#Mostly because i was thinking whether i should do it or not

[jeneveuxrein]

attention (TWICE Nayeon)

word count: 6.1K

(she's been on my radar since the killing voice medley, and well, yeah, enjoy!)

-- -- -- 

You’re seething, forcing the amber liquid down, watching the people mingle. You should introduce yourself to some because networking at events like this always gives you the chance to meet the next up and coming. 

But not tonight. 

You don’t even want to be here. You weren’t on the original guest list, but with last minute changes and someone’s wife suddenly going into labor, your boss forced you to attend. 

Maybe the proper term is chaperone. 

All you wanted to do tonight was spend some time with this woman you’ve been casually seeing. Nothing serious, nothing committal, just dinner and drinks that had the potential of ending together in a bed. You had been dragging it out, and you think it’s warranted. She makes it obvious she’s interested.

But with how this evening was looking, you’ll be spending the night with someone else. 

That someone is across the room, draped over some man you’re more than likely going to have to do damage control. She’s an idol after all, and rumors will spread like a wildfire about her being linked to someone who’s nowhere near her caliber. 

She catches you staring, sending a sly smirk as she leans into whatever-his-face is saying. A little too close for the company’s taste and a shit ton too much for your sake.

“Dear fuck,” You mumble, shaking your head before standing. 

You don’t know what compels you to walk through the crowd, nodding politely at those that wave, but there you are, less than a meter away from where she’s seated. 

“Nayeon,” You say coolly. The man quickly separates himself, going as far away from the woman in question. “Time to go. You have an early day tomorrow.”

Nayeon tilts her head, a questioning glint in her eye because she, out of all of the members, knows her schedule. She has nothing for tomorrow, except maybe rest and recovery because this is her fault you’re here. 

Well, maybe you should backtrack. It’s technically your fault because if you hadn’t mentioned to Sana and Momo the plans you originally had, you wouldn’t be at some event against your will. It was an innocent question on how you were going to spend the weekend, the only mistake was that you said too much that they went running to their unnie. 

“Okay,” Nayeon says slowly, standing before bidding farewell to the people at the table. You wait for her, obviously, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. “Shall we?” She asks as she turns to face you. 

You nod, stepping side before bowing politely. You’ll have to send a message to the media team to stop any photos releasing of Nayeon and the man, but that could wait. There were more pressing matters that needed your attention. 

It isn’t until you’re inside your car that she says something that ticks you off, “So no date with Suji-unnie tonight?”

You shake your head, composing yourself because it’s a question she knows the answer to. “Nope, duty calls. Had to be here.”

“How unfortunate,” Nayeon says casually as if she had no part in how your night turned out, slouching in the passenger seat as you shift the car into drive. “Yours or mine? ” She asks, looking out the window. Adding, “Momo’s in Japan.”

“Mine,” You answer simply, turning onto the street. 

-- -- 

You should’ve seen it coming, but you let it happen. 

The company and management would have you barred from working with anyone in the industry if they ever found out. You reasoned that was why by the time things unfolded, it was out of your control. 

How it started was subtle, nothing too out of the ordinary to draw attention to her mostly. She flirted with you, commenting on your outfits about how it looked good on you and you, being you, would return the sentiment. It wasn’t anything explicit, just a polite acknowledgement of her looking great, something she heard daily from the girls and other people on the team. 

She lingered to walk with you whether it was crowded or not, it didn’t matter. She was right by your side, and the times where fans were around, she’d be especially close that you had no other choice to wrap your arm around her, shielding her from people who desperately wanted her attention. You missed the snickers from the girls, rolling their eyes because they knew what she was up to, while you were just doing your job. 

Then she texted you on free days, asking if you wanted to do something. Anything from getting food at hole-in-the-wall restaurants she learned about from Chaeyoung to intimate concerts of artists in the industry. You tried to decline, advising her to go with one of the female managers so it wouldn’t look suspicious to the public eye, but she was adamant about going with you. Some of the girls would join from time to time, but the majority of the time, it was just you two.

Again, you thought nothing of it. You were the closest to her, so no one batted an eye when she put in the group chat when something was planned. 

That was just how your relationship was with her for five years since the group debuted. 

Until one night.

You were working late, going over the travel plans for the girls’ encore tour, tucked away in your office. A short four-city stint in the United States that would be a bit of a hustle for them, but you knew they could do it. 

There were a soft two knocks, scaring you because you thought everyone had already left. You remembered the way you said come in, raspy and tired, when the door opened slightly, the half of Nayeon’s face peeking through the crevice. 

You smiled immediately, sitting straight, nodding as she stepped inside. You took note of her outfit. Something comfortable since they had dance rehearsals for the better part of the day, dark sweats and a heather grey cropped hoodie that showed a sliver of her skin, peeking from underneath. 

You watched Nayeon grow into a beautiful woman. Sexy too, but you slapped yourself every single time you thought of her like that. There had to be some professional line drawn somewhere. Although it seemed that metaphorical line had been blurred, crossed, over the past few months. 

She was more affectionate, playing with your fingers in the car, gently touching your arm wherever you walked. She pressed into your side more, even when there were no people around. She hugged you a bit longer than the others, not like you were counting the seconds. 

You stood to meet her on the couch, asking if she was alright since she was vocal earlier in the day she wanted to go home to sleep. She explained that she had finished practicing with the dance instructor. You admired how hard she worked, which for what it was worth, you thought she did well during rehearsals. 

“And I saw your office light on as I was leaving, thought I’d say goodbye,” Nayeon rested her head on your outstretched arm. It wasn’t out of the norm, something she did quite frequently in front of everyone. 

“You should rest,” You urged, softly squeezing her shoulder as she snuggled into you. “You did great today.”

Nayeon looked up at you, gaze briefly shifting to your lips before meeting your eyes, “Really?” 

You hadn’t realized it before, but as she stared at you, you could see how much she needed the affirmation, the reassurance, the praise, from you. 

You cleared your throat, looking away because it suddenly felt hot in your office. With Nayeon this close, her perfume faint, it had you dizzy. You mumbled a shy yeah. 

You knew the moment her hand touched your thigh, it was over. Everything you worked for, investing time and resources to make sure the girls you managed were successful, would be tossed down the drain because the undeniable tension that had been building over the past however long at this point broke.

The thing was, you didn’t know about it until that moment. 

You weren’t sure who kissed who first, and it didn’t matter. All you knew was she was on top, your arms pulling her closer as your lips met in a heated kiss, swallowing each other’s moans. 

Something clicked inside of you, like this was always supposed to happen. Every message, every call, every playful push, every stolen glance, every single thing led to this. 

“Nayeon,” You tore yourself apart, hyper aware of the small whine leaving her mouth as you tried to get some grip on the situation. “What’re we doing? We can’t do this.” 

Her eyes narrowed, glaring, and you knew that whatever resolve you had would be taken from you by her whether you liked it or not. She was never one to be challenged, always exceeding whatever expectation was placed on her. 

“And why not?” Her voice was steady, but her body was not. She dropped to her knees in between your legs. All the thoughts you pushed deep down inside you came rushing to the surface, dismantling the walls you put up for her to break it so easily. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” Her hands were on the waistband of your slacks, trailing along, stopping when she reached the button. 

You didn’t have the words, no sentence to form as she slowly, oh so slowly, pulled the zipper down. You nearly choked once she placed her hand over your cock, palming with the softest pressure. 

“Your body seems to think so,” She teased, slipping her hand underneath the fabric, wrapping around your cock. 

That very thin thread of control you snapped, leaning forward to pull back onto your lap. “That’s a lot to assume,” You quipped, hands gripping her waist firmly. 

“Really?” She rolled her hips over you, catching the smirk on her face as your eyes closed. “I think that you’ve always wanted me as much as I wanted you, which I—”

Impulsively, you brought your lips to hers, a searing kiss that she met with the same enthusiasm. You murmured a shut up before nipping her bottom lip, sucking lightly that her body shuddered against you. 

You didn’t remember much else from that night. 

That was a lie because that was the night she confessed it all. It didn’t help that she somehow slipped all her clothes off and she sunk your cock inside one smooth motion, testing your control once again because you could’ve exploded the moment you felt her warmth wrapped around you.

You remembered it vividly, clearly, as you watched her move on top of you. It was slow, intentional with every drop of her body, like she was showing you what you had been missing. It was hot, tight, and you couldn’t stop the whimper out of your mouth when she started whispering things—nasty, filthy things that you would have never guessed were in her vocabulary. 

Nayeon bit your ear lobe, murmuring how good you felt, how she got so wet whenever she saw you. The soft moan she let out. The dazed, lust-filled expression with each roll of her hips. You couldn’t stop the noises you made, the groans, the grunts, the fuck every time her pussy tightened. 

There was a brief sense of clarity when your stomach tightened, signaling you were close. You couldn’t exactly cum inside her because one, you stupidly (blindly) forgot to put a condom on, and two, you didn’t keep track of her health records (that wasn’t one of your responsibilities among everything else), so getting an idol pregnant wasn’t exactly on your list. 

She knew you were close the second your hips thrusted up, stealing a breathy moan. You were content lifting her off you to cum anywhere else that wasn’t inside her.

However, Nayeon was not. 

She made it perfectly clear when she wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you against her as she quickened her pace. You tried, maybe not that much, to get her off you before you met your impending end, but it was futile when she kissed your cheek, affectionately, lovingly, hot breath against your skin that she wanted you to claim her in a way no one else ever had. 

Air left your lungs as you came, releasing a lot inside of her, causing her own orgasm that felt like yours went on forever. She muffled her scream, biting into your neck as her body trembled. 

You wanted to believe it was a one-time thing, a mishap, a lapse in judgment because it was still your fucking job on the line. 

It was not a one-time thing. You couldn’t even count it as a two-time thing, or three, or four. It just kept happening. You couldn’t exactly avoid her, you literally worked for her. 

No one would think you favored her because they all knew you did, but they understood why. No one could stop Nayeon from being near you because she would throw a fit. Any crisis she had, you were the main point of contact because she only listened to you. 

Even if you had some kind of control over her, she had the most control over you. 

Then after some time of figuring out how you and Nayeon could keep whatever this under wraps—nothing was ‘figured out’ as you wouldn’t really be talking if you were alone together—a mutual colleague introduced you to Bae Suji.

