#you have no IDEA how short Tumblr forced me to make this post. there was so much more of it

[doverstar]

Okay, two whole people asked me to share my thoughts on River Song as a character and my thoughts on Doctor/River after I wrote a whole Clara Oswald essay, and it took me 4 days to write that I ship River with the Doctor and I love her, but there are so many problems. The biggest is named Steven Moffat. And because you asked, I will tell you why, turn up your screen brightness here we go-

*huge inhale* In a nutshell, River Song is ridiculous. Stop wait let me explain- *hands you the nutshell and pats your hand* Shh. River Song as a character first appeared in Silence in the Library, right? We were with the Doctor’s tenth incarnation and Donna Noble, statistically the most popular era in the show’s long history. And this episode was Moffat’s fourth-ever story for the show. Blink and the The Doctor Dances two-parter were all so good. He was on a roll. River comes in and she’s so much fun. And she knows the Doctor. Already. And the crowd goes oooooh collectively. She knows him intimately, it seems. And he has no clue who she is, so oooh again, she’s from his future! It is heavily implied that they'll be married—it’s just the first place anyone’s brain goes.  And then she dies. And we loved her, end scene. Then Moffat took over the show and got the opportunity to explain himself, and he explained himself really poorly.

River went from being a very interesting flash-in-the-pan to being an overdecorated ideal. She is Moffat’s ideal woman. She’s crazy, she seems independent and powerful and unattainable, but she’s actually totally obsessed with the protagonist and consistently making innuendos at him. Her sun rises and sets on the Doctor. Why? Because that’s Moffat’s idea of an attractive woman. I kid you not. I think the problem with writing something that is pure self-indulgence is that you’re so excited about what you’re writing, you don’t stop and think, hey, is this working? You don’t measure the quality. You’re not thinking clearly, it’s just wish-fulfillment. River is everything Moffat thinks a woman should be. Mysterious, strong, insane, violent, but only because of the man she’s drooling over. Her whole story is an excuse to write a woman like the one I just described, because it’s hot to Moffat. (I know. Gross.) Here comes a Moffat rant. The man is insanely talented, and I am not silly enough to believe that all of his writing regarding women is fetish-fueled – I just don’t think that way typically when I’m watching something, but it’s really hard to miss with Moffat. Haven’t you noticed every one of his female characters is full of lust for the protagonist? That’s weird. It was weird when Amy kissed the Doctor against his will, engaged to Rory and not interested in “anything quite so permanent”. It was weird when Nanny Clara kissed him after having just met him, in the middle of a dangerous situation, and then not keeping her eyes front up the magic ladder. (It was weird that Oswin was dressed like that and lounging in all of those poses the first time we saw her, as a dead woman in a Dalek shell, go back and watch it. Laugh like I did. You’re [hallucinating that you’re] stranded on an alien planet in a ship that crashed—and that’s what you’re wearing to work? The last survivor?) It's weird that rando Tasha Lem divulges intense, universe-altering danger to the Doctor in a breathless voice with space wine as they creep closer together over a bed. Ew. What? Why is that even happening? And finally, it’s weird that a girl brought up to murder her parents’ much-older alien best friend, who she was brainwashed to believe is the universe’s biggest problem, should want to eat his face off. Especially when their timelines are out of order and she hasn’t gotten to know him for real at all yet.

Is the Doctor attractive? Yup. Was any of that necessary? Nope. Now we’ll transition for a bit into what I think is wrong with the ship, even though I do ship it. (More on the pros of it later.) The more we learned about her, the less River and the Doctor made sense. The only truly wonderful thing about their dynamic (my favorite part!) is that the Doctor and River act like they’re already married, even though they’re meeting out of order. They have that assurance in one another. They each know the other person will become someone they’re willing to marry someday—they each get a sneak peek of that future together. (River in Let’s Kill Hitler, the DoctorinSilence in the Library.) So when they do meet, even when she’s in Instant Kill Mode and he’s in You Scare Me mode, it’s with an expectation that, hold on, eventually I’m going to really really care about you. Everything they do with one another from that point forward is influenced by that expectation, which makes them comfortable around one another. So that’s sweet and I love it. The problem is—River isn’t the Doctor’s ideal woman. She might be Moffat’s, but on paper she should not work with the Doctor romantically. Moffat engineered this woman—who is supposed to eventually be the Doctor’s wife—to be violent, self-centered, insane, very sexual, and willing to shatter any laws of time (or morality) she sees fit. That’s the opposite of what the Doctor admires, chooses, and is attracted to from everything we’ve ever seen of him. (Does the Doctor like smart, capable women who are good in a crisis? Yes! Obviously! That’s not what I’m talking about.) But suddenly after meeting River, being told one day she’ll be his wife, (instead of organically learning why he would marry her and organically learning who she truly is and then growing to love her naturally), very quickly and without explanation he’s all “And unlike me, she really doesn’t mind shooting people. I shouldn’t like that, kinda do a bit!” What? Since when? Since Moffat. Because Moffat is behind the wheel and Moffat finds that hot. Sir, just because you told me to ship it doesn’t mean I’m convinced. Now, is it her fault that she’s a murder weapon? Is it River’s fault that she was brought up to believe it’s okay to choose violence, wear poison lipstick, and be the girlboss of murder? Absolutely not. Melody Pond was kidnapped, tortured, brainwashed, and used as a human/Time Lady weapon just because she was there. She had absolutely no choice in the matter. And when she did eventually, finally get to choose, she chose to rescue the Doctor and start over. She sacrificed every remaining regeneration she might have had to reverse her actions. That last part? That’s awesome. I love that. But that nice moment doesn't fix the rest. The story goes that River was stolen, raised to kill the Doctor, and then fell in love with him along the way—and the special sauce is, she’s meeting him out of order; every time she sees him he knows her less because she’s moving backward along his timeline. (Unnecessarily complicated, but very fun, Moffat! Can’t forget fun in Doctor Who.) The story goes, too, that the Doctor meets his wife from the future in the biggest universal Library one day, watches her die, and waits for her to appear again so he can start a love story he knows the ending to—and the special sauce is, he’s meeting her out of order; every time he sees her he’s getting to know her more and she knows him less, because she’s moving backward while he moves forward. That does make for an interesting love story. You’re excited to see it play out because you and the Doctor expect it to be a doozy based on River’s “not those times, don’t you dare, you watch us run” speech in Forest of the Dead. But the problem is, they were both told they’d marry one day and therefore they treat it as a foregone conclusion, so there’s no organic attempt at really, truly falling in love. They behave as though they didn’t fall anywhere, they were pushedinside and someone locked the door. (I just pictured Moffat outside with the key. “Now KISS!”)

The point is that nobody worked for this relationship. If you’re going to explain how they fell in love, because the audience already knows they apparently will, then actually show them falling in love! When did the Doctor decide he loved River? When he found out she was Amy’s literal daughter? When he found out she was a psychopath? Or did it all begin in the Library when she died for him, because he already knew that for some reason one day he would marry her, and it’s all just placebo from then on? Or did Ten just regenerate into the sort of man who inexplicably “love(s) a bad girl, me”, and really gets off on those moments when River threatens to shoot and kill other life forms? Yeah, that makes sense. When did River decide she loved the Doctor? When Kovarian told her he’s the scourge of universes? Or was it when River heard he's ultimately the reason she was kidnapped and made to be raised by the Silence and forced into a space suit as a child, because one day she has to rid the universe of this man? Oh! Maybe she fell in love with him when her literal parents went to primary school with her as peers and Amy told her about the Raggedy Doctor as little girls and Mels decided she’d marry him for some reason one day even though she was trained to kill him! (*big pause to catch my breath*) Do you see what I’m saying? We didn’t see it happen. We were told, not shown, that they were in love, or that they would be in love enough to marry one day, and then we watched it not actually happen. And so did the Doctor and River. They are both living in a constant state of resignation to their relationship. Moffat didn’t tell a love story, he told an epilogue, and neither of the lovers got to experience the beginning! For all the cutesy times they quipped “spoilers” at each other, they never once just let things take their course naturally. They lived in the spoilers. The spoilers are the only reason they’re together in the first place! 

And one more thing. A side thing. The Doctor did not want to marry River. That’s disappointing, isn’t it? The wedding was not a happy one. They did it because according to River, their history (their relationship’s “archeology”) differed - she’s either the woman who murders or marries the Doctor, and given those choices, the Doctor wanted to choose murderer instead of wife as River’s role because it was the only way to save reality, but she wouldn't listen to him until he called her wife. Their wedding, just like everything else about their romantic history, is something they’re forced into. It’s contrived. It’s confusing. It’s very difficult to believe in. Moffat gave us all the relational-dynamic payoff prematurely and never actually showed us the part where they fell in love.

That’s my problem(s) with their relationship. Now let me talk about (as requested) River as a character again and what I actually do find most interesting and endearing about her and about her relationship with the Doctor. Like I said, I actually do love her, I actually do ship it, and now I’m gonna vomit out why.

The most endearing thing about River to me is that she is insecure, and that humanizes the silly ideal. Now, in spinoff material River led a very long and varied life, and the Doctor was not the only man she was intimate with. But he’s the only one she loves. That love is what makes her so insecure. And it is love—after a while of repeatedly running into him after Lake Silencio, River is consistently choosing to put the Doctor and his needs before herself and her own. She always had it in her; she’s Amy and Rory’s daughter and the child of the Tardis, after all. But it’s the influence that the Doctor has on her that makes her go from psychopath to heroine. She genuinely believes he’s the best man ever, which is saying something when your father is Rory Williams.

And she, River, murdered him or tried to. She was stolen from his friends and made to attack him, made to put them in danger. She had to lie to him nearly every time they met, or at the very least withhold important information from him. Every time she met him, he trusted her less and less and less. 

And the Doctor is not perfect, but think about how River must see him. He must seem perfect, right? He’s so, so kind, he’s so, so good. He’s so brave. He’s so selfless. He’s so smart. He’s amazing, and he uses his time and his talents for other people, saving lives and helping out all across the stars. He even helped her. He even forgave her. That’s why she fell in love with him, not because he’s hot when he’s clever, not because she’s a psychopath and really, Madam Kovarian, who else was she going to fall in love with, what a basic mistake – NO. If you want to look at it from its most compelling angle, no matter how confusing it gets, how contrived, the most compelling angle is that River loves the Doctor because the Doctor forgave her. In spite of everything. And we see how she really thinks of him, how insecure she truly is, what she really thinks he must feel about her, in The Husbands of River Song. That episode is my favorite River episode.

