#im looking at all the typos in this and i feel absolutely no shame

[highvern]

Teach Me VI

Final

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au

Warnings: angst, pining, crying, alcohol consumption, jealous pouty DK, meddling Seungkwan and Hoshi, eventual smut, dry humping, making out, face fucking, munch DK as always, unprotected sex, cream pie, they're simps for each and its disgusting!, DK wearing a chain that dangles in readers face bc im sick and twisted, kinda choking but not really?

Length: ~7.4k

Note: SURPRISE!! ITS HERE!!!! this series started in OCTOBER which is wild to think about. two months of these two plaguing my day to day and so many amazing readers interacting with the story honestly makes a little emotional for it to end. this is the first series i've ever done and now it's over so soon but there are bigger and better things on the horizon! (goes and cries in the corner) If you notice any errors or typos pls ignore.

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

read more here

[MONDAY 11:23 AM]

YOU: Home

Mr. Boo: Thank you! Love you!

Mr. Boo: We can have a bff night when I get back

[MONDAY 4:48 PM] 

DOKYEOM: Hope you got home safe

DOKYEOM: I’m sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.

DOKYEOM: Can we talk this week?

Dokyeom doesn’t leave his room the rest of the weekend. A combination of fear of Seungkwan beating the crap out of him and absolute heartbreak keep him wrapped in the covers. Not even Soonyoung can elicit more than a half-hearted grunt when checking if his roommate is still alive.

The drive back to campus is no different. Staring longingly out the window, Dokyeom stares at his unanswered messages. When he goes to your Instagram he finds your account missing with the sinking realization you blocked him.

Seventy two of the best and subsequent worse hours of his life crumbled your fragile relationship. He thought you returned his feelings. 

After Soonyoung blabled a drunken confession on Dokyeom’s behalf, he worried you’d drive off in the night; swiftly rejecting him. But you wrapped your arms around him and held him as you slept. Kissed him awake in the early morning sun, nothing but a soft smile and presses of lips across his face. It was better than anything Dokyeom hoped for. He thought it meant you liked him back even if you didn’t say it yet.

But then you interrogated him and the hot tub and it all came crashing down. You were trying to let him down easy, buttering him up before giving him a reality check. It’d hurt of course. The tsunami of shame at thinking he had a chance and then adding insult to injury when you called him childish. 

Dokyeom knows he was wrong for his reaction but embarrassment sent him spiraling and he needed to get as far away from you as possible. 

And now that he’d succeed, he doesn't think he can find a way back.

—

Monday and Tuesday are spent suffocating under a mound of blankets, munching on a carton of ice cream, and crying till your head hurts and your throat is sore. The string of texts from Dokyeom remains thoroughly ignored; but each buzz of your phone raises your heart rate to unhealthy levels until you read the notification from some store offering a discount. 

You ignore the string of messages from Dokyeom, tempted more and more to block him as they come through; but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Just like you can’t bring yourself to delete the pictures of you two together peppered throughout your camera roll, or the most recent video that does nothing but make you sick to your stomach.

Tuesday night your roommate returns to campus, cheery and well rested from a weekend with her boyfriend back home. You hide from her friendly questions about your weekend in the bathroom, shrouded in steam and bubbles.

Looking at yourself in the mirror after you're sufficiently pruned and chilled from freeze drops, you notice the traces of Dokyeom still on your skin. 

A tiny maroon bruise is fading to a sick green right under your collar bone. Prodding it with the tip of your finger, you wince at the tenderness of the flesh. 

You hate it. 

Hate how somehow your eyes are thick with a gloss of tears at the sight of a hickey, they way you can’t catch your breath when you realize the shirt you brought in with you is another one of his you lifted over the months.

Dokyeom hadn’t been your boyfriend. You two hadn’t even been casually dating. Over and over again you remind yourself you were just friends who had sex, and you shouldn’t be this torn up over a guy. Dokyeom didn’t like you and that wasn’t something to hold against him. 

But the facts do nothing to stop the knot permanently lodged in your throat.

—

The first time you see Dokyeom post-not-breakup, he’s sitting in one of the rolling chairs at the mahogany table you two claimed for your usual study sessions. 

Blood frozen, heart clenching unbearably, you turn and walk right back out the revolving glass doors, hoping he didn’t see you.

But the echo of quick footsteps behind you say otherwise.

“Hey! Y/N!”

Faltering for a moment, you keep walking as if you hadn’t heard anything. And because the universe has a sick sense of humor, the crossing light turns red just as you approach, leaving you stranded with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You whip around at tap against your arm with such ferocity you nearly stumble.

Dokyeom has the gall to smile at you sheepishly before opening his mouth, “Hey.”

“Hi.” 

“You weren’t in lab yesterday.”

“Nope.” You respond monotonously, glancing behind you at the still red crossing light.

“Did you need notes or—”

“No, I got them already.”

“Oh, well—”

The light turns green, allowing you to race across the road before Dokyeom can finish his thought. The heat of his gaze doesn't leave your back until you turn down the next road leading you home.

—

Your second interaction with Dokyeom is in the same sterile lab your friendship started. You slip inside just before class starts, narrowly avoiding getting locked out by your grumpy instructor. 

Sliding into an open seat near the door, you stare straight ahead as he delves into the topic for this afternoon, pointedly ignoring the pair of eyes watching you from the familiar station at the back of the room.

“Finals are almost upon us people so I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the lab is not open after hours. Meaning, you should prioritize your time in this room. Now let’s get started.”

The guy you’ve been partnered with is nice enough, willing to follow your lead as you read off the necessary equipment. He even manages to crack a few jokes, though not funny you’re thankful for the distraction.

You learn his name is San, he’s an underclassman and he doesn’t understand anything about the class despite attending every lecture and office hour available. 

When he leans over to copy the results you’ve scratched into your notebook, you hear a crack and shatter behind you. A dozen heads twist towards the source of commotion, finding a red faced Dokyeom staring at you.

“Mr. Lee! May I remind you our lab equipment isn’t cheap!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, shuffling towards the broom hanging on the wall.

You focus on ignoring him the rest of class, which is surprisingly easy with your new partner pestering you with inane questions. 

A lull hits, waiting for the digital scale to spit out a final reading. You managed to pull well ahead of schedule, calling over your instructor to verify your results before collecting your things. 

“So,” San starts, stuffing his own notebook in his bag. “Would you be down to tutor me sometime?”

“Oh, I uh—”

“No pressure! I just saw some of the old quizzes in your folder and thought maybe you could help me out.”

“Sure,” you smile, taking his phone to enter his number. 

Voices from the different stations echo off the blank walls, drowning your conversation out.

“Awesome! My boyfriend took this class last year but did about as well as I’m doing.”

Returning his phone back, you start walking to the door. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah, he told me to take geology instead but I didn’t listen.” He laughs, stepping forward to hold the heavy wooden door open for you to pass.

You miss the sound of a second beaker breaking as you walk down the hall with your new friend.

—

“Dude, you have got to calm down.” Soonyoung pleads, head hanging off the couch as his legs extend into the air. He swears the increased blood flow makes him smarter.

Dokyeom nearly wears a rut into the carpet from his pacing across the length of their tiny living room. He’s been in a mood since that afternoon, watching his not-girlfriend-possibly-no-longer-friend giggle with some dude that wasn’t him. And then give her number to said dude. In front of him. All while she completely ignored his existence.

“He probably just asked her to study together.”

Jealousy isn’t Dokyeom’s thing. Sure he may whine and pout if he isn’t getting enough attention, but he’s never got the blood boil urge scream like he has right now. And about a girl that won’t even look at him.

Tangling both fists in his hair, Dokyeom tries to calm down. Soonyoung was probably right. You’re a genius at chemistry, you’re slated to officially tutor through the library next semester pending final grades, and the guy Dokyeom swears he’s never seen in class most likely asked you for help. It’s not his place to be jealous.

“Hate to be that guy but you need to get a grip”

It's easier said than done. There's four more weeks of class plus a four hour final and your Seungkwan’s friend. You’re not going to disappear after the semester ends and Dokyeom’s feelings surely aren’t going anywhere given he’s got a constant reminder that you’re the woman he lost his virginity to. 

If he knew inviting you to that party at the beginning of the semester would end up like this, he'd have sat somewhere else the first day of lab.

Soonyoung chokes on his own saliva when Dokyeom collapses on the floor with a reluctant, “You’re right.”

“I am?” Eyes bugging so hard they nearly pop from his head.

“I just have to move on.”

They both silently agree to pretend Dokyeom is capable of that.

—

San and his boyfriend, Jay, turn out to be horrible study partners. You are hardly able to focus from the way your abs hurt from laughter; Jay has a talent for self-deprecating humor.

“You didn’t!” You gasp, ignoring the daggers being glared into you back by other library goers. 

Typically you’d respect the needs of others, but they chose to sit on the first floor; if they needed real quiet they should have sat upstairs where it’s enforced by a graduate librarian with nothing better to do.

Jay nods solemnly, “I threw up on him during our first date. But he,” flinging an accusatory finger at his boyfriend, “insisted we go to some weird food truck so it’s his own fault.”

“You said you liked to try new things!” San defends.

“Not food poisoning!”

Descending into giggles, you feel sorry Seungkwan is missing out on two people he’d get along with. But he canceled at the last minute, leaving you at the large oak table all by your lonesome until you’d run into your classmate, looking for a seat.

From the corner of your eye, you see a familiar someone approaching. White blonde hair and trademark grin, Soonyoung stops at the edge of the table.

“Hey, Y/N” he grins.

Sending him a tightlipped smile you return the greeting.

Soonyoung introduces himself to your tablemates, both just as friendly as he. Thick palpable tension descends into the warm atmosphere and you’re about to rise and get another coffee just to escape it when Soonyoung turns back to you.

“Could I take a look at your results from the last lab? We didn’t get to finish in time.”

The unspoken half of ‘we’ is Dokyeom. 

You hate the flare of curiosity flashing in your head. When you partnered with Dokyeom you always finished on time if not early, even with his joking.

“Ugh, sure.” You agree, digging into your bag for your notebook.

Not waiting for an invitation, Soonyoung slides into the chair next to you, pulling out his own notebook to copy down your answers quickly. But even after collecting the necessary info, he lingers.

“So you’re in lab with us too, right?” He asks San.

“Yeah, but I’m probably taking it again next year even with Y/N’s help.” San smiles.

“And you?” Soonyoung asks Jay.

“No, I took it last year.”

“Glad to see someone can make it out alive! Do you guys mind if I hang out until my friend arrives?”

The friend is definitely Dokyeom but you don’t want to look like a bitch in front of your new acquaintances nor have to explain the mess of your love life to either of them. 

Soonyoung’s self satisfied grin when you flash a tight lipped smile and nod nearly tempts you into strangling him. Why is he choosing to torture you? It’s Dokyeom’s fault no matter how you look at the situation. He tricked you; had you falling for the saccharine persona and ambiguous confessions. Dokyeom rejected you at the cabin for everyone to see, humiliated you, and then had the nerve to act upset when you wouldn’t speak to him.

You try to focus on the worksheet in front of you, a proactive effort to prepare for the final exam still far away. Drowning in extra credit had been an exhaustive effort to get your mind off of your issues but Soonyoung had to ruin it. And now he’s laughing with San and Jay like best friends and it’s all too much. 

Shooting up from your seat, they all stop to stare as shaky hands pack up your materials. “Sorry, I forgot I had a thing. Somewhere else. Bye!” 

Halfway to the door before anyone thinks to question your eagerness to leave, you walk right into another person.

“Shit sorry!” The faceless stranger exclaims as your books and papers go flying.

“No, I should have been watching wher–”

And when you look up, Dokyeom is staring back. 

“Sorry, let me help you.” 

“It's fine!” You snap, scrambling to shove everything into your bag.

You will not cry in the library: not over Dokyeom, not in front of Dokyeom. But once the concrete steps out front greet you the first tear falls and they don’t stop until you fall asleep curled up in your bed.

—

Later that week, in the sanctuary of your dorm, you indulge in contraband alcohol and the hype of your best friend.

“You need to just rip the bandaid off.” Seungkwan announces, arms thrown wide to punctuate his point.

“And how do I do that? I still have class with him!”

“Okay but how much of his stuff is still here?”

“Only like a few things.” you shrug, glancing around the room.

“Oh, really?” Seungkwan asks, throwing himself from his perch on your bed, crossing to the basket full of laundry in front of your closet.  “Because this is a hoodie from his high school, this is the shirt I got him for his birthday a few years ago,” he shuffles around the collection of socks and pants to pull more of Dokyeom’s belongings out. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t wear boxers.”

Seungkwan launched the wad of clothing your way, disappearing into the bathroom in search of more evidence of your ex-friend with benefits.

“You let him keep a toothbrush here?” Seungkwan yells, head popping out with the neon green piece of plastic dangling between his fingers.

It's tossed into the growing pile at the foot of your bed, your rage-fueled focus on the smattering of objects on your desk. 

More cheap wine and outrageous laughter has Seungkwan encouraging you to race across campus and return everything as soon as possible.

Red faced, he steadies you by your arms, “Listen, the sooner you get rid of this stuff the better. You’re like subconsciously holding on to him or whatever.”

Mooney eyed, you nod at your friend’s wisdom, scrambling for a bag.

The tote of Dokyeom’s belongings you’ve accumulated over the months sits heavy on your shoulders; bulging with the assortment of clothes, a spare phone charger, and a book that was severely overdue at the library you’d found under your bed.

Each click of your shoe against the tile floor echoes in the eerie silence as you walk down the hall towards the door of his apartment. The sterile lighting and gray walls are familiar yet alien under the new circumstances you're visiting. 

You won’t be greeted with the smile you’ve grown to miss or the puppy-like excitement that once made you feel special. Both things of the past you hope to forget. No one had your heart fluttering or twisting in knots the way Dokyeom had. But those happy memories are just memories. And the sooner you cut him out, the sooner you can forget them.

Your fiery determination to get over him ignited in the walls of your bedroom had begun to smolder as the chilly wind and movement sobered you up. 

A large part of you hopes it’ll be Soonyoung answering the door, Dokyeom absent for whatever convenient reason as you dumped his belongings and walked away for the last time. Worse case scenario, neither are home and you're left feeling like an idiot, lugging the ridiculously heavy bag back across campus in the freezing wind and rain. 

Worse-er case scenario, Dokyeom is home.

The door to the boys’ apartment is like all the others, but the hot pink “please don’t do coke in our bathroom” doormat stands out. A gift from Jeonghan, if you remember correctly.

A quick rap of knocks announces your presence before you can lose your nerve, stepping back as you wait for it to crack open.

As luck would have it, Dokyeom answers the door.

“Um–” he starts, clearly confused by what he’s seeing.

Shoulders square, back pin straight, you thrust the bag at him. “Here’s your stuff.”

“Oh.” Dokyeom exclaims, still confused, but cradling the tote into his stomach.

“Well, bye.” You turn to leave but stop when he calls you back.

“I can grab your stuff real quick. Since you’re already here.”

It is a horrible idea. Alone with Dokyeom, in his apartment, where the only person to hold you accountable is yourself. But you can be done with this entire mess once you have the hodge podge of items you’ve no doubt accumulated here.

Nodding once, you follow as Dokyeom turns to head towards his bedroom.

Suffocating tension, thick as tar, fills the air. Dokyeom doesn't attempt to replace it with ill timed jokes as he digs in the black dresser in the corner of his room. The bottom left drawer had been long cleaned out of his own clothes, making room for the odds and ends left behind following your rendezvous. 

A sizable pile of clothes lands on his unmade bed, followed by some toiletries you forgot at the cabin in your haste to flee.

Your ears are ringing from the quiet at this point, unable to look at Dokyeom swapping his belongings from the canvas tote with your own. Focusing on your phone, you scroll mindlessly, as Dokyeom works slowly to prolong the torture. He unfolds and refolds all the shirts, lost pairs of pants and shorts, before cramming them into the bag. If you took a second to look at him, you’d see longing glances in your direction with each item he packs away. But you don’t chance it until he approaches you when he’s finished.

“Here,” he says, eyes downcast as he hands you back the full bag.

Lifting it from his hands, you move back to the living room, bee lining for the front door and the sobering cold air outside.

“Wait.”

The smooth metal doorknob is cold against the wrinkles of your palm. All you need to do is twist and it's over. Unlatch the lock, step outside and your relationship with Dokyeom, whatever it may have been, is done. No more crying, no more wondering. Only four more classes and you can leave the mess of the past semester behind you forever.

But you can’t do it. The smallest part of your heart, buried under the weight of anger and sadness, pleads for you to stay. To give Dokyeom one last chance.

You wait for him to say something else, not moving a muscle as you take shallow breaths. Body tense in preparation, you’re afraid you might shake out of your skin. Being alone with Dokyeom was a stupid idea. 

Realizing you're not going to leave, you hear him shuffle closer.

You jump when he speaks again, voice right over your shoulder. “Can we please talk?” 

“What’s there to talk about?” You frown. 

At his responding silence, you chance a glance over your shoulder, met with sad brown eyes. 