-- 

You went on one date with Suji, or Suzy, as she sometimes preferred. How any of the girls found out was beyond you, but if you had to wager, it would’ve been Jeongyeon or Sana (Nayeon later did say it was the latter because her friend saw you).

It didn’t matter who found out because managers are allowed to have lives outside of their work, but this particular part of your life wouldn’t be allowed by the woman you spent a good chunk of time with, on- and off-the-clock. 

To say Nayeon was upset would be an understatement. Sure, she was upset, but she was livid. You didn’t see her that night, but she was at your door the next morning. She did what she always did, easily seducing you before demanding an explanation while you were deep inside her. 

It wasn’t healthy by any means, but it’s not like either of you cared. It was toxic at best, but it was debauchery at its absolute worst, using sex as a loaded gun to get whatever you wanted from each other. 

“You know we can’t keep doing this,” You grunted as you thrusted inside her, pausing as her pussy tightened. 

“Yet here you fucking are, still balls deep inside of me,” Nayeon said lowly, tugging you so you towered over her. “You aren’t fucking her so why did you even go out with her?”

You didn’t bother responding, instead you wrapped a firm hand around her neck, squeezing enough to shut her up because at that point, she was pissing you off. 

You would admit that that morning was the first time you let her get the best of you. You typically weren’t aggressive with her. You might’ve been rough less than a handful of times, but never like that.

What you couldn’t predict was how she’d react. She could have done anything. Hit you. Slap you. Push you off. 

She didn’t. 

It spurred her on more than anything. By the way her pussy tightened. By the way it felt wetter. By the way she tried to make a sound, but couldn’t because of the hold around her.

Your hand relaxed, listening to her violently gasp as the air entered her body. You broke for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort, uneasiness, because at the end of the day—you wouldn’t admit this to her—you loved her. You were in love with her, stupidly falling for her whether you wanted to or not. You believed she felt the same, but those kinds of things weren’t a topic of discussion. 

“Baby,” You whispered, still buried inside of her, but you weren’t moving. “I’m sor—”

Nayeon shook her head, sitting up as you hissed once the cool air hit your cock. She gave you a quick peck before turning onto her stomach, arching her back. Pushing herself up on her hands, she shook her hips side to side, head slightly turned, “Fuck me, daddy.”

A new kink was unlocked that night among a myriad of emotions you weren’t prepared for. One thing you were prepared for was to fuck her like you owned her. 

Maybe you did, but she owned you too. 

-- -- 

You open your front door, stepping aside for Nayeon to walk through. Tossing the keys on the side table, the door shuts as you take off your shoes. She’s right next to you, arms crossed behind her back, leaning against the wall. She’s waiting for the reaction you give whenever she pisses you off. She does what she does to rile you up, if that isn’t obvious. 

You sigh, shaking your head, standing in front of Nayeon. Her eyes look up, but your gentle hand cups her chin, tilting her head back. When you meet her gaze, there’s something off with her. 

You can read her like a book, very familiar with her moods. Though, this time, you see—and feel—the walls up, something unfamiliar to you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask softly, searching her face for anything to give her away. Her expression remains neutral, shrugging indifferently. “Something’s wrong.” 

Nayeon pulls away, averting her gaze, “Nothing’s wrong.” Pause. “So are we going to fuck or what? Isn’t that why we’re here?” 

“Not with that attitude,” You say sternly, reaching for her arms behind her back. You bring them around, struggling a bit. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

“There is no fucking problem. If you want to talk about thoughts and feelings, I’m going to pass,” She breaks away, and you let her. “I’ll call Jihyo or Jeongyeon to pick me up.” She turns to walk away, but you reach out quickly, hand wrapping onto her forearm to pull her back. 

Nayeon lets out a small oomph against your chest, glaring at you, unbothered by her attitude (you’ve dealt with worse), “Tell me what the fuck is wrong right now.”

“Or what?” Nayeon huffs, hands on your chest in a feeble attempt to get away from you. 

The movement brings your bodies closer, and accidentally, maybe purposely, she grounds her pelvis against you. It’s with the lightest pressure, but it’s enough for your cock to stir, awakening from her heated stare. You notice the way her breath hitches, body shivering as you pull her closer. 

“Brat,” You murmur, dropping your head to capture her lips with your teeth. She moans softly when you start sucking. Her hands move to interlace behind your neck. You didn’t want to use sex to get it out of her, but she’s being defiant. “Do you get off on making me mad?” 

“Not intentionally, of course.” You feel her smile form, the upward curve of her lips as you slide your tongue in. She sighs dreamily into the kiss, dropping her weight to lean against the wall. You fall into her, practically pinning her. “Is someone going to put me in my place?” 

It’s a rhetorical question because there has only been one person to put her in her place. 

You. 

This evening could have played out in two ways. The first, being the doting lover you’re familiar with, praising her softly like a secret only between you and her, taking your time to draw out every moan and sigh against your lips. The second, the one you’re leaning towards, being the indifferent, apathetic lover, uncaring of if she cums, fucking her until she begs for you, pussy deliciously tight to force you to breed her, claim her, because she’s yours. 

“Why not that tool you were all over at the party?” The question catches her off guard, body tensing at the thought that you caught her. She wanted you to catch her though, she has always wanted to be wanted by you. “You knew I was watching across the room,” Pulling away as you tower over her.

“It wasn’t like that,” Nayeon rushes out, the excuse you’ve heard multiple times before. The false panic in her eyes means she knew exactly what she was doing to get a reaction out of you. “We were just talking.” 

“I don’t believe that,” You click your tongue, the image of her with someone else like that sparks a possessive desire. “That wasn’t very good of you, baby.” Void of any affection associated with the pet name. Under the dim light of your hallway, you see her eyes dilate and her breathing picks up. She wants you and fuck do you want her too. “Room. Now.” 

Nayeon nods obediently. You reward her with a soft, chaste kiss. She tries her best to keep your lips together, but you tap her hip twice and she pulls away. “Daddy.” She whines, pouting in hopes it’ll get her more than you’re giving. You thought she’d last longer before using her nickname for you. 

“Don’t be a brat,” Your eyes narrow, challenging her because if she wants to act out even more, you’d just have to punish her. “Go to the room now.” Nayeon’s eyes widen at your tone, nodding once before walking down the hallway. 

You tilt your head side-to-side, stretching the muscles before making a quick stop in the kitchen. You know you’ll both be exhausted whenever you finish, so you might as well at least have water nearby. You’ll find the energy to make her food in the morning, or there’s always takeaway. With two water bottles in hand, you kick your room door open to Nayeon perched on the edge of your bed, topless, only leaving her red lace bottoms, dress tossed haphazardly on the chair. 

“For later, okay?” Momentarily breaking out of character because you still care for her, and her well-being will always be your top priority. She sends you a grateful smile before you place the bottles on the dresser. When you meet her on the bed, she moves to swing her leg over yours, but you shake your head. “Not yet, baby. You weren’t very good back there.” 

“But, but,” Nayeon’s voice trembles, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean it!” 

“Then why did you act out? Do I not give you what you want?” You gently push Nayeon off to her original position. 

“You do!” She says desperately, nodding her head. 

“Then why? Why him?” You taunt, deciding how far you want to go with her tonight. Something’s still wrong, and you need to know what. You want the reason, the confession, because she doesn’t keep secrets from you. You see the wheels turning, unsure if whatever she has to say would matter. It does matter to you. “So what is it?” 

“Because I wanted your attention,” Nayeon confesses before she jumps on you, landing perfectly on your already hard cock. She moans at the contact, grinding slightly before your hands find themselves on her hips, guiding her movement. “I wanted you to remind me who I belong to.” 

“And who’s that?” You say lazily, tongue trailing against her lower lip before dipping inside, swirling that she grounds harder. 

“You,” Voice dropping low, seductively adding, “Daddy.” 

You have to still make her pay her retribution. She’s almost there, telling you the real reason, and you’ll get it out of her. You easily lift her body off yours, smirking at the whine and huff when you pull away as you lay her on your stomach against your lap. “I still have to punish you, baby.” You rest your hand on her back, ghosting over her skin until you reach her low back. 

“But daddy,” Nayeon huffs, raising her hips in a feeble attempt to get your hand where she wants. “It didn’t mean anything,” She repeats, squirming on your lap. 

Your hand goes lower, hovering over her buttcheek, “It meant something to me,” You say pensively. Curious, prodding, “Is that why you wanted me to fill in instead of Seoyeon-unnie? You didn’t want me to go on my date.”

You don’t hear a response. You swiftly bring your hand down to her bottom, a resounding smack echoes through the room. “Well?” 

Silence again, which would result in another slap to the other cheek. She muffled a moan into the bedsheets, refusing to budge. 

Bingo. 

Her pride is her biggest downfall, ego constantly needing to be stroked. She loves the attention and adoration from fans, thriving off the praise, knowing that it’s all for her. She would rather suffer through the pain than have to admit she was jealous. 

The center of attention, the one in the limelight, spotlight shining on her and only her. She craves that from you, to be the center of your world, but ever since Suji came into the picture, she’s scared that there might be someone else, crashing like a meteor on unstable ground she’s never had. 

You continue with the slaps, easing the sting with light rubs. You know she’s soaked, the small dark circle forming on her underwear. You’re not faring any better, cock tenting against the fabric. 

After the seventh hit, Nayeon moans, body shaking wantonly in frustration. “Fuck fuck, please, please.”

“Tell me the truth.” Coercion isn’t the best method, manipulative by any definition, but you had no other choice. 

“Fine, fine.” You relent, hand halting mid-air. “I didn’t want you to go. You’re supposed to be mine,” She cries, breath uneven as she tries to compose herself. 

Your hand drops. Her body flinches when she feels it against her skin, but continues to wait, anticipating your next move. Your chest squeezes at the confession because she’s never been this vulnerable, open, willing to express her feelings for you.

You give in, to her, to this, the urge to suddenly show her who owns you becomes too great. You pull her up, laying her on the bed as you fall in between her legs. 

“Baby,” You murmur, leaning forward to brush your lips against her ear, “You’re being so good. I am yours,” Her body shivers, hips rolling up into nothing as she seeks some kind of friction. “I’m yours,” You repeat like a mantra, a reminder of what you’ve always said. “You deserve a reward, okay?” 

Nayeon shakes her head, eyes shooting open, wild with want and desire. “I can’t wait, daddy.” She reaches for your shirt, ripping the buttons, before stopping at your belt. “Inside me, please. I need to feel you.” 