She got to marry him, but it was under force. She got to be with him, but not forever. She got to help him, but not always. They kissed, but he treated it like it was the first time. He forgave her, but he had to bail them all out in the end, because when she tried she made a mess of it. “Trust you? Seriously?” “I don’t wanna marry you.” “You embarrass me.” “Why do you have to be this? Melody Pond—your daughter, I hope you’re both proud!” River is in love with him, but she genuinely does not think he is in love with her. On paper, it doesn’t seem like she’d be someone he chooses to love. Maybe someone he chooses to pity. Maybe someone he chooses to look after, because her parents are dead now and he loved them and he failed to save Melody the first time, guilty to the last. Whichever way she looks at it, he can’t possibly love her. Sure, he flirts with her, but he flirts with everyone. Yes, she’s smart, but he only takes the best. He’s surrounded by smart. She saved him and it was her honor, but she’s not the first to do that anyway. And like I said, neither of them got to see when the other person first started loving them, because it’s all back-to-front and they exist in a state of resignation. I can think of no better way to feel insecure about where you stand with the man you love than literally never ever knowing when it will begin.

But River’s cool. She’s brave and clever and she can do just about anything she wants with whoever she wants. She can live like the Doctor—adventures in time and space, and maybe sometimes he’ll run into her. In fact, she keeps calling on him when she needs help, and doesn’t he always come? Doesn’t that mean something? One day they’ll be married, just keep waiting, okay, now they are married, he’ll get used to it, he still flirts with her, stay cool, stay funny, stay smart, at least he’s still around, just keep waiting— And then after a while she stops waiting. She’s not like her mother. She gets on with life. The Husbands of River Song is genius because their timelines are synced perfectly, at last, for them to be at the peak of their affection for one another. River doesn’t know him, but not because he’s wearing a new face, because he’s actually really, really obvious about the fact that it’s him. He’s constantly trying to get her to see it without outright saying it, but she has this mental block that will not even consider that he’s there, especially the deeper they go into danger together. Why is that? Well, she says it. The enemy says she’s the perfect bait, refers to her as the woman who loves the Doctor, and what does River say? It's right here. And it’s made very clear by her actions throughout the episode before this speech that River really does believe it. Because he’s standing right behind her listening to all of that and she hasn’t seen that it’s him, because of course he’s not here. She suffers from the same mentality her sweet dad Rory did—that the person she loves will never love her the way she loves them. River doesn’t think she’s nothing, but she thinks she’s nothing to the Doctor.

I think it’s beautiful that she was wrong. I think the Doctor loves River, and I think it’s a very different love than what he had for Rose Tyler (or, now that I think of it, Sarah Jane). It’s still love, it’s just not the same. It’s nice that you can ship both, actually.

(If you ask me which I think is the better love story between the two ships, that’s a different essay for a different time, and one that I think will have people drop-kicking me throughout every facet of the internet. Right now we’re focusing on River and on her ship with the Doctor, which I do enjoy.) I may not think that it was brilliantly executed, but the fact remains that at some point, the Doctor did grow to love and care about River Song. And there’s one part of their wedding that I also liked a lot— When he marries her and her parents give consent, the Doctor’s first request of his wife is “help me”. That’s what wives do! That’s what husbands need from wives! That’s marriage. The sticking together no matter what, being the person you both turn to in life’s darkest moments. River understood that concept, because when Amy asks in The Angels Take Manhattan if allowing the Angel to touch her will send her to Rory, who has just died in front of them, the Doctor says he doesn’t know, and Amy asks “But it’s my best shot, yeah?” The Doctor shouts no, but River tells him to shut up. “Yes, yes, it is!” And she’s crying, but she’s smiling too. She knows what she would do if she were Amy. She knows why Amy is going to let the Angel touch her. Because that’s marriage. And that’s what she feels for the Doctor. I do ship it! I love the idea that love helped shape River instead of hate, contrary to Kovarian’s plans for Melody. I love the idea that the Doctor started out untrusting of River and in the end, trusted her implicitly. I love that he had her when he needed help. And let’s face it, they really are so much fun.

#you have no IDEA how short Tumblr forced me to make this post. there was so much more of it #the doctor #doctor who #dw #bbc #opinion piece #long post #doctor/river #the ponds #melody pond #eleven #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #twelve #river/doctor #doctorriver #mels #text post #writing #moffat #steven moffat #dr who #moffat era #river x doctor #doctor x river #riverxdoctor #doctorxriver #twelve x river #river x twelve #eleven x river

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Coy Messages & New Love (Daddy Dom!John Price on Tumblr Headcanons)

Or: More headcanons for a story I might write someday.

CoD Masterlist

Username: CaptainBear

He’s a soft Daddy Dom but with a rough edge. So is it any surprise John is very possessive yet also genuinely caring?

And kinda heartbroken you don’t live in England despite coming across as British.

Is always the first to like your posts.

And despite the rules you set, especially the DNI if you’re 40+ (in my mind, John is about 42), you allow him to interact with your content.

Because there’s something drawing you to him, something inexplicable that craves his attention. Something that keeps you hoping there’s a chance.

Your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you receive a notification.

CaptainBear sent you a message.

CaptainBear: Hey, I just wanted to say I thoroughly enjoy your blog and you seem like a very darling girl. And pretty to boot! You probably won’t respond to this and that’s fine, but I thought I’d finally gather the courage to pop in and tell you.

CaptainBear: Also, if I may be blunt, seeing you wear that choker in combination with that bunny shirt makes it very difficult to think. If you were at base with me, I don’t think I’d be of any use. Mission planning would be nigh on impossible.

(your_username): Base? What do you do for a living?

CaptainBear: I’m in the military. Captain.

(your_username): Wow, seriously?! That’s incredible! But, with all due respect, what is a man like you doing in a place like this?

CaptainBear: Satisfying my curiosity. Maybe on a mission to find something.

(your_username): Which is?

CaptainBear: Companionship. With luck, yours.

(your_username): What’s your name, soldier? If you tell me, I’ll see what I can do.

CaptainBear: It’s John. Sorry, should’ve mentioned that. Quite a generic name too, I know.

(your_username): It’s alright, John. Is it short for anything or just John?

CaptainBear: It’s short for Jonathan, but only my Mum calls me that.

(your_username): But what if I did?

CaptainBear: God, you’ve got no idea how much I now want to hear you say it.

(your_username): Maybe someday you will.

He regularly checks up on you, even multiple times a day. Look, John just wants to make sure you ate, stay hydrated, and are healthy.

When he's on leave, it's not uncommon to get a message from him accompanied by a picture of a pint with the context he's at a pub with his pals. More often than not, it's followed by a confession he'd rather spend the evening with you.

Loves it when you send him photos, especially to show off new lingerie you bought.

Thrives on the knowledge he gets to see more of you than anyone else and loves the thought you’re showing others what they can’t have.

Because it’s all his.

Has confessed to jerking off to them… a lot.

Shares little bits of his day with you. He’d be at a bookshop and ask you to pick something for him to read or your recommendations. Or he’ll be cooking and be struck with curiosity because what is your favourite food? What do you like to eat?

CaptainBear: Y/N, I made a brownie.

(your_username): Oh, is it any good?

The photo he sends you answers the question. Nevertheless, just to be sure and give him the chance to give context, you send a follow-up question. (your_username): Did you use 90% cocoa chocolate or is it…

CaptainBear: It’s burnt… so now you know I can’t bake. I’m a man of many talents, but baking isn’t one.

(your_username): I’m sure you more than make up for it otherwise, sir.

CaptainBear: You’ll find out when we meet, my dear.

Assures you that when he’s away on deployment he’s not making up a lie to be with another. And in order to prove that, John will sneak in photos to show you he’s really in Iraq or wherever else.

Drives the task force up the wall because he gets quite lovey dovey in private.

Leaves compliments on your posts which are laced with possessiveness and his obsession with you (my pretty Dollie, sweet little thing, etc.) on your posts. He tags you in photos and reblogs too to let you know what he's into, thinks you like, and hopes for your relationship and possible future.

Furthermore, he also shows you claimed him via reblogs and by stating he’s ‘taken and proudly devoted to (your_username)’ in his blog’s bio (even before he's asked for your submission, which he is pretty sure you'll give him. Until then, it's a way to stave off unwanted attention).

Gets especially gooey with lust and affection when you show him the plushies you’ve crocheted (totally not saying this because I crochet, haha). Like, he’ll immediately brighten when he sees a '(your_username): John (and occasionally sir or even Daddy later down the line), look at this!' followed by a photo of you snuggling with your new animal buddy.

As time passes by and you two get to know each other in more ways than one, you finally decide to meet. The moment you tell John you booked a train to London during the time he’s on leave he’s overjoyed. Ecstatic even.

The moment you enter King’s Cross, he spots you and practically runs over to wrap you up in a warm bear hug before you can get so much as a greeting out. The only sound you make is a surprised squeal as he lifts you up and twirls you around. “My little lady, finally home.”

At last, you regain your voice. “Hello to you too, Jonathan.”

Though he loathes hearing anyone else use his full name, he melts on the spot when you do. Moreover, he’s flattered you remembered the promise he thought was an empty one, a fleeting wish.

Turned into a dream come true.

Takes you out for coffee and Build-A-Bear as a first date the day after because your first day together gets lost to unpacking and settling into the Hackney townhouse he calls ‘home’. Lost to getting the messages (holding hands all the while), learning how each of you likes their coffee, what his favourite cigars are, what your favourite food is.

Lost to the feeling of what it’ll be like to live together.

It’s surprisingly much easier for John to tune into you than he expected. Henceforth, he picks up on the hesitation that underlines your movements, the slight shudder in your lips while he tries his best not to get completely lost in you.

“We don’t have to do this,” he hastily says between kisses, needing to get the words out before you start something you won’t want to finish.

“No, I want to, John. I want you.” You told him you’re a virgin and have given off clues that the concept of actually having sex is, to be honest, quite frightening. Nevertheless, you’ve put your trust in him and feel secure in his touch, his embrace.

“I know, love, but I mean that we don’t, shouldn’t even, have sex if you don’t want to.” His features soften. “Don’t do it if you feel like you need to to please me because you don’t. I’ll wait for when you’re ready. I told you before, this isn’t about sex or the dynamic. I love you. Love who you, you as a person, are and I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want.”

After reassuring him and giving him your consent explicitly multiple times, he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom.

Tries to be gentle the first time, but ends up being rough anyway. He’s utterly enchanted, nay, enthralled by how you look, unraveling over and over again.