“I just—,” he shakes his head, chin tipping towards the floor to examine his socks.

Prompting him again, “What do you want, Dokyeom?”

“You asked me if I liked you… and I do.”

You squash the seed of hope rooting in your chest, afraid that if he tramples it again you’ll never recover. Turning to face him, you cross your arms pensively. His confession should send your heart racing and your cheeks flushing. But why does he sound so sad about it?

Dokyeom scrubs a hand down his face in frustration. “I should have told you sooner but I— I kept waiting for the right time and then that night happened and I thought I messed everything up. But then we started fooling around so I thought ‘there’s no way she likes me.’ You know? 

From where you’re standing, Dokyeom is exactly the kind of guy anyone would go for. Warm as a ray of sunshine, contagious laughter, thoughtful. Excited by life, and brimming with affection for anyone lucky enough to be considered his friend. 

It’s a shame he can’t see himself the way you see him.

“I know all you wanted was to hook up and I was fine with that until you came to the cabin. Soonyoung had to run his mouth, and I thought you were trying to let me down easy in the hot tub so I got embarrassed.”

Biting your lip to stop the rebuttal simmering on the tip of your tongue, you feel the scowl melt off your face, morphing into a questioning gaze.

“You’re like, the coolest person I know. You’re funny and you’re smart and pretty, god you’re so pretty.” he breaths, finally looking at you. “And I feel like every time I get to see you I can’t breathe. And us hooking up made it worse because I’ve liked you since the first day of class when you sat down next to me and smiled at me. I thought I was gonna throw up.” Dokyeom raises his hands in defense as you scoff, quickly clarifying, “In a good way! You just— you make me nervous and stupid and now you hate me.”

He finishes the last part in a whisper, face vulnerable, looking at you helplessly.

“I don’t hate you.” You warble, launching yourself into his arms, tangling your limbs around him to squeeze as close as possible. It’s ungraceful, your head knocking into his chin, his feet scrambling to balance the unexpected shift of weight. But Dokyeom barely hesitates before pulling you into his chest, face buried in your neck while trying to force you into his skin by his arms around your waist.

Two puzzle pieces, carved to fit perfectly together. 

“You don’t?”

Squeezing him tighter, you calm in the thud of his heart and the pine scent of his cologne. You both simply bask in the presence of one another. At a week and a half, this is the longest you’ve gone without the other since you started your arrangement.

Dokyeom presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, sweet as sugar. His lips ghost against your hairline as he starts to speak again. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”

“I shouldn’t have called you childish.” You apologize, tipping your head back to meet his gaze.

“I mean you were right. I was being a dick.”

“But I wasn’t in any shape to call you out when I was doing the same thing.”

“The same…” Dokyeom echoes, confused.

“If we weren’t so dumb we could have been dating for weeks by now.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” You smile.

“We really are dumb.”

Pure unadulterated joy takes flight on his face. Dokyeom cups your face in his hands, forehead meeting your own as you smile at him, his own dazzling in return.

“Yeah, but at least we have each other.”

The bark of awkward laughter and shaky words are unstoppable as you cower in his arms. 

“So you’re okay with me calling you my girlfriend?”

“You can call me whatever you want.” You sigh, biting your lip at the idea.

“Even my shmoopie poopie?”

Nose scrunching as you laugh at his ridiculousness, you shake your head vigorously in objection. “You can call me whatever you want besides that.”

“Baby cakes?” He asks, peppering a kiss on your cheek.

“No!”

“Honeybuns?” 

Another kiss on the tip of your nose.

“No.”

“What about–”

A firm press to his mouth silences Dokyeom as you hum.

— 

Soonyoung returns to his apartment after another failed date, eager to shoot the shit with his roommate over a few beers and some video games. But when he opens the door to his home, he finds a trail of clothes flung haphazardly across the furniture, leading straight to said roommate's room. 

No fucking way. Soonyoung thinks. 

Then he hears a thud from behind the door, followed by a familiar laugh he hasn’t heard in the apartment in well over two weeks.

No FUCKING way! He huffs, reaching for his phone.

—

Down the street, Seungkwan smirks as the expected ding of a new Venmo notification shrills through the silence of your dorm:

“Kwon Soonyoung paid you $50.00. – HOW DID YOU KNOW? – Your Venmo balance is now $135.00.”

Epilogue:

Finals season rushes forward rapidly. Two days before you’re set to fly back home for winter break, Chem grades are released.

Another pair of matching As to be celebrated in typical fashion but this time you’re Dokyeom’s girlfriend and he’s sweating like it’s his first time all over again. The night you both confessed had been you last night together. Dokyeom insisted you take things slow, his fear of messing up again forcing him to take caution. 

It's sweet. How he wants to take you out, wine and dine you as if a certain video didn’t still exist on both your phones. And you’d enjoyed the full experience too; walks around campus with interlaced fingers, shy glances in class, and girlish giggles as he offered his jacket on a cold night. The innocent good night kisses dropped on your lips in front of your door that have Dokyeom insisting “just one more” for an hour before he finally lets you slip inside your room.

It’d been everything you dreamed of and more.

But you're both tired of make outs that lead nowhere. Of sitting in Dokyeom’s lap at parties and not letting your hands wonder like you’re both dying too. Waking up in his bed and pretending you don’t feel him nudging the curve of your ass as before he hides in the bathroom to take care of his boner; leaving you to stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to follow him into the shower and lend a helping hand.

Tonight, you’ve reached the boiling point and it’s spilling over.

“‘s okay?” He asks into the curve of your neck, palms gliding up your stomach underneath the soft cream sweater you’d worn to dinner.

Humming as your head lulls against the interior of his front door, the warmth of his mouth and hands making your brain fuzzy. Tonight, everything feels like more. Your nipples peak at the smallest brush of his tongue, back bowing under the swipes of his thumb against your ribs; even when he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your intertwined fingers on the walk to his apartment ripped the air from your lungs.

Dokyeom feels the nerves of that first night, but you’re acting like the desperate virgin he’d been. Drooling to touch and be touched. For your boyfriend to string you out one last time before you both return home for a few weeks of winter break only to pick right back up in the new year.

Snaking a hand down his front, you palm the half hard length with a firm pressure that pulls his hips forward like a magnet. A strained grunts sings in your ear as Dokyeom rocks firmly in your grip, pressing you into the wall under his torturous grind.

Turning to nudge your nose into his cheek softly, hot kisses dropping across his jaw as you bid him to take off his pants; pushing them down clumsily. You don’t bother with the brass button or rough zipper, blinded by desperation and simply clawing the stiff material downwards in an effort to get beneath.

You manage to trickle to your knees, slipping through Dokyeom’s hold like water. The hard floor biting into your skin as you kneel before him to mouth at the thin fabric of his boxer. Dokyeom’s elbows land against the wall, caging you in as he watches from above; entranced by the shallow dip of your lips over the covered head of his cock and the lash of your tongue where you taste him through the fabric.

Tonight isn’t the night for teasing, so you have his boxers landing atop his jeans around his ankles in a blink. Tongue following the vein bulging on the underside of his cock as your hand returns to allow your thumb to dig into his slit.

Dokyeom whimpers a pathetic “fuck,” as you play with him, eagerly lapping up his shaft before sucking him into your mouth; hand dropping to cup his balls, the other rest on his stomach to hold his own shirt out of the way.

You missed how responsive he is to your touch, melting in the palm of your hand as he chases the warmth of your mouth with his hips. Anyone who walks by the door would undoubtedly hear what’s happening on the other side, the choked whimpers from you and guttural moans from Dokyeom combining into a lewd symphony.

Head hitting the wall behind you with a dull thud, you let Dokyeom take over; humming as each press forward leaves the taste of his cock on your tongue. There’s something degrading in letting him fuck your mouth like this, sandwiched between his hips and the wall as he uses you to get off.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, tongue sticking out to bid him back but his slender fingers cupping your chin distract you straight into his lips.

Pulling you to your feet, Dokyeom dips his tongue between your lips as he leads you blindly to the couch. His mouth is nothing but taking; stealing your breath away, your sanity. Things you’d happily let him have if it meant he wouldn’t stop. But Dokyeom was a giver too. A slide of his tongue lit a fire under your skin, fanning the desperation bordering on depravity. 

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding your aching cunt against his thigh. 

Dokyeom responds by pressing into you harder, teeth tearing into your bottom lip as his cock drools against your thigh, staining your jeans.

You're so turned on it hurts, pussy painfully empty and panties drenched from heavy petting. If Dokyeom doesn’t do something soon, you have half a mind to get yourself off without him.

Dokyeom is trying, fighting to not to blow his load on your leg as you whine and arch beneath him. For him. But when you manage to close your fist around his length, giving a firm tug with the twist around the head you know he goes crazy for, it’s all over. Dokyeom’s core tightens as he spills on your sweater, streaks of his cum ruining the fabric as he pants into your mouth. Your tight grip doesn’t falter as you work him through it, teeth bruising his jaw as he paints you with his seed.

When Dokyeom gains sentience again, he winces in shame.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t— I wouldn’t,” he tries to apologize, but stops when you part your lips to lap at your stained fingers; eyes trained on the pink of your tongue dipping out to swipe against the tips for taste.

Mouth wide as he stares, Dokyeom thinks he might come again without any help as you suck your fingers. His own dip into the pool of cum dimpling across your stomach, lifting to your mouth to replace yours. Dokyeom groans as your eyes never leave his, heated and heavy lidded as lick them clean and swallow his cum.

Dropping his hand to the back of your neck, he angles your head so his tongue can delve into your mouth. It’s messy and disgusting but you like it and that’s all Dokyeom cares about as he works to free you both of your clothes. He’s stark naked easily, shirt gone over the back of the couch in no time. But your clothes require more focus than either of you are capable of when Dokyeom is on top of you.

His feet hit the ground before he rises to stand, dragging you up to roughly undress you. You don’t seem to mind if the way you fist your jeans down is an inclination. Outer layers gone, Dokyeom finally gets a peek at the early Christmas present you’d been hoping to surprise him with.

Lacy maroon panties and a match bra hug your figure, accentuating your shape in the most mouthwater ways. Eyebrows raised to his hairline, Dokyeom heaves at the masterpiece you present him with.

Drops of your flesh peek through the holes in the lace, teasing him with what’s underneath. The high cut sides of your thong dig into your hips, making your legs look impossibly long and highlighting the sway of your thighs. Straining to pull his eyes up further, Dokyeom finds the bottom hem of your bra. Tongue rolling out of his mouth as the cups push your breasts up and together, teasing Dokyeom with ideas of fucking his cock between them as you lick at the tip.

You look like a goddess and Dokyeom is happy to get on his knees to worship every inch.

Dokyeom catches you smirking at his obvious reaction when he finally looks at your face. Stepping into his space, your fingers find purchase in the short hairs at the base of his head. A cold sweat breaks on his brow as you smile like the cat who got the canary.

“Do you like my outfit, Kyeomie?” You ask, tone deceptively sweet.

If he was capable of any thought beyond cataloging the swaths of naked skin and curves, maybe he’d answer more eloquently than grunting like a caveman.

“I picked it for you.”

Dokyeom lets his hands find your hips, squeezing the plush flesh in his palms as you continue to toy with him. His fingers pluck the thin elastic while his mind wanders down the extensive list of things he’s dying to do to you.

“Do you wanna see the whole thing?”

“There’s more?”

Falling to the floor, you dig into the pocket of your jeans for whatever the last piece of your outfit, if you could call it that. Rising again you present him with a thin piece of ribbon and a silver chain, both causing Dokyeom’s face to twist in confusion.

You prompt him to take the scarlet ribbon, a perfect match to the set you’ve donned, allowing Dokyeom to spot the clasp at the ends and the small silver charm dangling in the middle.

A sun is embossed on the front of the circular piece of silver. And engraved on the back is his name.

Having his name around your throat while he fucked you isn’t a kink he knew existed. But now Dokyeom is pretty sure he’ll be haunted by the idea for the rest of his life. The silver chain still in your hands has a similar charm but with a moon. Dokyeom’s vision goes fuzzy and his brain clouds at the assumption your name is on the back to match.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask innocently, turn around so Dokyeom can slip what he can only describe as a mock collar around your neck.

Dokyeom latches the clasp with shaky hands, the strip of silk pulled taunt around your neck with each breath. When you face him once again, the charm sits in the hollow of your throat, silver winking at him seductively. 

The icy metal of the chain bites into his skin erotically as you raise to clasp it around his neck. Your nose nudges against his jaw, a ghosting open mouth kiss landing on his jugular as the charm teases the muscles of his chest where it dangles.

You land on the couch with a squeak, taken aback by Dokyeom shredding the delicate fabric of your panties with clumsy hands as he struggles to get them off you. Bullying his way between your legs, he apologizes with a heavenly strip of his tongue through your slit.

He eats you like a man starved, nails leaving crescents in the tops of your thighs as he spreads you so wide the muscles in your hips scream in objection. Dokyeom’s tongue dips into your hole, collecting your essence on his tongue before spitting it back on your clit and digging in. The swollen nub slips against the flat of his wet muscle, and when his lips gently close around it he sucks just the way you taught him to you he’s rewarded with a wanton sob.

Whines fly from between your lips at the torturous pleasure, thrashing as Dokyeom uses all his strength to pin you and place. Spots dance along your vision, expanding as two fingers push past your folds to stretch you out. Dokyeom knows your pussy like the back of his hand and he stuffs you just right with his fingers.

All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hold on tightly as you fly over the edge. Racing forward under the heat of Dokyeom’s mouth and harsh thrusts of his fingers till you weep pitifully. You’re floating through space under his attention; mouth open over silent begs not to stop, eyes clenched shut. Every beat of your frantic heart carries satisfaction through tense muscles till you are pliant and boneless.

“Too much,” you whimper, thighs forcing close around his head.

Dokyeom takes it in stride. The combination of your essence and his saliva soaking chin, leaving a damp trail across your body as he kisses his way to your mouth.

His thumb finds the ribbon taunt around your throat, focusing on the piece of metal resting against your skin as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Panting into his mouth, you mewl something vaguely sounding like “want you.”

Luckily, Dokyeom is more than happy to give you whatever you want.

Nodding like a bobble head, he pulls you down into his lap as he kneels on the floor. The head of his cock proddes against your entrance, slipping in just enough for you to take the rest with ease.

The stretch is nothing short of bliss; so deep you can taste him in the back of your throat. Dokyeom fills you perfectly, the small nip of pain from not taking him in the past month only multiplying the satisfaction you feel at finally having him inside you again.

With herculean effort, you rise to allow only a few inches to exit before dropping back down. Hands searching for leverage, you balance on the cushions behind you as you grind into his lap.

Dokyeom doesn’t know where to look, overwhelmed by his options; your face twisted around gasping breaths; or your chest, still clad in your bra, tits bouncing with each movement; or where his cock disappears inside you. 

But the silver heart around your throat seems to snag his focus easily.

Dokyeom isn’t possessive but the way it not so subtly declares you as his makes his cock throb. He’s the only one that gets to have you like this, and you him. The twin pendants remind him you’re his girlfriend and everything beyond slips away as he watches it jerk around with every movement.

Before long, your legs burn from effort, ruining your already unstable motions into nothing more than stuttered ruts. Dokyeom’s hands palming your ass assist in lifting you to the couch, limbs awkwardly sprawled off the edges but he doesn’t slow while your nails scratch deep lines into his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t stop! Fuck, please don’t stop.” You beg, head thrown back into the cushions.

Stopping sounds like the worst idea he’s ever heard. Dokyeom needs this. Gloved snuggly in your heat after so long is the only cure for the constant plague of memories of pestering him day and night. He knows they won’t go away but at least he won’t feel like ripping his skin off every time you're within a fifteen foot radius.

The wet clap of your bodies grows to a crescendo, your orgasm on the horizon and tightening your muscles into a deathgrip on his length. Spots float in Dokyeom’s vision at the squeeze and he drops his mouth to yours to lap up all your high pitched whines.

When he rises again to gasp against his own pleasure, the chain you gifted him dangles right above your lips and a nuclear bomb detonates.

You cum again with Dokyeom’s thumb under the ribbon encircling your neck, a tease of choked breath as he rubs the charm like a lifeline. Voice cracking, earth shatter, mind numb pleasure from the tip of your nose to your pinky toe. 

Dokyeom is babbling over you. Rhythm abandoned as he subjected to the tight squeeze of your worn cunt until that punch to his gut hits. Each rope of cum makes his cock throb as he plows you with a deep thrust, stilling to empty himself inside you.

You're fully crushed into the itchy upholstery as his arms buckle.

“Wow,” you gasp, catching your breath.

What else can you say? A month of no touching culminating into the best sex of your life with your devastating boyfriend while he wears a chain with your name on it.

Dokyeom cackles into your collarbone, chest tickling against yours until he leans back to look at you. 

His hair resembles an electrocuted poodle, his lips are red and swollen, and sweat glosses his skin in the low light. But Dokyeom is glowing with life and happiness and all the things that make the world good.

“I love you.”

Dokyeom responds with a girlish shriek at your impromptu confession. 

