snuggly koala. The sound you made was probably just as scary.

Your boyfriend’s palm ran up and down your back slowly, and you shivered from the pleasurable sensation.

‘I promise to carry on my service as your heater right after I send out thi-’

‘Baek-hyun-n.’ Your voice was low, and he gulped, looking at his desktop almost in desperation.

The screen reflected in his lenses.

‘But this is important-’

‘Aren’t I important?’ You counterattacked.

It wasn’t that you had no respect for his job. But you knew he was way too responsible, and the prototype he was finishing up was probably due in another week, if not two. He could take his sweet time perfecting it tomorrow, after your heating was back up. Today, however, with your working hours well over, he needed to drop his bone and focus his attention on something else.

‘You’re the most important,’ he responded without hesitation, and you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. ‘But can I just-’

‘I need you,’ you muttered through a pout, and Baekhyun’s cache instantly cleared, all things IT erased at once.

It was a dirty trick, yes, but you didn’t care since your survival was at stake here. If he was the main source of warmth in this house, you weren’t going to share him with his laptop anymore. Letting him ‘finish up’ was out of the question as well. Knowing him… he’d stay on it for hours until he’d be ready to send it to his supervisor.

‘What is it, my little cinnamon bun?’ He snickered as you pinched his side for the mockery.

‘Make me warm,’ you demanded, arms still tight around his waist.

If there was a way to tangle, or melt yourself deeper into him, you would’ve gladly tried it.

Baekhyun shut his work laptop, barely able to move it to the nightstand with you gripping him with all you got. As soon as his precious PC was safely tucked away, his attention was on you again, and you felt his lips press to the crown of your head.

You murmured in response, moving your cheek up to look at him. His gaze met yours with more warmth, and you slowly sat up, braced by his arms. Not saying a word, you lifted your hand up to trace the rim of his glasses before removing them.

Baekhyun licked his lips in meek anticipation and stayed silent. His palms continued stroking your back leisurely, not allowing the cool air outside your cocoon to bite your skin.

You caressed his face before placing a playful smooch onto his cheek, eliciting a giggle. His arms were so snug and comfortable that you almost forgot about the winter outside, breathing his calming scent in and planting more featherlight kisses onto his skin.

‘Mmh, what’s this…’ Baekhyun’s question trailed off as your lips made contact with his, not colliding fully, only teasing.

His face followed yours, trying to gain more contact, and you moved down his jaw to leave a small mark on his sensitive neck. Soon giving into his attempts to catch your mouth, you leaned in for a kiss. An array of goosebumps ran up your spine while his tongue danced with yours. Your kiss was slow, dragged out, and you were almost sinking into this cozy mess of you and him and the thick warm covers around you.

‘B-Baek-hyun…’ You stuttered impatiently, inviting him to take matters into his own hands.

Lying back on the pillows with you still on top of his thighs, he lowered his hands from your back to your hips. You jerked them forward, pleasantly surprised by the flutter of his lashes and the hazy look in his eyes. He was always so quick to be affected.

‘Come ‘ere,’ Baekhyun whispered, and you bent forward to meet his lips again before he took his turn grinding on you.

This time, however, he held your hips steady to increase the friction. You let out a tiny whimper that nearly made him lose his mind. Noticing how strong his grip on you became, you swayed your ass again, amplifying the effect of his movements.

If you were to pay attention, you’d have noticed the instantaneous spike in temperature caused by your heated bodies. But at that moment, you were consumed by the firm grind of your hips and Baekhyun’s panting.

‘Shit,’ you gritted, biting your lip as you noticed the flush in his cheeks. ‘I really want to get down to it… But won’t we get cold without clothes?’

Baekhyun chuckled.

‘You think I won’t make you break a sweat without this hoodie?’ His hands, as if wanting to prove a point, quickly rid you of said clothing item.

Giving him a skeptical look as you fixed your hair afterwards, you shook your head.

‘The tee stays.’

‘As you wish,’ he agreed, coercing you into lying down next to him. ‘But the pants have to go.’

Gasping at the loss of your clothes, you quickly wrapped yourself around your loveable heater.

‘Babe, I need to take them off too…’ Baekhyun murmured as you nuzzled his neck again, trying to collect his warmth.

‘Just roll them down, who cares? I don’t care,’ you muttered, melting as his plump lips examined your skin.

‘Hm? I thought you hated clothed sex,’ he teased, reaching down to get rid of his sweats.

‘Now I’m preserving my life. Otherwise… who’d want to keep clothes on when their boyfriend has a body like that?’

‘Stop teasing,’ Baekhyun pouted, kicking his pants off under the duvet. ‘You know I haven’t been exercising properly while working remotely. And with the delicious food you’ve been feeding me…’

‘So? I’ve gained some weight too. More than ‘some’, even.’

Your hand found his length, making him gasp.

‘Not a fair comparison. It only made you… sexier,’ he sighed, and you snickered.

‘You think I don’t find you sexy?’

Squeezing his already hard cock, you watched him run his hand through his hair frantically. He was so easy.

‘Y/N…’ He latched onto your hip as you pressed his leaking tip to your folds and rubbed it against them languidly.

‘What? Eager to get to your workout?’ Your teasing was then interrupted by his impatient thrust.

Whimpering in surprise, you gripped his forearm to steady yourself. Baekhyun actually liked to start slow, giving you a taste of what those hips could do, and slow worked fine for you. Still wrapped around his waist, you enjoyed the heat of his body and opted to laze about, letting your boyfriend do all the work for tonight.

The position wasn’t the most comfortable, but you endured lying on your side, unwilling to interrupt the flow. Baekhyun’s hand crept under your (actually, his) shirt, exploring the curves of your body vigorously. Closing your eyes, you tensed your leg, pressing him closer to you. This was perfect. You were finally hot rather than cold, and your lover’s sporadic breaths in your ear only made you heat up further.

But Baekhyun had a different plan for you. Pulling you up to get you on top of his thighs, he gripped at your waist to hold you in place while thrusting.

‘Baek-’ You cried out, a sudden clench in your core catching you off guard.

He was getting you there so fast.

‘Fuck-’ He gritted, eyes tightly shut as he rammed into you at full speed.

‘Shit, don’t slow down…’ Whimpering, you went along with his pace, meeting his jerky movements halfway.

‘Agh- damn, Y/N-ie, you need to come right now, or else-’

‘Or what?’ You panted, breath uneven from the hits of his pelvis.

He growled, fucking into you with no mercy now, and you could only gasp for air with your release quickly approaching.

‘A- ah, god!’ You went into high pitch as the heaviness in your lower belly went off with an explosive orgasm.

Baekhyun sighed in relief, watching you get finished off by his hips, and focused on his own sensations. Before you regained understanding of your surroundings, he was holding onto you again and flooding your insides with warmth.

Both of you took the next few minutes to just breathe and wait for the whirlwind inside your bodies to die down. Baekhyun’s hands were back to caressing your spine, and you hummed content with your cheek pressed to his chest and arm hugging his shoulder.

The silence lasted strangely long, but neither of you were disturbed by it. Being in the position you were in now, you couldn’t be bothered to maintain the after-sex conversation.

Finally warm and comfy, you couldn’t help but blink sleepily as you looked up to face him. Baekhyun smiled down at you with that soft smile of his, but then his expression faltered, letting you know he was thinking something naughty.

‘Out of all the ways to keep warm… You chose the best one.’

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading!! I miss replying to your asks and reblogs, so I hope we have fun chatting after you finish this piece ❤️

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shy-urban-hobbit · 7 months

Text

Halloween Lamden!!

CW for harassment.

"I still can't believe that's your idea of a costume." Jaskier said with a shake of his head as he downed yet another shot the bartender handed over to him, courtesy of some fan. It had been a really good set. He'd performed here a few times before and between the Halloween staples of songs such as 'Thriller' and 'Ghostbusters', the owner had been more than happy to let Jaskier perform some seasonal originals he'd been working on and they'd gone down a treat with the revellers.

"I'm wearing shades indoors. It counts." Lambert said, tapping the black frames and grabbing the next shot and downing it before Jaskier could even think to protest, trying not to wince at the overly sweet, fruity concoction. Apparently it was now more likely you were going to wake up after a night out with a cavity rather than a raging hangover.

"Just barely. Everyone else in here made an effort!"

"Too much of an effort in some cases." Lambert smirked moving his head to exaggeratedly look Jaskier up and down as the musician sat fanning himself with one hand, pausing briefly to flash the raven haired man the middle finger.

He'd gone for what he claimed was "Glam rock Dracula" and Lambert was loath to admit he'd made a pretty decent job of pulling it off. A black sequined peasant shirt which made Lambert feel itchy just looking at it, tight leather trousers with black rhinestones down the outside seams, paired with a black faux fur jacket that looked more like feathers from a distance and black platform heels. The look completed by dramatic black and red makeup and foundation pale enough to make his already fair skin look damn near ethereal underneath the club lights, his plastic fangs sitting on the bar next to him (turns out it was a total bitch trying to drink while wearing them).

Geralt and Yennefer had gone the classic Dracula and Bride of Dracula couples costume, with Yennefer meeting Jaskier's joke about people thinking he was their third with a "More like our Igor."

Which caused Jaskier to sulk and pout that "That isn't even the right fucking story, Yen." Lambert was pretty sure she'd gotten it wrong just to annoy the other man.

Eskel had put in an appearance as the wolf man. Complete with torn shirt, monster contacts and fake fur spirit gummed onto the back of his hands. He'd made his exit not long after Jaskier had finished his set, wanting to support his friend but not wanting to stick around. Halloween had never really been his favourite holiday but even less so since his accident. He found masks claustrophobic, prosthetics irritated the scar tissue and people constantly asking him about his "realistic make-up" got old fast. He was content to celebrate by binging on fun sized candy and watching B rated horror movies.

And Lambert? Lambert had thrown on a black muscle shirt along with his black jeans and boots and a pair of shades and just told anybody who asked that he was "His security." Whilst pointing at Jaskier (and ignoring Jaskier's grumblings about how saying he was his Familiar would be more in character whenever he was in earshot). Lambert had nothing against Halloween itself, it just pissed him off whenever he got dragged to anything where fancy dress was mandatory. It just seemed wasteful spending money on clothes and props that'd just get thrown into the back of the closet never to be seen again (at least, that's the excuse his mum had given - among others - whenever he'd asked why they never went to costume parties, or went trick or treating).

Jaskier had become enamoured with a sexy bumblebee who had sidled up to him during the lull in conversation and Geralt and Yennefer had disappeared about ten minutes ago to try and find some dark corner to do whatever the hell people tried to do when both parties were wearing fake fangs, leaving Lambert free to people watch. The DJ who had taken over was seemingly just replaying the classics Jaskier had already sung but at this point in the night people were either too drunk or too hyped to care. He hooked his shades into the neck of his shirt as his eyes wandered over various interpretations of cartoon characters and superheroes - some he recognised, most he didn't - and a handful of what he guessed to be meme references, interspersed with the traditional monster costumes.

He straightened up on his barstool when his eyes fell on one zombie costume in particular, or rather, the man wearing it. He looked pissed as hell and from the looks of it with good reason as he held another guy dressed as a poor man's Phantom of the Opera at arms length with a hand to his skinny chest, scowling as he yelled something while Phantom was looking at him with the kind of sleazy smile that made Lambert's skin crawl and he wasn't even the one it was aimed at. Zombie made to turn and walk away before Phantom grabbed at his hand and reeled him back. Lambert caught a brief flash of fear on Zombie's face before the anger returned as he turned to give a more forceful push this time, Phantom laughing like it was all a big game.

Fuck this.