You do nothing to stop her, hands swiftly moving to unbuckle your belt and slipping your cock out of your briefs. You groan when she wraps around your length, stroking lightly. She aims the tip at her opening, against the lace, uncontrollably moaning and panting. 

“Go ahead,” You goad, eyes fixated on your cock rubbing over her. The wetness seeps on you, mouth watering at the sight. You watch as she moves her underwear to the side, lining up your cock perfectly, the warmth and wetness surrounding you has you seeing stars. 

“I’m so wet, daddy,” Nayeon moans loudly, scooting closer to take more of you in. “All for you—fuck.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. She felt too good, too wet, and the tightness suffocates you the second you snap your hips forward, burying your cock to the hilt inside her. The sudden stretch has her head snapping back, screaming into the air. 

“You’re such a slut, always ready for my cock,” You choke out, hands settling on her hips before drawing backwards. Her body squirms, chasing after the sensation of being filled. “So needy tonight, baby.”

“Please, please,” Nayeon begs, doing everything she can to get all of you back inside her. She wants you, wants you so no one else can have you, desperate for the feeling you give her. She thrusts her hips down, sucking you in unexpectedly, that you nearly collapse on top of her. Her arms wrap around you, nails digging into your skin when your length rubs along her walls. “Fuck me. You own me.”

“Mine?” You’re able to catch a breath, holding on to the control you’re trying to keep. 

“Yours.” 

It snaps, breaking the moment she says the word, possessing you to pull back before sliding back in. You lose yourself inside her, each moan and breathy sigh, as you set a steady pace. It’s a beautiful sensation for Nayeon’s pussy hugging your cock perfectly, warm, wet, tight—just for you. 

Her nails trail down, scratching your back enough that you’ll see the damage later. The pain turns you on, snapping your hips, driving your cock through. You nearly falter when your eyes meet hers. It’s akin to love, a word that has been dangerously sitting on the tip of your tongue these past few months. 

“I—fuck,” You stutter out. You can’t tell her how you feel. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You won’t. 

“I love you.” 

You swear you misheard her. The three words forming the sentence that has you over the moon. She says it again, softly, affectionately, because she means it. 

“You love me?” You cease your movements, cock bottoming out inside of her. The snugness of her pussy warms your cock as you wait. She doesn’t hesitate, saying it again and again before pulling your lips to hers. 

“I love you,” Nayeon mumbles, tongue running along your bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” You pull away, hips drawing back before flipping her body over. She raises her hips, the beautiful arch in her back. You tear the lacy garment off, making a silent promise you’ll buy her another later. You’ll buy her whatever she wants. “I love you,” You whisper before sinking in, missing the way her eyes roll back. 

You couldn’t control what happened next as the words triggered her orgasm. Her pussy pulls you in, suffocating you so you wouldn’t leave—not like you had anywhere to go. You’d lose yourself inside her ten times out of ten. 

“Fuck daddy, I’m cumming,” Nayeon screams, panting as her body shudders, pussy tightening and relaxing rhythmically as you groan. You feel the wetness coat your upper thighs, guttural moaning against her hair. “Come inside me, please. I’m yours, yours, oh shit—”

Your stomach tightens, snapping at the way her ass cheeks ripple against your pelvis, moving uncontrollably as she coaxes your orgasm. Your hands grip her muscles, hips erratically thrusting into her as your release floods her, painting every crevice inside her. 

Nayeon leans her head back, enough for you to kiss her forehead. Her hands find yours, interlacing them sweetly as you both try to catch your breath. 

You’re still hard, and you’re feeling particularly giving. She can handle whatever you throw at you, so you gently remove one of your hands from hers, trailing slowly to the apex of her thighs. Her breathing hitches, “What’re you doing?” 

“Another,” You command as you rub through her folds, finding her clit. 

“Wait—wait shit,” The contact catches her by surprise, her body folding forward as you continue your onslaught. 

“Good girl,” You murmur, watching as her hips move in slow figure eights with your cock still inside. Her pussy constricts, finding every angle to hit her favorite spot. And when she does, she mewls and pants. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Nayeon turns her head, locking eyes with you as she moves faster along your length. Your fingers aren’t idle, applying heavy pressure that has her going crazy, unsure with what to do with the pleasure flowing through her body. You mouth cum and flicking like a switch, she gushes all over you, forcing you to leave her warmth. 

“Fuck daddy,” Nayeon screams, voice hoarse as you watch her body convulse, back arching and flexing as she squirts more fluid than you’d ever seen. “I need you, please. Something, anything—oh shit!” Your fingers enter her swiftly, massaging her inner muscles as it just gets wetter, drenching your skin and bedsheets. 

“Tell me who owns this pussy,” You say lowly, eyes fixated on the way her butt muscles ripple with every movement of your fingers. 

“You,” She repeats your name over and over, pussy sucking you as she tightens deliciously around them. “God, fuck, you, sir, only you.” 

You replace your fingers with your cock, aiming at her opening before sinking in once again. Her fingers ball into fists, wrinkling the bed sheets as you nearly go feral on her body. She could take it. She wants you like this, crazy, addicted, in love that no one else could fuck her. She needs to feel how much you want her. She only needs you.

“So easy,” You swing a hand back, slapping each cheek with precision. “All you need is my cock, right?” 

“Yes, yes, only yours daddy,” Nayeon nods, easily agreeing to whatever you say. You could call her every name in the book, and she’d comply. She’s your little fucktoy that gets your cock stuffed inside her whenever you want.

You lose it once Nayeon lets out a high-pitched squeal. The orgasm crashes through your body, hips stuttering forcefully into hers as you fill her again, unabashedly rolling your hips to hear her breath staccato. 

Every nerve on your body buzzes, stimulated by Nayeon’s walls pulsing to milk you for all that you have. It hits overstimulation, sucking the breath from you as you regretfully pull out. She whines at the loss of contact, but you lean forward, sweetly kissing her buttcheek, nipping at the skin that she squirms. 

“Ticklish?” You tease, voice light and relaxed. The exhaustion slowly sets in your bones. 

“You know I am,” Nayeon huffs, hips dropping, limbs spread limply. 

You’re still a sick human, and you want to see the result of your activities. You nudge Nayeon’s leg, easily responsive as they spread a little. You bite your tongue at the sight of your essence dribbling out of her swollen lips. It’s hot, filthy to see you all over her. You wish you had a phone nearby to snapshot this into memory, but your mind drifts off to recreating it at a later date.

You yawn, collapsing next to her that she scoots to snuggle into your side. You fight to keep your eyes open because you still have to clean up. Nayeon mumbles something into your skin. You don’t quite catch what she says, softly asking her to repeat it, and you freeze. 

“I love you.”

It’s a finicky thing, this thing between you and Nayeon. Somewhere along the way, you fell for her. Maybe you knew the moment you met her, or maybe you knew that you would at some point in time. Or maybe you knew the night she walked into your office because by then, it had built up between you that that was the final piece of the puzzle to confirm what you’ve known. 

The hormones flow between you, and you can’t help but think that’s the only reason why. You’re an idiot too, “Are you just saying that?” Nayeon’s hand presses into your chest. You open your eyes to her peering over you, hair an unruly mess, “What?”

Nose scrunching, Nayeon rolls her eyes, “You seriously believe I’d throw that around so easily?”

You don’t, but this was Nayeon. You may have been sleeping with her for a while, but you’ve heard the girls talk about their flings. You could almost guarantee that she’s only been sleeping with you, but they know how to hide things. 

“Stupid,” Nayeon shakes her head when you ask again. “Did you just say it?”

You did. You do. It’s not just the hormones causing you to act like such a love struck idiot. You weigh the situation, knowing that whatever answer you give will change your relationship. It won’t be an illicit affair between an idol and her manager. It’ll be hard because you’d still have to keep it a secret, unless you changed companies, something you’d be willing to do. 

“No,” You send an easy smile, “I love you. I’m in love with you.” 

Nayeon’s face lights up, beaming with all her teeth showing, eyes crinkling in the corners. She kisses you, softly, tenderly, a contrast to how you were no less than five minutes ago. 

“I love you,” Nayeon says quietly, an unspoken vow passed between you. She understands what this means, being together for real, that there will be hardships, but she’ll do them with you. 

You sigh contentedly against her lips, whispering those same three words, full of intent and promise. 

“No more dates with Suji-unnie,” Nayeon sing-songs, confident after pecking you on the lips, smug at accomplishing her mission of making you hers. 

-- -- -- 

(pardon any mistakes or typos, lol)

#twice smut #twice nayeon #twice im nayeon #nayeon smut #im nayeon smut #im nayeon

[havendance]

Okay, I want to play too. Building off of @dustorange's post and @silverwhittlingknife's post

I think, how I would play this: the circus still happens obviously.

And then Dick dies when he's 16 in circumstances similar to Batman #408, where Dick is shot by the Joker and it causes him to fall to his death. (Dick has to die by falling. To me.) Bruce isn't able to catch him.

Bruce is obviously devastated. Going off of Silver, we'll say no Robin!Jason in this AU. Jason can get away with stealing the tires off of the Batmobile of an extremely grieving Batman. As a treat.

Tim is also devastated. I usually have Tim being 3 at the circus, so I guess he's 11-12 when this happens.

I think the fact that Dick was the only Robin in this scenario means that Tim is more reluctant to push himself as a replacement Robin. That and the fact that his HERO Dick Grayson died means I think that he's slower to act.

Eventually though, things get bad enough in Gotham that he does just because someone has to and he ends up as Robin. We'll handwave the details for now.

I think that Dick should get to come back to life during the Knightfall Saga. As a treat.

He comes back to Gotham just in time to see that there's a new Robin and watch Bruce get his back broken.

Tim's been Robin longer before Knightfall in this AU, so he's got a little more experience, but he's also 14, and while Bruce is lying in the Batcave and they don't know whether he's going to wake up or not, and he's fetching the medicine in that one comic, he runs into this unknown, edgy looking vigilante who blames him for Bruce getting his back broken and it's just everything he's been thinking to himself.

Dick sticks around in Gotham long enough to see that there's a new Batman and of course Bruce has someone else he can get to do that. Of course he doesn't need Dick. He runs off to go do like, black-ops vigilante work somewhere.

I think he and Tim do run into eachother once more before Dick leaves town though and Tim's like 'I know I'll never be as good as the first Robin, but that just means I need to learn everything I can' and tries to bother Dick into teaching him stuff because he can tell that this mysterious vigilante is way more skilled than him.