“Damn, okay.” You laugh, staring at his bare ass as he runs a lap around the living room stark naked.

“You can’t just— I wanted to say it first!” He pouts before flopping down on top of you.

“Are you serious?” Breathless from his weight, you fail to push him off you as he flails like a fish. “Is that what you’re focusing on?” 

“Yes,” Dokyeom grouches into your cheek. “You’re the first girl I’ve felt this way about and I wanted to…”

He trails off, suddenly embarrassed. Your entire relationship was many of Dokyeom’s firsts. The first person he had sex with, first college girlfriend he told his mom and sister about, and now the first girl to make him truly understand loving another person. It wasn’t something you held over his head, and some of it he didn’t even tell you about but it all tallies up in his mind how unprepared he is for it all. 

“Minnie, look at me.”

You don’t speak again until he finally meets your gaze. 

“I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” You sigh.

Dokyeom doesn’t catch hint, “We were talking about–”

“Nope, can’t seem to recall.” 

Finally, he catches the playful pout and the way your eyes cut back his as you look around the room feigning ignorance. And because he’s Dokyeom and you’re a sucker for anything he does, you can’t stop the smile mirroring his own when softly traces the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

#svthub #lee seokmin #lee seokmin x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt #dokyeom #seokmin x reader #seokmin smut #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #🫡 highvern

[cloudcountry]

Hi Auburn! Been thinking about the 1.8K event, and finally, after days of pondering; I have come to a conclusion.

For the Harveston Sledathon event, I think it would have been really cute if MC built a massive snow fort and absolutely SMACKED a sled boi of your choice in the face with snowballs. Just more fun winter hijinks and MC gets to start it. It can be platonic or romantic; whatever feels best/natural to you!

*aka it's hot here and I feel like Jack in the Tamashina event*

IDIA DESERVES TO GET SMACKED.

also i feel about its sooooo fucking hto in my room right nwo im so MAD.

its romantic bc i think it would be funny if idia crushed really hard on someone that just teased him constantly LMAO

once again if you see any typos NO YOU DONT

IDIA "WET CAT" SHROUD GETS PELTED WITH FROZEN WATER (1.8k details)

A cold shock smacks Idia right on the back of the neck, and he shrieks when snow falls into his warm coat. He hears you cackling from behind him, and as he whips around to face you, he comes face-to-face with another snowball.

Jade chuckles beside him at your antics, and Epel says something to the effect of “you’re on” as Sebek screeches, but all Idia can look at is you as you throw your head back and laugh at him. It shouldn’t be so attractive to him that you’re so competitive and start stupid competitions like this, but he can’t bring himself to yell at you like he would anyone else.

“Aren’t you going to join them? They seem to have singled you out.” Jade hums, staring at Idia with glittering eyes that scream danger.

Does Jade know? Or is he just pretending to know?! What would Azul do with the information that Idia has a pathetic little crush on the Prefect that enjoys teasing him relentlessly about the silliest of things?

“They just like picking on me, that’s all.” Idia shakes his head and huffs, trying to hide his hair under his hat (which is rapidly turning pink as he speaks), “You...You know, like normies do. I knew I never should have left my room, this whole trip was a bad idea.”

“Oh? Are you certain?” Jade hums, tilting his head to the side as he smiles his unnerving smile, “I was under the impression that their boldness and confidence had you enamored. Was I perhaps...incorrect?”

“Yes!” Idia yelps, a response that comes far too soon for it to be the truth.

Satisfied, Jade steps away.

“Well then. It would be a shame if the Prefect were to hear about you hating them.” Jade sighs mournfully, “If only your feelings were the opposite.”

Idia knows what he’s doing.

He knows what game Jade is playing.

And yet as the mereel walks away, he makes a noise that sounds like a strangled cough and runs to talk to you before Jade can.

#auburn's 1.8k event <3 #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #disney twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #idia fluff #idia shroud fluff #everyone say thank you wingman jade

[kenphobia]

HEART STUTTER!

"you're the absolute most."

summary. wally headcanons with a gender-neutral who isn't good at talking, uses vague wording and confuses smiliar sounding words with each other. ( headcanons / rewritten / see end notes)

contents. fluff i think. possibly ooc too. barnaby teasing the heck out of wally. take the L, wallace, take it.

✦ Wally finds it oddly charming, for some inexplicable reason. He tries his best to understand you and somehow he knows what you're trying to say better than you could. He does let you explain for yourself, but once you turn to him with those pitiful eyes of yours, he couldn't help but finish your words for you.

✦ In some way, Wally understands how you feel. He is a charming little puppet but even so, he slurs his speech a lot which at times make him sound drunk and inaudible.

✦ Whenever you misuse and confuse words, Wally will use context clues to figure out what you're saying. To him, it's like a little puzzle game and he enjoys it very much. He does wonder how you can say typos out loud, concerning but he eats with his eyes so he can't complain.

✦ He'll always reassure you that your speech is fine and that you can take your time figuring what to say. You look better smiling than with your brows creased like that, so cheer up!

✦ Out of all of the neighbors, he understands you the most. You could refer to food as "Biting things" and he'll fetch some for you instantly, he makes a few mistakes at times and he apologizes deeply. Wally doesn't like making assumptions, especially if those assumptions makes you upset at yourself.

✦ Wally could pick up your vague wording the more he spends time with you. He wouldn't notice it until Barnaby mention it.

"And so, (Name) and I went to fetch the things from Poppy's place before coming to meet you all here." Wally vaguely gestured to the food laid on the picnic blanket underneath them, his eyes drifting you chatting and helping Julie fly her kite.

The larger puppet nodded his head, smiling almost teasingly. Wally quirked a brow at Barnaby's sudden weird attitude.

"Is there a problem, Barnaby?" Wally questioned.

"Oh no, it's nothing." Barnaby shrugged, taking his tobacco pipe from his mouth and into his large paw. He glanced over to you and Julie before turning back to Wally. "So, you and (Name), huh?"

"... Yes, we are an item, Barnaby. Is there something wrong?"

"Nope! It's just that you're so in love with them that you're already copying them." Barnaby chuckled. He took a breath in and blew out from his pipe.

"I'm—" Wally paused, his brows furrowed. "I don't think I follow what you mean, Barnaby. I do love them, in fact I am madly captivated by them, but I don't think I'd be so inclined to do the same things as they do."

"Oh yeah?" Wally raised a jesting brow. "Then, tell me what you were doing before the picnic." He gestured to the picnic set before the two of them.

"Well, that's easy!" Wally clapped his hands joyfully. "I woke up, finished some evenings, no, paintings! Yes, those things. Then, um, I met up with you all to talk about things and after cat— that! I went with (Name) to get the stuff from Poppy's and— Oh good lord."

Barnaby letted out a roaring of laughter and patted Wally's back. "You see what I mean now?"

Wally nodded silently, dumbfounded by how oblivious he was towards his speech. He was usually self-aware, watchful and cautious about the way he acts yet he managed you fumble over his words. Right in front of his best friend too.

"I guess they got your tongue tied?"

"Barnaby, kindly shut up for once."

author's note. i amr ushing, I am RUSHING!!!! this was requested by @ssvv-cc but i accidentally answered their ask with the wrong contents and i deleted it so um terribly sorry :')) i might upload the last one but for now, let me cry in shame

again, my requests are always open. do note that im not a welcome home writer but i do writer many other things <33 /nm

#writing log! #welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader

[shigarakisslutbag]

PLS DO SHIGGY THIGH FUCKING HCS thank u ily

I honestly didn't think I'd write on here again but I can't sleep and it's like 5:30 in the morning lol. So I'll write some thigh fuckin' headcanons to ease the stress 😎 (also TW: for thigh fucking, somnophilia, long post in general LMFAO. If I missed anything I apologize. Also it's now 6:19 after finishing it so there's probably typos I've missed after briefly skimming this so Im also sorry for that LMFAO)

(EDIT after writing. I'm so sorry this ended up not being headcanons and was just a full on drabble I found of pulled out of my ass but I hope you still enjoy it lol)

Now truthfully I havent even watched/finished the seasons after season 4 lol. I'm in the middle of season 5 still because I'm severely depressed and can't enjoy anything. But that doesn't mean I don't still love shigaraki and tbh I still read fanfiction from time to time about him or dabi.

I feel like a lot of people paint shigaraki as either absolutely vile and grimey or just aloof and soft with a grumpy attitude. And I feel like it's a bit of both. Which really plays into his sex life (if he'll ever have one). But even without a sex life, his personality most certainly plays into his fantasies and kinks.

I want to also emphasize that fantasies are just that, fantasies. Shigaraki most likely has plenty of fantasies that he'd never dream of acting out with his partner should he ever have one. I feel like even if he had some sick fantasies or kinks, and you happened to be okay with it, he would still be iffy because if this man, for whatever reason, picked you out of everyone else?? He's not going to treat you like absolute garbage. Shigaraki is definitely not the nicest person by any means, but by God if he cares about someone he fucking cares. Esp because you're probably the only person who actually loves him in his entirety. So if he's into noncon, somnophilia, predator/prey play, or whatever, it's going to be a while before he gets comfortable bringing up any of those fantasies with you.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, you're wondering "goddamnit ash shut the fuck up and tell me the thigh f-" wELL THATS TOO DAMN BAD YOU LISTEN TO SEGGSY MONOLOGUE OR YOU GET NOTHING. ty luv u.

Okay so his fantasies right ? What are shigarakis kinks ? Does he have any? Oh absolutely. And they range from either something as light and soft as hickeys and tying you up in silk while eating you out for 2 hours to nipple clamps and making you wail with hot tears and shoving a dildo down your throat telling you take it like you've taken every other mans cock down your throat because he knows stupid sluts like you are always capable of doing those things if you know it'll make your pussy soak the sheets.

Now it's not his top fantasy, but thigh fucking. And God do you have the prettiest thighs. It doesn't matter is there's stretch marks, if they're chubby, skinny, or if you have immense scarring on them he LOVES them. He loves how soft they are. He loves how they look in shorts or a skirt (esp when you keep trying to pull them down a bit because they're a size smaller than what you wanted so they don't pudge out). He loves how your delicate hands lay on top of your thighs while you fiddle with your fingers out of nervousness. He loves the way they move when he walks behind you, you have a walk that puts any model to shame. He just loves them . And by God does he throb at thought of getting to push his cock past your sweaty or oily thighs. The head of his dick barely kissing your clit each time he thrusts. But that's not the biggest and best part at all. He wants to wake you up to it. You've told him countless times he can wake you up to any sexual acts but he's still nervous. But he's really horny right now. And you're sweaty from the lack of AC and you're naked on your side sleeping away. But he genuinely can't think of anything else other than how wet your pussy must be right now and how slick your thighs must be from the heat of the room. His cock is absolutely aching to slide between your thighs and folds. He has never felt so hungry until he met someone with a body as inviting as your own. He's been stroking for the past couple minutes but it's just not enough .

He peels off the throw blanket you have over you because despite the heat you always love your blanket to sleep. But even after the blanket is removed you still don't wake . He slowly examines your body and grazes his hand down your body. Going over your shoulders and arms to ribs to hip bone. Finally meets that beautiful soft ass of yours. He gentle lifts your thigh to angle and can see your pussy . Its so wet and glistening from the lights on the street coming in through your window, beaming in and lighting up your skin to a beautiful warm glow.

He lifts up one of your slick folds, seeing your pretty clit and rubbing his thumb in tiny circles on it. He can't take it anymore and slides his cock between your thighs, his shaft rubbing your leaking pussy and making your clit throb even more. You may be asleep but your cunt is always awake and ready to be touched by him.

He starts thrusting slowly to building up that pressure in his groin to make his orgasm feel even better in the end. He can feel you coating his shaft with your juices more and more with each desperate thrust he makes to your thighs. Your thighs are so sweaty and warm and grip his dick so nicely taking any and every drop of cum he wants to and could ever give you. He can hear slight wet sounds coming from your cunt with each thrust that keeps getting more rapid and animalistic with each thrust because you dont know how to stop being such a needy whore all the time even in your sleep. Before he knows it you're gushing and your cum is on the sheets making him go over the edge. Now he's spitting thick, white shots of cum all over your thighs while drops of it roll down your skin onto the bed as well. You're still mostly asleep, but youve adorned a dazed smile on your face with a satisfied tomura passed out next you .

#somnophilia #my stuff #stuff #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura x reader #shimura tenko #shigaraki drabble #tenko shimura

[irregulardiaryposts]

23:28 11/05/2021

sooooo uhhhhh,, its chewsday innit.i have no idea what my life is anymore. like what do i even do?? i have no idea how i would describe myself to someone else and thats sort scary yk. like how am i supposed to like myself if i dont know who i am? n e way enough existentialismmmmmm ice gotten more unconditional uni offers which im dead proud of like who wouldve thought I wouldve been able to do this. if only i couldve seen myself like 4 years ago i would be shocked. i mean most of it would make sense but like i didnt even think id live this long tbh. i dont think about that enough the fact i couldnt see myself getting older and doing 'grown uo things' because i thought i would never get through the present. that sounds real sad wow. 

lets talk about something else, perhaps how i believe myself to be far too impulsive for my own good and never thinking anything through twice. like ive just tried to revamp my whole room coz i was unhappy with it. i tried to chalk it up to just wanting a better desk and suddenly ive thrown away half my furniture and my room looks empty affff. but its ok since it already looks kinda better everything's cleaner now too. 

i went into my backgarden today and i picked all the uhhh my laptop almost died on me there i realised my things at full brightness anyway yes i went and picked the uh dandelions? the yellow chucky ones and some daisies and i made some flower chains and stuff and hung them in my room even though theyre gonna die idrc becuase they still look kinda cute, i keep patching my uni prep class becuase icba going but i still need to set up student loans and shit and actually confirm my choice for uni too omfg so much work and also need to start teaching msyelf the theory sruff for my driving thingytghing 

i was just looking back at another post before i started typing this and i was talking about how i dont really espress myself all too well through my apppearance and things i can personalise to me and i feel like ive gotten a lot better at that coz i recently chucked away a lot of clothes i dont wear and my mum bought me new stuff and im dead chuffed coz im far more confident in them and theyre far more comfy too :) ive also stopped wearing bras with wires and padding in them coz fuck all that shit i no longer care if people see my nipples becuase its not worth the actual pain from and improperly fitting bra which all of them are on me ............................................  

ive been listening to some NEW music lately just from my discover weekly stuff and its been pretty fuckign spot on with the shit i wanna listen to but i wish itd let me save each week as like a diff playlist but ive just been adding my favs to my other playlists feel like ive been piecing myself together bit by bit after not having the right pieces for years. 

anyway future me or whoever listen to 'them changes' by thunder someone or other because i think im a little bit obssesed atm hehehehehhehehehesjnjndkb LJBSCLVJBs jbs c' CKJBDKjkbckj  sh. i feel a bit like a fraud tho ngl like as tho im waiting for the other shoe to drop and find out im actaully lying about being a functioning human being for longer than like 5 days in the past 3/4 years. did that make sense idk im justsaying i feel a bit fake and that next time i feel a bit d y s f u n c t i o n a l its gonna hit really fucking hard and its gonna take a lot to get over it idk maybe im just being pessimistic or smth have a tendency to do that. 

also ive completely given up with school i have less than a month left and i cannot be fucked doing any more work than is necessary to pass ie only doing the test things and pretending to know what im doing in class no studying no homework none of that bs i would rather break my toes ..  

ive wrote like 3800 characters thats like maybe 800 words isssshhh idk man considering ive wrote w shit like wbsihizjbk ziSJNlcjb alknfbv ajn jankbdv. you know , . i dont really know what im rambing about anymore nothing has realliy progressed that much do idk what to say ill come back maybe when im at uni :O beye

#this is the most incomprehensivle shit ive eveer written #who lets me do this' #i do i do this #tags are so fun what the heck' #jhbk SD CJSK #im looking at all the typos in this and i feel absolutely no shame #my keyboad simple doenst understand my dancing fingers #anyway gn #also additional little thing at 00.01 i found out today that p!nk and pink floyd are NOT th e same thing #hi future me here to fix typos turns out i Do in fact Feel Shame #anyway #may 2021 entry #2021 the year of fun

[perltiaqo]

ofc part 2

ok favourite small jake and amy scenes part 2!! (first one did surprisingly well actually 👀)

jake looking at amy and realising he wants to marry her -

it’s the fact that it’s the simplest smallest thing that she was doing that made him have that realisation! he loves her for who she is, and he loves that part of her so much that when he sees her doing something that amy would typically do like point out a typo, it makes him realise that “that’s the person i want to spend the rest of my life with”. his eyes really said it all in this scene

the conversation they have at the end of the mattress episode -

literally the way they were talking to each other in this scene was so soft. i’m sure this is one of the many times both of them realised that they actually love each other. and the way they look at each other i’m weak i’m very weak

end scene in renewal -

like i d*ed i swear the 2 jake and amy scenes in this episode was everything!!! but im considering jake’s scene to be a pretty big crucial scene so i’m only talking about this one! so much to love about this scene. mac’s toys scattered everywhere, them just hanging out and having a drink with each other, and ofc most importantly the way jake just helps amy feel better about anything and how jake just knows everything will work out just by looking.at.her. not only did we get to hear him say that but we got to see that moment. dan goor and b99 writers i love y’all i really do. this is definitely one of all time favourite scenes.

balancing scenes -

balancing gave us so many domestic peraltiago scenes and i love them all! like that episode was everything i tell u but talking about small scenes i absolutely loved this shot of jake and amy at his desk. firstly they both looked very good, and something about amy sitting at jake’s desk makes me feel things. they just look so married here.

i also love the scene in scully’s nap room. when amy gives the phone to mac her voice is just so soft and i MELTED. and the way jake looks at mac with that smile, i replayed that one part a lot actually no shame in admitting.