Lambert's feet had carried him across the dancefloor before his brain had even fully registered what he was doing. He clapped a hand down heavily on Phantom's shoulder, causing both men to pause in their altercation and stare at him, "Let him go and piss off." Lambert growled into the man's ear.

He flashed Lambert what he obviously thought was a charming smile (and what Lambert thought made him look slightly constipated), "What? It's just a misunderstanding, it's all good."

"Not from where I'm standing. He doesn't want you touching him."

Zombie proved his point by using the lapse in concentration to yank his arm free, "That's exactly what I told him right after he groped my ass for the second time." He yelled in an accent Lambert couldn't quite place, sharp white teeth flashing from under black painted lips.

"C'mon man, you know how the game goes." He petitioned Lambert like they were old college buddies or something, "He's just playing hard to get."

Zombie looked about two seconds away from clawing this guys eyes out and Lambert was tempted to let him. Instead he threw him a warning look which, to his surprise, the other heeded. Didn't stop him from trying to kill the douche with the power of his stare though.

"Look pal, either you leave here on your own two feet, or I drag you by that three dollar cape and throw your ass out onto the kurb myself. Your choice."

"What the fuck? Who the fuck even are you man?"

Lambert smirked dangerously at him, "Security."

Phantom floundered for a few seconds before looking angrily back at Zombie, as if this were somehow his fault, "Whatever. Frigid bitch." And then to Lambert, "This place sucks anyway."

"Oh my god, thank you." He sighed, taking the empty stool next to the one Lambert reoccupied. Now that he wasn't distracted, Lambert saw that he was fairly dark skinned under the ashy makeup. His tight fitting jeans and shirt were artfully ripped and torn in a way that might be called stylish if they weren't covered in fake gore and mud, someone had covered his tightly curled hair in what looked like talc and something else to give the illusion of grave dirt, one of his eyes was clouded but Lambert was unsure whether that was part of the costume or genuine and he wasn't about to ask, "My knight in....black cotton, apparently."

"No problem. Would've happily punched him in the face if I knew it wouldn't escalate shit. You ok?"

Zombie laughed, "I was about three seconds away from doing that myself before you stepped in. You saved me from having to grovel to my brother after getting blacklisted by another club."

Lambert raised an eyebrow, there was a story there.

"Hey, what time does your shift end? I'd like to buy you a drink. Nothing weird." They quickly added, holding both hands up, "Just as a thanks."

"Oh, I don't work here." Lambert said, leaning on the bartop.

Zombie's brow scrunched in confusion, "But, you told that guy you're security. And the outfit-"

"Is the worst costume ever!" Jaskier exclaimed, leaning forwards on his own stool to peer around at whoever Lambert was talking to, "My Security is not a valid costume option."

Zombie tilted his head as he appraised Jaskier's outfit, "If you're supposed to be a vampire, wouldn't Familiar be more accurate anyway?"

Jaskier grinned so widely and smugly his fangs almost fell back onto the bar top, "Hah! Vindication! I like you..."

"Aiden."

"Aiden. I'm Jaskier and Mr. No - Imagination here is Lambert if he's not told you already. Now, what's this I heard about punching somebody?"

Jaskier's face grew darker as the other two filled him in and he had to be talked out of marching into the back to the main office to chew out the acting manager about their "fucking non existent security." before getting helpfully distracted by another sexy insect (a butterfly this time).

Lambert felt oddly touched at Aiden's concern over him getting into trouble for impersonating club staff - a worry that was put to bed by Lambert pointing out with a shrug and a bucketful of mock innocence that even if anybody found out; he'd just told the creep that he was security, he never said who's exactly. Not Lambert's fault if the guy just assumed he worked here. Aiden had laughed at that and bought Lambert another drink.

"I should get going." Aiden said, finishing the last of his drink (the third they'd shared), "I need to make sure I'm up early enough to get revenge on the siblings who abandoned me here. Although." He flashed Lambert a shy smile. Totally different from the wide, dimpled things he'd been sporting for the last couple of hours and one that for some reason made Lambert's stomach flip, "Perhaps I should be thanking them instead."

Lambert poured all of his concentration into not blushing while he downed his own drink to prevent his mouth from coming out with something stupid.

Aiden pulled something out of his wallet, scrawling on it with what Lambert thought might be the stub of an eyeliner pencil fished from his pocket, "Here." He held out a small rectangle Lambert recognised as a business card, "I'd really like to talk to you again when I'm not covered in three layers of face paint and fake blood. Call me?"

Lambert nodded, their fingers brushing as he took the card, "I'll text you my number. You ok getting home?"

Aiden's smile widened adorably as he nodded, "Different sibling lives two streets away and I have a key. I'll see you around." Aiden held a hand up in a final farewell before making his way to the exit and disappearing in the crowd of departing party goers.

Lambert gave a private smile as he absently flipped the card over and saw Aiden's little hand written "Happy Halloween, Knight." complete with a little doodle of a smiley ghost. He dug his phone out to text the number on the other side. Happy Halloween indeed.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #lambden #aiden x lambert #aiden/lambert #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert

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abnormary · 6 months

Text

MODERN AU NORTALICE

Quick Disclaimer- Hi sorry for not posting in 2 years I've jumped around a bunch of fandoms and if you followed me for A3! content there probably won't be any more of that as the EN server shut down and I don't feel like reading TLs forever.

I posted this on all my platforms, but I needed to get all my thoughts out of my head on this AU. I am still in the design process, and I will probably redesign the characters more for this AU, but the jist of it is that Alice moved to the big city. Living away from the rest of society as she grew up in a rural area, she wanted to move to the big city and chase the big dream of becoming famous. She currently works for a tabloid company and has to act like a paparazzi to get some new material for work. When she finds out that an old diner was getting demolished to make room for a mysterious figure to rebuild over it, she wants all the inside scoop to be ahead of her competitors and co-workers.

She stalked outside the demolition crew's fence and waited until she could chase after someone who had just finished off their shift. Though she waited longer than she thought, she stayed there waiting longer than she would've stayed if she was just in the office. Many construction workers and demolition crew passed by her, but most terrified her as they didn't have the friendliest expressions or had no desire to be a part of such a thing. As she was about to give up, she noticed that there was a man she'd seen working a bit earlier by peaking through the fence. What stood out to her was the scar over the man's eye and the "piercing" on his nose.

He seemed the least scary to her visually, (and potentially the only one that would be willing to talk to her cause all the other ones tend to walk off immediately.) so she mustered up the courage to go over to him while he was on a lunch break. He just stared at the blond awkwardly as she greeted him, her previously neat and tidy ponytail was now messy due to the heat. He almost mistook her for a solicitor and was just planning to never respond and wait for her to eventually back off, but he realized how desperate she seemed for this interview and felt bad for her.

He understood, in a way, how much she needed the interview, as he also had to do what he could to make ends meet. I'd like to think that Alice would stop by every week and soon make excuses to come by every other day to talk to him. She wouldn't realize at first that she fell for the guy she just wanted information from, making excuses that she just made extra lunch that happened to include some bread he mentioned he liked eating once.

Norton would try returning her favors by trying to make something; though it wasn't the best, Alice always appreciated them. Soon, her visits to ask for inside information about the construction and demolition company turned into an "I just wanted to visit a friend." I'd like to think Alice was the one who pulled the official first date move by asking him if he'd like to go to a local cafe sometime and him being too oblivious and overthinking her asking him to the cafe, then realizing what she meant when she brought him a flower and a mole keychain I put on his toolbag in the drawing.

Norton would eventually ask her out officially after a while, and Alice would ask, "Are we not already dating?"

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mushroommushy · 1 year

Note

Please please tell me your ideas I will be so normal about it I am not at all desparate for Broken Masquerade content

Boy I have so many ideas I actually need to put this in a draft to list all of the brainrot things I’ve had circling in my head!! This does include some negative things so feel free for me to ask to tag.

All of the colleges (Particularly Harvard) adding Thaumaturgy to their classes is extremely cool in the canon and I think there should be many more schools

Site-43 College beloved I want to go there so badly please be real c’mon :[

Those Facebook mom groups…oh boy there’s so much drama

Lord help all the poor kids with minor anomalous power

Segregation with schools, even restaurants

A lot of anomalies end up in homeless shelters because not many jobs are willing to take the backlash of anomalous employees

Shitty parents faking their kid having a dangerous anomaly so they can send them away

Because they think the foundation would just kill them because of all the propaganda

You know that the cults are gonna take advantage of this to try and grow their numbers

Chaos Insurgency propaganda against the foundation

A flag that shows your support for the foundation, GOC, anomalies hanging outside your home

New Genders from the tumblrinas like us

Twitter DNI’s are a genuine hell

‘DNI IF YOU SUPPORT SCP’S/THREAT ENTITIES/OBJECTS’

‘Block me if you call anomalies SCP’s that’s a slur’

Speaking of slurs there’s probably a lot more

COTBG members constantly calling the Nälkan’s Sarkics just to piss them off

And Maxwellium members getting real pressed over internet drama

Someone trying to make the nicknames the Serpents Hand has into a slur

Dr. Glass walking down the street and just has someone scream ‘JAILER’ at him and he is desperately trying to not commit a crime

Also Twitter being Twitter

‘Is it wrong to kin SCP-076-2? I’d murder too if I was under the ocean.’

Extremely dangerous TikTok trends involving anomalies that makes both the GOC and SCP have collective heart attacks

Some girl posts a video from a foundation site doing Macarena during a breach and is just immediately cancelled on every platform

You know there’s gonna be dumbass teenagers trying to find some real dangerous shit to seem cool

‘Oh a lake full of bodies that makes you enter through mind control??? Sounds cool and not totally dangerous I’m gonna find it and go swimming’

Gonna readmore this it’s getting long lol

Five missing teens later the foundations getting slandered even though they did nothing

Articles with the ‘How to tell if ‘X’ is an anomaly’

Of course they’re bullshit and usually offensive

Charities to support anomalies

An actual cult around 2662 that didn’t spawn anomalously

You fucking know that the Christian’s will either take 343 well or absolutely horrifically

There’s also two sides of people when it comes to Cain and Able

The ones who hate Cain and think Able is reasonable and the people who think the opposite

Cain’s also not allowed to leave site-17 for more than just the fact he’d kill plant life it’s for his own safety tbh

Meri does get chances to wander the woods! Just..not in public because they rampage that would happen with the amount of broken phones and cars would be horrible

Iris gets to go home because she deserves it

I feel like Gerald would become a meme in general and people pay his hospital bills for him lmao

Parents keeping their kids out of school and switching to online or homeschooling to keep them away from anomalies

Conversion camps to send your kid to so people can ‘release them from their curse’

Those got the serpents hand real heated

Speaking of them they have the snarkiest Twitter account ever and just roast the living hell out of every word that comes out of the foundations mouth

Podcasts

So many fucking podcasts

There already is a writing on the broken masquerade hub of the foundation making a video with outdated slang to appeal to kids

But I think Dr. Gears should just stare at a camera and say swag with a straight face it would be beautiful

Kondraki, Clef and Gears get called dilfs and not a single one of them knows what it means

‘Kain’s the goodest boy’ even though he’s morally corrupt as fuck is very common

But he will Fuckin run if you even try to touch him he does not need his fur messes up

Ok I don’t want this to be a mile long so I’ll stop here but!!!

If you want more dm me so we can talk 👀👀👀 I need SCP friends

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thejockout · 6 months

Text

Update: It's been a while!

Hey all. Been quite a bit since I've been active here; lot of life stuff going on that's contributed to that, but most of it's resolved now and I'm planning a pretty active return to the scene imminently. I've got some announcements on that front that I'll try to keep brief, but I think anyone who's enjoyed my content in the past will be happy to hear them.