Dick mostly avoids Gotham, but I think they keep running into each other, coincidentally. Tim ends up teaming up with him during Contagion instead of Catwoman and they're both in Paris at the same time etc etc.

And eventually on one of these team-ups, Dick does a quadruple somersault and Tim sees it and everything clicks together and he imminently runs away because that's Dick Grayson and Tim has been talking up the first Robin all this time and it's a lot okay?

I think this is about when No Man's Land happens so Tim goes to go hide in Gotham and help out Batman and become a National News story and all that jazz instead of thinking about it.

But afterwards, Tim is ON THE CASE. I think he doesn't tell Bruce about this because if Dick hasn't told Bruce then he probably has his reasons? And what he was actually wrong? (Even though he knows he isn't)

And then, um, let's put the Dick and Bruce finally confronting each other during Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive because Dick comes back to Gotham when he hears that Bruce murdered someone because he doesn't want to believe it, but I think he also can't have that same bone deep belief in his innocence that he does in canon because of all the estrangement.

So he attacks Batman and demands to know the truth (without revealing who he is) and Bruce won't answer. Bruce also doesn't know how this mysterious vigilante knows he's Bruce Wayne/got accused of murder, so he low key suspects DICK of framing him, which normally he'd be too busy being Batman full time to care, but here he also recognizes some of Dick's fighting style so he starts investigating him to uncover the mystery.

Meanwhile, Tim noticed that Dick is back in town, so he's trying to recruit Dick to help him get to the bottom of this. He knows Dick's identity now, but he doesn't tell Dick that, he just drops various hints that he knows and hooks Dick up with a line to Oracle (who he has also not shared his conclusions with other than a vague 'there's something about him')

And hmm somehow this all resolves with like, Dick's identity getting out and him and Bruce talking face to face. Bruce is just so desperately amazed that Dick is there, meanwhile Dick still has various issues that are not resolved and it probably ends with Dick running away again and Bruce holding himself back from chasing after him like he desperately wants to. Because if Dick doesn't want anything to do with him then that's just his right because Bruce WAS the one who got him killed.

He does stalk Dick from afar though. Just without initiating contact. Tim and Barbara are more pushy about trying to hang out/talk with Dick in the aftermath.

To skip ahead, I think Bruce leaves Dick the Batmantle after he 'dies' as this last ditch attempt to share how much he loves and respects Dick.

And this getting long so I think I'll call it here.

#batman #dc #bats + birds + affiliated #my au ideas #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #last of the flying graysons #tim tag #utrh dick au #havendance writes #carthago delenda est

[rosewaterandivy]

symptoms of the culture

Summary: Last call at the bar and you’re still here? Jesus Christ girl, get yourself together!

Pairing: e.m. x f!reader

W.C.: 1.9k

A/N: a continuation of our meet cute with eddie ☺️

Meeting Eddie at the bar was like something from a romantic comedy, and unlike everything you’d experienced before.

He did end up letting you buy that drink after all, which turned in to him buying you a drink because “it’s the polite thing to do.”

Your friend checked in maybe once or twice before deciding you could handle yourself, if it came to that (she didn’t seem to think that would be the case though). The crowd had dwindled down to mostly the regulars and friends of the bartenders, and you didn’t realize how late it had gotten until someone bellowed, “Last call!”

Eddie’s deft fingers traced the rings of condensation on the wooden table, dragging droplets of water into various shapes. Enthralled, you quickly realized that you could watch him do something like that all day, if you weren't careful.

“Shit,” You say, downing the last of your beer, “I didn’t mean to hold you up for so long.”

His lips kick up to one side, dimples prominent despite the low light. There’s a glint in his eye as he looks you up and down, a slow assessment that has you shifting in your seat.

“Riddle me this, sugar,” He says drumming his fingers on the table, “You really think there’s any place I’d rather be?”

And with that, he leaves to pay the tab, leaving his question hanging in the air.

Not that you could have formulated a semblance of a response anyway. Grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair, you shove your free hand into your purse to scrounge up your card to cover the tab as you sidle up beside him at the bar top.

Eddie’s got two bills in front of him, one large hand over each so you can’t figure out which is yours. Going to pluck either one from his grasp is useless, and after the second attempt, he simply holds it above your head and out of your reach.

“Try me, short stuff,” He taunts with a huff of a laugh. “Besides, your money’s no good here.”

Thinking twice before you could potentially demean yourself by actually jumping up to steal the bill from him, you turn to the bartender with a smile instead to ask:

“Can you print another bill please?”

And once you’ve supplied your last name, it should be a done deal. You expect him to reply with a nod and a ‘you got it’, accompanied by the familiar sound of a receipt being printed.

Instead, it goes a little something like this:

The bartender turns to glance at Eddie, and he gives the bartender some sort of look— which, what would the bartender need approval from a patron? Then, he shoves both receipts into the jar by the register and leans against the bar top and props an elbow on it as he faces you, like he’s waiting for something.

“Can’t do it.” The bartender sighs, “The bossman says you’re money’s no good here, them’s the rules.”

You try, and fail, to keep your jaw from dropping.

“Y-you own this bar? You’re that Eddie?”

“In the flesh and at your service.”

A beat of silence passes between you as the bartender clears his throat and begins closing preparations.

“Well, technically,” Eddie allows, with a twist of his lips, “I co-own it with a buddy of mine. This and couple of other places around town.”

And, well. For someone who dresses like they should be in a biker gang or fronting a prog-metal band, Eddie sure didn’t strike you as a real estate mogul.

“That’s cool,” You say with a nod, hand shoved into your purse once more. Rifling around a bit, you come back with a glorious fist of cash and shove it into the kitty near the register that simply reads, Alms for the pour.

“Soooo,” He drawls, the awkward end of the night coming upon you rapidly. “You good to drive or…?”

“Oh, no worries,” You say flippantly, quickly debating whether your should call an Uber at the hour of just suck it up and walk home. You could cut through campus and maybe shave five minutes off of the journey, anyway.

“I can get you an Uber—”

“No, it’s fine, really.” You adjust the shoulder strap of your bag and grab your keys, “I live just off the campus, it’s walkable from here.”

Eddie’s fingers loop around your wrist before you can say your goodbyes and high-tail it out of there. The silver of his rings glints in the light and the cool metal contrasts with the warmth of his hand as it engulfs yours.

“Nuh uh, not happening.” His tone leaves no room for discussion. “I’m not gonna let you walk—”

“It’s not even a mile!” You interject, “I cut through campus and skirt the park and I’m golden.”

“The park? At three in the morning?” He shakes his head, fingers forming a bracelet around your wrist, “Not even sorry to say, that is unequivocally not happening.”

Eddie tugs you with him as he passes behind the bar and down a small corridor to the back office.

“You good closing on your own Matty?”

The bartender, Matty, you assume, nods with an easy smile.

“Sure, Ed.”

Eddie releases your hand to grab a backpack and a helmet. He tosses the bag to you saying, “Throw your purse in there, you don’t mind wearing that on the bike, right?”

“I really am fine walking home, I haven’t fallen or stumbled in years,” You say as he turns back around, “That’s how good I am.”

“It’s not your walking capabilities I’m worried about here, sugar.” He holds the black helmet in his hands, fingers drumming on the closed visor. “It’s the creeps.”

“This from you, the man that very nearly creeped me out earlier tonight?”

Matty fails to stifle his laugh from the desk.

Eddie rolls his eyes in exasperation, “Yeah, laugh it up newbie.” Taking you by the shoulder, he steers you toward the service entrance and you find yourself not even trying to come up with excuses anymore.

Well, except for:

“Oh, you meant bike as in motorcycle.”

He snorts from behind you, finishing the job of zipping the backpack, now containing your purse, and looping the straps around your shoulders.

“Well it’s certainly not a pennyfarthing, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“I’ve never been on one before.”

“No time like the present.”

Clapping you on the shoulder, he turns you around to face him and pries a hair tie from his wrist. You take it from his outstretched hand, your fingertips brushing for a fleeting moment. Without much fuss, you throw your hair into a loose bun at the nape of your neck.

“May I?” Eddie asks, presenting you with the helmet.

After you nod, he deftly flips the helmet around and takes a step closer to place it on your head. It’s not a perfect fit, but it’ll have to do. He has you shake your head left and right, then up and down before he’s satisfied you won’t crack your skull on the pavement.

In a few strides he’s near the bike, and mounting it in one fluid motion. His legs are long and pretty fucking perfect for, oh you don’t know, maybe straddling later yourself.

But now you’re just getting ahead of things.

You follow his lead and step toward the bike; taking his offered hand as you find your seat behind him.

“So,” Eddie says leaning to start up the bike, once he’s satisfied that your feet are on the foot rest. “All you really gotta do is hold on.”

Your hands go to his shoulders and you can feel them rise with his soft chuckle.

“That’s cute,” He says, taking both your hands in his and moving them to his waist, which causes you to bridge the few inches of space between your bodies to accomodate the movement.

I mean, there are worse things than having your tits smooshed up against some guy’s back on a motorcycle, right?

“You good?”

And you can barely hear him over the rev of the engine, so you nod and raise your voice to rattle out your address. He half-turns toward you, eyes finding yours through the visor of the helmet and giving you a wink.

He grips the handles, pulls the clutch, and kicks off.

“Alright, sugar, let’s get you home.”

Holding on for dear life, you quickly learn that as he leans, you lean. There’s a lot of movement on a bike that you hadn’t anticipated, so much so that Eddie’s shirt, at some point, rides up his abdomen. Too busy gawking at the sights and sounds of your first motorcycle ride, you don’t notice the subtle warming of your fingertips against his bare skin until it’s too late.

You were confident that the sound of the engine would drown out the unfortunate squeak that escaped your mouth, but at the feeling of Eddie’s stomach muscles contracting in what could only be laughter, and the shaking of his shoulders, now has you second guessing yourself.

Oh, well.

Rolling to a smooth stop in front of your apartment, he kills the engine and helps you off the bike.

Back on solid ground, you slough off the backpack and unzip it to grab your purse and keys. You pass it back to him and remove the helmet, mourning briefly the soft scent of tobacco and clary sage— his cologne, maybe?

Hooking a finger through the hair tie at the back of your neck, you pull it out, and shake your hair from its confines before offering it back to him.