AND THE BUDDY SCENE IS ACTUALLY MY FAVOURITE SMALL SCENE! it’s not a jake and amy scene but i LOVED how jake called mac “buddy” and i swear i can never stop playing this scene on loop. truly music to my ears

the way they look at each other while they put on the rings for each other -

this episode gave us many heart eyes scenes but it’s this one moment i fell in love with. i noticed this on my 5th rewatch of this scene but their faces almost made me cry (idek why). they are seriously so happy to be there and to be married to each other like, THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO SO MUCH! it’s just such a beautiful and undderated heart eyes scene!

#honestly think i could do a part 3 #fav small jake and amy scenes #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake x amy #peraltiago #amy santiago #jake peralta

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

I don't know why I am sending this to you LOL. I honestly feel like you are super chill and open minded and I needed a place to get this out my head lol

MBJ and LH dating has been rubbing me the wrong way and for the longest I didn't know why. I feel absolutely stupid and crazy because I wholeheartedly MBJ personal life is none of my business. TBH its Team Killmonger over MBJ any day💀. Which is why I feel like a complete weirdo LOL. But then it like finally clicked for me why I feel so bothered/pressed.

The reason its bothering me, a rando off the internet who do not know this man personally is because it confirmed TO ME that dark skin black girls are just not wanted or desired in a way I would like see them be.

Now everyone deserves love and to be happy and I'm glad in a way that there having fun and happy with each other. Even tho it doesn't look like I am LOL. Maybe its projection on my part but i dunno its sort of confirm that niggas don't really fuq with dark skin girls on that level (althought it wasnt really hidden lol). Like I have been in and out of many fandoms and in every single one its either:

1. They do not fuq with any black girls especially the dark ones

2. They do show love and uplift black girls but not the dark ones. And when I say show love I mean in a misogynistic way lol

3. They fuq with dark girls in a fetish-y, non human kind of way.

I dunno I just always get a feeling just before I join a fandom. Kind of like I'm bracing myself for potential fuckery. I guess i didn't brace myself time around. Idk maybe cause I thought because he is actually pro black and not as openly fucked up as like chris brown or kodak black (Jeez the bar was low lol). I know im projecting and being weird but i dont know. It just like i can't help but feeling like the sad insecure 12 year old little girl who felt so ugly cause her skin. Like soo it's so stupid and i know this because at the end of the day I DONT KNOW THIS MAN and he sure as fuck don't know me lol. And his business is his business. I have no idea why this out of all things mbj dating life brought these insecure feelings up but yeah. Writing all this down was sort therapeutic, maybe I'll get a journal then burn it LOL. Sorry for all the typos!

On a lighter note, keep posting your selfies and unapologetically you because you are extremely pretty and seeing you be confident gives me hope that one day I'll be like that too!

Okay so you’re beautiful!!!! I know you’re on anon but you’re beautiful to me and this isn’t weird at all so don’t feel ashamed that it’s how you feel.

Not saying this about Mike but one thing about a man that turns me off (among other things) is cowardice. That includes not going for what you truly desire and letting other people’s actions and words make you do something. A lot of times from what I’ve experienced in my younger days is guys follow a crowd of hype for lighter skinned women and non black women. Same goes for plus size girls. The guy will be attracted to them, but their friends or whoever else sees different so they gotta follow that wave. It doesn’t help that society has wired the mines of these people to find fairer skinned women or racially ambiguous women to be prettier. Dark skinned women are always left in the dark and shamed. It’s the truth.

Now as far as MBJ, I feel you on that. I root for him to find someone that makes him happy because I’m a fan, but of course I’m not going to deny that I’d love to see him with a dark skinned black women. I feel like a lot of people that he hangs with also play apart in it. He’s an actor, Hollywood all that. I definitely keep an eye on him and he’s very “secretive” about who he’s attracted to. I’ve seen him like a ton of dark skinned women’s posts like a thirsty guy would. Like why hide what you like? Not saying he has to prove anything. All in all I get why it bothers you. I also think that’s why fans prefer Erik (fictional) over MBJ. 

[imma-lil-teapot]

TMNT 2003/2k3 Headcanon: Crying - (Leonardo)

Feel free to scroll past this first part if you’re not interested in my silly rambling and nonsense. I won’t mind. Promise. ;)

Okey-dokey then, with the global epidemic that is the Coronavirus well in action and most of the world stuck in lockdown (starting this Friday for us too), felt like getting the ‘ol creative juices flowing with a little headcanon-y thingy in preparation for -possibly- more fandom writings to keep myself busy during the house arrest (well... it kinda is!) and hopefully my mind off all the bad news. :( 

Also, this is totally my first one on the blog! WOOT! Please bear in mind that I’m SUPER rusty! Haven’t written in ages so there are bound to be typos and all matter of general errors scattered throughout the post. Don’t pet them! They bite!  

Anyhoo~ Despite attempting to create and share with the goal in mind to uplift spirits, I decided to start on a rather upsetting subject (PLEASE DON’T LEAVE! They end on happy notes ;) ) because, Imma just come and say it, I enjoy seeing my favourite characters shed tears (not for just any old reason -their personality plays a huge role in this- and CERTAINLY not for sadistic reasons, land sakes no! But... well, you’ll see~ ;) ) It makes me all gooey and fuzzy inside to see them display such raw emotion and I just wanna leap into the TV screen to hug and console them. I dunno why. Maybe I’m nuts like that. (Remembers Raph crying at the farm when Leo was badly injured and wishes she could just hug them all and take away the pain) Oh well, if you enjoy visualizing the same, then *High Fives*. :)

So yeah, if you read the title, you’ll know this is based on the 2003/2k3 series (my favs). Hope you all enjoy~ :D Grab tissues cause sad turts ahead! :’(

Jibber jabber stops here~

TURTLES~

LEONARDO - You are here

RAPHAEL

DONATELLO - Coming soon

MICHELANGELO - Coming soon

WARNING(S): Because of the subject, Angst and Hurt/Comfort will be present.

RATING: G (General)

WORD COUNT: Don’t have the foggiest.

ANYTHING ELSE TO ADD:

And apparently gifs too, so without further ado: (Completely unintentional but in actuality, totally intentional rhyming)...

TO THE HEADCANONS~~~~

~LEONARDO~

-- It’s no easy feat to make the leader in blue turn on the waterworks. Leo won’t cry for any old reason. It’s not because he has no emotions, far from it, but being the leader of a small ninja clan -who happen to be family as well- is no easy task in itself: he has a lot on his young shoulders and deals with many issues on a daily basis few his age ever have to.

-- It’s because of these reasons that Leo doesn’t cry often. One of the lesser likely to out of the four brothers. But when he does, it’s an emotionally distressing sight to behold. 

-- Leo tends to cry whenever those closest to him -namely his brothers, his father/master and truest friends- are severely injured or are in a dire situation. Remember his angry/moody arc? The thought of losing any of them causes him great pain and distress, especially if he were the cause of any of it, and when that happens, he can’t stop the dampness that forms around his eyes and soaks into his mask. 

-- He’s not fond of crying, especially in front of others, even though he fully comprehends its normalcy. He feels he needs to be everyone’s rock, their fortress of physical and emotional stability to turn to for strength when things get rough... So when the tears start to fall, he feels he can’t show them, can’t allow them to watch him crumble under the gripling weight of helplessness and anguish.

-- He frantically wipes at his eyes and desperately attempts not to sniffle, but it’s a hopeless battle, for his tears are already a steady stream. 

-- He’ll try to hide when possible, usually retreating to his room to allow the worst of the emotions to spill over before returning to the others... Though he may be in there a while: when Leo lets his emotions go, it can be just as powerful as his red-banded brother’s rage. 

-- He spares no time in making sure the coast is clear for the tears are already streaming by the time he reaches his futon, and there’s no stopping them now as he lets himself drop to his knees, only halfway onto the mattress. He purposefully leaves the room unlit, cloaking his form in the darkness. 

-- He sniffs a few times as he shuffles up against the wall, sitting upright against it, bringing his legs up and hugging them loosely and droops his head against a single knee pad. 

-- His voice desperately wishes to escape. To express its misery. But he won’t allow it to, often placing one hand over his face in a bid to quell the sadness and remain silent in the battle against his own inner turmoil. He refuses to let anyone see him in that state of utter sorrow and vulnerability.

-- He whimpers ever so slightly and coughs a few times as breathing becomes difficult. He knows this episode won’t be over any time soon. Fortunately, he keeps some tissues next to his bed for such rare occasions and tries not to blow too loudly. He thinks back to the last time he cried so hard... It’s been a while. It felt like a build up. 

-- Time has been forgotten as he’s lost in deep thought. By the time he slips a hand across his eyes, only the material of his mask is still slightly damp. He clears his nostrils a couple of times before considering whether he was ready to return to his family. He’d of course straighten up his bedding beforehand, and would also require a trip to the bathroom to wash his face. A true ninja leaves no evidence. 

-- Leo tries to put the horrifying images out of head before leaving his quarters. He doesn’t wish to be weighed down again and thus maybe cause his emotions to come out a second time. He knew someone would catch on that time. Instead, he holds his head up high, focusing on the there and now to carry him forward.  

BONUS EXTRA~

-- Failure is also one of his greatest foes. Leo despises it, but not in the irrational sense; he fully comprehends that in order to grow, one has to lose in order to learn and thus, succeed in turn, and while it can frustrate him when he’s unsuccessful at mastering a martial arts technique for example, he understanders it’s part of the process and that no one’s perfect. 

-- It’s when his slipups could spell casualties or death to his family and/or friends is when it weighs down on him like a boulder strapped to his shell. 

-- A really big one. 

-- And it hurts. So much so that it causes him to become despondent and often teary-eyed when no one’s looking.

-- Boi Bloo might also cry from especially sad movie scenes. He gets seriously into the story, and when the scene is just right -perfect music, perfect timing etc.- you may just catch Fearless with watery eyes. 

-- He can’t help it. After all, he’s a leader, and very caring and kind-hearted individual, so movies showing children or anyone/anything defenceless getting hurt has him not only visibly upset, but also angry at the cause. He’s a softie like that. 

-- He won’t have a meltdown, of course, but the tears are definitely there. Just don’t tease him too much; he’s easily embarrassed by it. ;) 

BONUS EXTRA EXTRA FEMALE READER OR S/O EDITION~ (Can also use an OC/FC insert if you wish, up to you)

You had figured something was up by the time you’d finished greeting everyone in the Splinterson household except for the Turtle you’d long to see most and he hadn’t made his presence yet known. 

The idea that he must’ve been practicing or meditating swiftly vanished when Mikey told you he’d been in his room in the dark for the past few hours. “The guy hardly ever naps, and even so, never this long.” He’d told you. “I dunno, (Y/N), we were about to check on ‘im when you arrived, but maybe you should be the one to. Think he’d really appreciate it.” And there was absolutely no argument from your side as you were already making your way up to the room.

You didn’t know what to expect as you neared the doorway. Could he possibly still just be sleeping? Meditating in the dark instead of his usual spot by the training area? Or... was he sick? The latter now had you concerned and you picked up your pace... Only to pause mid step when an unmistakable sound reached your ears: a sniffle.

Had it come from within his room? It was the only logical explanation as everyone else was downstairs. You were truly perturbed now as you stood outside the doorway and called out the ‘eldest’ Turtle’s name.

There was some shuffling to be heard but you were unable to tell for sure what he was doing -probably trying to neaten up his bed- “(Y/N)? Just a second, okay?” he responded in a rather awkward verging on frantic tone, and you were certain you heard another sniffle escape him. 

That, along with the way he’d replied really didn’t help to put your mind at ease. “Leo, are you alright?” Nor was the pitch blackness in which he remained concealed in.

“Yeah, just... l-looking for something.” There was some more shuffling as if to prove his point, but you were having none of it.

“Then maybe this,” you began, turning around to flick the light switch, “will help?”

“No! Wait!” But it was a split second too late for as soon the brightness illuminated the entire room, you had caught the telltale signs of an emotional meltdown in progress plastered on his face before he quickly turned away and briskly wiped an arm across his face, attempting to hide the shame... or perhaps embarrassment? 

“Leo...?” your heart and voice softened, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You automatically walked to him, closing the gap he was now trying to form. 

“Nothing,” he lied, and acknowledged it was a fruitless attempt but still couldn’t stop himself. Autopilot panic mode was enabled now. “It’s nothing.” 

Unfortunately for him, autopilot mother hen mode was activated for you as you reached with both hands to his carapace and shoulder, gently turning him to face you. “I can see that it’s something.” Your words were gentle, and you wanted nothing more than to take away his pain. “Look at me, Honey.” His body was turned but his head remained to the side. It was clear he didn’t want his obvious distress on display, even to you. “Please, Leo?” You tried again, and slowly but surely, his eyes met yours, and you felt your heart sink further.

The fabric of his mask was wet and eyes were still red with fresh tears that threatened to fall. He appeared so broken and helpless as he stared at you, and even though he uttered no words, you could practically hear him despairingly ask “Is this what you wanted? To see me at my lowest?” from his expression alone. 

Never had you witnessed the leader of this band of mutant brothers cry. At times you had wondered if he ever did, and yet here he was; the incredible pillar of strength and dignity you had come to know and adore, in tears and so dejected that you couldn’t stop your own eyes from becoming damp the more you gazed at him. “Oh, Sweety...” You whispered as you felt your soul shatter. It was too much to bear. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, one around the midsection and the other over his shoulder, and buried your face into his leathery neck, offering every ounce of comfort you could muster.

It didn’t take him long at all to sink into the embrace and return the action. Beyond the point of concerning himself with showing the pain he felt -or the wetness now soaking into your shoulder when he placed his forehead against it- he sniffed and finally allowed the tears to fall once again as fresh waves of emotion surged throughout his body.

And this time, he couldn’t keep the whimpering to himself.

“Shh~ It’s okay, it’s okay,” you soothed, lightly patting and rubbing along the scutes of his shell as he weakly sobbed, finally letting go of all the sadness that gripped him. 

You weren’t even aware of what was wrong, and you most likely wouldn’t find out til later once he calmed down, but right now, he just needed you to hold him. Hold him until the hurt was gone... And so you would. 

AND THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE!

ALL THE FEELS!! I EMBARRASS!!

OMGosh, this turned into a monster! The mother of all HCs!! :O No seriously, this wasn’t meant to be this long! I was suppose to squish all four into one itty bitty little post, but then it just grew... and grew... and GREW! Personally, I blame the Reader Bonus but I’d be damned if I didn’t enjoy writing it! ;P You guys here on Tumblr got me slightly addicted to them and have wanted to attempt some myself so... Anyhoo~ I can’t really say if I’m entirely content with the whole thing, I dunno. I feel some parts are better than others (writing style-wise) but yeah, I really need to get back into the swing of things...

Speaking of which, I DO plan on adding my two cents on the other bois as well, but judging by how this one turned out, they’ll most likely all be this length, more or less, so each Turt will get his own post so I can really jot down those details with all the freedom in the world! That being said, I can’t say when they’ll be added but hopefully soon-ish. :) Raph's next on the list!

Thank you all so much for the read and hope you enjoyed~ :D

~Drag0n Mistr3ss’ Random Fandoms*

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt2003 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt2k3 #tmnt 2k3 #headcanon #headcanons #leonardo tmnt #leo tmnt #crying #it just kept on growing #tmntxreader #tmnt x reader #tmnt x oc #leo x reader #leonardoxreader #leonardo x reader #all the feels #completely shameless #angst #hurt/comfort #i like turtles #sad turts #lockdown is imminent #fluffy gooey happy ending

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight prologue (part 3)

Levelling up and last stands

Graendal to Galad, and now Galad to Padan Fain. It’s like alignment whiplash.

The sky was black. A tempest. He liked that, though he hated the one who caused it.

This is great because there’s just a hint of ambiguity to who that actually may be. Rand? Or the Dark One? And when you have to ask, even for a second…well, that’s sort of the point, isn’t it.

Hatred. It was the proof that he still lived, the one emotion left.

Well, that’s one more than Rand at any rate.

(Pre-Dragonmount, I mean).

Padan Fain exists to chew scenery and you know what buddy? Chew away. Live your dreams.

Did his hatred cause that storm? It must be so. Yes.

Sorry Fain; pretty sure Rand has first claim on I am the storm. He just carries it better, you see. It’s a good look on him and we don’t mess with that.