All because of him.

Nonetheless, John refuses to cum inside you until you’re on birth control and he has bought a box of proper condoms.

“It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you or cum inside. Believe me, I do, every minute of the day. Drives me fucking mad, but,” he caresses your hair as he pries your legs away from his waist, ”I have to think about your health as well.”

You don’t protest, don’t want to after a soft kiss on the forehead and a husky “I’m sorry, love”. In response, you lightly squeeze his arm and shake your head. “Don’t apologise. I also won’t force you to do things you don’t want to do. Though it’s nice.”

“What is?”

“You looking out for me.”

“‘Course I do,” John snaps into you, picking up the pace again that has you seeing stars, “I’m your captain. Your man. Your bear.”

Those very words, combined with his warm presence, tips you over the edge.

A content echo of his name fills the room, rings in his ears as a satisfied sigh falls from your lips and tears stain your cheeks. It’s this image of chaotic beauty, of gorgeous ruination, which almost makes him break his promise. Nonetheless, after a few more sharp thrusts, he pulls out. Thick creamy white spurts draw an intricate pattern on your skin.

His mark.

John rests his forehead against yours, basking in the afterglow. “I love you.”

Today and the many days he hopes are ahead of you.

#Captain John Price Smut #John Price smut #John Price #CoD smut #John Price x Reader #Captain Price x Reader #Captain Price smut #Captain John Price x Reader #CoD x Reader

[ayeforscotland]

Apologies for making a bunch of posts about this recently but I think it's important for people to know (and for other people on Tumblr who stream) To give you an idea of how silly Twitch's stance on external vs 'direct' views are - it's nearly impossible to not have more views when posting a link to my stream externally. Whenever I go on Twitch, the front page carousel is dedicated to 3 or 4 huge streamers that play the same game every day. The recommended for you section is only meaningful if you have an account and this makes discoverability is a nightmare. I'm absolutely not blaming anyone who clicks on my streams via Tumblr - it's just utterly shite that Twitch see viewers who click through from external sources as being lesser than someone who searches and clicks on me from Twitch's homepage. That's the excuse they're giving to not grant me Partner status even though I fulfilled all of the requirements. I needed to achieve all of these requirements within a 30 day period and I have busted my gut to make them.

Partner would both help me improve my stream for my viewers with more emotes, priority on Twitch's video encoding, longer storage of my VODs etc as well as help financially when aiming to get sponsored.

If that 'Direct / Other' percentage doesn't go up that'll keep me locked out of Partner forever. It's just really disappointing, and it forces me to beg people to search for me on Twitch, follow me on Twitch, click the notifications on their phone Twitch apps when I go live. It's so incredibly short-sighted when Twitch is definitely claiming those viewer numbers to market themselves for advertisers.

#AyeforScotland #Twitch

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 1

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family's restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn't see coming--one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn't sure they'll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Author's Note: I forgot how much I absolutely loathe writing summaries LOL but anyways! First chapter is here, let me know if y'all vibe with it. I had fun writing it and if you wanna see more, let me know! (And now I have to figure out if I remember linking everything on my blog since I haven't posted my writing on Tumblr in forever. . .)

Chapter 1

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Don’t do this to me, please.”

Isla Carrera’s pleading is in vain as the engine of her car sputters out of life, and there’s just enough juice left for her to pull over onto the side of the dirt road so she’s not stranded in the middle. Her grip on the steering wheel remains tight as she sits in silence, staring out onto the dark road only lit up by the two beams of her headlights. The small silver lining, if there is one, is that she knows exactly where she is, just a little ways away from a row of houses on Figure Eight. But right now, she’s surrounded by trees on a road that has no street lamps, the sky a blanket of black above her. 

Her groan cuts through the silence, eyes squeezing shut as she rests her forehead against the steering wheel. She should have just slept over at John B’s house like her sister, Kie, decided to. But Isla’s covering another waitress at the restaurant early tomorrow, and she didn’t want to run late again or else her parents would rip her a new one. Kie’s shift wasn’t until later in the afternoon, so her sister was in no rush to get home. Now here Isla is, with a car that won’t turn over, still a fifteen minute drive away from her house.

“Fucking great,” she mutters, making sure her hazards are on and her phone is in her pocket before getting out of the car. 

Though she knows nothing about cars, Isla pops open the hood and uses the flashlight on her phone. If she’s being honest, it all looks like a bunch of mechanical junk she has no idea how to work her way around. She’s not sure why she even bothers, so instead of wasting time, she unlocks her phone to find the number for a towing service.

A rumble of a car engine catches her attention, the kind that makes an annoying popping sound, and by the time she looks up and around the open top of her hood, she sees two guys hopping out of an old Ford truck. She vaguely recognizes them. Just by the look of them, they seem to be a couple of years older than her—and clearly from The Cut. Not that it matters, since her best friends are from the other side of the island, but not all of the people from The Cut are fond of those from Figure Eight, and vice versa. Isla and her sister, though they belong on the more privileged side of the island, prefer the freedom of The Cut. 

None of that exactly matters right now, though.

Music cranks out of the car, but Isla can’t pay it any mind as unease creeps into her stomach when both sets of eyes land on her. 

She’s a girl alone in the middle of a road at night, so Isla is immediately on high alert as the guys make their way towards her, slow but confident in a way that makes her feel like a prey. I don’t like this. 

Alarm bells are ringing in her head as one of the guys in cargo shorts and a tank top shoots her a slimy grin. “Car trouble, sweetheart?”

Isla’s muscles tense. Yeah, nope. Not good. “Uh, no, all good,” she says, forcing some of that confidence into her voice that Kie is an expert at wielding. 

The other one with darker hair hidden under a baseball cap asks, “You sure we can’t help?” His grin is anything but charming. “We’d be more than happy to help.”

They don’t stop their approach, and Isla’s mind begins running through different scenarios, her pulse beginning to quicken in panic she’s trying to keep at bay. There’s no one around to help, and she can’t depend on another car passing by and stopping to help—if they even would. She doesn’t want to lock herself in her car while she calls her dad or friends for help; the idea of sitting trapped makes her heart squeeze with dread.

“You can stop right there.” She doesn’t want to give into the fear that’s slithering through her veins, but she can’t stop the words from escaping her mouth, the crunch of the dirt beneath their shoes too daunting to ignore. 

Her hand inches towards her back pocket where she had stashed her keys, fingers closing around the small can of pepper spray she’s got hooked in there. Isla has never had the unfortunate opportunity to use it before, but the vibes she’s getting right now—first time for everything. 

“What’s the matter?” the first guy asks with a taunting tilt of his head, neither of them stopping their pace. “We’re only here to help.”

Yeah, fucking right. “Stop.” Her heart is pounding in her ears, taking a few steps back.

Creepy guy number two exchanges a look with number one. “See that, Dyl? Little Miss Kook looks a little scared.”

Oh, screw this. Isla refuses to stick around and find out what’s going to happen, and she doesn’t at all feel guilty when she juts her hand forward and presses down on the top of the small can. Her aim is a little off, so she only manages to spray the first guy—Dyl. The sound of his shriek of pain cuts through the air, and he stumbles back and spits out curses as he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

The second guy freezes in surprise, looking between Isla and his friend, but she doesn’t stick around to see what he’s going to do next. Instead, Isla turns and makes a run for it, making sure to press the button on her FOB to lock her car as she bolts down the dirt road. She can hear the guys yelling over the sound of the breeze rushing past her ears, fear fueling more power to her legs as she nears a neighborhood street at the end of the dirt road. Isla isn’t sure if they’re following her, or if they’re even going to, but she doesn’t pause to find out. 

She runs and runs, her lungs beginning to burn, as she rounds a stone wall with greenery growing through the cracks that closes in a property—only for her vision to go black for a split second when she collides against something.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Scratch that—make that someone, because instead of falling back on her ass, a strong pair of arms wrap around her waist to keep her from tumbling down. The grip is tight and secure, and a delicious aroma of what seems to be earthy wood tickles her nose. “What the hell are you—Isla?”

The sound of her name being spoken in that all too familiar voice clears Isla’s head, and she pulls back enough to look up into the startling blue eyes of Rafe Cameron. Her pounding heart seems to slow down a fraction, and she’s not sure what to make of the mild relief that calms down her frazzled nerves because this is Rafe Cameron. Sure, he might not be as bad as those two freaks, and he’s one of her close friends’ brothers, but he’s still the same guy that has gotten into more than a few fights with her best friends. That being said, she shouldn’t find as much comfort as she does being in front of him. 

Her breathing is heavy, pulse throbbing uncontrollably. She only barely registers her hands gripping his forearms, like it’s grounding her as she takes in Rafe’s expression. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks down at her, his height towering over her five-foot five frame, and there’s more confusion than worry in his features, unsurprisingly. Her heavy breathy makes her privy to the scent of nicotine, glancing down to see a half used cigarette now laying forgotten on the ground. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe repeats. Isla hears the familiar thread of annoyance in his voice, but she can’t bring herself to give a damn. 

She lets go of him like he’s electrocuted her, taking a step back and forcing him to let go of her, too. It takes everything in her not to acknowledge the way her skin burns where his had touched hers. “Going for a run, what does it look like?” she snaps back, though her voice trembles on her breath. 

Rafe’s expression deadpans, though he arches an eyebrow under the dirty blonde bangs that frame his forehead. “Looks like you’re scared,” he states. 

“I—” Isla gets cut off by the familiar sound of a car engine rumbling, the popping kind, and the breath locks in her throat as she glances over her shoulder. “Fuck,” she breathlessly mutters, catching sight of the headlights creeping up from around the corner on the road. She’s not sure if those guys are looking for her—though, she wouldn’t be surprised given that she pepper sprayed one of them, and her pulse quickens again in panic with the need to hide away.

“Wait—are you running from someone?” Rafe questions, and Isla looks back at him to see his gaze pointed over her head, right where the noise of the car is coming from. A car that sounds to be approaching too close.

“You’re asking too many questions,” Isla returns hastily, stepping to go around him. “I need to go—”

Rafe lets out an exasperated huff, and if she had all her wits about her, she’d snap at him. But instead, surprise slams through her when Rafe’s hand wraps around her bicep, his grip firm but not tight as he mutters, “Come here.”

Before Isla knows it, she’s being dragged through the gate of the Cameron estate, disappearing onto the property right when the car turns the corner. Her heart launches to her throat when Rafe suddenly turns her, and she’s being pressed against the stone wall, soft leaves pressing to her back in contrast to the hard surface.