Eddie just smiles with a shake of his head, “Nah, keep it— I gotta million of ‘em.”

He stays seated on the bike, eyes whiskey-warm and crinkling at the edges. With a shrug, you push the elastic up and around your hand to settle on your wrist.

It’s relatively quiet for a winter’s night around the campus, all the undergrads gone home for the holidays and not expected back until mid-January. A brisk wind blows and a shiver runs through you, one hand rubbing furiously along your arm, while the other grips the helmet resting against your hip.

All the while, Eddie simply sits there to drink you in. Eyes roving across the full of your cheeks, the elegant slope of your neck and the necklaces strung there. Your hair wild and waving in the breeze. And even if it’s cold outside, he can’t bring himself to notice— not with you looking like that standing there before him.

“Hey, Eddie,” You say, stepping toward him. Taking the helmet in both hands, you put it on for him and have half a mind to make him go through the head shaking nonsense he was adamant over back at the bar. But it fits him perfectly, just your luck.

Before stepping back and retreating into your apartment, he takes your hand in his and gives it a slight squeeze. You can feel the heat skittering under your skin, terribly welcome in the cold morning air.

Squeezing his fingers back in return, you part with a soft, “Happy New Year.”

He watches as you open the front door of your ground floor apartment, giving him a shy wave as a dog barks from somewhere behind you. He can see your lips moving as you turn back to say something to the dog, smiling as you bend to greet them.

Kicking off as the door closes and the lights flick on in your home, Eddie cruises down the deserted street with a smile on his face.

And maybe, this could turn out to be his year after all.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #fic: ml #Spotify

[golden1u5t]

back home | e.p x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary: you and emily have just gotten back home after a long case, one where you stayed in different hotel rooms and never had the chance to enjoy each other's company aside from the case. luckily you're back home and can enjoy each other as much as you like.

as you and emily finally stepped through the door of your shared apartment, all the exhaustion melted away, instead replaced by a rush of relief to finally be back in the comfort of your home. you made quick work of putting your hardware away safely before you dragged yourself into your bedroom and collapsed onto the bed with an aspirated sigh. emily followed close behind you and leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms as she watched you bury your face into your blankets. 

the feeling of the bed dipping caused you to turn your head, she had laid down on her side beside you and propped herself up on her elbow. the sight of her never failed to make you giddy inside, not being able to really see her all week definitely had a lot to do with that feeling also. really the only times you were able to actually sit down with her was when you were taking a break to eat, all the other times you were purely working. 

also, having separate hotel rooms meant that by the time you were finished with the day you were both too tired to even think about going to the others room, only wanting nothing more than to take a shower and pass out on the crappy beds. 

“you know, i really don’t appreciate how amazing our apartment is until we have to stay in those hotels.” you groaned, dropping your head back onto the bed. emily let out a soft scoff and lightly shoved your arm before getting off the bed. you turned around and sat up, watching her walk over to the dresser. “what are you doing?”

“i’m gonna go wash up…in our amazing shower.” she looked at you through the mirror that was on the dresser as she picked out her clothes, you immediately perked up when she said that. showering with emily had always been your favorite thing to do since the first time you did it, even if you literally didn’t do anything other than clean yourselves. you stood up and walked up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist and leaning your head on her shoulder. 

“mind if i join you?”

“not at all.”

+++ 

the shower had started off fairly normal, you both took turns under the water, kept your hands to yourself(mostly), and so on. it was fine until she went to wet her hair, her body had arched back just enough that she could get all of her hair and it gave you a perfect view of her chest. you tried to keep your hands to yourself but the longer you watched her chest rise and fall with each breath she took, the harder it was for you to keep your hands off her. 

you contemplated on whether you should have just let her finish washing her hair or if you should give into what you really wanted to do. it only took you a few seconds to decide, honestly. you reached up and placed your hands on her waist, tugging her from under the water and pressing her back against the shower wall. emily hardly had the chance to react before you were crashing your lips into hers. 

her breath hitched for a second before she melted into you and wrapped her arms around your neck, pressing herself into your body as your hands roamed over her skin. you couldn’t find a place on her to settle your hands, they moved from her ass to the back of her head, from her chest to her hips, from her hips to back around to her ass. you loved every part of her body and sometimes you wished you had extra arms and hands so you could touch every part of her. 

“we can never take a normal shower.” emily breathed out as you tucked your head in the crook of her neck and started to litter kisses across the soft skin of her throat. you only hummed in response to her because to you normal had a vast definition; for some people showering without their partner was normal and for others showering with their partners but never touching each other was normal, but for you and emily, having sex every time you showered together was perfectly normal. 

“i know but- fuck, em. i’ve been thinking about this all day.” you huffed out, pulling away from her to look her in her eyes. “you can’t tell me you haven’t been waiting for this very moment either.” 

emily ran her fingers through your hair as she tugged you back into a kiss. she couldn’t deny that she had been thinking about doing this all day, honestly, she’d been thinking about it since the first night at the hotel but she had been too tired to do anything about it. finally, you used your knee to push her legs apart and reached down between her thighs. you swiped your fingertips through her soaked folds, groaning at how wet she was, all the way up to her swollen clit. 

you pulled away from her and carefully lowered yourself onto your knees, you hooked your hand under her leg and pulled it over your shoulder. emily’s hand went into your hair to hold it back as you looked up at her for permission, to which she simply nodded her head. 

she watched you intensely as you leaned forward and closed your mouth around her clit, your fingers gently prodding at her entrance. when you finally slipped a finger inside she let out a soft whimper and tighter her hold on your hair. your thrust were slow for now since you were only trying to get her ready for another finger and when you did add another one, her head tipped back against the shower wall and a drawn out moan slipped from her lips. 

as you found yourself falling into a good rhythm, your fingers and tongue working together to push emily over the edge, her hips started to grind down into your. they bucked wildly against your face as you curled your fingers in her pussy and the sound of the water hitting the shower floor was slowly being drowned out by the sound of her moans. 

the water from the shower had started to go cold and with it hitting your skin, it had you letting out a small moan. the noise was completely unintentional but the vibrations against emily’s clit was just what she needed, her fingers tightened in your hair as she tugged one last time and her back arching from the shower wall. 

you helped her ride out her high before gently pulling your fingers out and standing up, you pushed her hair from her face and placed a quick kiss to her lips. you would’ve stayed in the shower longer just to kiss her but goosebumps were starting to form on your skin from the coolness of the water. 

“come on, em, it’s freezing in here.” 

#emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x fem!reader smut #criminal minds fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fandom

[scientia-rex]

Hey, exercise question I'm asking because nobody will give me a straight answer (obligatory "everybody is different, you are not my doctor"): How long should it take for regular exercise to have a visible effect on resting heart rate? I get really discouraged because nothing seems to improve mine, but I also have no idea whether I'm expecting too much too soon, and all the advice is like "it helps! :)" without giving a timeframe. (I mostly walk (can't run) but am also getting back into martial arts classes, if that clarifies anything). Thanks for your time!

Oh, I have no idea. Sorry! I think it’s variable—many people never do see an impact on resting heart rate—but it’s not something I’ve ever been taught or had reason to learn about. You’ll see cardiovascular and other health benefits even if your heart rate doesn’t go up during or down after—walking alone is light-years better than nothing.

(And to get on a soap box, I think the exercise industry’s obsessive focus on metrics is damaging.)

#the attending dr. kristophine

[flightfoot]

Any feligami fic recommendations?

Felix is Fine by SortaArtsy

Felix wakes up sick, but is determined to keep it under wraps. Kagami refuses to be fooled. Feligami fluff. Implied past trauma/ abuse, though nothing explicit. Set post S5 so there are SOME SPOILERS!

If you want a Felix sick fic, this story’s the fic for you! I like how Felix and Kagami actually talk about why Felix is so determined to keep the extent of his illness hidden, what caused him to feel like he needs to do that, and Kagami’s understanding about it. Colt sucks.

---

to assess the equation of you by ThisKwamiNeeds-aNap

“I’m not a wanted fugitive,” she said, dryly. “You could change that.” She wasn’t sure if he was joking. Wasn’t sure if she wanted him to be joking. She stared for a long second, as if she could read more into his intent in the pupils of his eyes. They stayed there for a long second, unblinking. OR: Félix and Kagami try to talk about that after credits scene in Pretension

---

the awful felix saga by chivalrousamour

It should be noted that Félix was not exactly the most normal of people. He was idolized by others and popular, yet never had many friends. His social skills mostly amounted to knowledge of how to smile and speak politely enough that people let their guard down around him. As a result of his tendency to ignore or hate most people, he only had the few loved ones, and he'd commit murder for them. Like literally commit murder for them. Several murders, even. He did not have good knowledge of boundaries or restraint. So it should really say something that Félix, of all people, looked at Adrien's phone, and immediately said "oh, what's wrong with this guy." Because, like, dude. Why did Adrien have so many pictures of a girl he wasn't even dating? Even Félix knew that cropping group pics to be just the two of them was a weird thing to do.

So this is part of a series. I put that series on my top ten completed fics of 2023 list. I think you can mostly understand what's going on here without reading the other fics in the series, but I highly recommend you do read them, because they're hilarious! But this fic should at least give a taste of the tone of the rest of the series and give an idea whether you'd like to read the rest.

---

The Peacock and the Dragon by TheVioletThread

kagami reflects on love, past and present, lost and won. felix destroys everything he has ever loved.

This is a three-chapter story, with the chapters being mostly independent, rather than naturally leading into each other.

The first chapter is from Kagami's POV, delving into the mindset she's grown up with due to Tomoe's parenting.

The second chapter, on the other hand, is from Felix's POV and mostly follows his horrific backstory, the abuse he suffered at Colt's hands, and his mindset even after Colt died.

The third chapter goes over Amelie's life, how she thinks of being the one left behind to deal with her parents' expectations, how she does, in fact, abide by them, basically being sold away to the highest bidder, and the despair as she's unable to do what she was "purchased" to do: provide an heir to Colt.

There's some beautiful prose here and exploration for Felix, Kagami, and Amelie, I highly recommend giving it a look!

---

one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace.

Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack for the last remaining Miraculous: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most.

Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

So this is mostly a Lovesquare fic, but there's lots of different perspectives here, including Felix's and Kagami's. They may not be the main couple, but they still have more focus and development here than you're likely to find in most other fics.