First and foremost, I'm going to be returning to file-making soon (end of 2023 or early 2024) with regularly scheduled releases. (My precise schedule is TBD, but I'm aiming to be release either once weekly or once fortnightly depending on how much of a backlog I can create.) I've got ideas/concepts for 20 files written out atm which would amount to either 5 months of weekly releases/10 months of fortnightly releases once written and recorded. But obviously some of those ideas might not work so well in practice/I'll obviously come up with new ones along the way too, so that number's in flux. I'm going to try to write and record ten before launching any of them, so that I don't leave a huge gap between them again. But I think you guys'll like them, there's something for everyone in what I'm planning to make. There'll be content like what I've made before, but sfw and nsfw, attending a variety of kinks I'm into.

Included in these releases are going to be updated versions of my more popular, previous files. At the moment, the files I am planning to remake are Chill Out, Bro; Blink's Good Boy; All Pups are Good Pups; and The Bigger You Are. Some of these I want to remake for reasons of audio quality, but others I straight up want to rewrite portions of to bring them more up to my current standards. I've run out of space on Soundcloud and a premium account is expensive, so I'm racking my brain for a better storage alternative. At the moment, Soundgasm is an OK backup, but I'm also considering just straight up trying Youtube/Tumblr's own audio system/Patreon's audio system on a free basis to see if they work alright. Speaking of which...

To support this expanded venture, I'm also going to be opening a Patreon + selling specific, exclusive files either by subscription to said Patreon or via platforms like Gumroad and other appropriate audio file vendors. I don't plan for all my content to be locked behind a paywall, of course. I'm planning some kind of dual channel release system where I have a certain amount of files that will be free, and then others behind subscription. But for those who don't like the idea of monthly subs, I'll be putting my Patreon-exclusive files on a third party purchase platform like Gumroad, Ko-Fi, or another suitable alternative. I appreciate that all my files previously having been free will make this annoying to some, but I am flat baroque... and realistically, each file being 4-10 hours of work (dependent on complexity) means that I really want to be seeing SOME income from this if I'll be putting a lot of time in. That's why at current, the final announcement I'm making is that:

I am now taking commissions. I've done 3 commissions in total at this point and had been keeping quiet about it while I didn't know what I was doing with the Jockout account generally, but I am now available to write and record custom hypnosis files for listeners. I'm hesitant to provide a flat rate because the cost of a file usually does come down to its complexity/length, but somewhere in the ballpark of 50-80 dollars is what I'm currently valuing the time spent on a file at, unless you want something crazy simple or crazy complicated that'll price outside that range. I'm in a Euro territory, so 50 dollars amounts to about 4 hours of minimum wage work here, which is pretty low for the amount of time a good file takes; but I appreciate that high barriers to entry are going to put people off, and I feel that way myself when commissioning. You can DM me here if you want to discuss a commission idea.

All in all, I'm pretty excited with what I hope will be the future trajectory of my page. I'm having fun learning more about hypnosis/exploring new ideas in writing, and I hope you'll all enjoy the fruits of that too! 'Til next time :)

#hypnokink #gay hypnosis #hypnosis

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fox-guardian · 1 month

Note

hii i lost the post and didn't copy the numbers but

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

and, What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

for both lila and redd <3

Lila would tell people she loves performing and being Dramatique all the time, which is mostly true, but she also wants to have space where she can just. take a break sometimes. not put on a performance in front of every person she knows to be accepted/cared about. she doesn't want to put her whole lilussy into everything all the time, she'd like to give the lilussy a rest. she hasn't fully realized how much she wants this, but she does.

Redd tells people he's perfectly 100% content living in the woods with minimal contact to the outside world, when believe it or not This Is Not Good For Him and he actually would like some company. making friends just stresses him out. but the isolation is eating at him if you can imagine.

idk if this counts but Lila dislikes getting in and out of vehicles. She wears a lot of short skirts and also platform heels and she is already So Tall. she can barely fit inside and as she tries to do so, she would also prefer to not give everyone a panty shot every day. she keeps trying to find new and more bizarre ways to enter and exit her roommates' collective minivan that don't involve spreading your legs or having to step up so high. yes she tries to sit down first and pull her legs in but she keeps hitting her head on the roof of the fucking van because she's So Tall, so she's still researching.

Redd hates grocery shopping. grocery stores are awful and there's too many people there and sometimes he even gets mistaken for an employee and then it's even worse. it's also one of the few remaining things he needs to leave his house for. his sister and aunts insist on him not making use of grocery delivery services because Redd You Need To Leave The Woods Sometimes, This Is Not Helping Your Social Anxiety but he insists he doesn't need to. no social interaction = no social anxiety right?? right. this is fine.

#fg's answers #asks #ask game #lila and redd #cursing #this one was Hard lol

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collectivecloseness · 1 year

Text

What’s More Important

Kurt Kunkle x reader

(Summary: Kurt’s fans can be toxic bullies half the time, and when it becomes too much for you and you pull away from his content, Kurt doesn’t understand. He especially doesn’t understand why the two of you have to argue. Notes: reuploaded from my ao3. Arguing, hurt/comfort, angst. F!reader. 10.4k.)

“Kurt please, I don’t wanna talk about this again.” You begged your boyfriend, you’d practically been pleading the entire ride home from work. And here you were, on the staircase to your apartment, still squandering with Kurt as you tried desperately for him to put the camera down.

“Y/n this is good content!” Kurt tried to get you to realise, his camera was mostly on his face, had been since he’d parked his car outside your building, but he was still capturing everything audio wise like a soldier. It wasn’t always to his benefit though.

“What? Us fighting?”

“We’re not fighting.” Kurt told you, a tired look coming across his face along with a concerned furrow of his brows.

You tried to pacify him. You knew he hated fighting, especially from what he’d told you about his parents, and the last time you’d raised his voice near him, even though it was to the asshole over his shoulder who was making a very rude gesture at him, he’d frozen in place and had to have your arm around his shoulders the whole mute way home to avoid any tears slipping.

You sighed, more tired than he was, he was always so energetic for his ‘fans’. Ever since the video of your first kiss took off. It was also the start of your problems. The start of people nitpicking at your every move. “I know we’re not sweetheart, but can you please, for the umpteenth time, turn that stupid camera off?”

You knew he wouldn’t. And the defiant protective grip of his phone just made a bubble of anger fuel in your chest. He gave a long worried look to his machine, to his fans, ‘what would his fans think?’ you mocked his thoughts. Sometimes you could get really sick of his antics, he was just so... stubborn!

“Fine.” You jolted your keys in your door, Kurt tapping twice on his screen to flip his camera to your front door, you were surprised he hadn’t accidentally doxxed you yet. “No cameras in my home though.” With that you closed the door on his surprised face, just leaning against your wall for support as you rubbed your fists achingly into your eyes. In the dark myriad of shapes and colours all you saw were those comments though. Instagram, youtube, tiktok, twitch you name it. On every platform people had called out how annoying, or ugly, or stupid, or unfunny, or just downright pathetic you were. And whether they were comments left on moments long past, or live bleating words to the public as you walked into a restaurant with your boyfriend and his device, not ever did Kurt really tell his fans to shut the fuck up.

Sure he’d bitten back a little. At your first really crude comment, he’d raised his hand a little to the camera, before bouncing it back on his steering wheel. “H-hey guys th-not cool. This-we’re a place of love here.”

The most you’d ever gotten was a “please tone it down respectfully in the chat.” Or a grumble of how he’d have to get mods some time soon as he turned left. And sure you didn’t expect him to just turn on his entire fan base, but not once had he yelled at them that they were crossing a line, or that they were wrong.

Worst of all it seemed he’d begun calling them out less and less. Not that you wanted the attention of course, and you knew Kurt had a knack of getting it, when he wanted to (which was usually most of the time) and sometimes even when he didn’t, you’d had to practically ban Kurt from his YouTube account one day when he kept responding to someone who you had to convince him was a troll just trying to rile him up. But Kurt had seemed to have gotten used to the ‘ocassional’ badmouthing of you. Not you though. He was constantly in the internet’s eye, and you’d been in his content less and less, not even posting yourself really any more, so maybe he didn’t see it as much, but you thought the amount of hate you got was drowning, and ever constant. Not that he seemed to notice. You banged the back of your head against your wall. Or care.

“Y/n? Please let me in? My-the stream’s over okay?”

You sucked the air harshly through your teeth, twisting to grip your hand against the doorknob. “I swear to God if there’s a camera in my face when I open this door.” But luckily there wasn’t. Just Kurt, stuffing his phone back into a green jacket pocket, and shrugging into his shoulders defensively. “Can I come in now?” His sad gamer boy eyes met yours and you knew he didn’t want you to kick him out. Kick him away.

You nodded satisfied. Moving back to allow your boyfriend into your apartment, both of you quickly heading to your room where you usually hung out. Neither of you sat though.

“Chat missed you today.” Kurt mumbled, pivoting unsurely on his feet.

“Oh really?” You remarked, trying to hide a scoff and sound as if you were actually interested. You highly doubted that. Kurt didn’t seem to pick anything up anyhow.

“Yeah. They kept asking ‘where’s your girlfriend?’ and ‘we wanna see y/n’ before I picked you up.” Kurt nodded, finally looking at you again since he’d been allowed inside. “How was work baby?” He stepped forward with the tired look you gave in response, loosely hanging his arms around your shoulders before pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

You nudged your temple to his chest, sighing as you held onto his hip and held him back. “It just sucked Kurt.” You nuzzled into him a bit more and felt him kissing you again “I’ve had a bit of a shitty day.” You didn’t feel like adding on top of that that his livestream was part of the reason it was so shitty, not when he was here to make it better now.

Kurt removed his head at that, peering down at you with that lulled smile. “I have a-know what will cheer you up!” You couldn’t help but smile back, still in his embrace. You’d been hoping the two of you could do something again!! You’d both been busy, with Kurts spree, and your work, and Kurts filming, and you trying to avoid his filming.

You moved out of his arms but only to hold his hand, and he looked down at it, the apples of his cheeks blossoming. “I’ve got a new prank set up! And, well, I know you know it’s a prank n-now, but you don’t know what it is so-“

“Oh my god, Kurt.” For once you thought he had something in mind to do with you that wasn’t just a scene to be recorded. You shook his hand in yours, in an annoyed desperation, before seeing his irritated face. So you dropped him. “Can we not have one moment that’s ruled by your stupid social media?”

A terse silence followed that sentence. Both of you were standing further apart now, but neither of you moved, just looking each other in the eye as if you were waiting for tension to fill the room before speaking.

“It’s not stupid.” Kurt prodded first.

You bit back a grunt, some weird sound being made instead. “Yeah well can we just have a moment alone? Please?” Your eyes widened vulnerably towards his, taking one step closer. “Or we can like go to the movies or something! Or hang out with some of my friends?” You would genuinely be so happy to just relax and do any of that. Even have Kurt offer something!

“Your friends?” Kurt scoffed with an amused smile. “Your friends don’t even like me!” His snapping matched the ticked off expression he wore instead now.

“They do too!” You fought back.

“They never post me on their socials!” Kurt offered, seeing that as irrefutable proof. He knew people sometimes didn’t like him. He didn’t always know why, especially when he really tried. He didn’t think your friends were being very sneaky about it however. He knew what he knew. Most people were rude to him. Not you though.

“Kurt it’s because you constantly badger them about it!” You whined honestly. You wouldn’t go so far as to say it was embarrassing, you loved Kurt for who he was, but you at least wish he got the vibes, or toned it down a little sometimes. “Maybe they’d want to if you just cooled it!”