Isla’s eyes widen when Rafe’s body presses against her, the air rushing out of her lungs as her gaze snaps up to meet his. “What are you doing?” she asks, her words a mere breath.

He seems surprised by his own actions, lips pursed and that muscle in his clean shaven jaw pulsing almost as quickly as her own heart. Can he hear the thundering, feel it? “Just—stay quiet,” Rafe grits.

Part of Isla wants to push him off—the part that sounds a lot like her friends. But fear wins out, keeping her in place, as she hears the car creep along in front of the gate of the Cameron property. 

Rafe’s eyes silently tell her to remain quiet and something tightens her stomach—something other than fear—and it startles her enough to flick her gaze to the left, towards the vine wrapped gate. She can see the headlights slowly passing by, and she prays that these guys aren’t stupid enough to trespass private property.

Then again, they were ready to do God-knows-what to her, so who the hell knows?

The thought alone sends her heartbeat accelerating all over again, panic settling in her bones hard enough to rattle them. Isla’s hands fist at her sides, eyes squeezing shut as she leans her head back against the wall. How the hell had her night taken such a freaky turn? And how is it that Rafe Cameron, of all people, is the one to help her out?

Suddenly, the mid-May night doesn’t feel as warm as Rafe’s body; he isn’t close enough where his body is completely pressing into hers, but she can feel the soft material of his shirt fluttering against the bare skin of her stomach, thanks to her crop top. Isla can feel the heat of his skin seeping into hers, which makes her heart thunder with something other than panic, and she’s not entirely sure what the hell to do with that.

“Relax—they’re gone.”

His voice is low and gruff, a tone that makes goosebumps pebble her skin even in this warm weather. Isla opens her eyes with a sharp exhale and her brown eyes immediately find Rafe’s blue, her throat tightening under his scrutinizing gaze. True, she can’t hear the engine anymore, the headlights are also gone, and Isla tries to even out her breathing while nodding slowly. 

Rafe’s eyes rake over her and shouldn’t she feel unsettled about that? About how close he’s standing to her? But it seems like all of her unease has been used up from evading those weirdos, so Rafe Cameron being her rescuer doesn’t annoy her as much as it normally would. 

“So what was that about?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.

Isla’s throat works, dragging her gaze back up at him. The lamps spaced out along the wall light his face, casting shadows along his sharp cheekbones. He’s so handsome—the thought crosses through her mind quickly, and though she would never admit it to her friends, she can’t help but find the truth in it—as insane as it might be.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” Isla finds herself saying, lifting her chin in a small act of defiance.

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitches into a ghost of a smirk, and through the light reflecting in his eyes, she can see them dancing in amusement. “Given that I just saved your ass, an explanation would be nice.”

Isla scowls, all thoughts of his stupidly good looks vanishing. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I had it under control.”

It’s a lie spoken through her teeth, and Rafe can see that. “Yeah, looked real under control when you were running for your life,” he replies dryly, eyebrows rising. But then his expression flattens out, eyebrows furrowing together once again as he says, “Seriously, Isla. What gives? What the hell was that about?”

“Just—some fucking weirdos, I don’t know,” she huffs, frustration from this entire ordeal bubbling to the surface as she rubs her hands up her face and runs her fingers through her hair. “I—Can you back up?” she asks hastily, forcing a glare. Rafe, surprisingly, simply presses his lips together and raises his hands in defense while taking a couple of steps away from her. Isla is no longer embraced by his warmth, by his scent, and there’s an unexpected tug in her chest that she ignores. “My car broke down on that dirt path behind the road. I was trying to figure it out when these guys pulled up and, I don’t know, shit got weird so I made a break for it.”

Rafe frowns as he listens to her, and Isla shakes her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “I need to get back to my car,” she says.

“Seriously?” Rafe asks, scoffing. “You’re gonna go back when some freaks are looking for you?”

Isla glares at him, not at all appreciating him talking to her like she’s stupid. “My wallet’s still in my car. I need to grab it if they haven’t fucking broken into my car already.”

She moves past him to head to the gate, surprised to hear his footsteps as he easily catches up to her. “What, you’re gonna walk back?” When Isla glances at Rafe, he’s looking at her like she’s insane. No sign of the contempt he normally saves for her and her friends, which is slightly unnerving. “After you were just running from some freaks? You do realize how much of a bad idea that is, right?”

She shrugs even as the unease from before returns at the idea of running into those guys again. “I need to get my wallet,” is her meek response.

Rafe lets out a breath, running his fingers through his hair and Isla briefly frowns at herself at the way her gaze seems to run to the flex of his bicep. And the way her stomach fucking flutters because this is Rafe Cameron. The only fluttering her stomach should be doing where he’s concerned is one tinged with nausea.

Rafe then fixes her with a stern look. “Come on,” he says firmly before walking down the driveway of his house.

Isla blinks out of whatever stupor she was in and glares at his back—and at the demand he left her with. She scoffs, hands splaying in annoyance until she realizes he’s headed straight for his motorcycle. Her shoulders drop, rooted on the spot as she says flatly, “You’re joking.”

Rafe is already pulling out a helmet—scratch that, two helmets—and looking at her, once again, like she’s an idiot while she glares at him. At least there’s that bit of normalcy. “This—” He holds up both helmets in each hand. “Is better than you walking back to your car by yourself. Let’s go.”

Isla’s disbelief only intensifies. She doesn’t walk over to him, doesn’t take the proffered helmet. Instead, she exhales sharply and crosses her arms over her chest, asking, “Why are you helping me?”

Rafe has the gall to look annoyed by her question, arms resting at his sides. His gaze locks with Isla’s, but she doesn’t shy away from it as he eventually drops his head back with a groan before looking back at her once more. “Listen, contrary to your and your friends’ popular belief, I’m not a complete dick.” Isla can’t help but scoff and roll her eyes, cutting her gaze away from him in doubt. He cannot be serious. “I wouldn’t want either of my sisters to be fucking chased by some losers, so just think of this as my good deed of the month, alright? Now will you please take the damn helmet and get on the bike?”

Frankly, Isla feels like she’s just stepped into an alternate reality because, seriously, when was the last time Rafe Cameron ever did anything nice for her—if ever?

But as much as Isla’s pride is begging for her to tell him thanks but no thanks and turn and walk back to her car, fear still resides in the pit of her belly, waiting to strike. She hates to admit it, but Rafe is right. It’d be dumb of her to walk back alone at night after what just happened. Maybe she could call her sister or one of her friends, but that would just add unnecessary time to all this, and Isla just really wants to get home. So, fine; maybe she can accept Rafe’s offer to drive her to her car, and then from there maybe she can call an Uber home and call a tow truck from the safety of her bedroom.

Rafe holds out one of the black helmets in impatience, and Isla purses her lips as she pushes herself to walk over. She does her best not to admire the sight of him next to his bike, something she never would have done before tonight. Maybe this whole freaky situation has loosened some screws in her brain.

Isla all but snatches the helmet out of his hand, though a part of her feels as though it’s just for appearances’ sake to keep up her usual attitude around Rafe, and tucks her dark hair behind her ears before pulling the helmet on, the visor still up. She tries her best not to think of the weight of his gaze on her as she fiddles with the straps on her chin to secure the helmet, but she’s unable to get it right, fingers trembling despite herself.

“I got it,” Rafe says, and Isla freezes when he gently bats her hands away and steps up to her, using his finger to push at the bottom of the helmet so she can tilt her head back enough for him to see the straps. The heat of his body greets her once more and she’s silent as she feels him secure the straps, breath hitching quietly when the backs of his fingers brush against her skin. 

He’s done within seconds, but it sure as shit feels longer as she remains standing there, watching him pull on his own helmet. Isla watches silently as Rafe gets on the bike, wondering how she got here, and he says, “Hop on.”

Isla has ridden on the back of JJ’s bike plenty of times, so she gets on with no trouble, though she does have to grip Rafe’s shoulders in order to do so. They’re broad and firm under her hands, and she mentally chastises herself for even thinking about his stupid shoulders. When she’s settled behind him, her legs framing his, Isla’s heartbeat picks up at the sudden proximity, her front against his back. 

She’s sure she’s barely breathing when her skin warms because there’s barely any space that exists between them, and when Rafe tells her, “Hold on or risk flying off,” she can’t decide if she wants to smack him upside the head or beg for the ground to swallow her whole.

Sliding the visor down, Isla inhales deeply and quietly before winding her arms around Rafe’s waist, teeth gritting together because if her friends saw her now, they definitely would believe she’s lost her mind. The fact of the matter is, right now all she can seem to focus on is the solidness of his stomach against her arms and how fucking good he smells, which is confusing and overwhelming and everything in between.

The motorcycle’s engine roars to life, and seconds later Rafe is kicking off the kick-stand and they’re riding down the driveway and onto the road. She had told him her car stopped on the dirt path behind the actual road, separated by trees, and that’s all Rafe seemingly needs to know as he takes them in the right direction. The breeze as they go feels good against her, cooling her heated skin down and she would never admit it, but riding on the back of Rafe Cameron’s bike has a somewhat calming effect on her.

The tension that had tightened her muscles since her encounter with those other guys melts away, and the rapid thumping of her heart has nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with the thrill of this moment. Maybe it’s ill advised, but it seems to be exactly what she needs as the night air mixes with Rafe’s cologne—or maybe he just smells like that in general?

God, she’s getting too weird about this.

Soon enough, her car comes into view and Isla is relieved when there seems to be no sign of those guys. Rafe stops the bike right next to her car, and another sigh of relief escapes her when she sees that her car doesn’t look damaged. Swinging her leg over, she uses Rafe’s shoulders as leverage to get off the bike, trying not to think too much about the loss of his body heat as she reaches for the helmet straps. 

They’re easier to undo than they were to strap, and she lifts the helmet off, one hand already flattening her dark hair as Rafe holds his hand out for the helmet. As she unlocks the car, Rafe asks, “How’d you manage to outrun them?”

Isla leans into the driver’s seat, reaching for her tote bag in the passenger seat. She digs through it for a moment, taking stock of her wallet, lip gloss, lip balm, and the few other things still safely inside. “I pepper-sprayed one of them,” she answers as she pulls out and straightens. 

When she turns to look at Rafe, whose helmet’s visor is up, she sees the smirk that curls at his mouth. How does a sight that made her want to knee him in the stomach before make her feel kind of weak kneed right now? Did those guys really freak her out so much that now down is up and left is right? “Nice,” he murmurs, nodding in approval. Jutting his chin towards her car, he asks, “You gonna call a truck?”