Which is especially impressive since Feligami was one of the major pairings in this fic even BEFORE the Miraculous season 5 bible got leaked. Wackus was clairvoyant on that front.

#ask #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic rec #felix fathom #kagami tsurugi #feligami

[canisalbus]

✦ 3 PM ✦

#own art #own characters #CanisAlbus #art #artists on tumblr #Vasco #Machete #anthro #sighthound #dogs #canine #animals #modern au #sort of #mostly just wanted to do some hands holding cups #I don't think I've ever had many opportunities to practice them #also debated whether I should leave the steam out because it's not like you drink your hot drinks boiling hot #it's not realistic but in the end the aesthetic won

[aquilamage]

I haven’t been insane about Vi enough lately so time to pour out some random thoughts. free association thinking time:

been thinking about her “It's my savings. I wanna be rich, okay? So I can travel, eat well, buy cool stuff… So no one can say I can't do something!” And none of the following will really be insightful or revelatory because it’s just what she says here but. yeah! that’s vi! the main reason she’s so big on money is because she has to be to get what she wants out of life! it’s what lets her say no to people telling her what to do, and that’s important to her because she has no choice but to be independent and support herself. because no one else will. No one at the Hive had anything positive or supportive to say about her being an explorer until she went out and did it (to a ridiculously successful degree, too. I have to wonder if/how it might’ve differed if she was on a regular accomplishment level team. not the one leading them all to the mission to the Hive). she never had a choice not to be. I could also see that being a little part of why she starts out not really being a teamwork person. past experiences have taught her she can’t rely on anyone else for support. (does make me wonder about what if she’d met Chubee before leaving the Hive. obviously she still would’ve left, but how might even a bit of support have changed other things?)

I feel like we don’t talk about the fact that The Beemerang Is Also Knives enough

ok so at one point there was this post talking about people with money and how it affects their life like. if you can afford to get a nanny then you can only do the fun parts of childcare and when you stop feeling like taking care of the kid you can just hand them to someone else to take them away. and again likely not especially revelatory but I would guess that’s the kind of way queen bianca handled the bees as her daughters (she does care about them. absolutely. but not in the same hands-on attached way as we usually associate with parents) and thinking about how that kind of treatment would then apply to vi....hm

in universes where discussions of Gender and Pronouns etc happen I think she has moments where she gets frustrated with the everything of Being Referred To and Having Complicated Identity She Hasn’t Quite Figured Yet and is like. gender is cancelled how dare you refer to me. but especially anyone else calls me a girl ever i will be stabbing them

also I think a lot about what circumstances she finds out about gayness/Gender being things. and whether she’s thought about it in herself before and whether she’d been dismissed on it/told it wasn’t a thing etc. most circumstances she ends up angry about the finding out times because of (un)consicious internal conflict stuff

underground tavern stuff implies she was definitely doing quests and stuff for money with them precanon. would kill to know what specifically it was. but also the first talk with utter implies that she was doing stuff off that questboard as well which is even more intriguing. utter’s spy also implies you don’t have to be an explorer to do them but otherwise you would think you did I feel. so again very curious what was up there

#inspired by that girl blorbos post and also me trying to think about where in the game they drop facts and such about precanon stuff w her #the urge to try and fic about the stuff between her leaving the hive and showing up at the association....strong again #'the hive didn't do anything' my ass. vi might have also been a jerk but it's just that she was the more obvious #easily labeled incident version of it. she was active while her treatment was the subtle passive neglect type of bad treatment #complex situation and also. yeah #an aquila original #vi bug fables #bug fables #also featuring funky gender lesbian stuff because thats not even headcanon. to me #hopefully the reasoning out stuff doesn't just come out like a load of nonsense #vi's one of those characters where I definitely feel comfortable in writing her on a basic level but some parts I'm super insecure about #and the part with her is in really capturing the complexities of her backstory and family issues #and the thing is it's like. I have to remind myself that some parts of how canon did her on that are actually decent #and I should pay attention to those complexities. but then also canon definitely did some of their 'this hasn't really been earned' #resolution stuff on her. mostly thinking about the postcanon dialogue with Bianca. it's jsut too much of a jump for that for me #and it's not even that I necessarily think bianca's dialogue is out of character. it's that I'm contemplating whether it would've #made more sense for vi to get angry about it. like. #ok so. sometimes i think about what coming out to my family might be like. and I've come to the conclusion that if they were just accepting #despite the fact that it would be best case scenario I'd be angry about it. because they've said some shitty stuff in the past. in general #they've made me feel unsafe about myself. so no actually you don't get to just suddenly be chill about it now fuck you. #it doesn't change the past hurts #and I could see Vi being like that too. even if part of her is happy about getting what she wanted to start with she's pissed about #only getting it now. with a side helping of also wondering if the approval /now/ is only because she's been so successful about it #what if she hadn't been so specially favored by elizant? what if she hadn't been on the team that saved the world? why did she (maybe) have #to earn the approval she should've had from the start? #also not gonna get into this one right now but tweaking her story with jaune to acknowledge that theyre both at fault in different ways #(again). would be nice #but now I'm definitely veering into repeating myself type rambling territory so

[cluescorner]

Randomized Robins AU - Ages + Worst Trait Exercise:

Steph (25):

Says her worst trait is her murderous rages (she is exaggerating for dramatic/comedic effect, she’s killed 3 people tops and for very good reason)

Thinks her worst trait is her spitefulness (one of the few traits she definitely got from her father + one that prevents her from fixing her relationships and living her best possible life. She’ll refuse to interact with someone she dearly loves after an argument (happens significantly less after Tim’s death) or will say things she knows are hurtful just for the sake of having the last word. This trait will worsen in some ways as the list of people who have wronged her and those she loves grows, but will also ease up as she matures and realizes the harm it’s doing to her relationships with those she loves most.)

Her worst trait really is her spitefulness

Cass (26)

Says her worst trait is her self-righteousness (she believes that her goals are righteous and, as a result, she is righteous. Cass becomes very defensive whenever someone questions the mission and often does not second-guess herself. This is a trait she only develops later in life as she grows closer to Bruce/learns to understand herself more/starts to love herself more. But she knows she isn’t perfect and when somebody she trusts criticizes something she is doing she is willing to listen. She just usually isn’t the one to START the introspection.) 

Thinks her worst trait is her self-righteousness. 

Her worst trait actually is her obsessiveness (she gets it from Bruce and, while not as bad as him, she will easily become preoccupied with her night-life and the mission if someone isn’t there to pull her back. She will do this to the point of self-destruction and it hurts her relationships with the people she loves, especially Steph.)

Tim (24)

Says his worst trait is his spitefulness (he actively rejects the idea of mending his relationships with the older members of the family and this causes him to also lack good relationships with the younger ones)

Thinks his worst trait is his obsessiveness (similar to Cass, if he gets fixated on a task or idea he will neglect everything else in his life in order to dedicate more time to it. Unlike Cass, he will almost never be dragged away from it unless Pierrot snatches control of the body and forces them to take care of themself.)

His worst trait actually is how manipulative he is (the KING of guilt-tripping and using people’s emotions against them. He’ll do whatever he needs to do to get what he wants, he’s not above crocodile tears. And he will do it to whoever he needs (or wants) to with little care for how his actions impact others.)

Pierrot (Insists: “Age doesn’t apply to me! And even if it did, I'd probably be the oldest. Or the youngest! I’d never be a middle child, though.” Mental assessments by the Bats have put him around 21, with a margin of error of 3 years. Pierrot has called this “blatant character assassination by my eternal rival!”)

Says his worst trait is that he is an irredeemable psychopath without any regard for the wellbeing of others (this is a lie and everyone who's important to him understands this). 

Thinks his worst trait is his parasitic nature (he literally would not exist had Tim not suffered the way he did. Plus he is a living reminder of one of the worst things that happened to many of his loved ones. He is a parasite injected into a functional person's body and contributes to his continued suffering. This is also a largely incorrect judgement of himself, caused by his actual worst trait.)

His worst trait actually is his limited sense of self (he doesn’t really know who he is outside of ‘inheritor to the legacy of the Joker (a man he despises yet also views as a father)’ and ‘chip in Tim’s brain that became sentient’. He slowly develops an identity over the course of his life and relationships with other people, but he lacks the foundations of identity that most people have. Pierrot will often almost become a caricature of himself and what others perceive him to be because it's the only person he knows how to be. This causes wild swings in how he behaves and relates to others, sometimes to the detriment of himself and others.)

Dick (17) 

Says his worst trait is his clinginess (he is a very extraverted person who likes to be around others, which mixed with his fear of abandonment after his parents died means that if he goes a few days without seeing/talking to a friend he will get very anxious.)

Thinks his worst trait is his anger issues (he gets ticked off very easily and will explode on people. He’s kind at his core and is usually very nice, but he has a temper that can escalate significantly. Spoiler (and later Twist) help him channel this anger into something positive.)

His worst trait actually is his anger issues.

Barbara (18)

Says her worst trait is her disability (internalized ableism, she thinks of herself as less valuable than the other Bats because she cannot be out there in the capes like they can. She will grow out of this as she matures and as she learns how invaluable her support for the team is.)  

Thinks her worst trait is her disability 

Her worst trait actually is her overly-independent nature (In an attempt to overcompensate for everything she can no longer do, she has resolved to do literally everything that she possibly can without any help from others. This results in many instances where she either takes on too much and winds up not being able to fully realize any of her tasks or where she makes her life and the lives of others significantly harder by refusing help when offered/not asking for it when she needs it.)

Damian (16)

Says his worst trait is his perfectionism (he is overly critical of both himself and others, taking any flaw or problem and amplifying it to an absurd degree. This is due in part to his life with the LoA (where even a brief misstep could lead to death), in part to how others treated him initially as Spoiler (any flaw was fixated on and used as a reason to either mistrust him or portray him as unworthy of the mantle), and in part due to the fact that he is Bruce’s son (the only person with worse perfectionism problems than Damian). Gradually, Damian has improved in this regard but it’s still a massive barrier to both his own happiness and his relationships with others.)

Thinks his worst trait is his perfectionism 

His worst trait actually is his perfectionism

Duke (16)

Says his worst trait is his definitely-real secret evil side (says this as a ‘my dad is a villain so who knows??’ joke)

Thinks his worst trait is his impulsivity in his words (Sometimes he will crack a joke or say a remark without thinking it through, leading to a LOT of hurt feelings and drama. He’ll say something without thinking it through and wind up seeming insensitive. This isn’t done because of malice, rather because Duke is someone who’s quick to act and speak. But while the mantle of Insight and his awakening powers have helped him with his actions, they do not always help with his loose tongue. As such, Duke gains an unfair reputation in the media as an instigator and will accidentally cause family drama through what he says.)