Kurt just looked at you. His expression was overtly unreadable. Although you could trick yourself into thinking his nostrils were flaring just a little more than before. Sometimes it freaked you out that when someone argued with Kurt, he’d just stand there with such a neutral look, when you knew he must be feeling a whole lot of something in there. Somehow, and you never thought it’d be true, but someone like Kurt hiding their anger made him seem more scary than if he was yelling, not that you’d ever seen him properly do that either. You probably would’ve got a better look at him, considering how deadly silent Kurt was being as he urged you to continue, if you hadn’t wiped your hands down your face in stress. “Or maybe they’d want to if they didn’t know your fan base was so toxic.”

“That’s because you’re telling them that!” Kurt moped, in a louder voice than usual.

“Are you saying I’m lying!?” You asked. Did he really not think that? By this point?! That you were just exaggerating all this for attention?

“No but!- Ughhhh- I justmmmmm... Why are we fighting!?” Kurt finally ended his sentence. Taking a long, shaky breath, before his eyes grew softer on yours. “I don’t wanna fight with you y/n.”

“I don’t either!” Your voice hadn’t quite gone down back to a normal volume, you took a second to breathe and make it so. Your eyes were stinging but there were no tears. Yet. “I don’t, I love you Kurt.”

Kurt’s heart flipped. He always needed you to say that. Especially after your first fight. The word ‘fight’ made it feel like someone was punching his head even thinking it, when to do with you. He sniffed, saying “I love you too” quietly back.

You were unsure about hugging him first. Scared of him pulling away, of the fact that he seemed to confirm over and over again for you, that he cared about his audience more than he ever could about you. Although part of you, that part of you that was melting under his gaze right now, still didn’t want to believe that. “I don’t wanna fight either.” You lamented truthfully. “But please, can we be normal?”

“I am normal!”

You cringed immediately. You knew that was a sensitive point for him, and even though that wasn’t your intention, to call him abnormal, you’d kind of forgotten in the heat of the moment about that word, during this maybe over, but still extant, fight. You apologised quickly but calmly. “Of course that isn’t what I meant.”

Kurt nodded. He knew it.

But now neither of you knew what to say. Both still heated, both hurt but not letting the other know all too well. And letting Kurts mind wander when emotional like this was not good for anyone. “Bet you let your friends post you on their socials...”

“Oh my god Kurt. This again? I thought it was bad enough I had to put up with you spree streaming me?” You fully scoffed at this point, in disbelief this argument was still going on.

“Pu- put up with?” Kurt asked accusingly. Then he shook his head, as he changed his mind. “Y/n I just wanna post some pics with my girlfriend! Isn’t that the most normal thing in the world?” You hadn’t even let him upload a picture of the two of you in a month. On any platform! You didn’t even let him take pics of you anymore at all. Yesterday throwing a pillow at him until he deleted the one of you eating Chinese on his lap, because you thought he’d post it.

He missed having pictures of you on his phone...

“Not when the comments are all telling you how horrible your girlfriend is!” You were getting angry about it again, you could feel how hot your skin was getting but this time your anger was around Kurt. You’d told him about it before, and he always said something along the lines of “nah, you’re perfect babe. From head to toe.” But he’d never actually done enough to be productive about it. Not when he was too busy trying to be productive on his channels.

“It’s like you don’t even exist y/n!” Kurt aired his hands up and down your body, slapping a hand to his head with a deep breath. “Because you’re never online anymore! You’re not even documented by me!”

“That’s bullshit.” You rolled your head and Kurt grunted under his muffled lip sucking. “Stop making me sound like a future serial killer victim! I don’t need to be ‘documented’ for everyone to see Kurt.” That just made Kurt huff loudly, groaning to himself. It felt as if the stress was pounding at his head from the inside, harming him to come out. “It’s like we’re not even together!”

Now that fucking hurt. That twisted the knife inside your chest, and made it feel like it was falling to the pit of your stomach.

You couldn’t even think of a response. But your body, in trying to protect your brain, overtook that problem for you, as you gave your boyfriend a very flippant, but appalled, “fuck off!”

“No you! Do so!!” Kurt turned away from you, grumbling to himself as you just let your heart pound away. He spun around quick enough though.

“You don’t understand me!”

“I try to Kurt! I’ve always tried!”

“NO! Nobody does!” Kurt took a shaky sigh as he tried to control his volume. You noticed first that his fists were shaking, but soon realised it was his entire body, sleeves and torso hidden by his green jacket.

“I’m getting bullied online now y/n.” His eyes met yours again and you did feel bad for him, even though all half his fans seemed to do was bully him no matter what he did. “Everyone’s calling me an incel vi-loser a-again. They’re saying that I made you up-o-or that you-“ he took a deep breath “y-we broke up.”

You didn’t like that he was being hurt by trolls, even if his harassment from them and his familiarity with it was different than yours, but you were still angry though. With a heavy sigh, you rubbed your arm to your elbow. “Just ignore them.” You spoke lowly.

“What, like you do?”

You looked to Kurt at that. You couldn’t tell if he was being spiteful or mocking you, or genuinely trying to tell you something. But it didn’t matter. Kurt didn’t get it, he couldn’t. He was actually good enough. And he didn’t give a shit about you. You knew that well enough now. And with all your wasted time and love on him, with the love you still fully had for him and it hurt to keep, you finally saw red. Kurt didn’t care about you, he wasn’t trying to prove it with the trolls when they didn’t like you, and maybe he never had cared about you. Maybe you were as dumb as they all said, and maybe that’s why he never defended you.

“Well if that’s all you want, a girlfriend who you can post on your socials, and do couple challenges with, then maybe we shouldn’t be together!”

Kurts heart sunk to his stomach.

“You clearly don’t love me you just want a girlfriend to post! A trophy.”

“That’s not TRUE!!!” Kurt yelled, crying now. His throat sounded raw as he screamed, and you were sure the sobbing he was now heartily doing was just making it feel worse. Kurt couldn’t help but just stand there, eyes red and puffy and leaking, snot dripping out of his pink nose, fringe itching at his eyes, as he scratched at it with his sleeve and choked on sobs and spit, whining loudly. He was like a lost child, unsure what to do next, but so full of emotions right now. You knew he didn’t know how to handle them best most days, and he was sensitive. His emotional immaturity wasn’t helping with this though, to you it ensured that he really wouldn’t be able to get what you were going through right now. Sometimes he listened but he had this glassy look in his eyes like he didn’t understand. You couldn’t really see his eyes now because he had them screwed shut as he was murmuring sobs to the ceiling.

“I don’t want someone to post I waNT YOU!!!!!”

Kurt yelled the last word with anger. You froze.

But even so, it had made you freeze for a different reason.

You weren’t scared of Kurt. His whole body shuddered with breaths as he stood with hunched shoulders, towering over you looking taller than he ever had done before. Remembering how strong he actually was under his normal goofy look, when his hands would grasp your biceps when you asked him to take control in the bedroom. But the way he screamed that just made you realise the truth. His truth. Your truth.

Oh God. You were so wrong.

Kurt was still crying his fucking eyes out. He was bawling to your roof, blue shirt covered in wet tear patches, sleeve slick with spit, as his throat coughed out cries, hands twitching at his sides where his arms limply hung, as if he had no idea whether to reach out to you, hug himself, or hit his head, as you’d sadly seen him do a couple of times. He was sad, and confused, angry, grief-stricken, and so so scared.

Those assholes had gotten to you way more than they bargained. It’d gotten to you, and gotten to your relationship. Gotten to Kurt.

And that’s something you never wanted to happen. At first you were trying to protect him, but maybe you should have let him protect you.

Maybe you should’ve believed just how much he loved you. Because you loved him, that much. And you knew looking at him the way he was in front of you, there was not an ounce of this spree driver who didn’t fucking worship you.

“Oh... Kurt.” Your voice sounded so small. You didn’t mean to sound so small. After what felt like hours without touch between you two, you reached out your hand, to hold him.

Kurt flinched back. And your heart fucking shattered.

He cried again, eyeing your hand with such a mix of emotions as he stayed in that leant position. Just whimpering more before his body forced a choke out of him as he stared at it.

You knew he wasn’t scared of you. And you knew he wasn’t mad. You knew it. He was just so nervous. You’d make sure he knew to never worry about the two of you holding each other again.

You moved between that space quickly and threw your arms around him, crying so loud it matched his, as he hugged you back before your chests had even pressed together. You gripped his back like you were going to fall through the floor at any second without him. And he clutched your waist as if you’d run away from him any time now. You just held onto your Kurt, and let him know you were his back, as you let him completely engross you.

Kurt, now he’d finally gotten you back into his arms, just held you tight. So much it hurt.

“Please don’t leave me. Pl-oh... please please please don’t aba-leave me. Ca-y-you can’t. You have to stay with me. Please. Please don’t go away y/n...”

“K-Kurt...” you tried gently to push at his chest. He was firm. “You’re kinda hurting me.”

It was genuinely as if he didn’t hear you. Kurt only buried his trembling head into your shoulder, tears, snot, spit and all. “Don’t-you c-can’t-I can’t do-no-y-you stay-you-“ he blabbered, every muscle in his body squeezing you tighter “Please.”

That last one was a broken whisper, his voice didn’t even speak the latter half of the syllable, and you couldn’t bear the thought of Kurt feeling as broken as his plea sounded. You hugged him back as tight as you could, squeezing his middle until your tummy’s applied so much pressure it made you feel sick, or maybe it was the thought of losing Kurt. You could feel his teeth against your neck as he opened his mouth to choke and splutter, crying instead of speaking as he meant to. A few wracked sobs needing to escape his chest before he could even talk. “I need you.”

You opened up, honestly. “I need you too Kurt.”

”ohh...” A tiny muffled whimper escaped him at that, nuzzling into your neck as if he could tuck himself away inside you, as if he couldn’t get close enough. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to comfort himself, or you. “I love you so so much.” You promised him yet again.

Kurt reared his head back, finally not squeezing painfully, but definitely nowhere near letting you go. Eyes squinting as if it was painful to open them, but desperate to see your figure, as he flitted his brown and reddening orbs up and down your features. Hands rubbing up and down your back. “I- mmmh... I love y-y-you too, y/n.”

“Kurt I love you-“

Kurt interrupted you, still dazed “Mmmmfhso much...” His eyes were glued stickily shut by tears, fatigued looking, head retaking its domain over your neck. He was almost purring into it, as Kurt stayed safe in his little dreamland, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and your shoulders, where it was safe, and warm, and dark, and he could still smell you.

But with all this snuggling and search through your skin, you had to push back his head, because his slightly greasy hair was tickling you too much. You simply held your palm to his temple as you removed him just a couple of inches, gently flicking his fringe away with your soothing fingers, knowing he always liked when you touched his hair. “And I promise I’m not going to leave.”

Fog began to lift from Kurts eyes, as he finally was able to take in your face, you, with him, and he saw you were crying too. With a lick of his lips, ridding them of the salty taste he was quickly gaining, more tears fell down his cheeks silently and quickly at those words.

He needed to hear them every second of every day. He wanted to replay them over and over. He kissed you right there and then, begging you “please” as he slotted his warm lips against yours with a wet noise, breathing messily into your mouth “say it again.” He needed to devour your words.

“I-mmfh!” He barely let you speak, too busy trying to suck on your upper lip, but he stopped his tongue from entering as he turned down the strength of his kiss, only softly brushing against your warmth instead of attacking it with need, even though his movements had been pretty slow, lips still touching yours but spacing back a little, to hear you talk. “I promise I’m never going to leave you Kurt my love.”