Isla shakes her head. “When I get home,” she says, pulling out her phone. 

Rafe nods as he holds the helmet out once more. “Alright, let’s go.”

Isla pauses, gaze flicking up from her phone screen where the Uber app is open to look at him. Arching an eyebrow, she asks, “Uh, go where?”

He mirrors the arched eyebrow look. “I’ll take you home,” he says as if it’s obvious when it very much isn’t.

“No thanks. I can Uber,” she answers, already putting her home address in.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he remains sitting on his bike. “You’re just full of bad ideas tonight, aren’t you?” he says. Isla’s eyes narrow, irritation sparking through her as he splays his arms out to gesture to the road they’re on. “You’re really gonna wait out here on a dirt road, with no street lamps, in the dark for an Uber when I’m offering you a ride home right now?” Before she can respond, he carries on, “On the same stretch of road, mind you, that you just got harassed on?”

The irritation intensifies, and Isla’s expression twists into a glare as she snaps, “What’s it to you, huh? You already did your good deed of the month. We’re not friends, Rafe. I don’t need your help.”

Even with the helmet on, she can tell he’s clenching his jaw, eyes hard as he sets them on her. The look makes her chest burn in a way that’s not all unwelcome, and that alone should be a sign that she’s losing it. “We may not be friends, but you’re my sister’s friend, alright? Sarah would kill me if she found out I left you out here by yourself. So stop being so fucking stubborn and get on the damn bike, Isla. I’m taking you home.”

She presses her tongue to her cheek, shoulders bunched in frustration while Rafe glares at her, his own impatience radiating off of him in waves. Sarah has told Isla how stubborn her brother can be, and while Isla doesn’t know Rafe well, she knows him and has dealt with him enough to know he isn’t budging on this. So, with a huff, she snatches the helmet once more, ignoring the protests in her head that sound suspiciously a lot like her friends as she pulls the helmet on. 

She manages to get the straps this time and gets back on the bike, her bag securely hanging off her shoulder as Rafe starts the bike again and Isla swallows silently as she wraps her arms around his waist once more. Every part of her is warm where it touches him, and as he drives, she tilts her head back, practically begging for anyone listening to get her to calm the hell down.

Seriously—how the hell did Rafe Cameron become her would-be hero of tonight?

Luckily, her house is a ten minute drive from the Cameron house and Isla allows him to pull up to the front of the house, since Kie isn’t home and has no chance of peeking out her bedroom window and seeing Isla getting off Rafe’s bike. He parks the bike and Isla lets go of him almost immediately, hopping off the bike and undoing the straps of the helmet under her chin.

Rafe is already looking at her by the time she gets the helmet off, his blue eyes visible since the visor is lifted. With a close mouthed, saccharine smile, Isla all but shoves the helmet into his hands. “Thanks for the ride. Let’s never do this again.”

He scoffs as he shakes his head, but the smirk on his face is apparent. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Isla rolls her eyes and, without another word, turns towards her house. She’s on the front porch and fishing keys out when she glances to the right and sees Rafe still parked there, seemingly watching her. Her stomach does a stupid, weird flip as she unlocks the door and shoos him. “Go away,” she hisses, even though Kiara isn’t home and her parents wouldn’t care that Rafe dropped her off—hell, her mom would be thrilled, honestly.

Even from this distance, she can just picture Rafe’s arrogant smirk as he lifts a hand in a two fingered salute before revving the engine of his bike, and Isla clenches her jaw as he speeds off, the roar echoing down the block. Exhaling sharply, Isla shakes her head and walks into her house, shutting the door behind her just as she hears footsteps approaching her.

“Where have you been?” her mom asks, not demanding but more concerned.

Isla smiles sheepishly as she faces her mother. “Yeah, about that. . .”

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x oc #drew starkey #jj maybank #john b routledge #outer banks au #rafe cameron au #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #pope heyward #cleo obx #obx #obx fic #obx fanfic

[sprout-fics]

Hello, I hope you don’t mind me asking but why is there so much hate towards people who like posts or liking posts in general? I understand that people value reblogs more because it gets them more notes, but every time there’s a post about how much creators love interaction it never includes likes. If I like a post, it means that I liked it but I’ve been blocked, gotten hateful dms, called a “post murderer”, and told I didn’t value creators as humans—even though I’m a writer myself—because I like posts and I don’t think I or anyone else deserve that kind of treatment for pressing a button that literally means I liked your post?

As a writer, I’d feel worse knowing someone was only reblogging my stuff because they felt forced to and not because they actually liked what I wrote. Also it makes me happy to see likes as much as it does other kinds of interactions, but people act like liking something is akin to spitting on the creator and I don’t understand it?

I’m not saying this as an attack on you or anything, I don’t think you’re like any of the people above who’ve been rude to me, I’ve followed you for a while and think you’re really nice. I only saw your reblog of the post talking about interaction and how much it means to creators—which I agree with 100%—but I noticed in posts like that likes are always left out and I don’t really get it? But I’m also newer to tumblr so I realize there might be something I’m missing here as part of tumblr culture or something?

You totally don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to either, it’s just something I’ve noticed and was wondering about and you’re one of the few writers I follow who’ve reblogged the nicer posts that don’t yell at me for liking things so I feel a little safer asking you 😅

Hi anon, thanks for reaching out! I'm always happy to share fandom perspectives, and I'm glad I can be a safe space to ask questions. I want to always cultivate civil discussion, and it's so nice to see someone reach out in such a genuine manner!

So it sounds like you are fairly new to tumblr, and that you may not fully understand how the site works yet. The short answer to your question is: Likes do nothing to build a fandom community.

The long answer is a little more complicated.

I'm going to go back to my fandom is cake analogy here.

Fandom is a lot like being at a potluck. Lots of people show up, not everyone brings a dish but everyone does enjoy a bite of something or the other, people talk, chat, and have a good time. Now, if you are a writer, and you brought cake, you brought it because you want to see people enjoy it. Reblogging something is the equivalent of grabbing a slice of cake, wandering over to some friends, and when they say 'Oh, what a wonderful slice of cake Who made that?' You point to the baker/writer and possibly say something like 'Oh I love this flavor/trope!' so others may be compelled to also enjoy the cake

Liking, however, is when someone wanders up to the dessert table and goes 'Yup, that's a cake' and then vanishes. We can't assume that you liked the cake and just didn't want to share, of if you saw the cake and went 'Ugh, vanilla, gross'.

Reblogs are inherently community based. Likes are not.

Reblogs are designed to share, to reach out and expose works to others. By doing so we cultivate communities and fandoms, expose artists to corners of the fandom not yet reached. This isn't necessarily for an ego boost on the part of writers or creators, it's because we post things to connect with people, because we want to make friends, to share ideas, to participate in fandom.

Likes, by contrast, are inherently isolationist. They don't expose works, they don't foster connections. They are the equivalent of a hundred people at a party looking at you without saying hi or introducing themselves, without introducing you to friends who are there at that party for the same reason as you: because you all love and adore the media you are there for.

Reblogs, comments, and comments in the tags are how I've meant 90% of my friend group. I didn't passively like things until they noticed me, and frankly if someone is trying to be friends with me in that manner? Chances are I will not notice them, because likes tell me nothing. For all I know they could be saving my fic for later, they could be saying something I can't understand because I can't read minds, and the only way for me to know is if you take a slice of my cake and show it and say 'What a neat piece of cake!!'

I think it's unfair for people to say things like 'post murderer' and such, or spread vitriol. Shaming people into reblogging does not foster meaningful connections, and frankly accomplishes the same thing serial likers do- isolating people. It's inherently detrimental to fandom. Does this mean I'm not frustrated with the current climate of fandom? Far from it. I could sit here and write essays on fast fandom culture burning through works and creators and leaving burnt out creators behind as people gobble up and spit out fandoms with short attention spans and limited investment into fandom building. It's very disappointing, and I myself am fairly burnt out trying to keep this blog and active space only to be met with this:

This is my top post of the month. Out of the reblogs with tags, maybe two or three have genuine comments and/or feedback. There's so so many missed connections here and it's incredibly disheartening. The only way to fix this is to reblog and add maybe a nice tag. Even something as simple as a few emojis or a 'I enjoyed this!' goes so so far for us writers, and encourages us to stay within the fandom and continue building and fostering new connections with readers, writers, artists, and other creators.

Reblogs are the foundation of fandoms. Artists need fandoms to thrive, and without new works/art/creations, fandoms will die. Every reblog counts.

#fandom discourse #writing advice #faq #I'm so so glad you asked this anon #It's such an important issue in fandom right now and you were so genuine in asking and I appreciate that

[dieaverage]

ROSE-COLORED BOY — eddie munson x female reader as childhood friends to enemies to friends again to sickeningly-in-love lovers

eddie munson x female reader

series summary: six months after the death of your mother darlene byers, you return to hawkins, indiana to try and make sense of everything. what you don’t anticipate is how much running into him on your first night back, five years after your desertion, will break your heart (and his) all over again.

author’s note: hi! going to be so unapologetically real with you all and say i have no clue of where this is headed, but after my hyper-fixating ass decided to host an eddie munson revival party of one on the cusp of the year of our lord 2024, i knew i had to write something so other people could at least be subjected to the workings of my mind. i hope you like it, and if you don’t, well, that’s a you problem i fear! but seriously if you do have any ideas/directions you would like to see this heading, please please please do not hesitate to let me know! this is my first time posting any of my work on tumblr *gasp* so i mean it when i say criticism is warmly welcomed. <3

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chapter one — spaghetti and meatballs

word count: 1.6k+

NEXT

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A thin mist descended upon the forested thoroughfare to the town you once felt you knew so well, though were no longer so sure. The weighty four-worded acknowledgement bounced around in your head over and over as you approached the deceptively disarming "Welcome to Hawkins, Indiana" sign, so heavily you were almost convinced it was rousing a sleeping migraine, and yet no matter how many times you repeated the seemingly familiarising phrase under bated breath, it felt no less alien to you.

After all, this was never truly your home. Countless summers spent at your cousins' house, even four begrudgingly defining years clocked up at Hawkins High School, had never allowed you to feel like you had earned the right to label it as such. It was your mother's home, as if she had beat you to staking any claim on it, and now that she was no longer around, any ties you thought you might have had to it felt well and truly severed.