I typo-ed that as ‘it’s a god look on him’ and really… either way.

When you accepted madness into yourself – embraced it and drank it in as if it were sunlight or water or the air itself – it became another part of you.

I’m mostly amused by how similar this sounds to the wording of Egwene thinking of how the Aiel handle pain. In this case I don’t think it’s particularly intentional or meaningful or anything, but it amuses me.

Another part of you. Like a hand or an eye.

Not sure those are the best examples, given Rand and also very likely at some point Mat, but sure.

He was finally free.

Has something changed? Oh, wait. Is this the first we’ve seen of him since saidin was cleansed? And Shadar Logoth destroyed? I think it is, in which case… interesting. Particularly interesting since it doesn’t seem to have affected the dagger’s power – Fain’s still obsessed with his precious, at any rate – and last we heard Rand’s wound(s) hadn’t healed. But Shadar Logoth was destroyed, and its power seemingly with it, more or less, and so now Fain or Mordeth or Smeagol or whoever he is these days is free, in a manner of speaking. That’ll end well for everyone involved, I’m sure.

Oh he killed a worm. And he’s in the Blight so that’s a Worm. Im…pressive?

Mist had begun to trail him, creeping up from the ground. Was that mist his madness, or was it his hatred? It was so familiar. It twisted around his ankles and liked at his heels.

Like a yellow fog, that rubs its back upon the window panes, a yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window panes, licks its tongue into the corners of the evening…

No? Or perhaps like, say, Mashadar? I mean, maybe it’s nothing, but if it’s not nothing, that’s… concerning. Were more things freed than Fain, in the ruination of Shadar Logoth? Open to give the world hope but did it also release some element of despair?

The mist struck.

And unless we’ve transported into one of Sanderson’s original works, that means I’m right and the cleansing of saidin did indeed have some… unintended consequences. Which is fitting, in a grander sense of balance, but still kind of… well, sad.

So Fain has levelled up again, it would seem, which is the outcome absolutely no one needed.

That said, he played enough of a part early on, and enough has been made of him from time to time afterwards, that it would be kind of weird to leave him out of the ending. Personally I wouldn’t particularly mind; watching him chew scenery is fun enough from time to time but the rest of the time I sort of tend to forget about him, and I’m not particularly invested in anything to do with him, and the slightly more critical side of me wonders if he was ever truly necessary as a character… but at this point in a series, once you have a character like that, dropping them now would feel untidy. It would feel like an oversight, or like lazy plotting.

Which is hard, when everything about him suggests that his entire purpose is to be a wildcard character. He doesn’t have a clear fated role to play in all of this, unless it’s something to do with his link to the dagger and, via that, to Mat somehow.

Instead, he’s a powerful entity on a third side in a two-sided war. Yes, there are far more factions than that within each of those sides, and so much of the point of the last several books has been that lack of unity, and the tragedy but perhaps inevitability of fighting against those who should be your allies, of losing sight of the larger conflict in favour of the smaller and more immediate ones, and of trying to forge some kind of alliance despite that, and the ways in which that can succeed or fail.

But Fain is less a part of that and more a completely outside element. Not, in a way, unlike Aridhol itself was, as it became Shadar Logoth. A darkness and an evil that came from a form of the Light and its hatred of the Shadow and, over time, twisted. And therefore was an evil that was not truly of the Shadow, but was no longer an ally of the Light. Instead it was its own poison.

That’s kind of what Fain is. Which certainly has potential, as a story element, but I am curious to see how that’s played, and how well it’s played, given the sheer volume of characters we’re dealing with, and the size of this conflict, and the many other themes already at play. Can his role, whatever it is, end up feeling satisfying? I guess we’ll read and find out on that one.

Anyway, that was a bit of a tangent, but the point of it was: yes, he’s levelled up, because I think he has to in order to have a hope of having his part in the ending being interesting or satisfying.

Red below, black above. Red and black, red and black, so much red and black.

See, the thing is, I know for a fact that Brandon Sanderson is a fan of Les Miserables, so I am fully justified in humming ‘red, the blood of angry men; black, the dark of ages past….’

Also, Moridin would approve. Of the colour scheme, if nothing else.

And also of the chaos. Some say the world will end in (bale)fire, some say in ice, and Padan Fain says fuck it why not evil killer mist. Less poetic but sure.

(Let’s play a little game called: over the course of the liveblog, how much of an English Literature syllabus do we think I’ve referenced? …on second thought let’s not play that game)

Oh, the Trollocs didn’t die, they just got a Mashadar Makeover and now they’re competing for Malkier’s Blight’s Next Top Abomination.

He left the Myrddraal. It would not rise, as rumours said they did. His touch now brought instant death to one of its kind. Pity. He had a few nails he might have otherwise put to good use.

Perhaps he should get some gloves. But if he did, he couldn’t cut his hand. What a problem.

The thing is, while the style here is very Sanderson, for a character like Fain it actually works pretty well. Which is mainly, I think, because I have long suspected Sanderson has a soft spot for writing characters who are utterly batshit and having the time of their lives with it. Pass the scenery, and the salt. Yum.

Like an old friend. A dear, beloved old friend that you were going to stab through the eye, open up at the gut and consume by handfuls while drinking his blood. That was the proper way to treat friends.

Sure, it lacks the undertone of beautiful horror, and the poetry of Machin Shin whispering about braiding flayed skin, which is in a way a shame. But it conveys the essential message and character, and at least for me, this works well as an example of Sanderson’s approach of not trying to imitate style because that could go so badly, but instead emulating the feel of the story itself. Sometimes it doesn’t work, but here, at least for me, it does.

It's ironic in a way that it’s a similar thing to what he’s done with Mat, but it has the opposite effect. With Mat – I’ve written about this elsewhere, but tl;dr is that I think he read Mat as funny and so tried to write Mat as funny, using his own methods rather than Jordan’s because imitating style exactly is a lost cause, but something very essential was lost in the translation (like the fact that Mat himself isn’t really humorous; it more comes from the contrast of his thoughts with his actions, and his character against the world around him, but I digress again). So he went for ‘convey the same idea through my own methods rather than trying to imitate Jordan’s’ – consciously or subconsciously – and it backfired. But with Fain, he’s taken the same approach – ‘convey a scenery-chewing wildcard who has lost every mind he’s possessed, which is several’ – and this time the same-idea-different-style still gets that across in a way that feels true to character.

Obviously mileage can and will vary on whether or not this works, but for me it’s just an interesting study in how a certain approach or method can succeed or fail depending on exactly how and where it’s applied, and what the cause of that success or failure may be – why it works in one place but not another, and what went right or wrong.

It is, I think, something of a writing exercise if you want to turn it into one. A bit like reverse-engineering an outline from a book you’ve read (I do this often; I realised at some point that I was doing it and then I made a point of doing it deliberately, and it’s super interesting, and for me at least it’s helped me think more deliberately about the structure of a story, and how that can be leveraged for different effects). But thinking about the specifics of what does or doesn’t work for you about the authorship switch – a particular character, or a scene, or the pacing, or the handling of a certain theme, or anything else – and then digging into the specifics of why it works, or doesn’t.

That, for me, has been more interesting than just picking out the differences. Sure, I’ll nitpick, but I prefer not to focus on it, because ‘this is different’ feels… kind of pointless. Of course it’s different. Figuring out exactly what is different, or why it’s different is interesting sometimes. But also figuring out where and how that difference matters or doesn’t is more what I’m trying to get at here. Because some of the differences, I don’t mind. Some, I do. And trying to understand why I mind some and not others has been helpful at least for me in, again, understanding all of those elements of a story or piece of writing better, and thinking about how they could be used or changed or recombined.

But then, I’m the kind of person who likes to take things apart to figure out how they work. And also to overthink every goddamn text I consume.

Still, it’s a fun one if you’re in the market for writing exercises to try whilst in quarantine.

*

Malenarin Rai. Bold of you to introduce a new POV character in the penultimate book of a series that already has dozens if not hundreds, but that’s WoT for you.

Also it’s a prologue so the rules are different.

Heeth Tower is a weird name. Heeth. But then, I don’t think Sanderson has ever been quite as good with names as Jordan was. And that’s the sort of change I’m not going to get too worked up over. (Also, it was Jordan who gave us Mountains of Dhoom, so I rest my case).

The whistling wind rattled the wooden shutter.

It’s not time for the wind yet; we’re still in the prologue! Wait your turn, wind; chapter one should be here any day now.

Using a Trolloc horn as a paperweight is pretty badass, Malenarin, but Furyk Karede and his human skull wineglass might offer some competition.

I don’t think we’ve spent much – any, depending on where exactly the scene in TPoD’s prologue takes place – time in Kandor outside of New Spring. I guess we’ve got to finish filling in the map now; we’ve only got one book left!

Malenarin’s son is turning fourteen soon, so he might just be lucky enough to get Tarmon Gai’don as a birthday party.

He smiled, setting the Trolloc horn on the note, in case that shutter broke open again. He’d slain the Trolloc who had borne that horn himself. Then he walked over to the side of his office and opened his battered oak trunk. Among the other effects inside was a cloth-wrapped sword, the brown scabbard kept well oiled and maintained, but faded with time.

Typing it out, it’s not even that similar, but reading this my first thought was of Tam al’Thor, pulling out his old trunk and his old sword at the beginning of The Eye of the World, before giving it to Rand as he sets off on his coming-of-age story.

To have a duty was to have pride – just as to bear a burden was to gain strength.

In moderation, though. *Looks pointedly at Rand al’Thor*

I still don’t understand how turning their backs on the Blight to go find the Dragon Reborn to tell him to pay attention to the Blight is a good idea for the Borderland rulers. I must be missing something here and I hope it is eventually revealed to me, because otherwise that is terrible strategy on so many counts.

The only way to go to the fourth level was to climb a narrow, collapsible ramp on the outside of the tower

What could possibly go wrong? I mean, last time we were in Kandor a kid was thrown off a balcony, so…

[Jargen] wore a cord looped around the shoulder of his brown uniform; it bore a knot for each Trolloc he’d killed. There had to be approaching fifty knots in the thing by now.

That’s cute, Rand says, flicking dust off his shoulder Luke-Skywalker-in-The-Last-Jedi style, and flicking some Arrows of Fire off with it to torch another thousand or so Trollocs without breaking a sweat.

But okay, yes, for an ordinary non-protagonist non-Lan in a random guard tower in Kandor, I suppose that qualifies as pretty badass.

The beacons have been lit! Gondor Rena Tower calls for aid!

Pretty sure that’s your cue, Lan.

Or not; Malenarin seems to think it’s his cue to confirm the SOS and start preparing the tower for… bad things, probably.

Seriously, wind, wait your turn.

Of course his son is next on the list of messenger boys to be sent out. Well, it’s a better fate than being thrown off a balcony at least. Maybe.

‘No, we need to send several messengers. Double up. Just in case the towers fall.’

Do you have any uncrowned infant kings you want to send as well? Just checking.

Malenarin let himself feel a hint of relief that his son was one of those riding to safety. There was no dishonour in that; the messages needed to be delivered, and Keemlin was next on the roster.

There is a kind of parallel here – less a parallel, perhaps, than an echo – to Lan. A son sent to safety as a Borderland hold prepares to fall, the sense of a last stand. Because in the Borderlands perhaps that is not so unusual a story, in its way. The Wheel of Time turns.

It was time for Tarmon Gai’don. And looking out into the storm, Malenarin thought he could see to the very edge of time itself. An edge that was not so far distant.

Maybe you should have a dream-chat with Moridin, Malenarin. Maybe it’s just the air in the Blight: gives you nihilist thoughts.

Oh oops, his son wasn’t one of the messengers to go. Because he decided to be all noble and let another boy go in his place, whose mother had already lost four sons. That’s sweet, kid, and it’ll probably get you killed.

Tian, Sanderson? Named after another ill-fated messenger boy in your own works, perhaps?

‘Run down to my office,’ Malenarin said. ‘There is a sword in my oaken trunk. Fetch it for me.’

Aw. Because his son has proven himself a man, three whole days early. Because we’re approaching the end now, and it’s time for everyone to take their last steps into their roles, become who they must be to face that end – whether they’re a protagonist or just some poor doomed kid in a tower in the Blight.

It's something these kinds of snapshot one-off scenes are good for: to show the scope of the story, that it touches everyone, no matter that they’ve never even met Rand or any of the others. And to give this sense of those final steps happening in snapshots like this across the land. The sense of an entire world taking a last deep breath. And so we pause for brief close-ups on the faces of some of the extras stepping onto the battlefield, to illustrate that.

Keemlin’s swearing his version of the ‘kill the bad things until we die or they do’ that every Borderland (and Aiel) nation seems to have, each with its own slight semantic variations.

‘Rise as a man, my son!’

This is no place, or time, for children. Ergo, he can no longer be a child, by simple virtue of being here. Which makes this a rather bittersweet moment; Malenarin’s proud of his son but there’s also this sense that far too many children are having to grow up far too fast in these last moments (and others will never grow up at all – in today’s theme of referencing poetry I like, go check out The Lads in their Hundreds).

They yelled defiance of the Shadow. For a moment, their voices rang louder than the thunder.

I don’t have a lot to say about this except that it’s a lovely image.

Together they turned to face the oncoming Shadow.

Nice knowing you.

Draghkar overhead and Trollocs oncoming, and they’re just a lonely tower waiting to die. I do love a doomed last stand, even if it’s characters I’ve never met before and likely will never see again.

Malenarin was a man of the Borderlands, same as his father, same as his son beside him. They knew their task. You held until you were relieved.

THAT’S YOUR CUE, LAN.

Next (ToM ch 1) Previous (ToM prologue pt.2)

#i definitely did not split up this prologue correctly #oh well it's done now #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #Towers of Midnight

[where-is-my-mind-tho]

Guys I actually  kinda enjoyed The Rise of Skywalker

mini review/first impresions, spoilers will be highlited ;)

although my expectations were kinda low after ep. 8... I’m not gonna say TLJ was total garbage but for me certainly worst of this new trilogy. Compared to ep. 7 which I really liked. TLJ kills alot of new ideas from the previous movie and  has really weird plot and out of all these new movies feels the least like a Star Wars movie... 

I might actually write a little something about ep 7 - 9 later (like what was awesome and what I liked...) bcs when I see all the hate this new trilogy is getting it breaks my heart... I get it that It’s totally different from what we expected as fans but every movie has something epic and I really don’t wanna trash on Star Wars... bcs It’s well Star Wars and I used to love it soo much as a kid. and I still do

so back to ep. IX

I went to premier on 18th and I have to say there were like 3 girls + 1 man dressed as a Jedi :D (not that thats important) lmao and the cinema was like 75% full :D I expected more ppl tbh. But that probably depends on where u live... luckily the cinema aired the version with EN + subtitles first and I was super happy about that.

I gotta admit that I briefly read through the leaks on reddit (yes they are true) so I kinda expected the ending but I still wanted to see for myself and I was not entirely disappointed and there were bunch of scenes that blew my mind. The movie Is filled with so much action .... It would be enough for two movies and It was hell of a ride. All the scenes with Leia look awesome except for one (1) you gonna know when u see... they must have used CGI for that but It’s not a complete disaster.... As usual the trio is absolutely gorgeous... you gonna get more Rey-Poe interactions which are mostly fights but fun to watch. Sadly Finn has almost no development whatsoever and that’s a shame he was very interesting new addition to SW universe.

the saber battles are epic and probably one of my most favorite thing in TROS. also there’s bunch of new worlds and also red troopers... who are kinda just there. 

! spoilers ahead !

now we all know for some time that Palpatine is back but I did not expect him to be shown so early in the movie. It basically opens with scene with Kylo going to Sheev who tells him to kill Rey. IMHO kinda rushed start. Also the revelation that Rey is Palpatine felt kinda funny :D and the story of her parents was NOT what I had expected but thats not a bad thing... Better than what Kylo said about them in ep.8. And now Im gettting to the problem of this movie.

 Ep 7. was great. It introduced new characters and kickstarted the trilogy but then we have ep. 8 which totaly trashed and ruined the direction which was set in TFA and now JJ tried to tie it togheter and in feels so rushed and messy like Disney did not plan this entirely. I had a feeling that they put Palpatine there only bcs Snoke was killed so unexpectedly and they did not have the BIG BAD. Although the whole move is filled with nostalgia trust me when the movie ends you don’t have the feeling of closure. It does not conclude the 9 movie saga... It barely felt like an ending for this trilogy. 

Now to some positive stuff

Adam Driver and his acting is the best thing that could happen to Star Wars. This person has an incredible emotional range. Those who watch his work will agree with me. I’m forever thankful for Disney and JJ for casting him, making him well known and gave him the opportunity to show some raw emotions on screen. He deserves all the awards in the world. 