Kurt kissed you more. His lips hard and bruising again against yours, but teeth nibbling so delicately at your plump flesh, tongue bracing your mouth as he tasted every inch of you, fingers digging almost painfully into your skull as he pressed your face closer and closer to him, until his cheek was like sandpaper against your nose.

“Kur’?”

Kurt just whined into you, even though you didn’t have enough room to finish his name. He nipped only lovingly at your tongue, saliva generously swapping from him to you as he sloppily kissed with louder and louder sounds. He needed every sense filled with your kisses. Your love. Wanting all of your senses filled with him too.

“Kurt-“ you finally were able to pull him off you with a touch to his soft tummy, hand slipping just under his shirt, and you pulled back with a thick trail of spit between your lips. One Kurt sweetly pecked off. His lower face red raw, and covered in spit. It seemed he’d forgotten you’d pulled away for a reason though, because once his eyes were on your lips again, he was leaning back in with a need like a dying man for water.

You gently scratched at the skin of his belly, putting the hand that was on his lower back to his chest and Kurts eyes met yours as if the wires in his head were connecting yet again. It was like you could see his brain reworking through his eyes. Luckily he nodded and you sighed, with the newfound ability to breathe again the way Kurt was drinking you. You didn’t think you had long though before he was pressed against your face once more. You always knew Kurt was needy, and right now his hands were itching against your lower back, he spoke of how badly they tingled when he got like that. “Kurt let’s just talk for a second first? Please?”

“About what?” Kurts eyes widened as he took a step back, but instinctively drew your body closer at the same time. You could hear the fear in his voice and quickly finished your sentence, soothingly rubbing patterns up his skin and shirt. “I just wanna make sure you know I’m not mad. I wanna talk about why I was upset... so we can work things out, before the kissing and stuff. Can we just talk for a second first? It would really make me feel good Kurtie.”

Knowing you weren’t mad at him, and you weren’t going to leave, Kurt hummed, which you knew from your time with him was his tired but ‘yes’ sound. The praise helped him a little too. He gently led you to your bed, surprising you that he was the first to move, as he stroked your hand lovingly in his while he took you. Letting you sit down first before he sat on your lap. Clearly needing to remain close.

You couldn’t help but bite a smile at this. Kurt was so goddamned adorable and he hardly ever knew it. You swore once to tell him every time he was so, and you couldn’t believe you’d nearly broken that promise by going. Knowing it wasn’t exactly the time, you simply sweetly pressed a kiss to his mess of hair, enjoying the pleased but surprised gasp/groan that you got from him, as he settled in happily playing with your fingers. You let him keep your hands, as he rested his cheek to your heartbeat, now wanting to just know, like earlier, why you were so upset.

You held onto him dearly. Kurt had quickly swept up your entire life and become your everything. You didn’t know if it was entirely healthy, but you had Kurt, and he had you, and it was more than you’d ever had before. Someone who actually wanted you- Kurt brought your hands to his face and inhaled deeply- maybe even needed you, despite what certain commenters may have said, or made you feel. And you needed him just as much. Remembering those harsh words though caused you to shuffle your legs in unease, a cue for once, not unnoticed by Kurt, as he wiggled his butt slightly, back.

Your thumb tapped Kurts knuckle in thought, as you sighed. Trying to think of a way you could speak without hurting yourself more, and that would help Kurt understand, especially in such a fragile state the both of you were in. “It’s hard to start talking, just gimme a moment.” Is what you ended up with. And you nosed his temple at his patience, letting him know with a smile “you always help make me feel better. A minute with you and I’ll be ready sweetheart. I’m sorry it’s taken this long.” ‘And that we had to go such an awful way about it’ you thought. The memory of your fight only just passed making your chest tighten. You hated the things you said now knowing how confused he must’ve been when you said them to him. You held onto Kurt more closely, understanding his reaction earlier.

“How do I make the sadness go away y/n?”

Your urge to settle and coo over him immediately swamped you, but you tried to bite back any pouting or worried looks, heart aching over his innocently asked question. You swept your hands over Kurts hair mollifyingly, moving it out of his face as you tried to make him look at you while stroking him. “Why? Do you still feel sad baby?” Your other thumb rubbed his shoulder gently, head angled to look down at your boyfriend with careful gentle eyes.

Kurt shook his head, nestling hismelf into your shoulder more, but it was easier to look up into your eyes this way. “No. Your sadness.”

Your heart froze at this, in fact you felt your whole body constrict in the most minute way, lips tight as a noise, as if once a possible word, caught in your throat. Before your chest quickly reverted back to it’s normal exhausted pace of tonight. Hugging his shoulders closer as your urge to protect the love of your life only grew stronger. The reality of how much you loved Kurt, and realising once again, but more than ever before, how much Kurt loved you, in his very Kurt way, washed over you, and you gently rocked Kurt in your arms as your body tried to calm itself, pressing many tender kisses to his hair as you tried to hide the flooding of your eyes.

Kurt just sat there open eyed, as he paid extra attention to your comforting kisses, and kept playing with your warm fingers.

How could he make that sadness leave you alone?

“Kurt- I...”

Kurt wiggled more so he was looking directly at you now. He wanted to understand.

“It’s just... I don’t think I can take it anymore Kurt...” You looked up at him finally revealing that core truth. And you burst into tears as soon as the words left you mouth. Your hand came shakily up to your lips as you sobbed, as if your body hated what you were saying. Kurt only held you warmly, tucking your hair behind your shoulder so he could see your lips more, so he could see you talking. His fingertips graced your wrist, as if to pull it away from your face, but you guessed he decided against it, instead rubbing the back of his hand gently against your own, encouraging you to drop it whenever you were ready.

You took in a deep breath as you fell into his touch, wiping away the tears down yoru face once before placing your hands onto your knees again. And since Kurt was in your lap, it was easy for him to reach around and grab them, not playing with them this time, but simply cupping them in his own.

“E-Everyone’s so mean to me. And I know that sounds stupid but it’s true, it really does hurt after a while.” You felt embarrassed, but Kurt was just looking at you openly, with those big dumb loveable eyes. You couldn’t help but kiss them, his eyelids at least, and the way he squirmed and giggled at the light touch even made you smile during your confession. At least before a larger sniff overtook your features. “But, like, every single post, no matter what, for literally months now, there’s been so many comments, so many people, just hating me. Saying every single thing that’s- that’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you y/n.” Kurt quickly interrupted.

It almost surprised you how surely he spoke. And that unwavering look in his eyes was confident, which you hardly ever saw your boyfriend. Your rapid blinking matched your heartbeat. “Y-yeah. Thank you. Thank you Kurt.” You rested one hand on his forearm, closing your eyes in tranquility as he pressed his warm cheek to the side of your head. “Well anyway, it was just really, really, getting to me I suppose. Especially when...”

You cringed, hating that you started that sentence, looking to to Kurt almost as if to see if he’d heard it. But Kurt simply nudged himself against you once, urging you to continue.

You took a shaky breath, part of you still angry, still confused and upset at his actions, part of you hating what you were gonna do to him next. “When you wouldn’t even defend me Kurt.”

You felt Kurt suddenly stiffen in his hold. He didn’t let go, but it wasn’t excatly comfortable either. You wriggled a little, more so because your skin felt bad rather than his grasp. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t-“

“Y/n, tell me. Please.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. Looking down into your mixed laps meekly. But his voice sounded earnest, if not strained. You whined, it hurt your chest, it made you feel like you were going to be sick, even if Kurt had, lightly, taken back up his petting of you. “You just wouldn’t say anything! Ever! No matter what people said you didn’t- you didn’t ban them! You didn’t ask nicely for them to quit it, you didn’t yell at them.” You spluttered a messy laugh “Jesus! I thought you might’ve even made a viral video with a stupid clickbaity title to get everyone to stop harassing your girlfriend! At least that’d get on the tea podcasts!” You couldn’t tell if you were panting or hyperventilating, but you didn’t care. ”You didn’t care Kurt. Or at least, that’s how it felt. You would causally say a thing or two if I brought it up, maybe. But you never told them... you never told me, that they were wrong.”

The silence was killing you. You were sure realistically it’d only been a couple of seconds, but it felt like forever since you’d spoken, and nothing. Swallowing that sick taste in your throat you looked up, to see a panicked expression on Kurt’s face so vivid if almost made you feel panicky.

“I’m sorry!” He squeaked.

You bit back your sadness as Kurt held onto you in a vice like grip, apologising under his ragged breath, which definitely wasn’t helped by the way his chest squeezed against yours. “I-I’m-I’m-‘m mmmmm! ‘M so sorry y/n. So so so sorry baby. Sorry sorrysorry!!!” You wanted to tell him it was fine, but a sob wracked through your chest even without accompanying tears, reaching up to stroke the backs of your fingers against his cheek as Kurt was furiously and terrifiedly smashing kisses to your head where he could reach. Pecking generously all over your fingers once they reached his skin, taking the tip of your longest and wrapping his lips around it in a sweet kiss, whining uncomfortably when he let go.

“I jus-just! Because you- I don’t know!!” You tried to shift your legs to hold him with them but Kurt was clinging onto you in such a teddy bear hug you decided to rub your head agaisnt his soft shirt instead, hoping the movement would let his brain catch up that you were leaning into him, you were embracing him. Not running.

You weren’t sure if it worked, but Kurt continued.

“I just. I thou-assumed that you’d know they were lying. For attention.”

You perked your ears at that, Kurt shifting so uncomfortably, even on your lap.

“Because you’re smart. So much smarter than me. I thought you’d just know they were making it all up. That you saw yourself the way I did.”

Your heart thumped. How did Kurt see you?

He nosed behind your ear, whining softly as he tucked himself away there. “And you’re so much braver than me too. I thought th-you wouldn’t even c-care what thos-they said.” He nuzzled behind the top of your ear, pulling back a little as you heard a small stuttered bretah. “I mean, you’re still b-brave. All those things. Ju-! Just not what they said! You’re all the good things.”

He kissed your jugular, such a vulnerable part of your body, and it all lit up at the touch of his lips. “You’re all the good things in the world. In my world.”

Kurt wasn’t always good with words. But that was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard from someone about yourself.

Your hand swept to his heart, fingertips gently grazing over his chest as Kurt watched you, calming now as he just assessed you, taking in the way you touched him. Just happy to look, and feel. Even when you took your hand away, he was content, because you kissed that area of flesh over his heart, while looking right at him, and Kurt swore he could’ve become yours forever right then and there, if he hadn’t already been.

“Thank you Kurt. That really means a lot to hear from you.” You smiled. “It means a lot you’re trying to talk to me about all this.” Him using his words was just really helping you in this moment. And even if Kurt’s forte wasn’t words of affirmation, he’d try and be good at anything for you.

“Rea-I mean, I’m glad to hear it b-sweetheart. You-You really are my everything, ya know?” He kissed your hair sweetly again, subtly drinking in your scent as he pressed his lips against your hair, always loving the feel of it around his lower face. Or anywhere. Unsuccessfully hiding his smile, not that he’d really want to, as you stroked over his chest again, smiling that smile he always usually tried to bring out. “And you can talk about anything you want with me. Honest babe.”

Kurts strength almost surprised you as once he’d clambered away, he literally lifted your entire cross legged figure from the bottom, gently readjusting you in his lap, just so he could fiddle around and touch you more. And it really did touch you.

“Thank you sweetheart. Those assholes just really got to me huh?”

Kurt nodded, following your every word. You stroked his cheek like he was a soft little baby, before the anger of what those basement dwellers just caused rose up in your chest again, and you had to move your eyes to the wall to let out a cathartic grunt. “Especially when like, it was live and I just had to sit there and take it, or be called worse things if I fought back an-“ You cut yourself off there, moving back to look at Kurt now.