Precarious ties aside, it was here you found yourself, in Hawkins. Mere months after the death of your mother. The offer had unfalteringly been there, "whe- if- it ever gets to be too much, Daphne, you know you can come stay with me and the boys", and yet your eventual acceptance of it made you feel nothing short of an imposter.

Any hopes for a discreet arrival were instantaneously dashed as your Cavalier pulled onto the unforgiving gravelly driveway, your tires connecting with the stones to create a disturbance you were sure could have woken any nearby animals out of hibernation, had they assumed an early one. Hawkins air had a perpetually wintry quality, after all. The front door swung open before you even had a chance to remove your keys from the ignition, and the sight of the emerging sixteen year old boy unwillingly brought a beaming smile to your face.

"Daphne!!!!" he called out, advancing towards you at an incredible and equally terrifying speed.

"Hi, Will!" a laugh couldn't help but escape your lips as he wrapped you into a tight hug, the force of which setting you off balance momentarily. He used to be so... delicate. "You've gotten so big!"

"He's got what, like, a foot on you now?" a voice exclaimed from the doorway, the discerning sarcasm of it all widening your already unshakeable grin.

"Lovely to see you too, Jonathan. And it's a couple inches, at best!"

Soon the three of you were embraced in a group hug, which although you would never admit it, had been long overdue. The slight stinging sensation in your eyes signalling the impending flood of tears prompted your swift ejection from the embrace. "So, where is my darling pseudo sister?" you questioned as you walked through the threshold of the Byers abode, attempting to inject some humour into what had already become a far too confronting display of emotions, and almost as if on cue Joyce emerged from the adjoining room.

"Oh, Daphne!" she cried out, consuming you in a hug that could only be described as motherly. You felt it considerably harder to fight back the tears this time. "Hi, Joyce." you exhaled into her shoulder, trying with all your might to resist crumbling in her arms right there. You had been alone for, what, six months? This exhibition of emotion, or rather, the suppression of it, left you feeling weak, and was perhaps the very reason you had avoided coming for so long.

Darlene would never have earned an award for her maternity, and you often thought that if there were such a scale to measure someone who would, your own mother would, against all odds, find a way to fall below it. She wasn't well, that much had been evident for the entirety of your time together, and increasingly so in the end, but in her wake you wondered how much longer you could accept it as an excuse. Above all else, you felt abandoned. Joyce, and the boys, they were wonderful. Truthfully speaking, Joyce had been more of a mother to you in your formative years than Darlene ever was, and Will and Jonathan, they would always be your little brothers as far as you were concerned. But still, in their house now, observing the three of them together, you helplessly felt like a guest, as if years of intimacy had been erased. Nothing had occurred to suggest this, of course. No, these thoughts were all of your own creation, from the mind you had so wished to desert so many times in the last six months.

“Daphne, honey, you must be starving. What can I whip up for us?”

"Spaghetti and meatballs, Mom, please?" Will exhorted, snapping you out of your self imposed hypnotic state.

"I think we should let Daphne choose, Will." Joyce sweetly urged him. "Daphne, what would you like?" You looked up at her from your place on the couch which you hadn't even recalled assuming, and then over to Will who was waiting in anticipation for your answer.

"Spaghetti and meatballs sounds great. Gotta love Italian!" you exclaimed, and Will and Jonathan high-fived quietly from across the room. Joyce shared a knowing look with you and giggled before turning back towards the kitchen. It brought a certain degree of reassurance to you that some things truly never change, one of which being the Byers boys' inability to grow up.

"Joyce," you scurry behind her, "thank you. I- it's been a... weird couple months, but being with y'all, it's already helping."

"Oh, Daphne," Joyce pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "I thought about you constantly. I wanted to make the trip down to Austin, to be there for you, but with the boys and then work-"

"I know. It's okay. I'm here now. You don't have to worry anymore."

"Easier said than done." Joyce gave an unassured look. "Please, just... don't hesitate to talk to me, okay? If it's too much. You're like a daughter to me, Daphne, and I know the boys think of you as a big sister. This is your home. For as long as you want it to be."

You promptly gave her a cuddle, hoping it could express your gratitude in a way you knew your words couldn't without risk of activating the waterworks, before announcing, "Hey, I think I might head out for a while after dinner. Check out that booming Hawkins nightlife. I can't even remember the last time I got a drink here."

"And legally, at that!" Joyce countered playfully, you giving her a slight push to quiet down, afraid that Will or Jonathan might wish to learn a thing or two of your teenage antics, ammunition you certainly were not ready to equip them with.

"Hey, I handled my alcohol well, okay!" you argued, though not compellingly.

"Law enforcement might disagree." she laughed, her head elsewhere, presumably recalling your countless run ins with the Hawkins police department.

"Okay yes, somewhat of a troubled teen..." you admitted, "but you know, I got over it. I went to college. I grew up." Joyce met your eyes with a smile, "I know you did. I'm so proud of you, Daph."

Eventually, dinner was ready, and the group had no sooner sat down at the dinner table before Will had engulfed the contents of his plate, now proudly demonstrating its emptiness to Joyce. "Finished! Can I please go to Mike's now?" he asked her with eyes so wide you feared they could momentarily eject from their sockets, making the question posed that much sweeter.

"Alright, alright." she giggled, "Just be careful, okay? Biking at a reasonable speed will not hinder your chances of escaping dungeons or slaying dragons, I promise."

Will met his mother's failed attempt at understanding his favourite game with an unforgiving roll of the eyes before the table burst into laughter with Will pulling Joyce into a hug, and then Jonathan.

"See you later, Daphne!" he exclaimed before wrapping his arms around you and hurriedly darting out the front door, leaving you once again with an aching smile plastered on your face. What a sweet boy, you thought to yourself.

"A couple hours and he already has Daphne wrapped around his finger!" Jonathan said jokingly, sending both you and Joyce into laughter once again. "What can I say, he's a good kid!"

"Once upon a time, you were too, Jonathan!" you said wiggling your finger at him with an air of mockery, giving a playful nudge to his shoulder before grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

Closing the door behind you, you catch sight of Will wheeling his bike down the rough driveway. "Hey, wait up!"

Even from a distance you could make out his cheesy grin, and you couldn't help but think about what a heartbreaker he would make one day.

"So, Will the Wise! Off to another campaign?" you proclaim as you reach him, and the use of his nickname only causes his smile to grow wider.

"You remembered?"

"How could I forget?! I was only gone a couple years. Will the Wise's legacy, now that will last centuries." you tease.

"I really missed you, Daphne. So did Mom, almost as much as Jonathan!"

"Jonathan? Wow, he said that? Can we get that in writing?"

"Seriously!" he slapped your arm lightly as the briefly shared portion of your journey came to a close, preparing to mount his bike for the ride to the Wheeler house, "I'm so glad you're home."

With what felt suspiciously like watering eyes approaching, you swallowed harshly before taking his hand in yours. "Me too."

#eddie munson #stranger things #jim hopper cameo #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #i’m new to this and don’t really know what i’m doing #i know there’s no eddie mentions in chapter one but hang in there #i swear it’ll pick up #joyce byers is mother #literally #Spotify #rose-colored boy

[aeliesa]

SAFE SPACES OF AGONY

Synopsis: When he died, you suffered in different ways, and when things are starting to go their own way, Satoru knows what to do, even if it means altering everything all at once.

• Relationship: Gojo Satoru x female reader (with mention of Suguru) • Content: Lightweight angst • Words: 2.7k • Song: Life Puzzle by Arthur Nery

A/N: I just came back for a short post. I've been away for so long that I miss writing and staying on Tumblr as my way of de-stressing. The world moves quickly, and I want to pause and enjoy the moment. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short (?) post I wrote on my short break while listening to my playlist on spotify. There's some canon divergence but only a little. Thank you, stay safe and hydrated. ♡

“I found her first! I love her first!”

“But she chooses me; you and I both know her choices are out of our bounds.”

The rain keeps pouring, sheltering his emotions in the cold breeze and grey clouds, almost like despair is the only thing inside him. He never likes this idea, yet he has to entertain it again whenever it comes back from the dead. He detests it; however, what choice does he have? In this modernity, he is known as the strongest, the keeper of the scale between evil and good. Somehow, when it comes to you - he’s reminded how he can never have everything the way he wants to. He was born the strongest; regardless, his strength wasn’t enough to tame someone he longed to have. He sighs and gently shakes his head before raising his fist to knock on the door, only to stop mid-air and open it. “At the very least, Satoru, let me win this time.”

“We both know I already lost before it started.”

Silence engulfs the whole place; the emptiness of warmth welcomes like a ravaging wild wave that washes along the shore. The gloominess of the weather has escalated the atmosphere inside the house, the darkness, coldness, and even the silence. 

It’s like walking into the abyss to save someone from falling into the pits of depression. 

“You were supposed to stay on the side and let things unfold!”

“I did, but she made her move. It is not my fault that I am what she wants.”

He hangs his coat on the rack before taking the path upstairs, finding his subject. Each step he takes is also how his heart is hammering against his chest. The silence was different this time; it was a creeping sensation of something he never desired to happen, much less think of it. He shakes his head once it crosses again, ‘No, she won’t do that.’ His strides keep on going till he hears small sobs in a small distance across the door, where the only sound he hears upon entering your place. “I promised her… that I’ll return after things are okay.”

“You made her believe in something already a far cry.”

“I know, and it seems like I’ll just leave her in your hands.” Satoru opens the door, knocking gently before calling your name in a whispering manner. He could only sigh at seeing you lying on your stomach with disheveled hair, hugging the clothes of someone he once knew. “Hey….” he softly mutters under his breath, walking to your side, observing how the mood is continuously depleting each second. Satoru studies you for a while; he can tell how heavy things are for you - caught between the situation and forced to choose between right and wrong, leaving the safe spaces of neutrality.

Soft sobs are just the only answer you give. Not that it matters to Satoru; amongst everyone, you know that he’s the only one who understands you the most. When everyone dictated your emotions and actions, there he was, standing on the other side - welcoming you with compassion par to none. “I’m sorry,” you sigh, sitting on the bed and wiping your tears. “I should have prepared long ago -” “No need…” he cuts you off, making you look at him, despite the puffy eyes. “No need to force yourself. We can stay here and do whatever you want.”