That being said I can’t shake the feeling that we were robed. His portrayal of Ben Solo is absolutely incredible even though he almost does not speak and It’s a great shame that we won’t be able to see this character more. When Ben appears on Exegol it’s a totally different person even the style of his walk changes. I can’t even imagine how awesome it would be if Kylo turned at the end of ep 8... the whole RISE of Skywalker could have been filled with sarcastic sassy remarks aka Han and Leia style... NOT to mention Ben’s super hot outfit which contains baggy tshirt and black pants... yes that’s it... hottest character and outfit since Loki and his leather armor in 2012 Avengers.... 

I mean look at him....

And than we have the final scene with him and Rey... Ikd what to say about that I’m still processing that smile™. I should say I was never a true Reylo bcs I had the feeling it would be a relationship based on manipulation an abuse BUT I was not totally against REYBEN which is basically canon at the end. As I said I don’t know what to think of it yet...

In conclusion the real tragedy of this story is the fact that Ben dies :( totally useless death imho. So the ending is actually bittersweet and not what u expect when go see a movie that should end the 40y.o. saga. That being said and done my opinion is mostly positive and ep. 9 is for me actually the best from Disney trilogy followed by ep. 7 and ep. 8 being the worst. 

Theres like sithton ;) of other stuff that I did not mention bcs the post would be like 100 miles long soo maybe in another post. Now id like to know what do you think? Have u seen it yet? Which ep is the best/worst? Which part of the movie did u like?

Sorry for the repost of the last gif and pic the are not mine also bless the person who made them

Sorry for typos or grammar I’m still SHOOK

#star wars #star wars 9 #star wars tros #the rise of skywalker #kylo ren #ben solo #personal thoughts

[lefaystrent]

In a magical kingdom far away...

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Pairings: none

Summary:  The evil Lord Of Logic descends on the land, forcing all it touches to obey the laws of physics.

Notes: The summary is a prompt you can find here. @katie-the-noble-fangirl suggested the prompt to me a while back, and in all of my infinite wisdom, I decided that last night was the perfect time to write it. When I was drunk from a celebration. I fixed up all the typos but left everything as a whole untouched.

In a magical kingdom far away, a valiant knight wandered the capital’s streets. His name was Roman, a man who held immeasurable power and acclaim.

“I am powerful,” he said to himself, sauntering down the street like he owned it. He might have; you can buy streets and name them sometimes. If Roman bought a street, he’d probably name it Glitter Lane, and he’d encourage a royal decree to have glitter poured down it every Tuesday, because fuck any other day. “I am solid,” he said.

In the middle of this beautiful day, the sky turned cloudy, stormy. It looked like it would cry.

“Tissue?” Roman offered the Heavens.

In the middle of the atmosphere, a being emerged. He wore a cape, long and flowy, and down upon the land he descended. The magic-inclined citizens cowered, not sensing any magical flow from the new arrival. It’s like sensing Feng Shui really. You go into a house, see a couch in the wrong place, say to it, “You are a sad thing in this world,” and feel better about yourself. Maybe set it on fire.

Roman approached the figure when everyone else shied away. “Who falls into our kingdom so unmagically?”

“I am Logan. Not Wolverine. The distinction is important,” the man said.

Roman grimaced like he’d stepped in dog poo. Nasty. “And how does a Logan fall into our realm without the aid of magic?”

“It’s called gravity. Read a book,” Logan declared.

Roman didn’t read books. He just stabbed them with his sword and absorbed the knowledge through magical osmosis. Reading books was for the poor saps who couldn’t afford a magical education. And anyway, Roman had never heard of this ‘gravity’ thing before. He was a knight of magic!

“I don’t like your tone of words,” Roman said, mostly because he was confused and trying to cover it up. Honestly though, this guy was just dumb. “What’s a gravity?”

“Science,” Logan said, sweeping his arm out. He held an apple flavored jar of Crofters, the most magical jelly in all of the land. “What goes up must come down,” he said and let the jar fall. It smashed to pieces on the cobblestone road.

Roman drew his sword. “For such disregard of this yummy casualty, I must hit you with my sword until death happens. Are you prepared to die?”

“I am the master of logic. You cannot hurt me with your magic.”

“Fair enough,” Roman said and stabbed a bitch. Logan looked surprised at the blade embedded in his gut. Not like he won the lottery surprise. A bad kind of surprise. A stabby surprise. Ow.

“How?” Logan demanded, voice choked with the shame of his ancestors.

Roman smirked. “It’s just a sword actually, no magic needed.”

The sword was removed and Logan fell to his knees. His haggard breaths stuttered out, hand clutching the wound. He would have expired shortly after had a radiant light not enclosed around him, healing him.

“What sorcery is this?!” Roman screamed. “No really, who is magicking this right now? I do not approve. And I’m a knight.”

“Yo, waddup, it’s ya boi,” Virgil said, rolling up. Roman knew him as a mere stable boy. He passed by him on his daily patrols and loved to exchange in banters.

“You traitorous scum!” Roman bellowed. “How dare you heal this villain?!”

“Hear me out, but I think he might be on to something,” Virgil said reasonably. Reasonably. Disgusting.

“A denier of falsehoods?” Logan asked hopefully. He rose to his foots. Not feet. Foots! Screw you English! You’re just a mess of letters! “I never thought I’d find one here in this land so reliant on magic.”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s a life choice really. Also, ‘gravity’ sounds so metal. I want like nine boxes worth.”

“It’s…not something you really… You know what? I’m not looking you in the mouth, gift horse. I’ll get you nine boxes of gravity if you help me spread the word about science.”

“You would go against the kingdom, Virgil?” Roman accused, pointing the bloodied sword at him. It was really rude, because that wasn’t even Roman’s blood he was pointing with. He should really give it back. Hey Logan, he should really give your life liquid back.

“My life liquid?”

Yeah, that go-go juice that makes your heart go badumpy-dump.

Across land and sea, there lives a Patton who quietly murmurs, “Badumpy-dump.”

“Thanks fam,” Logan said to the author and pointed a serious finger situation at Roman. “As that blood is mine, I demand it be returned.”

Roman glanced at his blade incredulously. “Like…shove it back in?”

Logan’s eyes did a no-nonsense glare. “You would stab an unarmed man?”

“Oh my goodness, you’re absolutely right,” Roman said, as if he hadn’t already done that before. “Here you go, my mistake.” He handed over the sword.

Sword in hand, Logan turned to Virgil. “You know, I knew the people here were stupid, but are they all this bad?”

“He’s just an overachiever,” Virgil said.

“Noted.” Logan nodded and chucked the sword over his shoulder. A pained scream followed shortly after, but surely that couldn’t be related. “At any rate, I am here to teach you wayward souls. Global warming is coming, and I am a harbinger of coolness. Do you accept my tutelage? Or shall you perish?”

Virgil slapped a hand over Roman’s mouth before he could speak. “Do me a smart, oh wise one.”

“Very well,” Logan said and threw science textbooks at the populace. He pulled them out of his cape. It was like Mary Poppin’s bag, but a cape. I don’t know how it worked, but I’m sure there was a logical explanation behind it.

And from that day on, the lord of logic educated the kingdom in ways beyond the magical. Roman wasn’t very happy about it, so he quit being a knight and went into the mountains to fight bears.

General Tag List: @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie @unring-this-bell @that-royal-ravenclaw @analogicallythinking @lilygold23 @punsterterry @naw2702 @levy-the-b00kw0rm @iolanomsgranola @tacohippy56900 @accio-hufflepuff-power1 @just-another-rainbowblog @georganabanana @grey-says-heck​ @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @thesynysterunknown @idont-know-what-im-doing

#sanders sides #roman #roman sanders #logan #logan sanders #virgil #virgil sanders #patton #patton sanders #funny #humor #writing #fanfiction #in a magical kingdom far away

[hardyimagines]

Release

———

Could you do a fic where charlie has been released from prison and it's his first day out and all he wants is to have sex with his sweetheart ?

Warnings: um, if this fic was a video, tumblr would 100% delete it. Sex. Sex. Sex. Descriptive sex.

SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS. IM HEADED OUT BUT DIDNT WANT TO DEPRIVE YOU GUYS ANY LONGER OF BRONSON.. ILL PROOF READ IN A BIT. IM SORRY FOR MISTAKES AHG

———

The previously dark and gloomy prison stood tall above you. Its dark walls and broken crevices somehow seemed more inviting today. The usual intimidating building was now calling your name. Never in all your life had you ever imagined that you’d be showing up to a penitentiary with so much excitement. There was a tight ball in your chest, one of pure happiness and giddiness that was impossible to contain. Your eyes shone brightly, revealing to the surrounding people how delighted you were that Charles Bronson was being released. A lot of the surrounding people were disappointed and livid that such a violent man was being let out of jail, but not you.

Charles Bronson was your long time boyfriend and childhood best friend. Since the age of 15 you’d be crushing on the absolute brute. He’d always been a little bit of bully to you, constantly pestering you. It was like his goal, from the second you’d met him, to be a pain in your ass. Then something changed when you’d been stood up by a second date. Charles had been there to comfort you and console you in the only way he’d known how. He was your best friend — though he could be an ass, but that day he’d been there, ready to assure you a hundred times that no boy in the world deserved you. His soft words of assurance had urged you to kiss him and to fall in love with him. The weakness that had filled you made you so desperate for physical affection and when he’d given into you, neither of you knew how to stop it.

Ten years later led to today. All that teasing and playfulness had turned into something so passionate and meaningful, something you’d never expected from the man. He’d been arrested six years ago, and everyday of those six years, he’d held your heart in his hands. Visitations were limited, but you showed up at every available opportunity. Letters were uncommon — you were positive the guards never actually gave them to your boyfriend. Apart from all the draining, sad stuff, today was an extraordinary day. Bronson was being let out and every negative thought in your head vanished.

The heavy metal doors opened wide. A loud creak floated through the air, grasping the attention of every person within ten feet. Charles Bronson stood between two guards. His head was as bald as it had always been, clear and shiny beneath the bright sun’s rays that beat down on him. He wore a dark pair of sunglasses that shielded his glistening blue eyes. His lips were curved upward, a delicious sign that revealed to everyone that he was more than happy to see them all — even if it was due to hatred for most. The handsome man wore a white pullover shirt, tucked into the waistband of a dark pair of jeans. He was stood tall and cocky, hands full of his few belongings.

“Pleasure meeting the two of you.” He smirked toward the men before tipping his head in faux meaning. “Bunch of fucking cunts.” He uttered before shoving past them and further away from the prison. The man’s boots scuffed the cracked pavement beneath him audibly as he made his way through the long line of people. Unfortunately for you, you were stood at the back. But fortunately for you, Bronson had eyes like a hawk and his bright orbs had latched on to you within milliseconds.

“Fuckin hell.” His husky, low voice hit your ears. “Is that my girl?” In his right hand he clutched a jacket and in his left a few papers. He opened his arms wide as he approached further, a breathy growl escaping his throat. “Fucking beautiful.” He announced as he locked his arms around you securely. Without hesitation, your slender arms circled his neck tightly. Your thighs made their way around his waist and soon enough you resembled a monkey, clinging to a tree. The surrounding people glared at the scene, completely and utterly sickened that you could love such an abusive man. There was no time for you to speak — no time to say you loved him, or missed him, or wanted to take him to eat, and then go home. There was no time at all, for Bronson hadn’t wasted even a second before pressing his warm lips against your own.

The both of you had been deprived, so the hungry kiss was beyond expected. Your small hands cradled the back of his head as your lips moved against one another feverishly. It was a battle to see he could devour the other first. Bronson was winning. His tongue was moving animalistically against your own. You felt weaker and weaker with every passing second. The thoughts in your head were becoming jumbled and your heavy breaths were now laced with quiet whimpers. Bronson moved his hands along the backs of your thigh until his wide palms curled around your rear. He held you against him in approval, releasing little moans and groans so you knew how glad he was to see you. To kiss you. To hold you. It was only when the two of you were about to positively suffocate that the man tore himself away. His body still remained wrapped around yours, but his mouth instead fell to rest against your shoulder so he could feed his lungs the oxygen that they craved. When he set you down, your legs merely fell to the ground, but your hands remained in place.

“Hello, handsome.” You chirped airily, studying how much healthier he looked beneath the sun’s rays. Your hands fell away from his shoulders so they could brush down and along his bulging arms. Tugging him back into you so you could kiss him sweetly, your hands blindly found his own so you could lead him backwards and toward the parked car.

“Need something to fucking eat.” He uttered beneath his breath. Draping his grey jacket over his shoulder, he pushed his papers into his back pocket so that his hands were free. Dragging you into his chest smoothly, he stared down at you happily when you opened your mouth to offer, he assumed, restaurants nearby. His hand lifted to your chin, cupping your warm skin. Lowering his head, he swiped his tongue along your parted lips before letting out a deep, throaty hum. “I want you.” He told you bluntly. Your eyes fluttered and your legs turned to jello. The cold air around you vanished and all you could feel was the sweltering heat from the sun. Bronson’s voice was rough. The pitch was deep, but it was music to your ears.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” You whispered breathily to the man. Your hand fell to the front of his chest, small fingers gliding along the front of the white t-shirt he wore. He pushed his sunglasses on to the top of his head before rewarding you with a slow, lopsided grin. “I’m not going to be very filling, baby, don’t you want something else too? A burger- haven’t you had any cravings?” The man wasn’t really listening to the words that left that pretty mouth of yours. He was entirely too busy envisioning your lips wrapped around his cock. It had been far too long and he was quite ashamed at how horny he was. The shame didn’t last long though.

“All I need, right,” He lowered his hand away from yours. His strong fingers brushed along your stomach as he continued to back you up toward the car. The soft blue colored car was a sturdy structure for you to lean against as Bronson pinned you against the side of it. His hand slid south, thick fingers brushing along the front of your trousers. The fabric was thin, helping Bronson in his attempt to tease you. His hand pushed between your thighs so he could cup the heated space. The palm of his hand pressed firmly against you, fingers grazing the underside of your ass. There was no worry floating in the man’s gaze. Despite the fact that the two of you were stood outside the jailhouse, with hundreds of eyes latched on to you, Bronson paid them no mind. His strong chest brushed against your own, lazy smile morphing into a devilish smirk. “is this cunt of yours.” He spoke against your ear before slowly opening his mouth so he could grip your ear with his teeth. A low, warning growl left him and in an instant you’d spun around so you could scramble into the car. Bronson’s hand dangled at his side, fingers twitching lightly in success as he moved around the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat. “Off with those fucking things in, darling, they’ll just be in my fucking way.” The man laid one hand on the steering wheel as the other lifted the keys so he could slot the end into the ignition. The engine roared to life as you hurriedly hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your slacks. Rolling the fabric down your thighs and to your knees, your movements grew shakier and shakier.

The man at your side looked toward your thighs, quaking excitedly against the leather seats. He couldn’t help the pride that flooded him. You’d waited years to be reunited with him in such a physical way and he wasn’t going to deprive you any longer. His hand moved to your knee, the pads of his fingers caressing the smooth skin that resided there. His foot sunk into the gas pedal, effectively rolling the car out of the lot and into the main road. Bronson was more than capable of focusing on driving and pleasuring you, he’d done it many times before he’d gone away. Shaky breaths erupted from your lips, impossible to hold in and he wasn’t even doing anything yet.

“Did you miss me?” He inquired lowly. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“Yes.” You moaned out impatiently. Your lust-clouded eyes fell to his hand, studying it intently as you waited for it to roam upward. It did as you spoke. His palm grazed your hot flesh, lazily brushing along it as it journeyed up to the space between your legs. The underwear you wore was thin and soaked. Bronson almost chuckled at how wet you were. His eyes flickered to your face. You had your teeth clasped down on your bottom lip — no doubt hoping that he wouldn’t point out the fact that you were drenched. He did. He knew you got shy over things like that and he loved watching you squirm.

“Fucking hell, sunshine.” He drew his eyes away from the road so he could hunch forward and inspect the cloth that shielded your most private space from his penetrative gaze. The pink material was darker in the center, eliciting a loud shout of laughter from the man. He was like a child when it came to sex. He felt so proud when he saw the effect he had over you. “You’re fucking ready for me, aren’t you?”

“Six years is a long time to wait.” You offered your explanation breathily. “It’s not my fault.” Bronson pulled a wide grin before running his tongue over his lips. “Bronson.” Your hand moved to his arm. “No. Drive.” You pleaded. You wanted to get home. The sooner, the better, then he could have you in any position he wanted and do whatever he wanted. You could tell by the look in his eye that he wanted to hunch over and devour you like you were the last meal he’d ever eat, but that would led to a car crash and he’d be at fault and then go back to that hellhole. Your hand squeezed his bicep pleadingly. He nodded once before looking back to the road. He may not have been able to eat you, but he sure as hell had some fingers that he could please you with. His middle finger hooked in the fabric of your panties and without warning he drew the things off of you and tossed them on to the floor. You laid your hand on the door, gripping on to it tightly. Bracing yourself for his touch, you closed your eyes and relaxed your body. Fingering yourself wasn’t nearly as nice as recieving such a touch from the man. Closing your eyes, your head rolled to the side and your legs spread even wider, giving him power over you. His middle finger was the first to push into you. He was being uncharacteristically gentle, but you supposed it was because he knew it had been a while. His goal wasn’t to hurt you — ever. Your walls clenched around his digit gratefully, hugging him tightly.