He shifted his head, nodding once. “Go on. It’s okay. I’m right here baby.” His almost stern posture turned caring in his last sentence, rubbing your hand on top of his arm.

You shrunk into Kurts jacket. “I was worried you’d lose some of your fans if I let out some... particularly, harsh comebacks.”

Kurts laugh caught you off guard. You didn’t really think it seemed appropriate, until Kurts versions of events started to make sense as he asked “Yeah? Can I hear some of em?” You chuckled back then. “Especially if they’re Bobby related!” You squealed as his hands came to tickle at your waist, trying to fight him off breathlessly as he held you on his lap with just his legs, only able to fight off his wiggling fingers when he’d gotten a few good laughs out of you.

“Yeah yeah-“ you slapped down his left hand again as you saw it aiming for your hip, relishing in his cooing giggles as he laid you agaisnt his chest once more, not showing his teeth anymore but smiling still as you continued.

“And like, God, it just sucked when dono’s would say things about me out loud in public. I mean, the stares I got.” You looked up at him, to see if he remembered what you were talking about.

He bit the inside of his cheek in thought, it reminded you of a squirrel. “Yeah, I mean I’d stay up like, literally pulling my hair out, on nights you weren’t there because I didn’t know if I should turn off donos in public or if people would stop donating if I did.”

This surprised you a little. You knew Kurt could get very easily overstimulated by stress, especially if it was about his influencer career, but it hurt you to know he was hurting just as much when he was alone. You gave his hair a couple of soft strokes, but Kurt seemed too busy thinking. “Although, I’m glad we still haven’t gotten someo-some idiot, donating to call out a fake bomb threat, like that guy we saw last month.”

“Oh yeahhhh.” You hit his arm in remeberence. Jesus the amount of brain cells some of Kurts fans, at least on his twitch, seemed to have, you were surprised they hadn’t done anything at stupid as that yet. Although it made your heart swell with pride to hear Kurt indirectly call at least his fans that deserved it ‘idiots’, even if it was behind closed doors.

You sighed, collapsing against him, not expecting Kurt to just accept your weight, and willingly lay down, so you were basically laying vertically on his lap. Not that either of you minded. You wiggled around a little, stretching your legs on his and settling you head on his chest, happiness sinking into you own as you let him play with your hair. Positions like this, with you, were always Kurts happy place.

“I dunno.” You sighed, stretching, and Kurt thought you looked like Luna or Dozier when they were pups doing that, in either case, it was cute. “I guess all the negativity just really got to me. I mean I know you’re the professional”- you didn’t miss the way Kurts chest puffed up beneath you at that word- “you’ve been doing it for ten years. But I’m just not used to it I guess. Even though I missed spending time with you, at least if I stayed away from all social media, yours and my own, I didn’t have to see any more insecurities I hadn’t figured out on my own yet.”

“Y-you have nothing to w-to be i-insecure about y/n.” Kurt bent rather awkwardly to kiss your head, but the peck was sweet, stroking through your hair till you clsoed your eyes, cheek smushed against his shirt.

“You’re amazing. Ju-s-beautiful. Way smarter than me.”

“Stop itttt.” You warned with a quick swat to his chest, not liking when he talked down on hismelf like that. Even if that was what you were kind of doing right now. Kurt took your hand and kissed it.

“Drop dead gorgeous, my lil Kurtie.” He nuzzled into your hand, teasing you with the nickname.

You giggled “Yeah, yeah, thank you beautiful boy.”

Kurt giggled back in response, always eating up your praise. Similar to how he was mouthing at your ear like a baby with a toothing toy. You flicked him off of you before he could drool more, enjoying his laughter even if he had tried to swallow you whole. It did cause you a snort of a laugh. But you still had hurt simmering in you just a little.

It mostly came out when you weren’t looking at Kurt again. Just like it did once you’d wiped your ear clean, and were left with your bedroom walls, and a bubbling sigh. “I wish some of those dicks would just drop dead.”

“So do I y/n.”

You nodded, leaning back into his warmth again with a sigh. Kurt, no matter how he was, or other people thought he was, always made you feel safe.

“You’re just... you’re not-you’re so much more than my-those assholes say.” Kurt kissed your hand again, because he could feel you smelling his shirt and it made his entire body feel all fuzzy, like it sometimes did with you. “A-A-And you know, I know I’m not, like, the best, with words.” You kissed his chest and Kurts hand felt like it was vibrating in yours, not physically, just from the fuzzy feeling swelling. “But I don’t think what any of them have said is true.”

You rested your chin gently on his collarbone, even adoring the way he peered down at you from this angle. “You really don’t?” It was what you’d needed to hear, just once. You should’ve just asked him sooner.

“No. ‘f course not. And, I love you y/n. You know that babe. But I’ll say it again. I love you.” He sat up on his elbows then, jaw dropping into a puppet like smile as he dramatically rolled his head. “I love you!”

You attempted to sit up yourself, bracing his hips as you chortled. “You’re so goofy.” Hands leaving him when you gained more balance on your midsection.

“You’re never ever getting away from me!” Kurt lunged at you with a fake roar, smile still wide as you squealed, being wrapped into his hug and pulled impossibly closer on his lap as he kissed you all over, even if it was mostly on your clothes as you were wearing a jacket, he just kissed you harder there. Paying special attention to your face and exposed skin as you shrieked, screaming more as Kurt roared to press a large open mouthed kiss that was more of a fake bite to your neck, his knees coming to hold your arms in place so his hands could tickle you once more.

You tried to turn your head and break free of his hold as you laughed like you couldn’t breathe, only causing an “Oh nooo you don’t gorgeous!” as he suckered you in with kisses, his hands reaching your back now as he stroked up and down your shoulder blades. Once his lips had finally met yours, slowing down and just pulling you in like that, his only focus on kissing you. And you were both all smiles as you did so.

There was just a moment or so where Kurt held you. Your back was to his chest so neither of you could see the others faces, but feeling Kurts warm chest puff beneath yours with every breath, even if occasionally one was shaky, was enough to calm you just a little. Both of you had remained silent, and the tranquility had let you both relive the biggest fight the two of you had ever had just minutes ago. One where you almost yelled at Kurt to leave your life forever, to quit your relationship. With a small gasp your thoughts abandoned you as you felt Kurts lips against your neck, not kissing or sucking, or smiling, just moving slowly as he drawled out his first few words.

“You yelled at me.”

They shattered your stupid heart.

You turned to him, trying not to let the panic show in your features, but regret was still clearly smacked in there. “I know. I know baby, I’m so sorry.”

You held Kurt’s flushed face in your hands, just slightly pressing agaisnt his cheeks. And that’s when his burning eyes started to trickle with tears again. “An-“ he gulped “And I yelled at you too?” He looked right into your eyes and he just broke.

Emotions were running very high today.

“Ohhhh it’s okay sweetheart. It’s alright.” You promised, holding his cheeks so lovingly as you wiped away any tears that dared to leak. “All in the past now huh?” You hummed. Kurt nodded in your safe hold. “And we’ll try not to yell again, right?”

“Right.” Kurt placed his hands on your face now, but in a more secure hold. His hands itched at you, and you could tell that tingly feeling had reached his fingers again, the way he spread them restlessly over and over against your cheekbones. He spoke desperately “I won’t yell at you again, I promise y/n.”

“I know, me neither Kurtie.” You nodded, smiling as his head slowly followed along, lips puffed slightly with tears, in your hold. You knew it wasn’t as simple as that, but right now it really felt like it. It felt like you’d never want to yell at your sweet boyfriend again. And you knew it was just what Kurt needed to hear right now. You stroked over his features dotingly.

“Scared me.”

Kurts small voice almost shot you into a daze of panic. But it was said so... helplessly, defeatedly, you almost didn’t hear the murmur. You let Kurt’s face go and he dropped yours, licking his lips as if he was happy when you went to hold his hands, even if they were tucked away in his sleeves.

“What? By yelling sweatpea?” You asked unsure.

Kurt shook his head. “Scar-was scared.” He quickly corrected himself. Shaking his head for a different reason that time, itching at his sore eyes with his dampened sleeve as he tried to keep his mind straight. “I was scared, you were gonna l-le-leave m-me. Y-You asked-“ he shuddered a breath “you were gonna ask me to go away...”

You melted. Emotionally and physically, falling the upper half of your body into his lap as it felt like your heart dropped further and further like an anchor. Deciding to wrap your arms around his middle when you were there, you leant your tear stained cheek against his soft tummy, looking up at him with a frown. “Kurt, I’m so sorry.”

Kurt sniffed an “it’s okay” before you could continue. It just made you hold him closer, not missing the soft whine that escaped him when you did so, or the fact his warm hand had slipped down the back of your shirt near your neck to trace patterns with his chewed fingernails.

“No it’s not. I never ever, want you to go Kurt.

Kurt hiccuped, and you made sure to look him in the eye so you knew he really belived you, gingerly taking his wrist and using his own sleeve to fondly wipe a small stream of snot escaping his nose. Kurt gave a small laugh, wiping at his nose with a sniff, before thoughtfully rolling his sleeves up to his elbow to continue his mapping of your face with his fingers. They were tapping at the plump of your lips when you continued.

“I didn’t want you to leave then and I certainly don’t now. I’ll never, ever send you away Kurt I promise. Not unless you ask me to. And even then I think you’ll have a pretty hard time buddy.” That was meant to make him laugh a little again, even accompanying it with the tiniest of jabs to his hips. But this time Kurt didn’t laugh. His eyes stayed trained on the small area of your skin he could see from where his hand made space underneath your top, even if your hair fawned over some of it. But a few seconds later he was looking into your eyes, and the seriousness of it almost made you jump in his lap.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Out of all his emotional statements today that one had shocked you the most. “Why would I ever be scared of you?” You asked concerned, gently rubbing circles into his thigh at such a question. You always wanted to know what was going on his his little mind. Even sometimes still he wouldn’t tell you.

Instead of answering, or at least not yet, Kurt did make you jump this time, although you tried to hide it for Kurt’s sake, by quickly moving his arms and picking you up, shifting you so you were sitting, upright in his lap again, but so he could go into your chest.

With an unsure look to your bedroom wall, you ran your hand through Kurt’s hair in the way you knew he liked it. But seemingly Kurt wasn’t tucked away with you enough, as he bent as far as he could so he could try and hide himself against your tummy. Now it was your turn to coo, and swipe his hair from his face so you could see his expressions better. “Kurt I promise you one thing, you could never scare me.”

Kurt didn’t respond to that. You’d at least expected a nod. But you understood. This must all be hard for him, he was clearly bouncing from range to range of emotions which he already struggled dealing with, and with this being your biggest argument yet... you could understand Kurt.

And in doing so. You decided to try and change the subject. “Hey.” You said smoothly, nudging your boyfriend with your elbow. “So about what you said earlier.”

Kurt panicked a little, but when he saw your smile and slightly raised eyebrows, he assumed he was alright. “Uh. What part?”

You took in a leisurely sigh as you pet him. “The bit about me being, oh I dunno, all the good things in the world, in your world?” You wondered if you’d grow a bigger ego hanging around Kurt this much.

He nodded this time. “Yeah, baby?” He kissed you treasuringly.

“So do you mean to say, that, I’m all the good things in Kurtsworld?”

Kurt blinked rapidly, as a smirk grew on your face. Kurt hadn’t even thought of that. And you could tell.