“You know what I want right now, Satoru.” “Still, I don’t mind,” he nonchalantly replies, pulling a chair and sitting before you. “You like to cry all you want? Go. Do you want to just lay on the bed and think about him? Be my guest. Sulk as much as you want today, lay on the bed throughout the hours, and just be lost in your own world; I don’t mind - as long as you bring me where your thoughts go.” You close your eyes and run your hand on your temples, a cracked voice and shaky breath; you answer: “But it is like that day….” “And? If it makes you feel better, then we do it. You can’t just shut your emotions just because you were told by those around you…” he leans a little, meeting your gaze with his. “I don’t want you to make yourself suffer even more by restraining the raging emotions.”

“I miss him.” In a blink, he softens as he watches you smiling faintly with closed eyes, the redness of your.  “I know…” he nods, only staring at your features. “I do, too.” Satoru observes your face; he loves them. To see you being vulnerable with him, being bossy, being noisy, being jovial - everything about you - he loves all of it. Be it the worst or not, it is worth loving as long as it is you. 

A tear falls from your face, then another follows until it cascades down your cheeks. Satoru just patiently listens to your sobs as you cover your face with both hands while sitting on the side of the bed wearing the clothing of the man you love - who passed away in the hands of the same man who is comforting you. “Why did it have to happen? Why do I have to be so blind from everything? Why? Why didn’t he listen?” “It is not your fault,” he reminds you, calling your name almost like it is a fragile thing to say. “It’s never your fault.” You shake your head, still sobbing. “But it feels like it, Satoru. It feels like I failed to remind him that there is kindness in everything, that everything he saw was just the ugly side of the mirror - he was convinced by his philosophy. I saw it in his eyes!” It is hard for him, but to witness your struggle, Satoru could barely grasp the surface of what you’re dealing with. Apart from him, you suffered too when his best friend - Suguru Geto, died, if not worse. When he was losing himself is where you appear, sought after his hands to lift him from the turmoil troubling him. And yet, somehow… you did save Satoru, but who’s keeping you from going insane? “I know I don’t have enough idea about these curses, sorcerers, and whatnot, but at the very least, am I not a reminder of what you guys should protect?” you continue when he doesn’t react. “Why did it have to resort to such violence.” “You are,” Satoru assures, still sitting on the chair and watching you pouring your heart out on him. “You are a reminder, the thin line that keeps me holding on to what I should be fighting for.” “But I am not enough,” your voice cracks again. “I am not enough because it happened, Satoru. In your hands is where Suguru died, and I never resent you for it.” As he listens to you, Satoru remains silent for a while, losing himself in a reverie of his memories with the man you longed to hold, feel, and love.  “If you’re concerned if she’ll hate you once this is over, I’ll tell you this, Satoru: she won’t.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because she’s unlike any other.”

His friend has nailed his words. Suguru never lied whenever it was about you. At some point, it felt like Suguru knew you better than Satoru, even though the latter crossed paths with you first. You were the ray of sunshine, the bringer of hope, and the beacon of their humanity, the constant reminder of what they are protecting. Unlike them, you were just an average citizen caught in the fight of the cursed users. Yet, the accident was the turning point for the weaver of faith to write your own life. Caught between two worlds only to stay in the grey line for so long, content with living on both sides of the reality you’ve come to witness. “Do you hate me for it?” You paused, looking at him despite the messiness of your face. “Hate? Where did that notion come from?” you ask, bewildered. “I already told you I never resent you for what happened.” “J-Just a t-thought. I wouldn’t blame -” “Never did it cross my mind,” you cut off. “I understand you were backed against the wall and forced to do it. It’s just… I am upset with the situation; why doesn’t evilness just disappear? It is frustrating at some point. I could only watch you guys do your thing while I waited for everything to finish.” “That’s not true, you -” You gently chuckle with a crying tone, “Oh please, don’t sugarcoat it. It’s always been like that since the beginning. We both know I can’t do anything except wait for my friends to return from their missions. Sometimes, it’s hard to witness this stuff and turn a blind eye to it occasionally. In some situations, I must deal with the constant fear that I will not see you again walking inside my house; I had to beg the Heavens on my knees, called upon the saints and whatever deity graces my pleas.”

Satoru very well knows it; he’s the one who placed you in that situation, and along with it is the burden you had to carry. Selfish, it may seem, but to love you from afar is far from his desires. He pulled you, placing you where he believed was the best place for you to walk, which, in the same manner, is the same line that he can hold you. For whatever it is, Satoru couldn’t let your hand fall from his grasp, even when you were suffering in two worlds: between the life of the blindsided and the curses. “I can’t also lose you, okay?” you smile, still crying, facing him. “I can’t lose you too because losing Suguru is too much to handle, and I could not go on if you also will leave.” This time, he sighs and shifts his seat, pulling you into a hug as he sits beside you. “You. Will. Never. Lose. Me.” His firm voice came like a dulcet to your ears; a safety net for you to fall, a wall for you to lean on, a home for you to feel secure. The fervent of Satoru’s words is for you to hear and for him to fulfill. His words are carved amongst the stars that align with the destiny that holds the fate of your relationship with him. “You better honor that because the last guy who promised me is dead.” He nods, closing his eyes and kissing your temple softly. “My words carry the weight of my actions, and the universe is a witness as I say that even if all of me will cease to exist, I will still find my way to you,” he brushes your hair gently, “In this agony is where you’re drowning yourself to the extent of destruction but in all of everything, you will always see me seeking for your hand to reach you even if you’re on the other side; be it the doubts and anxiety, I'll give you peace and tranquility, and if not, then I can be the safe space that will shelter you against the world cruelty of the world.” “Promises… again.” “I meant it,” he says with determination upon sensing the reluctance, calling your name. “I mean it,” he repeats. “You two are indeed best friends,” Satoru gently chuckles at your comment. “Suguru also says the same.” “Well, it’s like they said… your friend is a piece of who you are.” You sigh, nuzzling your head; soft hair tickles his neck, making Satoru feel the tears against his skin. “If he could just be here with us, I miss him…” he tightens his hug around you. “So much….” you add, biting your lower lip and reciprocating the same intensity of embrace.

As the room fills with your soft sobs, he can only rub his hand on your back as you keep pouring your heart out. He knows the pain of losing someone and the vigor of mourn brings is beyond what each human can grasp. Pain is profound; it goes deeper than what an individual perceives. For you to be in a state of wreck for months already speaks the volume of how the death of his best friend break you. 

It has been months if not almost a year - and you changed drastically. 

“Weeks before that event happened, he promised. He promises me that he’ll come back, that we celebrate his birthday together - with you and Ieiri…” you sniff, “But here we are on the very day, remembering him wrenchingly.”

The rain outside continues to rampage, but your room's dimness worsens everything. The atmosphere is already hard enough, but for Satoru to see you like this? He wishes to end your suffering, but how can he? The chances were laid on the table, and the choice was yours. 

Satoru placed you in the midline that meets the norm and the other side… but Suguru gave you the choices to pick. “We can do something different. If you want, we can still go on with our initial plan.” “No,” you shake your head, breaking the hug. “I can’t give you that pain; it is selfish and immoral.” He frowns, “What do you mean? We always do this on Suguru’s birthday.” “Yes, and this time, I want it to stop.” “Why? Did I do something wrong?” You shake your head, “No, it’s just unfair and selfish for me. It feels nice to see you here and check me out. I know I have been a constant mess since Suguru died… you just can’t help it when someone you love is now a piece of history, a part of you also dies, right?” you heave a deep breath and turn to Satoru, smiling faintly, “When he passed away, a part of me went with him, and it will forever be with him…” When Satoru placed you in a tight situation, Suguru gave you a choice, and you responded to the opportunity. “You see, Satoru, I cannot do it anymore. The pretension and everything that everything is okay, we both know you don’t like the idea of doing what Suguru and I always do on his birthday.” “It doesn’t matter to me as long as it makes you feel better,” his voice's firmness is the anchor that pulls your hesitation back at bay. “If it’s how I can make you happy, I am willing to fill his shoes.” “I made you suffer, and I don’t like it. Relishing my memory with Suguru is never the answer; we can’t continue like this forever.”

“You love him that much, huh?” “More than what I can give up.” “Lucky bastard,” he jests, making you chuckle. 

Maybe in another timeline, if perchance it exists, the tiny hope lingers in him that he won’t hear the same thing. Deep in his thoughts lies the idea that you were choosing the other way… that the choices that Suguru laid on you are different… that you pick him over his best friend.

“I’m sorry…” you say in a low voice wiping your tear. “As much as I want to do it again, I can’t. I really can’t put you in the worst feeling possible.” Satoru takes your hand, gently squeezing it as he gazes at you with no pretension of his desires. “To hell with what I feel if, in return, is your warmth radiating upon me.”

“Silly. You have done enough, I think I should be on my own now.”

“She’s so bubbly; even her laughs are infectious. Damn, if you could only see how she makes those ugly laughs with those features.” “Then, take me.” “Huh?” “Take all of me; anywhere you go, I want to be there too. It can be in your imagination, thoughts, or the smallest things - take me wherever you go. I want to see what you see, dive into your thoughts, and carve everything in my mind, the pieces of you.” Desperation occurs when a person feels like he’s losing all his cards; at this very moment, Satoru has given up every ace he has. As much as he wants to deny it, he feels envious of his best friend, for Suguru saw the different puzzles of your identity, and Satoru has longed to witness all of it since the moment he saved you from the curses. “That some sick joke, you bastard.” “It’s just a hypothetical situation; come on. If I die, I want you to take her hand and lift her sorrows because I can’t do it.” “Sa-Satoru… wh-what d-do y-” He takes your hand, leaning against your forehead with a deep breath; he speaks…

“Date me.”

fin.

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu fanfic #gojo angst #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n

[flxrartsstuff]

Dressing Up 👔

Nanamixfem!Reader OneShot, 18+

Author‘s note: This idea came up in my mind when I saw a TikTok actually. A cosplayer dressing up as Nanami and I imagined how it would be if you could wake up to this every morning, watching Nanami getting ready for work in front of you. This is also my first post here on tumblr and I hope you give this one a try!

・❥・

I blinked a few times as I was about to wake up and the bright light from the window was already making me squint again. But I didn't feel anyone next to me, the side of the bed was empty, whereas yesterday I had fallen asleep comfortably in my husband's arms. I turned around and saw him standing by the mirror, right next to the bed. And I liked the view so much that I was suddenly wide awake.

»Do you have to leave so early?« I asked the blonde, still sleepy, and turned onto my side, resting my head on the pillow with one hand. He turned around as soon as he heard my voice and reached for his beige pants to pull them over his ankles. His eyes locked on mine and I couldn't look away.