His worst trait actually is his impulsivity in his words

Jason (14)

Says his worst trait is his bad manners (he grew up on the streets and has no idea how rich-people society works, which he’s pretty insecure about considering he’s now the youngest kid of Bruce freaking Wayne). 

Thinks his worst trait is his reactiveness (Jason never got the privilege of planning ahead for various events in his life, so he instead needed to rely on being swift and harsh in how he could react to situations. It’s saved his life on multiple occasions and helps significantly in his role as Spoiler, but it can also lead to extreme overreactions (accidentally causing kidnapping scare after Jason ran away following a fight with Dick) and a struggle to plan things out ahead of time. As he grows more secure in his place in the family and in life, this trait will lessen but never fully dissipate.)

His worst trait actually is his reactiveness

#stephanie brown #cassandra cain #tim drake #dick grayson #barbara gordon #damian wayne #duke thomas #jason todd #batfamily #randomizedrobinsau #I'm debating whether I should tag this with the Joker Junior tag and those related to it for Pierrot #because like...it's not quite that. but it's also very close to that and is the direct result of that. #but Pierrot would fucking HATE to be tagged as that and sees it as an insult to his identity...which he already has problems with #so I don't think I'm gonna #anyways lmao I am totally projecting my younger self onto Barbara. How could I not? She's literally the reason I view my disability #the way that I do and she actively improved my mental health just by existing and saying some of the shit she did when I was in the #stages of accepting my own disability. So yeah I am projecting a lot onto her because I love her and see myself in her. #I'm mostly basing these characterizations on my favorite versions of them (ie Red Robin 2009 Tim and Birds of Prey Barbara). #so I'm taking the traits I like/think fit in this AU and discarding what I think either is bad or doesn't fit or if I just don't like it. #Damian's 'murder gremlin who is a meanie on purpose because he is a meanie' is entirely unappealing to me and also does not fit this AU #I prefer him when he's portrayed as a sympathetic kid (who is still an asshole) and not a demon child. So that's what I'm using. #same with Talia's 'abusive mother who is totally on-board with all of her father's bullshit and will kill someone for no reason' version #I have read enough comics to know what I like/what is most important and what I don't like/what is #BLATANT CHARACTER ASSASSINATION GRANT MORRISON YOU FUCK YOU SET TALIA BACK SO FUCKING FAR #I also decided to outline their WORST traits because I already know what I like about these characters/their best traits. #most people do. But what was a greater challenge was finding what would make their lives and those of others worse. #what would I hate about this person if I knew them IRL? What would I first suggest they get therapy for? What hurts them and why? #I found these questions really interesting in the context of this AU where some people are forced into completely different roles #the says/thinks/is was inspired by trying to answer that question for myself. I say my worst trait is my impulsiveness but when #I asked others in my life they answered 'oh so you said your weird thing where you don't ask for help right?'

[dirtbra1n]

it’s always when I have things to be doing that this happens but it’s like. I don’t know I’ve gone so far into weird love territory and I’ve been here so long that when I go back and really look at canon it’s like it’s new to me. because like do you ever think about how hanzawa masato just sort of DECIDED that tashiro would be the next captain of the ping pong club. like it wasn’t a recommendation or anything that decision was made. and absolutely if tashiro genuinely GENUINELY didn’t want to do it nothing bad would have really happened, someone else could have done it, sure. you know? but at the end of the day tashiro, in the midst of his running away, had that thought, like. not in a thought bubble but in a b Hold on

in the narration box. like it’s not a fleeting in-the-moment thought like the whole poor shmuck thing. I’m not explaining this well. it’s just you get the impression that tashiro thinks about things a lot and also tangentially kind of thinks about his hanzawa senpai a lot and that realization of burden is so significant to tashiro that he takes on the position of captain

and he doesn’t look him in the face when he does it, and I love it. I love when things are indirect and subtle and sort of reluctant because it’s human and speaks to sincerity and tashiro’s grounded…ness that he isn’t unflinchingly happy to do it. he still doesn’t really want to do it. but he will. and he’ll do it WELL. because and this so matters hanzawa masato just sort of DECIDED that tashiro would be the next captain of the ping pong club because he knows tashiro and has been watching tashiro as a fun kouhai who he likes a lot and who makes him laugh like literally no one else in the world, and he knows that he would be a good president because he is, amongst other relevant things, a good person. the right kind of good person! he wouldn’t have forced tashiro to do it because frankly he couldn’t REALLY force tashiro to do it, tashiro has a way of getting around things (pudding head….) but he decided tashiro would be captain, because he knows tashiro, and tashiro decided to take that on, because he sees hanzawa. he decided that tashiro would be captain, and tashiro decided to accept that decision because hanzawa decided correctly.

and tashiro cares, and encourages his senpai to rest, and we get the FUCKING.

that just speaks VOLUMES. hanzawa masato who notoriously stays busy for at least one of two known reasons that sound a little contradictory but aren’t actually is resting right now. hanzawa masato who is so weird and so unknowable to his juniors is wearing a small smile that, unlike so many of his other ones (ominous as they are, usually), shows for only contentment. he’s resting right now. like the tashiro gonzaburou hanzawa masato dynamic IS so weird I’m not delusional for that. but my favorite thing that I think I do a really bad job of showing is that their exchanges go back and forth and are so much fun for the both of them, and it’s exactly like PING PONG. well matched and silly and hanzawa masato knows tashiro gonzaburou and if tashiro gonzaburou doesn’t know hanzawa masato he sure as hell sees him, and wants to know him, just a little at least, and it’s all so much. I’m resting right now. fuck. anyway

#bangs fist on the floor. is on the floor. #hanzawa to tashiro #hanzashiro #and really the fact that tashiro is hiding around the corner to hear the milk tea exchange with miyano. and then brings him some #ASSUMING HE DIDN’T ALREADY KNOW. it’s just like. i wish i was more comfortable writing tashiro he’s so much to me #silly little guy for sure. but intentionally taking on a burden for someone else when it’s explicitly something he doesn’t want to do #(or maybe just something he felt he wasn’t qualified to do. depends. probably both) #and doing well at it. the person hanzawa masato is trusting in the most. #just. someone who doesn’t want to be responsible but will be and someone who old people LOVE and someone who accepts things without judgment #and someone who will hide in a box on the floor to hide from his senpai and just as well walk right up to him and hide his face #and accept the trust masato was putting in him. #like this of all things isn’t really a burden to masato because he’s. he’s RESTING right now. of all the pies he has fingers in #this might actually be his favorite. for a number of reasons that are mostly speculative #but it’s SYMBOLIC of a burden. am i making any sense at all. i might not be #masato is giving this one away because it’s not really a burden to him exactly. but tashiro is taking it because he feels it’s a burden but. #how do i say this. it’s not a burden to masato but it IS a weight on his shoulders whether he realizes it or not #and tashiro takes it from him—not unreluctantly—because he cares. because he wants masato to rest. #i think talking this long is manifesting a tin cap on my head. i should go #dirtbrain digression #tldr it IS weird love. but just not AS weird or the KIND of weird that i’d have it be. haaaah i’m sick

[softgrungeprophet]

every day i go "maybe i should kill off xyz character" and then i go "but what if they could live instead"

#arghwrites #ish #nadia rambles #actually this is mostly about harry lol #tho after atsv I did spend some time considering whether i should not kill capt stacy out of spite #ultimately at this point I'll just go toward whatever feels most natural #currently he's been stabbed in the knee so far but that's probably not the end of it #tho now I'm like wait if he's recovering from that he's probably not out doing policework... #well i suppose we'll see #gwen living is set in stone for sure tho #for a Variety of reasons #norman and warren definitely both die #the issue w harry is thinking about what makes sense to use from his arcs and what plots i need him for #anything involving norman coming back to life is off the table but tcw is def on the table #i also kinda need him for the 2012 stuff which is RIGHT after the goblin stuff... #and rewriting that would take... uh... some doing i think... because if he's not around then #peter would be living with gwen and mj at which point why would warren not just kidnap gwen etc... #i mean tbf i guess you could still ask that with the plot i DO have #tho part of his revenge also involves making peter look bad but that wouldn't work if gwen is the one he kidnaps... #she would immediately put two and two together i feel like... #which also not necessarily a bad thing but ... #shrug #do kind of wish i could have someone do the gg stuff for me 😂

[worm-wood-words]

Too tired to write but also can't stop The Scenes™ from playing out in my mind.

#bits about Arvel's healing magic and also the man in the bar healing Kahn's broken bones #i mean it's not perfect and it's painful for both the man and Kahn for different reasons but it does work in the end #also just sort of trying to flesh out the healing magic in my head. for most people who have it (mostly loethan) it's close #range or on touch. depending on the person it might hurt or drain the caster too and they might have to be able to see #the specific injury or at least where it is (such as when the man in the bar has to cut into Kahn's leg and arm to see his bones) #it almost never works on nerve damage. never on organs except maybe internal bleeding or injuries so severe the organs are #exposed. (basically just trying to say it won't heal organ failure). so it's pretty much best for broken bones and cuts. works better the #more recent the injury was. technically has the ability to regrow limbs but that's most likely never shown. (torn between whether #or not veren gets his arm regrown or a prosthetic. probably prosthetic since he lost it years ago) #doesn't work on illnesses or poisoning or stuff like that. that's still the domain of alchemists. also since on the areas it shuts #does. I'm not retyping that. on the areas it does heal its just rapid cell regrowth which most of the time is fine. but then there's #Arvel. who can do it both on touch and at range and uses the whole rapid cell growth thing as a method of torture. add the whole #light minions thing and the fact that his abilities include a rapid healing factor on himself (and that unlike a lot of people #his abilities work rapidly on others and he can easily get over any drain it has on him) #and yeah it's understandable why Len loses the first fight and why a lot of people don't stand up to him much. even his wife who doesn't #have powers at all ends up progressively more afraid of him. like the only way to possibly wound him in a meaningful way is to get the #drop on him and find some way to inflict severe damage on a vital spot and keep whatever you used to do that inside of him long enough #for him to eventually not be able to heal around it anymore. i don't know just thinking about how he's such a twisting of typically 'good #guy' powers. like his main things are light and healing he should be the hero or like high up supporting cast but nope he's just #trying to subjugate everyone and rule the whole damn continent because of a might makes right ethos and the fact that he does #certainly have might on his side #maggot original

[earlyspringtranscendence]

btw i think one of the most impt hobbies in the world is having a mostly non-existent, mostly self indulgent crush on a professor/lecturer just to zone out to their classes to and focus instead on their hair and their hands and their dark circles speaking NAWT from experience. maybe a little bit.