The man looked toward your shielded chest, eyeing the way you arched. Your breaths were shallow and short, chest heaving visibly. He pumped his middle finger at a delightfully slow pace, warning you up. You knew when he had his cock actually buried inside you, this gentle man would be gone. His hand would be curled around your throat as delicately as possibly, but his thrusts would be brutal and merciless. He added another finger without much warning. His pointer finger joined his middle one, moving at a slow, steady pace. You closed your thighs tightly to savor the feeling, hips rocking toward his hand in need. Bronson was in heaven at the feel of your soft skin, rubbing against his wrist. He struggled to get his third finger inside you because of how tightly you’d trapped his hand between your thighs, so he stuck with just two. His thumb brushed over your clit, little grunts escaping his lips as he picked up the pace of his fingers. You lifted your hand to his arm so you could clutch on to him as he pleasured you. His demeanor was calm and collected so the surroundings cars couldn’t read the situation. His hand moved a little quicker inside you, thumb rubbing more firmly and securely against your bundle of nerves.

“Bronson..” You whispered under your breath before groaning out loudly. You squirmed, attempting to sit up so you could adjust the angle, but your body was limp and weak. You felt weighed down to the seat. Your orgasm hit you unexpectedly. A wave of warmth rushed through you and then an explosion of tingles. Your droopy eyes closed tightly and your mouth opened in a silent cry. Your expression looked like one of misery, but it was definitely one of ecstasy. Bronson was only aware you’d orgasmed by the extreme amount of release that coated his fingers and the way your insides wrapped around him suffocatingly tight.

It didn’t take long for you to get worked up again. Bronson’s fingers remained inside you in order to draw our your orgasm, but you were beginning to feel that delicious ache form once more. Opening your legs shakily, your thighs fell open, slumped tiredly. Bronson slowly withdrew his fingers before lifting the glistening digits to his lips. His tongue moved along his middle finger and then pointer one, licking each one thoroughly clean before he set his hand on his thigh with a low groan. The forming bulge in his jeans was becoming agonizingly uncomfortable. The drive to the house wasn’t far now so you slowly began to readjust yourself. Leaning over, you pinched the fabric of your trousers and slowly lifted the material. You were trembling. Bronson watched you re-dress. He was tempted to stop you, but he was sure his parents would be waiting at home and he didn’t think they’d really want to see you walking alongside him with nothing but a blouse on. The car came to a slow halt. Parking the vehicle in the driveway, the man looked toward you before inhaling deeply. It was evident in his gaze that he wanted to continue what had been started, but the second car, parked in front of the one that the pair of you still sat in, belonged to his parents. He couldn’t very well fuck you with his rambling mother and curious father latched to his side.

The tip of your fingers lifted to his smooth cheeks. Drawing him toward you, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his mustache.

“They won’t stay for long.” You assured him. “They know who you are and how you are, don’t forget that.” Reaching behind you, you grabbed ahold of the door handle before nudging the thing open and climbing out of the car. Bronson took a moment before climbing out as well. He removed the sunglasses from his head and folded them. Tucking them away inside the neckline of his shirt, he pushed one hand into his pocket before reaching for you. Your hand laced through his, soft eyes lifting to his hardened expression. “Don’t be a grump, Charles. They missed you.” He let out a low grunt before following along behind you as you lead the way.

The front door had a large wreath hanging on the front, leftover from the Christmas holidays which were long gone now. The green circle was bordered by a large red bow, hung in the center of the almond-colored door. Your hand circled the doorknob before twisting it so that you could push it open. The rug on the porch read ‘welcome’, a new addition to the home Bronson had once knew. His large hand moved to your lower back, brushing along the length of it. He rubbed the bottoms of his boot off against the carpet before stepping into the warmth. He kicked the door shut gently before lookin around. The scent was homely and familiar, but the interior looked different somehow. You hadn’t done remodeling or moved anything around, it just looked so foreign.

A loud yelping sounded from the corner. To the right of Bronson, on a fluffy yellow dog-bed sat a little black furball. Bronson narrowed his eyes at the beast before looking toward you in question.

“What the fuck is that then?” He grumbled out before taking a small step back as the little beast came trampling toward the two of you. His face was swallowed by his fur, almost invisible. The puppy came to a stop at your feet, tail wagging happily. The animal barked again, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he lifted himself on to his hind legs to greet you.

“This is Bear. I bought him last year.” Your eyes lifted to your boyfriend. “He’s a great protector.” The teasing tone in your voice told Bronson that you’d merely bought the thing to piss him off. “And he keeps me company. I’ve been awfully lonely.” The teasing tone was gone. He could tell you were being honest then. The veins in his arms became visible as he clenched his fists. His eyes fell on the thing as you leaned over to lift it. He was a cute little bugger, but he couldn’t believe you’d gone out and purchased the little devil without asking him. He supposed you didn’t need to, you’d lived in the house for longer than he had. Bronson didn’t have a chance to touch or speak to Bear before his parents came scrambling into the room.

“Charlie!” His mother exclaimed. Her eyes were alight. Happiness radiated off of her, just as it had you. Her arms opened wide, little body shuffling toward him as she drew him in for an embrace. The man towered over her, biceps flexing as he wrapped them around her small form. She nestled into his chest, thanking the lord for bringing her baby home. The embrace was short-lived for when Charles’ father entered the room, the men exchanged a handshake and then a hug. His mother made her way toward you so she could loop her arm around your hips and grin at her son. She was so happy that he was home. You kissed the top of her head before handing Bear over to her. Briefly explaining to her that you would grab the surprise cake, you vanished from the room. Bronson’s eyes were glued to the sway of your hips, entrances by your body and it’s movements.

The next few hours were spent lounging in the living room. Conversations were lengthy and laughter-infused, but as the sun was beginning to set, the chatter was beginning to die off. Bronson was sat on the sofa, knees spread wide and elbows situated on his thighs as he watched you move around the room. His parents had said their goodbyes and with tired eyes and heavy bodies had made their way outside to the car. The man found it impossible to tear his eyes away from you as you cleaned up the snacks and beverages. Throughout the night, he couldn’t help but think of how perfect you were for him. Absolutely made to be his perfect match. The way you connected with his family made him love you even more.

The room was quiet now, apart from your soft humming. Bear was fast asleep beside the fireplace, little body a deadweight as he lounged on the floor. Bronson watched you re-enter the room, hands on your curvy hips as your eyes raked the room for any leftover mess.

“I love you.” He announced lowly. His eyes were glued to you, refusing to move away for even a second. You glanced toward him at his words, shaped brows furrowing. Little lines formed in the crease between your eyebrows before your lips twitched upward into a smile. His words had caught you off guard — you found them to be quite random. But they were very appreciated. The bottoms of your feed slid along the carpet as you approached him.

“I love you too.” You whispered. The tips of your fingers lifted to his shoulders, thumbs brushing over his collarbones as you lifted your leg and set your knee on the cushion. Lowering yourself down and on top of his lap, he removed his elbows from his thighs so that you had all the space he had to offer. “And I’ve missed you so.. so much.” Bronson leaned back against the cushions, admiring you as you sat perched up on his thighs. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his chest, tracing the upper half of his torso before your hands moved south to his stomach. It felt so good to touch him. There was nothing but muscle beneath your palms, tough, hard muscle which you’d missed so much. You weren’t alone anymore.

When you’d been younger, Bronson had always warned you not to mess with boys a lot bigger than you. He’d warned you that they’d take advantage of you, or crush you, and you’d heeded his warning.. well, so long as it didn’t apply to him. He’d given you that fair deterrent before leaning in and kissing you for the first time eleven years ago. Bronson drew you from your thoughts when he noticed the faraway look in your eye.

“Sunshine?” His thumb sunk into your hip, drawing you back to reality. “You’re a bit faraway, don’t you think?” He grunted. His eyes trailed along your features, studying the look of concentration you wore.

“Mh?” Your eyes flickered before moving to his own. “Oh, sorry.. I was just.. reminiscing. Do you remember our first kiss?” The words were airy as they left your lips. Your fingertips lifted to the side of his neck, fingernails gentle as they traced his skin. The man lifted a brow before slowly folding one behind his head. Of course he remembered the first kiss he’d shared with you.

It had been a long day, one that left him exhausted and ready to go home. You’d been so playful that day and it had gotten on his nerves a significant amount. He’d been just a boy. An irritated boy, ready to throttle the girl that refused to give him any peace.

“I mean it,” He hissed. “if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll snap your fucking neck.” The threat was empty. You knew that better than anyone. Charles Bronson had a big mouth, one that didn’t have a sensor on it. His hand was wrapped around your throat, firm and rough as he pressed you against the brick wall behind you.

“Oh, boohoo, big, bad, scary Bronson is threatening to hit me once again.” Your arms lifted to his chest to pry him back, but he hardly moved. “I’ll kick your ass.” You told the man firmly before lifting your arm up and locking it around his shoulders. It was a poor attempt to lug him down and tackle him to the floor, but he was entirely too strong.

“Kick my ass!?” The boy howled with laughter. “I’d like to see you try.” He grit his teeth. You pulled a look of innocence. An apologetic look that made him back up slightly. You used it as an advantage. He’d let his guard down, so you’d pounced. He’d half expected it though, so in the midst of your lunging, he’d caught you on his hips. Your outcry of determination was then silenced when he smoothly tackled you to the ground. The grass beneath your body was somewhat of a cushion. You opened your legs so you could get closer to him, ready to hammer your fists against his back and pound them against him like a drum. “You shouldn’t mess with boys a lot bigger than you, Y/N. You’re liable to end up hurt.” His breaths were heavy and harsh as they wafted over your face. The grass you were laid in was damp and you were sure mud was staining the back of your clothes.

“I’m a big girl, Charlie. I can take care of myself.” Your words were venomous and just as harsh. You attempted to lift yourself up on to your elbows and wiggle out from beneath him, but his hand pressed against the space above you, blocking you from moving any further. He lowered his head as if to show you that you weren’t in control of this situation. You were lucky it was him and not someone else who had you pinned to the ground. He, just wanting to annoy you, leaned in and brushed his nose against yours with a raise of his brows.

“Do you feel in control?” He whispered harshly. You could practically feel his lips. They weren’t touching yours, but because of the proximity, they might as well have been. Your head shook at his question, lashes fluttering shyly as you looked away. You understood his point.

“You’ve made your point, Bronson. Now, get off.” Your hips lifted to buck at him, trying to nudge him off, but he smoothly lowered his hand to cease your little movements. His hand moved from the grass and his elbow fell to the ground instead. He brushed his fingers through your twig-infested locks before slowly curling his fingers in your strands of hair. He lowered his head then and his plump lips brushed your own. You expected bile to rise in your throat and disgust to wash through you. You did not expect a twinge between your legs and then a shiver along your spine. Your mouth parted against his to inquire what he was doing, but he silenced you easily by kissing you fully. His lips were plump and fall, covering your own easily. His hips lowered so that he was laying on top of you, elbow sinking further into the dirt as he supported majority of his weight. Your legs opened wide, small hands ceasing their angry hits against him. Your fists opened and your palms brushed along his back. You didn’t feel in control at all over this situation.. and you really didn’t mind.

“Charlie!” His mother bellowed from across the road. “Charlie Bronson! You get in this house right now!” Her demanding words made the boy moan defeatedly into your mouth. His lips broke away from yours after a few moments and when he went to lift himself off of you, you pathetically clutched on to him and let out a little whimper for him to stay. It was then, as he knelt up on top of you and stared down at you in confusion, that he’d realized that innocent kiss would soon sprout into sonmuch more. He lowered his head and pressed his mouth against yours for only a second before finally standing.

He wore a smug grin on his lips as he made his way back home. You stayed in the grass for a while. Your lips tingle from the kiss and your eyes fluttered shut as you replayed it over in your mind. It was only when your mother came venturing out into the cold to find you that you were pulled from your thoughts and lead back home.

“Lay down.” His instructed words met your ears. Coming back to the present once more, you stared down at him with a lazy smile before rolling off his body and collapsing on your back on the cushions. He rotated smoothly before climbing on top of you. The position was very familiar. He set his hand on the arm of the couch and peered down at you with a hungry look in his eye. His hand fell to your cheek, thumb gliding along your flesh, savoring the feel of it. The heels of your feet sunk into the couch as you spread your legs, no hesitation or shyness in your movements now. Charles Bronson was one of the fastest undressers you’d ever met. His shirt was ripped from his body and directly after he’d smoothly undone your blouse. He tugged your slacks from your body and threw them on to the floor along with his dark colored jeans. There was nothing in his gaze except for love and desire. The ache between your legs became more apparent when he rolled off his boxers and exposed his erect member to you. It had been so long since you’d seen the beauty that resided between his thighs. Your tongue traced your lips slowly as you moved your hands toward your old friend. His shaft was hard and throbbing against your palm. Bronson had been so deprived of this physical affection while he’d been tucked away in a jail cell, so you’d spend the whole night giving in to whatever he wanted. Your hands worked on his cock, squeezing and rubbing his member thoroughly. He was a grunting mess. His fingernails scraped at the couch before curling in it tightly. He wanted to be shoved deep inside you, drilling himself into your soaked entrance repeatedly, but he didn’t want to hurt you and he knew he’d have no control, fresh out of prison. You could take it though. You both knew that. You’d always been able to take it.

“Charlie..” You bit your lip. “Fuck me.” It was evident in his gaze that he wanted more than just a handjob and you weren’t going to deny him that. Guiding him forward by leading his erection toward you, you shuffled beneath him to get into a comfortable position. Your thighs would be burned red from his aggressive rocking and your insides would ache for days. You were sure you’d have a pain in your lower back if you didn’t angle yourself just right. Charlie had no control when you sprawled out submissively and spread your legs so invitingly. His hands opened wide and pressed against your inner thighs to hold them open. His hips sunk forward further, his tip grazing your entrance. He let out a weak whimper of want and you didn’t deny him any further. Guiding him into you fully, your back arched off the couch and your mouth opened in a groan of ecstasy.

“Fucking hell.. that’s it.” He ground out between his bared teeth. His eyes fell shut as a shiver ran along his body. The man wasn’t going to last long, you knew that. It turned him on how much you loved him and each time he managed to open his droopy eyelids to peer down at you, he was stuck staring down at your submissive form, sprawled out beneath him with a look of love pasted on your face. Charlie drew his hips back, nearly pulling out of you, before grunting as he sunk back into you completely. His thighs would be burning soon, pleading for him to cease his harsh movements, but he’d ignore his body. The throb in his cock would be louder than the pain in his thighs. You opened your mouth and pressed your lips against his front. Showering his tattoos with all the affection you could muster up, you kissed along his warm skin, whimpering breathily when he’d pound himself into you. It was slow at first. Slow and hard; but still slow. Your bodies were both beyond delighted to be reunited and just a few minutes in, Bronson’s reminded him of exactly what he liked. He began to hammer himself into you without warning or confirmation. Your body jolted beneath the force so you wound your arms around him so you could cling to him desperately. Clutching on to him for dear life, you shut your eyes and moved your lips to his ear. The man was rowdy and giggling, unable to contain the sounds that rolled past his lips. His knees bounced against the cushions, hips beginning to roll. “Oh, fuck me.” He practically howled out.

You lifted your arms up and bent them over the arm of the sofa. Squirming beneath him with a little whine, your leg lifted and flopped over the back of the couch. Bronson stared down at you before nibbling on his bottom lip. The sounds that left his throat were sounds that only this man could make.

“Right, fuckin-“ He moaned out. “there.” Charles Bronson didn’t hold back in the slightest. The man buckled into you, fucking you senseless and relentlessly. Your skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat, blanket in the moisture. The couch springs were beginning to creak beneath the angry amount of weight being applied and then removed. The man buried his face into your neck and bit the flesh beneath his teeth. It didn’t take long at all for him to finally climax and he did so with a drawn out roar. You followed soon after, unable to hold back any longer and for the second time that day, you shook as the orgasm rolled through you in waves. Your bucks and his thrusts began to slow simultaneously. His body grew heavier and heavier atop your own. His muscles gave out and he slumped against you completely, cock twitching as it remained hidden away inside you. A little moan of approval escaped you as you relaxed beneath him. His skin was stained with little half-moons from where you’d been gripping him unknowing viciously. The pair of you slumped against the furniture, not daring to part in such a passionate way. You lazily brushed your fingers along Bronson’s back before smiling slowly.

“Welcome home..” You whispered beneath your breath before kissing the top of his head. You could feel his smile, lazy against the side of your neck. It sure was good to be back, he thought.