He blinked some more, before an equal smile started to form. He didn’t let you take it in for long though before he surprise attacked you with kisses, rolling on top of you in your bed, with one long final smack of his lips, nodding affirmatively. “Yes. Yes you are.”

You giggled, reaching up for his face and pulling him closer as you were able to kiss him like normal now. No desperate need for either to not run off, no massive act to show how much you yearned for each other. You just both allowed yourself to be in love.

And it was heavenly. Kurt finally relaxed. Enough so he could manage his thoughts again, thinking up his own little ideas as you were happy to just lie there and let him run a finger up and down your arm slowly, jabbing him in the hip when he came too close to your pit. Kurt only laughed when you did so, he could tickle you later, for now he was contented to just be at peace with you. And for a running a mile a minute kind of guy, that tranquility was almost rare for the two of you.

“You know, I don’t care about documenting you, or whatever bull crap.” Kurt spoke up, finger tracing over your smooth skin. “Not if it means los-not ha-having you.” His hands clutched at your top lightly. “I need you y/n.” Before slowly loosening his grip. “You don’t have to be a collaborator y’know?”

It made you smile way he said it. The way he showed his love and ideas and the way he was looking at just a piece of you, just your arm, right in this moment.

“And I don’t wanna tell fans off just for some stupid drama channels. I’ll make a video. I’ll make more if they don’t stop.” Kurt looked to you now, gripping your chin. Your smile stayed planted. “But I’m gonna do it for you y/n. So you know that they’re just stupid, baby. That you’re not what you think everyone thinks, and definitely not what I think.”

The seriousness in his face made you melt with reassurance, nodding in thanks under his grasp, only let go as you moved in to kiss him again. When you pulled back, he was wearing a funnier look, twisted lips and needy, but open, eyes.

“Just... maybe a couple of pictures on my Instagram, a-and my stories?”

You only nodded, listening to him. You could swing that.

“And you don’t have to do any v-videos with me, maybe you could just... pop into my live sometimes to say hi. That would be nice.” Kurt licked his lips as he waited for your answer, but truth be told, you loved watching the man talk. And talk he could do, for days. So you compromised, much like he was asking you to do, by humming. “Go on.

Kurt seemed to understand this was good, and he trusted you. He shimmied a little on top of you in his excitement to share. “A-And just like one or t-two clips of you in my vlogs, even if it’s behind the scenes stuff, l-like” he looked at you and you were smiling wide, which only encouraged a small cheeky, happy, smile from him “like you holding my hand down the street, or walking in my room.” You didn’t miss the blush Kurt still got when talking about this stuff. “Maybe just like a scene of me taking you on a date to the park or something. I could find some dogs for you to play with. That’d be cute I think. I mean, I think you’d like that part.”

“Actually,” you shuffled a little closer to him, pressing your hands to his chest but not to push him away, in fact, you were pulling him in by his tee, smoothing your fingers up his torso, not missing the little gulp his throat from even your more loving touches. “I think I’d like it better being a bit more active in your content. Versus just background stuff I can’t control as much, does that make sense?”

Kurt nodded his head eagerly, you could almost see him drooling you were sure. Oh and there it was at the corner of his lips. He was lucky he was so cute. And at how bright his eyes were at your mention of being with him in something he loved so much, you couldn’t help but laugh into the next kiss you shared with him, only giggling louder as Kurt laughed too. Humming as you both ate up each other’s cackles in what you could only think of a just such a happy kiss.

So you would be in posts with ‘him and his girlfriend around the town’, and also the casual pictures of just you he’d upload because one side of his accounts was just him worshipping you. Pictures you hadn’t even realised he’d taken, as someone was talking to you about your hat in the park, or of you simply laying your feet on him watching tv, all captioned with quotes like ‘stream break with my girl, isn’t she the best?’ You didn’t even know about one of his undercover fan accounts that was just a shrine to you.

Nor all the pictures of you sleeping, but they were just for him.

Even the pictures you’d upload to your Instagram got overwhelming amounts of love, from your and Kurt’s fans. As well as from your irl, and new internet, friends.

And while he wouldn’t stream him picking you up from work, which he excitedly realised meant he got kisses as soon as he saw you again in the day, you would go home and try your hand at a level for his new gaming video that he was stuck on, even if it was just him trying to prove to some of his more shitheaded fans how difficult the level was.

Even if he didn’t directly say “shitheaded fans” he would call individuals out when necessary. He didn’t want to do it every time he caught a glimmer of something, because he understood overkill after you thoroughly explained it before your first stream together in months, and he didn’t want to embarrass you. But after a few call outs, even using their users, in his first stream, negative comments about you dwindled significantly.

They’d never stop completely, but you knew that. Your favourite time was beating the final boss in the new triple A game Kurt had even been allowed early access to, high fiving your boyfriend so hard you saw him wince even as he cheered, and wtaching Kurt turn to his camera and yell “See?! See how fucking awesome my girlfriend is!?! Beat that punks!” And you had to say you adored the way he called them punks. And your celebratory kiss and cuddle afterwards ended up trending on Twitter because everyone ate it up as shipper fuel. The number one edit was by a person who’d aptly changed their username to “GamerGirlY/n96”.

You even got more involved in behind the scenes stuff. Kurt would be performing a sketch (with dialogue you’d ‘edited’ for him) and at the end he’d bow, taking his wig off like a hat before throwing it at the camera, actually hitting it, as he told his viewers “Thank you to the lovely y/n for buying me that wig grocery shopping for us this week!” You didn’t miss that he was trying to insert the fact you’d both end up buying groceries for each other most times, but you also adored that he so clumsily wanted to share that. Especially as he continued his short thank you credits with a slightly out of breath “Guys, I love her so much.” to his fans.

And with even helping him with his audience when you weren’t in front of the camera, you still got praise, which was now much much more common that criticism.

And as Kurt hid himself into your cheek, too red and flushed and giggling, as you hid into his hair, the both of you snuggled close together under the covers to read the comments on your recent viral tiktok, which were all “wow, Kurt’s gf laughing behind the camera is sooooo cute!”

#Kurt Kunkle/reader #Kurt Kunkle fic #Kurt Kunkle angst #Kurt Kunkle hurt/comfort #Kurt Kunkle x reader #fic #spree 2020 #kurt kunkle

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racingliners · 21 days

Text

So, in my many emotions at seeing these beautiful pieces by @aphrostiel, I ended up writing a ficlet about it (because how could I not indulge myself in writing the Seb and Schumi podium we deserved).

I may polish it up further and put it on ao3 for prosperity but I really wanted to just get it out there, I hope you like it!!

(Thank you so much to Jules for both their blessing to post this for for sharing such incredibly beautiful art!!)

Golden

The sun cast warm, golden rays in the widening breaks though the pale clouds as they walked out onto the podium together. Seb, being the young gentleman in training, suggested that Michael have his day and walk out alone. Michael, almost too overwhelmed to speak, insisted they walk out together.

They would both argue that Hockenheim looked beautiful no matter the weather, but today after a race that went from dry to pouring rain to dry again, it felt like no sight would ever come close to how the track looked right then in that moment.

Ross Brawn stood proudly on the constructors step of the podium, and was barely containing his tears as the German anthem was introduced over the tannoy. Seb couldn’t help it as he looked up at Michael, his mentor, his friend, and today probably the most fierce driver he had ever raced against, and watched as tears streaked down his face after the first few notes.

The Mercedes mechanics and engineers gathered below let out al almighty roar as Michael raised both fists triumphantly in the air at the end. There was something awfully poetic about him netting his ninety second win at Germany in a Mercedes, and the worlds press were already hard at work at their keyboards and notepads trying to figure out just how they could talk about the Red Baron’s triumphant return when no suitable adjectives really seemed to exist.

Right as the trophies were about to be presented, Michael clapped a heavy hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and beamed at him with a proud smile before fixing his winner’s cap back onto his head.

The crowd were beside themselves even before Michael was presented with the winner’s trophy – a 3D Santander logo that was painted with the colours of the German flag on in the inside but chrome silver on the outside. A fitting prize for a silver arrow. The sun glinted off the surface as the crowd and Mercedes team roared so loud it was a wonder they weren’t heard cheering for miles.

Sebastian, who still couldn’t quite believe that his childhood dream of sharing a podium with Michael had finally come true, accepted his second place trophy with a wide schoolboy grin. All he could think about was that day in Kerpen when he’d met Michael for the first time with wide eyes and a stunned smile. Seb was pretty sure that he was wearing the exact same expression on his face, and for once he didn’t care.

With the trophies presented, the dignitaries were quickly escorted off the podium and Seb let out a shaky sigh as he leaned down to grab the neck of his champagne bottle.

“Shall we get Ross first?” He asked with a cheeky smile. Michael looked at him with a familiar glint in his eye as he picked up his bottle with ease, and really he certainly was a professional in the art of spraying champagne as he popped the cork, jumped down from the top step, and ran over to Ross before the long-suffering Team principle had a chance to run away. The two men laughed as Ross was soaked through, and only when Michael was happy did he go over to the very edge of the podium platform in the hope some of the droplets of spray would reach his beloved colleagues.

Sebastian grinned as he sprayed champagne over Michael’s right side. Fernando, who had finished in third place eventually joined in and deposited the bulk of his bottle’s contents over Michael’s head.

When they piled onto the top step of the podium Seb gestured for Ross to stand between himself and Michael for the official photograph. Before he had a chance to respond Michael hooked an arm round his shoulder and pulled him in so they were stood side by side, brothers in arms complete with matching grins even if Ross still looked quite astounded with the events of the past two hours. Seb was still smiling brightly as the picture was taken, and when he took off his Pirelli cap to swap it for his Red Bull one, Michael reached over to ruffle his hair with a hearty laugh.

The crowd hadn’t relented in their cheers once, and they only hushed when Michael spoke during the podium interview. He tearfully thanked the crowd in German for all their support throughout the years – and especially since his comeback two years ago, before expressing gratitude just as heartfelt to his race engineer Bono for getting him to the end, and Mercedes head of strategy James for his cool-headed decisions that led him back to the top step of the podium once more.

He then turned to Sebastian, and looked at him with a proud smile.

“You know, I remember meeting a young kid in Kerpen many years ago, I never in my life thought I would get to race against him let alone for a race win. But we had a good fight, I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed racing against someone. I hope that we can do it again sometime.” There was a warm ferocity to Michael’s smile, not in the malicious sense but the kind of a true competitor. One that would never, ever give up without leaving anything on the table.

Seb said as such when the interviewer turned to him, adding that he knew going against Michael he would have to give everything, and while he was disappointed to lose the race he would always be honoured to say that he got to battle it out on track against his hero.

“Don’t worry Seb,” Michael said with a warm pat on the shoulder when they walked off the podium and back into the cool down room, arm in arm. “You’ll get your turn next year.”

Sure enough, almost exactly twelve months later, Sebastian took to the top step on the podium at the Nürburgring. Michael, now retired, apparently doubled up as a psychic. He sent Seb a text congratulating him on his first home race win, and in the week off between the races in Germany and Hungary he greeted Sebastian with a thumbs up and a bright grin when he and Hanna happily accepted an invitation to dinner at the Schumacher home.

Sat proudly in the living room, wrapped in thin white frames, hung two pictures from that day in Hockenheim. The first was of Michael with his trophy, the second of himself and Sebastian spraying champagne wearing the brightest of smiles. Mick couldn’t help himself when he asked his father and his friend just what it was like to race each other in such difficult conditions, and both Sebastian and Michael reeled off in great technical detail exactly how everything unfolded.

Seb couldn’t help himself as he glanced at the pictures as he left, the sun now set and the sky filled with twinkling silver stars, and he felt nothing but pride as he knew he would carry that day in his heart for the rest of his life.