#yeah he's got me a lil crazy i was doing dishes this morning thinking abt all the things i still have to do this week #bc we have his exam on friday and im trying to determine whether i should try to do some prep work or just leave it for the day of #& i was just thinking abt like. oh he's so fucking precious he like actively took the time over winter break to memorise the names of #the people who consistently show up to class and like its cause he's sweet and wants to eventually teach more focussed smaller groups #but like my man my absolute angel you have accidentally stumbled upon the number one surefire way to make people wanna keep coming to class #like his classes r great but mostly i like that he knows who i am #and like i was thinking abt like. we were talking abt language in art movements like dadaism and i asked if he'd read embassytow #-n and he said he hadnt but that he had a list of student recs i'd be on and then in a later class i asked if he read fever dream and he #like made the joke that he'd have a section in his list of just things i told him to read #You Dont Understand I Need This Man Carnally. THIS is what one direction meant when they said thats what makes u beautiful #fuck me i hope he has this effect on the ladies cause if not hey babe there's a whole world out here for you ready to be explored #its also jst funny bc we r genuinely all afflicted by this tragic desire of him i think its partially bc his classes r a little boring #again love him to bits he does try his best its just rly surface level shit because it has to be within the nature of his classes #anyway. convincing myself not to fail his class on purpose so i can retake it next year its going poorly #also just had like a rly long convo w him after class once and he's just. URGH SO SWEET IM LEAVING. IM GOING AWAY NOW. #dreamboy... ugh ! AND he's a poet professionally !!!

[starrytalking]

Do you also sometimes get the feeling that you have nothing to say in a conversation because there is no past or current relationship drama you could rant about?

#aroace #like I was on vacation with a friend and she talked about this SO MUCH #like I thought it was interesting and gladly listened #but I then felt like I should share something about my life as well but I never had these situations of nearly getting in a relationship #or having a boyfriend #and I haven’t told her I’m aroace and didn’t really wanna bring that up so I couldn’t rant about that #or about the “crushes” I had and still am not sure about what that really was or wasn’t #and there’s so much I could talk about like I could probably talk about books or certain fandoms or musicals or music and my instrument and #my orchestra and vacations I did or will do or would like to do or people I met or something for HOURS #so I actually could talk a lot but I felt like we didn’t quite share these interests especially with books and stuff so I mostly listened #and I’m completely fine with listening as I’m interested in the life of my friends and their experiences #but I kinda dislike the thought that she could think of me as someone who doesn’t talk a lot but “only” listens because while there’s #absolutely nothing wrong with that I could talk a lot if the topic were right #so I’m not sure what my original point was or whether the point was just to rant a bit but while allos who’ve never had a relationship also #might relate to this I wondered whether this might also a somewhat common experience for aro and/or ace people due to amotonormativity #*be #starrytalking #aromantic #aro #asexual #ace #thoughts #aro spec #ace spec #lgbtq+ #not Tumblr suggesting garlic bread as tag xDD

[bruisedboys]

love drunk — miguel o’hara x reader

summary — while miguel deals with a drunk and clingy you, you accidentally let it slip that you love him. requested here

grumpy x sunshine!! spidergirl!reader, no pronouns used but implied fem!reader, grumpy miguel, kind of ditzy reader, drunk reader, established relationship, first ‘I love you’ trope, miguel being lovesick, fluff. so much fluff

nav

implied fem!reader 1.3k words

Miguel thinks he should never let you drink again in your whole life.

“Y/N,” he says through gritted teeth, irritated now. Actually, he was irritated ten minutes ago but was doing a better job at hiding it. “Come on. Get off me.”

You’re dead weight in his lap. He wouldn’t mind, he likes when you sit on him like this, only you’re in the middle of the bar and there are at least five Peter’s looking his way and smirking, and he can see Hobie Brown laughing at him behind his hand across the room.

“Whyyyyy?” You drawl, your lips slow and your tongue slower. You paw at his chest and give him a glare that’s about as menacing as a puppy. “You’re so mean.”

Miguel sighs heavily. He picks up his hands where they’d been hovering at your sides, unsure whether he should touch you or not when you’re like this, and gets a good grip on your hips.

“C’mon, get up,” he says. He lifts you off his lap with ease, fingers curling around your hips, and deposits you in the booth seat next to him.

To Miguel’s surprise, you don’t flop into his side or try to climb back onto him like he thought you would. Where seconds ago you were like a rag doll, you sit rigid straight.

“What?” He asks you, genuinely confused.

“Sorry,” you say quietly, frowning to yourself. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not mean.”

Miguel blinks at you. “Oh. No, that’s not why I made you get off, sweetheart. I know you don’t actually think I’m mean.”

Slowly, you brighten up like a wind up toy, springing back to life in slow motion with a big smile painting itself across your mouth, all teeth. “Oh, okay. Can I get back on you now?”

Miguel actually laughs. He’s very tempted to say yes, you can sit in his lap as long as you like. He doesn’t, mostly because you’re very obviously past your limit and you need a bed and some water. Neither of which he can get you here.

“You’re funny, cariño,” he tells you, chucking you under the chin with his knuckles. You beam up at him, eyes squinting so much they’re half closed. He indulges himself in a squeezing of your cheek before breaking the news, “No, you can’t get back on me—“ Your face falls, “—But I can take you to bed?”

Your smile comes back so quick it’s alarming, and you nod vehemently. “Yeah, please.”

Miguel manages to get you out of the Spider-Bar (nicknamed by one of the Peter’s, he can’t remember which but Miguel refuses to call it that. It’s just a section off the second floor of Headquarters where Spider-people migrate to drink.) without you tripping over your own feet. He’s discovering you’re a very clumsy, clingy drunk. That, and you really can’t hold your liquor. He’s only had a little less than you and he feels completely fine. Other than the burning in his chest, though he’s pretty sure that has more to do with you and your presence than the alcohol.

He gets you into an elevator and holds you up when you slouch into his side. His arm around your hip and both of your hands clinging like vines to his free arm, tight enough to ache but he can’t bring himself to ask you to loosen your grip a little. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy your apparent desperation to stick to him like glue.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. A gaggle of Spider-Women wait on the other side, Jess among them. The younger girls giggle amongst themselves when they see the predicament they’ve caught their haughty boss in.

“Hey, Miguel,” Jess drawls as she sidles past him, Miguel practically dragging you out of the elevator now and out of the way of the girls. “Hey, Y/N.” She grins at your inebriated state, then looks to Miguel, “Early night?”

It’s almost midnight. Miguel can’t tell if she’s teasing or not. She probably is. “Yeah.”

“Miguel’s taking me to bed,” you pipe up, a lustful tone to your sticky, slurry voice that Miguel winces at. He hadn’t meant it like that. Clearly, your drunk mind had taken it that way. He’ll be sure to set the record straight once you’re safe and alone in his room.

Jess laughs loud. “Right. Well, have fun with that.”

She’s still laughing as the elevator doors slide shut. Miguel sighs. He’s not gonna hear the end of that for at least a week. You tug on his arm and smile up at him sweetly, and he forgets all about it.

“What is it, cariño?” He hums.

“Can you carry me? My feet are sore.”

Miguel indulges you. Partly because you’d asked and he’s yet again been tasked with the challenge of saying no to you (which he fails at every time), and partly because you’re slowing him down and he really wants to get to his room before he meets anyone else. He scoops you up easily, one arm hooked beneath your thighs and the other under your back. You giggle dazedly and hook your arms around his neck tight enough that it’d hurt anyone but Miguel, burying your face in his neck, your flyaway hair tickling his skin.

By the time he gets you to his room you’re half asleep in his arms. He’d let you sleep but your suit is constricting. He deposits you on the bed in the dark and switches on the lamp. He only manages to turn on his heels before you’re grabbing his arm, warm hand wrapping around his wrist with a clumsy desperation.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, eyes half closed.

Miguel pries your hand away gently. “I’m not going anywhere. Just getting your pyjamas.”

You allow it but you make a grab for him as soon as he’s back, hands warm at his waist. He stands in front of you and undresses you out of your spidersuit, then redresses you into the pyjamas you keep in his room. You keep quiet other than the occasional hiccup and despite your amorous comment earlier you don’t try anything, even when you’re completely bare-chested and Miguel is standing over you. While he pulls your shirt over you head, your hands find his hips and grip them like somebody’s trying to take him away from you.

He gives you a glass of water which you skull back like you’re about to die of thirst. He refills the glass and when he comes back you’ve turned the light off and buried yourself under the covers. He thinks you’re asleep until he goes to put the glass on the bedside table and your hand sneaks out of the sheets, reaching for him.

“Miguel…” you murmur, fingers brushing his abdomen. You tilt your head up towards him, searching for him in the dark.

“You okay?” He asks, concerned you’re not feeling well. He hopes you’re not the kind of drunk who throws up everything they drank. Though he can’t say he’d mind looking after you even if you were.

“I’m fine,” you say softly. It’s dark and he can barely see your face but he hears your next words just fine. “Thank you for looking after me … I love you.”

Miguel is so shocked he almost drops the glass of water he’s holding. Sure, he knew you had feelings for him. He knew you care for him about as much as he does for you, which is an inordinate amount. To hear you say it is different. His fondness for you multiplies by about a million and the chasm in his chest feels, not for the first time since he met you, a little bit smaller.

He knows you probably won’t remember it in the morning, but it’s been said and his chest is aflame. He sets the cup down and then crouches next to your lovely, tired face, and cups your cheek. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and then your lips. Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes fall shut and you smile.

Miguel waits til he’s sure you’re asleep to say it back — vulnerability’s never really been his strong suit. He tucks hair away from your face, feeling a bit drunk himself. Just not from anything he drank. “I love you too, mi amor.”

#★ mal writes! #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara drabble #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel x reader #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n

[derinwrites]

The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.