—————————————————————

Tagged: @thatsamegirl @peakyhoegh @centerhabit @favouritereadings @goodiesintheclosetlove @buckypetal15 @kitcatimpala67 @crldrr @jamierdr @lyraeluna @jakechillenhaal @vanillafarts @multireality @emiliesnowflake @ellar21 @emerald-bijou @raceylacy @innerpaperexpertcloud @kirah34 @ihclipse @qarhmn @morphoportis @jupitervalentine @amamkogr @callisen @hardygal69 @amontoya0110 @captstefanbrandt @meer0rauschen @jessichomper @2loveeverything2

#bronson fanfiction #bronson x reader #charles bronson #tom hardy x reader #charles bronson x reader

[kittenwritesstuff]

Drunk in love

Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: Rumplestiltskin/ Mr. Gold x reader Genres: mention of alcohol, awkwardness, mild fluff Words: 1.505 Summary: Reader has a one too many drinks which gives her courage to confess her feelings for Gold. Next morning, she has to face the shame - requested by Anonymous

“Don’t do iiit, honey,” Ruby warns, her voice a bit slurred. You’ve been having a girls’ night, you and Emma deciding that after a week of various unexpected events you should finally relax and you definitely earned a drink. Or two.

So, you invited Mary Margaret and Ruby to a club and the four of you are now more or less drunk. And, given that alcohol usually makes it easier to open up, Ruby asked a question about your current love interests.

Mary Margaret only blushed and said she wasn’t interested in anyone in particular. She wasn’t a very good liar but neither of you wanted to embarrass her so you kept your mouths shut.

Ruby confessed that men were more and more boring to her, although she wouldn’t mind hooking up with that cutie sitting by the bar. He was, indeed, good-looking.

Emma mumbled that she had enough of men for the rest of her life and that Henry was her priority at the moment. You’ve never been prouder.

And you… well, tequila definitely went to your head and so, without thinking twice, you told the girl the name of your crush, instantly silencing them all.

After all, nobody would guess that you were head over heels in love with none other than Mister Gold. You can’t tell what precisely made him so irresistible and wanted by you. Maybe it’s his confidence, so close to arrogance? Maybe the way he speaks, that accent of his and smirk, ever present on his face?  

Age difference? Please, those trivial things never bothered you. The cane? You don’t give a damn about it. He makes your knees weak, a shiver to run down your spine and a tiny jolt of nervousness to course through you. Never before has a man succeeded in making you both intimidated and drawn to him.

Yet your shyness prevented you from showing your affection in any way. You couldn’t build up courage to even suggest that you liked him, not to mention straight up asking him out.

But now? you felt bolder than ever! Damn, you swear you can move mountains, what’s scary in texting your crush? What can possibly go wrong?

“Bullshit, Imma do it. Just one text, let me see if he’ll text me back, right?”

“Alright, but only one text,” Emma points a finger at you in what’s supposed to be threatening manner but it ends up utterly funny when she accidently bumps your nose. You giggle, taking your phone out of your jacket’s pocket.

“Here comes big nothin’”

You unlock your cell, ignoring missed calls. They’re not important now – you’re a girl on a mission, one that demands your full focus and all the creativity you can muster after having one too many drinks tonight.

You open a new message thread, choose Gold’s number and bite down at your bottom lip, trying to come up with something, anything.

“Text him something along ‘hey, I’m having a drink, wanna join?’” Ruby suggests but Mary Margaret shakes her head.

“No, that’s too straightforward. Just start with ‘hi, how are you?’”

You roll your eyes at her and start typing.

Gold, are you busy? Have a minute to spare to talk to me?

Emma hums in approval, glancing at your phone from over your shoulder.

“That’s a good one. And no typos, very good.”

“Let’s drink to that!” you call, raising your glass and girls cheer loudly, all of you downing another shot of tequila. You grimace slightly, reaching for your phone, a bit disappointed that there’s no reply yet.

“Chill, girl. C’mon, drink up,” Ruby urges with a wide grin and you smile back as she fills your glass. Gosh, you really needed it.

Ten minutes later, as Emma’s venting about Regina and her bossing around, refusing to see Henry and overall, how hard it is to be a sheriff, you check your phone. There’s still no text from Gold, so you decide to send another one.

Blinking to focus your gaze on the screen and the keyboard, you let your thumbs click on the letters.

Ive something 2 tell yuo. Gold, mssg m bakc.

After another shot of tequila you’re not 100% certain whether you sent him more texts or was it just your imagination.

_____

“Oh, poor thing,” Granny says with a hint of amusement in her voice as you step into the diner, your pale face and pained expression telling enough about how much fun you had the previous night.

“Can I get a coffee, please? Like, a lot of it?”  you ask meekly as you slide into a booth, resting your head in your hands. Thank heavens that Emma called a day off today and that Sundays are usually very lazy. You don’t even want to imagine what a efficient cop you’d make today.

“Coffee, scrambled eggs and bacon.”

A plate is put in front of you, after it a large cup with steaming black liquid joins the party and a feeling of gratefulness rushes through you.

“Granny, you’re an angel,” you say fondly and she flashes you a soft smile before returning after the counter.

You take the cup in your hands and blow off the steam few times before taking a careful sip. You sigh with content, feeling much better and frown when your phone vibrates, notifying you about new message. You take it out of your pocket and, much to your horror, there’s a message from Gold.

“Shit,” you murmur, your eyes growing wide and your skin becoming almost white as you look through the text you sent him the previous night. And there was definitely more that those two you remember.

10:39pm - Why r u not massagin me backc, Gold? Am waitin.

10:53pm - Emma says im a fool but im only a fool for u.

10:53pm - Shit

10:55pm - I didnt mean t tell it. listen can we meeeet? I can explain/

11:12pm - Okaay, u dont wanna talk, I get it. but I need u to kno that ive a crush on u.

11:37pm - Gold, pls, say somethn.

11:41pm – dammit. key, forget it.

1:58am – goodnight, Gold.

9:14am – Did you get home safe, Y/N?

You stare at the screen as if the evidence of your shameful behavior can magically wipe itself from your phone, Gold’s phone, yours and his memory and, overly, the history of the world, but it remains there, unchanged.

You heave out a sigh, take another sip of the coffee and with pounding heart you type a response.

Yes.

Are you still in a mood to talk?

Honestly, I want the Earth to swallow me rn.

That would be an unspeakable loss, dearie :)

“The hell?” you murmur, not really understanding what he meant. Is he mocking you? Having fun with you? You can easily visualize him with a smirk on his face as he toys with you, putting you in more and more misery.

But then again… he doesn’t seem to be a man who’d play with other’s feelings.

Y/N, would you mind if I joined you for a breakfast?

Your heart skyrockets as a cold shiver runs down your spine. You’re both excited and terrified but the mixture somehow makes you bolder and so you reply.

Sure, but I look like crap. Feel warned.

I’ll be there in a moment.

You barely put your phone away when the door opens, the bell rings and you will yourself from running in that instant. You lower your head and squeeze your eyes shut, when a figure takes a seat opposite you.

“You lied,” he remarks, his tone hinted with humor and you jerk your head up to look at him.

“What?”

“You don’t look like crap. Quite the opposite, to be honest.”

“Damn, you’re blind? I have the worst hangover ever and I feel like dying, but that’s really nice of you, mister Gold.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Also, about those messages-“

You groan silently, hiding your face in your hands, too ashamed to even glimpse at him. You hear him sigh but he continues.

“- I’m not going to forget it, as you suggested. I’m fluttered that a girl like you harbored a crush on somebody like me but-“

“No, don’t finish it,” you whine and Gold chuckles, noting that you look absolutely adorable when embarrassed. He gently reaches for one of your hands and reveals half of your face.

“Y/N, I just want to ask if you stand by what you texted last night? You’re sober and we can act as if nothing happened, if what you said was untrue.”

“It was, errr…. It was true,” you say quietly, feeling your cheeks warm up with a blush and, much to your relief, Gold smiles brightly, his eyes wrinkling a little.

“Well then… would you do me an honor and go for a dinner with me tomorrow?”

A grin makes its way onto your lips as you fold your hands on your lap, fixating your eyes on Gold.

“Gladly.”

#mr gold #mr gold x reader #rumplestiltskin #rumplestiltskin x reader #rumple #rumple x reader #x reader #reader insert #once upon a time #ouat #ouatfic

[quonit-aceattorney]

Buying Game 1 - Playing 1 and 2

Put these all together because they were so short... and not even really recorded.

Rules:

Q = Me, Quonit.

BF = Bardic Feline, the friend that made me spend 30 dollars on the game and whom I am messaging

I don’t use those when I send the messages close enough my username doesn’t appear.

Any typos (unless they are funny and part of the conversation) will be fixed.

Index

—

(Backstory: Bardic feline and I have been talking about a fic she told me she was working one (Link here when i get it). Few about a week or so I’ve been motivating her to help her to finish it by the 20th, her deadline.)

3/20/2018

Q: did you get the thing out?

BF: I didn't finish both parts of what I wanted to do, but i did enough to post the fic prologue on AO3

Q: yaaaaay that is something. Good job.

BF: thanks. ^^;;;

LESS THAN I WANTED TO DO IS STILL BETTER THAN NOTHING

Q: yaaay can I have a link?

BF: Aaah hold up.  Also, going to warn you right now, it absolutely spoils the crap out of Farewell My Turnabout, aka 2-4

Q: dammit

I need to get the game how much is it and is it on steam or do i need to get it somewhere else

BF: Like it goes in assuming you already know the big twist

Q: welp I do not know

BF: You can get it on iOS or Android or from the 3DS shop

Q: I still call the people in the game "the objection guys"

BF: Hee hee fair enough

Q: dammit

well I have a 3DS so it can still work why not

BF: But when I say it assumes you know stuff, I mean it like straight up pulls the reveal that happens most of the way through the case

And yay!  That’s the easiest way to get it

Q: dang

I should've played the game yaaaaay :D

BF: You can get the whole original trilogy in one package on the e-shop

Q: Funny thing about the 3DS: I got it from a pawn shop for 60 bucks thinking it was a 2DS because well, it was. It is a 2DS it has that on the back it says everywhere on the thing it is a 2DS. When you open it though, it thinks it's a 3DS. This works out well because a 2DS has more power and the 3DS has more available games

I'll go find it. How long is it will I be able to play to the twist by the end of today?

BF: Unless you just fly through the first game?  It’s the last case of the second game

So...proooobably not

Q: dammit

do I have to pay for all three games??? Can't I just watch somebody else play it on youtube

BF: You can if you like? Or do an emulator?  I’m not gonna tell you how to do it.  Though I will say that that bundle is WAY less than what I paid for all three games used for the DS

They were probably about 15-20 bucks EACH individually

Q: dammit

well it's gonna be a while before I read that fanfic I helped encourage you to do. What out for that review 2-3 years for now.

BF: Hahaha awww

BF: It doesn’t take THAT long to play any of the games. XD

It’s just longer than a single night

Cause it’s like reading a book where you have to solve puzzles to advance

Q: well it better be good if im going to end up spending 60 dollars on it. At least I get to understand yet another one of Zarla's interests so many of her comics are based off of

I don't even wanna read all of those fanfictions why couldn't it just be mostly comic based with like 6 fanfics like with the ladies

BF: It’s not going to be 60 bucks!

happy summer

3 games and they're like 15-20 something about a bundle how much is that

BF: That’s what each was a INDIVIDUALLY

By themselves

On the DS

BF: When you had to but the individual CARTRIDGES

Q: going in the shop to see if I can find it

ohhhh wonder how much they are now im looking in the shop

BF: The BUNDLE is all three games at once for like...16 or 20 bucks TOTAL

For all three games together

Q: :o that's not 60!

BF: That’s what I was trying to say haha

That it’s a BARGAIN

Even when it’s not discounted it’s a bargain

Q: im looking for it bleh i haven't used this thing in a while where is the search bar for a specific game

BF: Search “Ace Attorney”

And aww those eggs sound pretty

Q: where is the problem it just has filters

I remembered the thing about using vinigar instead of water for the color to stick on better and it worked very well

BF: Umm...there should be a search function

Q: there is one but that's just filters for some reason

I'm calling my brother one moment

BF: You may have parental controls on too high or something

Q: nope I got it

it's 30$...

bleh ill get it whatever

BF: Aaaah sorry

Q: it's fine!

BF: I was thinking when it was discounted, forgive meeee

Q: I'll probably like

BF: That’s STILL less than what I paid individually

And it’s a good series!

I really think you’ll like it

Q: yaaaay

BF: It’s so ridiculous and over the top Hahaha

Q: I can't face the shame I'm giving my brother the money so he can buy it

why I'M GETTING THE GAMES THOUGH

YOU INFLUENCED A LIFE DECISION

BF: Hahaha aaaah forgive meeeee

it is fine lol

BF: Ooooh!

Q: dumpster

it was your idea

it's downloading

Q: how many days do I wait before it's approprait to send Jaz another email

Q: I spent 30 dollars because of you

working on comic, very good progress. Got all of the backgrounds done and am doing pretty good on the characters.

Q: ALRIGHT IT FNISHED DOWNLOADING

Just when the game opened I saw what you meant by it being over the top this is great imma play it

Q: 2014???

must be when the bundle was released...?

BF: That sounds about right dang

Was it that long ago when the HD bundle got released

-Case 1-

Q: Back!

Finished chapter 1: I feel smart I very much enjoy this game. Wonderful. Good that I'm apparently better then most people at remembering names :D when will juan die

BF: last case of the second game!

hahah just settle in and enjoy a Juan-less first game

BF: and I really do sincerely enjoy every part of the first game

Q: BACK

I do too it'

Q: It’s hard to believe Juan is even in the game

you made me spend 30 dollars on it and I am thoroughly enjoying it

(Edit: Thoughts i remember having but didn't record.

1st Case:

Hey look the tutorial person! She's a boob joke. of course.

I had no reaction to Winston, mainly it was just "objection guy".)

-Case 2-

Q:

Me: game about laywers. Somehow it was successful. Me later: and magic??? why is there magic why is there a chapter on why does this game exist it's so over-the-top I swear what was it's goal?

Q: the girl is too talkative

I should sleep >:( It's your fualt I can't

Q: why does the girl even call me nick

why does phoenix allow this his name isn't nick

(Edit: I refuse to call him Nick to this day.)

Q: where the hell is the save button i just wanna leeeaaave

Q: I MISS THE TRIALS NOW IT'S JUST TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHERE YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO GO

>:( well I'm almost to a save point in the game

Q: dooone

Maybe I'm just tiered in the morning I won't despise the girl

BF: Hahaha aaah I love Maya, personally

BF: And yeah, there are times in the investigation periods where it’s all godammit where do I go next.  But half the fun for me is going around and poking at stuff just to see what Phoenix and Maya will say about it

BF: I guess Maya gets Nick from PhoeNICx...I dunno I stopped questioning it ages ago

BF: There is a way to save when you are investing though

BF: I’ll tell you where to find it in the morning haha

Q: I figured out it's the start button.

Maybe I could look up where she got the name. She just asked if she could call me 'nick' and phoenix had no objection so I GUESS IM NICK NOW. I really like seeing what characters say about stuff too, but sometimes you just wanna get to it and 'ohmygod just shut up i wanna be able to figure this out i've already heard this before what am I missing'. Also I was tired, but ya they are enjoyable for the most part. HONESTLY with Juan I see him as a Zarla character, him being in the game is just absolutely stellar... it feels like a huuuuge bonus. I know he originally came from here but I learnt about him from the ladyverse and a quick scroll through her ace attorney folder on devart. He seems like her character. Concept: The people making the anime actually did see one or two of Zarla's comics and liked the color she had for his shirt and kept that Me at first: ehhhhh i don't really like him. he should just... go over there. Me later: oooo cross universe? More interesting, still don't like him much. Me now: I WILL PROTECT WITH BOY WITH MY LIFE WHEN I FIND HIM AND HE'S ALREADY DEAD WHOEVER DID THIS YOU WILL PAY WITH YOUR LIFE

(Edit: HOW COULD I HAVE EVER HAVE NOT LOVED HIM HE IS SUCH AN INTERESTING CHARACTER NO MATTER WHAT UNIVERSE HE’S IN)

BF: Hahahaha

Yeah, I kinda consider him to be more Zarla’s character than the game’s because of how much of a blank slate character he really is

BF: I know I’ve made up traits for him practically from whole cloth, or based on the smallest clues I can glean from the game script

Q: niiice

I'm getting through it, thankfully I'm not getting stuck as often as I did.

Q: "guess I better go there later..." YES, ALRIGHT, HOW DO I MAKE TIME MOVE FORWARD THOUGH?

BF: lol a lot of time when they say that, that means 'head on over to that location if it's on the menu"

(Edit: This goes DIRECTLY into my 1-3 reaction. The very next message.)

(Edit: Thoughts i remember having but didn't record.

2nd Case:

Sense the beginning I knew "IT'S THE WHITE GUY". The cutscene had what looked to me somebody with white hair but later i found a guy named Redd White and knew It was him because "HE'S THE WHITE GUY”

"Aw no looks like the tutorial girl is dead. Oh well."

"So she has a sister, okay."

"weird, i haven't seen this before. this is cool. (investigation mode)"

I absolutely hated April May. She was the worst character to me.

"HEY LOOK IT'S THAT OBJECTION BUDDY (Edgeworth) :D" I didn't have much thought on him besides that. He was the other objection guy. I knew him from the little I've seen of Ace Attorney beforehand (mainly one ace attorney tumblr post).

"There's magic in this game. guess her death meant nothing apparently.")