#my writing #f1 fanfic #I am feeling many many emotions in the chillis tonight #I may have gone too self indulgent and put one too many feelings in it but I did have a fun time writing it #sorry for any grammar and spelling errors writing this made me a bit weepy

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helloitstsyu · 1 year

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Focus On Me - Tom Cruise [18+]

my masterlist

Summary : Tom makes you wait all day long while he does his endless meeting. Can you wait till he's done, or will you act up in the end to gain his attention back to you?

Paring: Tom Cruise x Female Reader

A/N : Aaahhh this is my very first writing content, can't believe i have the guts to put it out. I hope y'all like it as much as i do. I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or typo cause English is not my first language.

Warnings : smut, curse words, oral sex, minor dni

Tagging : my favs writers cause y'all are so talented and y'all inspires me endlessly @youlightmeupfinn @malavera @cherrycola27 @call-sign-shark

You keep pressing that same button on your remote TV. You keep jumping from one platform to another, Netflix, HBO Go, Amazon Prime, and Disney + but no shows or movie that seems appealing to your eyes anymore. You either have watched them or... you're just too tired to watch another movie or another episode of a series. You spend your whole day in front of the TV while your man is busy with his endless meeting in his office room.

Looking over at the clock, 5.42 p.m.

You recall earlier that Tom said he'll be done by 7 and by then you two will head out for a dinner outside. So you push the red button on the remote to turn off the TV. You push yourself to stand on your feet and move from the big cloudy-like couch to your shared bedroom.

You hop for a quick shower just to freshen up then you do your simple makeup routine and you blow dry your hair so it falls straight naturally. Going to your shared walk-in closet, you think to yourself which look will you wear for tonight's little date out?

"Let's go a little casual shall we?" You talk to yourself.

You then decided to go with a simple look. Just a silk champagne-colored tank top with a pair of jeans and Louboutin's stiletto. You also wear some jewelry, the diamond solitaire necklace that Tom got you last valentine's day.

Taking your black coat and your purse you're ready to head out. Looking at the watch around your wrist, it's 6.52 p.m. Seems like there's no sight of Tom leaving his office room yet.

Well, he still has 8 more minutes before you'll barge into his office and drag him out yourself.

Now you sit back on the big cloudy-like grey couch and you keep looking toward that corridor waiting for Tom to come out any moment by now.

You keep checking on your watch, 6.55, 6.58. Minutes feels like forever now.

When the clock turns exactly at 7.00 pm you gasp slightly.

"Ok maybe wait till 7.01" you said to yourself.

Let's give him another minute. Maybe he finishes exactly on 7.

You try to be patient by shifting your mind to your phone screen. You scroll down your social media, instagram and twitter, looking at the edits and tweets from your fans, they always manage to bring a smile to your face and make you feel better.

Looking at the corner left of your phone. Your eyes widen when the time tells it's 7.15 already.

"What?! Oh, you've got to be kidding me, Tom," you sigh.

You throw your phone down and steps toward his office room.

Knocking on the door but you don't bother to wait for his answer, you just push it open. Tom still sits on his chair eyes focused on the iMac screen in front of him. The familiar voice of Christopher McQuarrie fills the room.

Geez, he's still in a damn meeting huh.

You're standing still by the door, leaning on the door frame, and have not to step inside his room. His eyes shifted from the screen to your figure. Tom quickly put his hand on the mouse and click on something which I'm guessing he was turning off the microphone or the camera.

"Gosh, really, Tom?" You cut him and pouted.

Tom silently curse to himself. He lost track of time and accidentally forgot that he promised you earlier to take you out for dinner.

"Honey... I'm so sorry, 10 more minutes," he said with a guilty look on his face.

"I'm starving!"

Nope. You're not really hungry yet, you just want him to get out of this room you hate so much and just be with you for the entire night.

"We're nearly done, I promise you, 10 more minutes, and you look beautiful sweetheart," Tom smiles.

You roll your eyes, "Fine," you sigh and walk inside of his office room.

"10 more minutes or I'll drag you out of this room myself" You sit on the sofa in front of him. Tom grins at you, he always finds amusement when you're annoyed, he told you that you look adorable when you're upset.

You sit there silently, crossing your legs and hand holding your face. Your eyes are glued on your husband while his went back to the screen already.

McQ already asking back for his opinion over some input for a stunt. Tom then shares his opinion and his ideas for another daring-impossible stunt that he will do for the next movie. Yeah, yeah, when Tom and McQ are put together, everything comes sensational. The creativity and dedication these boys give in to make a movie and to entertain the audience are out of this world. And that, you always adore that about your husband. Although sometimes it annoys you when he got very busy and has little time to spend with you.

Your eyes then went down. Tom's wearing that blue jeans button down, which he kept the first few buttons undone revealing his beautiful tanned skin. His hair is slightly longer than usual, cause he'll be filming as Ethan Hunt. And my oh my, you like it longer like that. The way he's so focused on the meeting and how he explains the ideas from his head is appearing to be sexier than how you should've found it.

Maybe it's because you're missing him. Maybe it's because you're needy now of him.

Or maybe it's just the way he is. Everything about this man always makes you crazy for him.

Tom glances at you shortly and a slight smile appears on his face when he founds your eyes didn't even shift a centimeter away from his figure.

You look over at your watch. It's 7.26 and yet he's still rambling to describe how he wants the stunt to be exactly like how he pictures it in his head.

You stood up in front of his table and just point at your watch around your wrist. Tom doesn't even bother to look at you back and just lifts his hand in the air telling you to wait again.

You click your tongue and tilt your head to the side. He's really testing your patient here huh.

He ignores you again and just gives you that same hand gesture telling you to wait again.

But you had enough.

Looking around his table, suddenly a brilliant idea popped on your head. You take one rubber band from the little bowl he has on top of his desk and you tie your hair up in a ponytail.

Tom took a glance at you which you only repay with a playful bratty smirk. Someone then ask again for his input and his eyes went back to the screen.

You drop to your knees and crawl carefully under his desk.

"Yes, I'll have it confirmed to the studio soon. Uh---"

Once he found you under the table and in between his legs, Tom's eyes widen at you in shock.

"What are you doing?!" He mouths at you silently. But you didn't answer him and only grins at him.

You run your hands on his thighs. Even though they're covered with his jeans but you can feel his bulky muscular thighs underneath. Tom shifted in his seat but he try to remain calm in front of the camera. Your hand starts to slip underneath the button-down to find the button and the zipper of his jeans. Tom tries to stop you but you push away his hands from you and you stare back at him sharply then you continue to unbutton and unzip his jeans.

"Uh... Don't we have a meeting, Chris, with uh... paramount next Thursday?" He continues. You could hear a clicking sound from his mouse.

"What are you doing?!" He quickly asks as he holds both sides of your arms.

"You made me wait! You can't keep your focus on me so i have no choice but to fish for your attention, baby- McQ's asking for you. Answer him." You told him.

His eyes went back up to the screen and he unmute the mic again to answer McQ.

"Uh.. yes, sorry what was that McQ?"

"Are....you okay?" McQ concerningly asks.

You nearly chuckle there but you hold it in. You continue to unzip his jeans and take out his shaft through the fly hole. Tom hisses when you have your fingers around his cock.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I thought I see mice down here." He cleverly lies. "What was that Chrissss" he hiss again and slightly jolted when you put his member inside your mouth. His eyes widen and his hands are firm on a fist.

"Um... i was saying, we'll have it confirmed to paramount at that meeting, right?"

"Mhmm" Tom mumbles and try his best to not groan in front of the camera while you are down on your knees in between his legs and have his hardening member inside of your mouth.

You pull out his cock from your mouth and you pump his cock while you lick and sucks his balls. Tom takes a deep sharp breath and grips your arm firmly. His blood starts to surfacing, making him look flushed.

Tom quickly turns off the camera.

"Shitt!" He exclaimed. "S-sorry guys i think something is wrong with my camera," he lies.

Tom pushes his chair back till it hits the wall behind him and he also pulls you with him. He's giving you more room for you to work on, so you don't stay in the small room under his desk.

You put your index finger in front of your lips telling him to stay silent before you take his cock again and put it inside of your mouth. Tom bucks his head back at the contact of his cock inside your warm mouth. He pulls back his head again to meet your eyes.

"Are we done, McQ?" He asks.

Huh, now you're asking to have it done.

You just keep on doing your job there in between his legs. Sucking on his member, bucking your head up and down, and stroking the remaining length of him that you couldn't take to your mouth. Tom runs his finger through your hair. Holding the back of your head while you keep bobbing your head at his length, taking him as far back to the back of your throat.

"One more Tom, about Norway--"

Tom quickly mouths "Fuck" as he rolls his head.

He wants to have the meeting ended instantly. He wants to be able to groan and moans loudly now. More than that, he wants to have you. He wants to rail you now on top of his desk.

"I have asks Michelle to have it booked for mid-March, is it okay?" McQ continues to asks.

".....M-Mid march?" Tom thinks. "Isn't Oscar's in mid March?"

"Um... yeah, March 12th i think-- wait you're going to the oscar?" McQ asks back.

Hid member starts to pulsating inside of your mouth. You could feel that he's close. Tom put his fist to his mouth, trying his best to hold back not to come right now.

"Tom?" McQ calls again.

"Yesss! Yes, still here." Tom answers

"Are you sure you're okay? You sounds like you're out of breath..." McQ asks confused to himself.

"I'm okay, I'm.... really. Okay." Tom sigh and his grips on your hair tightens.

"About oscar... We'll-- Mmm... we'll see! We'll see later about it." He tries to answer the question as normal sounds as possible.

His jaws fall agape and his eyebrows pinched together. Tom buck his head back again and close his eyes shut. He's so close.

"Okay, then i guess that's all for this meeting. Any thing more you want to add, Tom?" McQ asks before closing it.

"N-no!! Thank you guys!" Tom's practically trembling.

"Thank you, I'll end the zoom, see ya" McQ said before the iconic system sound when a zoom meeting ended played out.

Tom quickly opens his eyes again, looking at the iMac screen to confirm it himself that the meeting is ended.

"Ohh-- you little slut!" He finally could verbally react to your sinful actions.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.... keep sucking me like that, you fucking minx!"

Tom's hand on your head, helping you to guide your movement down at his length. He also starts to buck his hips upwards, fucking your mouth.

"Oohh, honey, I'm coming!" He breathlessly said.

A few more swipes of your fury tongue on his sensitive head and he burst his seeds to the back of your throat. His muscles flex. And he grips onto you hard, hard enough to maybe let a bruise afterward. But you love every time he left a love mark on you.

You slowly pull your head back and his cock falls out from your mouth. You swallow his seeds and clean the remaining mess of his around your lips and on your fingers. You suck one by one of your fingers which are glazed by his precum mixing with your spit.

Still with a panting breath, Tom chuckles at you.

"You..." he shook his head.

"Now I got your focus on me," you said with such a sultry tone.

"Oh darling, you know you always do have 'em"

You clicked your tongue and roll your eyes but then you both laugh at it. Tom pulls you for a kiss then. It was a long warm and deep kind of kiss. One that always makes you certain that you are the number one priority in his life. And that he loves you, more than anything in this world.

Tom then breaks away from the kiss and rubs your cheek softly. He stares at you deeply with such adoration in his eyes.

"Wow darling," he whispers.

"You sure gonna wish you'll never have meetings at home from now on," he said with a devilish smirk on his face.

You're sure you start a new challenge for him. But at least, now he knows not to make you wait again.

#tom cruise #tom cruise x reader #tom cruise fanfiction #tom cruise x female reader #tom cruise smut

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