»Early? Look at the clock.« He grinned, nodding his head towards the digital clock on his bedside table. It clearly showed 7:00 in the morning. Definitely too early for me and too soon for him to have to go to work. I would have liked to ask him to undress again and lie with me. To warm me up like last night. I was still naked, with only the comforter pulled up to my neck, I could still feel his touch on me and his kisses. He had taken me so many times until we had both fallen asleep in each other's arms. My legs were still trembling from the intense touches, because of his hands that had impatiently pushed my thighs apart and had made me feel his hard manhood. I had lolling under him, moaning and begging for more. His every thrust was still felt in my nether regions, even though he was already on his feet this morning and getting ready for the day.

My gaze slid from his legs up to his chest as he slipped the blue shirt over his shoulders that I had ironed yesterday. His pants were still open, giving me a glimpse of his Calvin Klein boxers. Always a man with style. He was never satisfied with cheap shorts and always bought clothes that were much more expensive. I liked to rip his shirt off every time and do the same with his boxers. When he gave me the upper hand. His eyes were on me, as if we were just talking with our gazes. And we both knew that he wanted to continue where we had left off yesterday. His eyes were clouded with lust, dark and distorting. He bit his lip lightly as if to say, »You're unbelievable.«

I grinned and let out a long sigh as he fastened the last button of his shirt, ending the view of his chiseled pecs for the time being. Our looks were worth a thousand words. I read in his eyes the same words I had heard him say last night.

»Fuck, baby, you're incredible. A little more, I want all of you. I want to be even deeper inside you.«

»Oh God yes...« It was as if I could hear the two of us doing it together without restraint. How loud we must have been, so that all the neighbors already knew us. The bed, which banged violently against the wall with each of his thrusts, the head of which he constantly held on to in order to thrust into me with even more momentum. I could still feel him inside me, his hard length twitching deep inside me, hitting every sensitive spot inside me and eliciting loud cries of pleasure.

»Kento...don't stop...just don't stop...« I had moaned, digging my fingers into his back, which had long since turned red and was covered in scratches.

»Stop?« He had repeated amusedly, pulling back only to thrust again with full force. »I'm just getting started...«

One climax followed the next until my nether regions were melting with heat. I screamed his name countless times, spurring him on. My hands kept burying themselves in his hair and pulling on it. When I looked up at him now, I saw a neatly trimmed hairstyle. He pushed the shirt into his pants and his hands wandered purposefully down to his crotch. I could only watch as he zipped it up agonizingly slowly, as if he wanted to show me again what to expect tonight. I couldn't hold back an excited sigh, even when he tightened the belt around his hips.

»Such a naughty thing...« he replied quietly as he grabbed his watch and clasped it around his wrist. I had given it to him for Christmas last year and he's worn it every day since then. It slid so easily over his wrist and drew my attention to his masculine and strong hands, whose fingers I had felt deep inside me as well last night. He wanted to tease me and feel me, wanted to taste me and had even made me suck on his fingers so that I could taste my own moisture and arousal. He knew how to drive me out of my mind.

Every of his moves were perfect. His morning routine seemed so elegant and efficient despite its simplicity. He smelled of his aftershave, which would have put me to bed long ago if I hadn't already been here. My thighs pressed together violently, but I couldn't stop myself from feeling a warm, aroused trail on my pussy. I liked undressing him, but watching him get dressed had an equally attractive effect on me. All that was missing now was for me to start drooling. Of course, Kento took full advantage of this. When he had fastened the buttons on the sleeves, he reached for his tie, with its unmistakable leopard pattern. It was still hanging on my right hand, lightly wrapped, reminding me of what had happened yesterday.

»You’re only mine. Understand?« His voice had been so dark when he had tied his tie around my wrists. So I had been completely at his mercy, throwing my head back with a moan and giving myself over completely. My hands were tied tightly to the bed above my head as he playfully ran his tongue up my thigh and then between my legs. He played around my clit, licked me and sucked on my womanhood. I had reared up in excitement, thrown my head back, rolled my eyes and opened my mouth so wide that nothing but moans and whimpers came out.

»Fuck…« I breathed out, not able to say anything else. But it wasn’t enough for him. Of course it hadn't been enough for him. And as long as he hadn't had his answer, he would delay my orgasm until he had heard what he wanted.

»Understand?« he repeated with emphasis in his voice, stopped sucking on my clit as I loved it and looked at me. I had looked down at my legs, his head between my thighs, my arousal on his lips.

»Yes, oh God, yes! I'm yours, Kento.« I had whimpered in desperation that I wouldn't have recognized myself. My hips wanted to grind against his mouth again, but he laughed softly to himself as he leaned closer to me again. His voice beat against my pussy and sent a thousand shivers through my body.

I could still feel the tremors from my climax and clenched my thighs even tighter. But nothing helped, so I hurriedly jumped off the bed and at least helped him with his tie. Maybe that would distract me a little.

»Let me, will you?«

He grinned, snuggled closer to me and placed his hands loosely on my hips. But he let me do it and watched my every move. I knew how to tie a tie, he had shown me often enough. But instead of it calming or distracting me, I thought back to last night. When I had been able to experience control for a moment, when I had sat on him and ridden him without hesitation. I grinned broadly, adjusted his tie and straightened his shirt collar.

»What are you thinking of?« he asked me amused.

»Oh God, yes...« He had moaned beneath me, hot-blooded and uninhibited. Had constantly thrust his hips against mine in unison, making me sink him even deeper inside me each time. I had moved slowly at first, then faster and faster on him, riding his cock with such impatience until another climax had built up in my abdomen. I felt him twitching and quivering inside me, felt that he was almost as far as I was. I had stretched my back, my breasts bouncing with every thrust and his hands dug into my hips.

»Fuck, I‘m cumming…oh god, I‘m cumming!«

»Cum for me…« he had growled darkly, sending me finally over the edge. I couldn’t stop grinning, moaning, letting everything out what I had felt in this moment. His hips continued to move for a while, I was still rubbing my wet pussy against his cock to savor every last spark of my orgasm. I could feel him quivering and cumming inside me too. Growling and moaning, his hands sunk firmly into my flesh. Something I loved besides letting him lead me was turning the tables on him. To see the excitement and lust on his face as I moved on top of him and the desperate need for release.

And as soon as I had sunk into the pillows next to him, his arms had wrapped around me and we had sunk into a deep and satisfying sleep. At least until this morning, which brought me back to the reality. Even though, as he took his jacket and left the flat with a kiss on my lips, I still couldn't think about anything else but how I would take off all his clothes tonight as slowly and efficiently as he had put them on.

#NanamixReader #kento x reader #kento x y/n #kento x you #jjk nanami #jjk smut #nanami x y/n #fanfic #smut #nanami kento #nanami kento x y/n #nanami smut #nanami kento smut

[formulakatya]

WAR IS OVER | MICK SCHUMACHER

“the worst was over, my hand was the one you reached for, all throughout the great war”

not my gif :)

summary: you’re forced to announce your retirement, but at least the great war is over and mick is here to tell you that

pairing: mick schumacher x ex figure skater!reader

notes: this my first ever post on tumblr & this piece of writing is severely rushed, like severely rushed because i had this idea in my head and so it is really bad and short. i might redo this when i have more time. also loosely based off ‘the great war’ by taylor :)

warnings: small mention of injuries, a little angst, (let me know if there’s anything i’ve missed out on), unedited work

—

cameras pointed in your direction and journalists gathered in the room with their notebooks, you took a deep breath. “i’ve called this emergency press conference to give an important announcement.”

the room had instantly become quiet, chatter dying down quickly as all eyes turned to you. there was no going back.

“throughout the years, i have managed to accomplish many things in figure skating; i have done jumps, spins and win competitions only my younger self could dream of. however, i have also put my body through many things— i have suffered from many injuries which i had chose to train and compete through…” you paused, taking a deep breath in as you felt tears well up in your eyes slowly.

cameras flashed as journalists scribbled furiously on their notepads. it was never your intention to make the announcement so soon, having the initial plan of pushing through another 2 seasons, but here you were in front of the very same crowd which you used to face after winning gold medals.

“…unfortunately, the consequences of it all has caught up to me. due to my health and injuries, i have lost almost all my ability to skate as i once did. i have caused both physical and mental damage to myself,” you took a deep sigh, reciting the script you had memorised at the top of your head after nights of crying over it. “it is against my wish to have to make this announcement so early but i have ultimately decided to retire from competitive figure skating.”

voice hoarse, the tears that flowed from your eyes were uncontrollable as choked sobs filled the room. throughout your relationship, mick had never seen you so distraught until then.

“i’m sorry,” mick spoke, finally finding the right words to say. “you shouldn’t have to retire so early on, you’re still so young…but i’m proud of you. i know it wasn’t easy but i’m glad you’re finally putting yourself first. sports isn’t everything.”

“i just…” your voice came out as a mere whisper, “i’m sad that it’s over but i’m also happy that it is. i no longer have to put myself through so much anymore but i can’t help but feel like i simply failed to perform. i could’ve tried to push on more…”

“you put yourself through too much,” mick let out a sigh, recounting the many stories you had told him and the training schedule you had before you had met him those 2 years ago. “i know it hurts to have to retire this young, but this decision is for the better.”

his heart ached for you, knowing just how much you tried to keep your career alive especially in the past year or so with the countless training hours that could easily challenge his.

“the war is over now,” mick comforted, using his thumb to wipe the tears away, “we’ll never go back to those horrible days again, never again.”

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher imagine #f1 fic #formula one fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one x you #formula one x reader

[lalal-99]

She's got a boyfriend {s.c.}

Inspired by Sex by The1975

Changbin x afab!reader | trope: sneaky-link | smut & angst-ish | 7.2k words

Synopsis: You know you shouldn't be doing this, but with your boyfriend acting like a complete dick you just need to get some comfort somewhere. Good thing Changbin is always just one call away.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and infidelity | cheating | explicit content | dni if your under 18

Smut tags: heavy make-out | grinding | oral (m. receiving) | deep throating (not too detailed) | car sex (almost) | nothing too hard-core | fingering (f. receiving) | let me know if I missed something

Note: I almost cried writing this on multiple occasions. I just fell in love with this depiction of Changbin and I hope you do too. Enjoy!

@maru-matt @grandfestivalalienlight @bubblelixie @reighlee-greaves @idunnomanmynamewastaken @punks-rad @minaamhh @bangchans-angel @sunflowers-rae @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream @m0rph3dbu773rfly

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And this was how it started, you running towards Changbin’s car, eyes bloodshot from the alcohol and the crying he knew you had done tonight. He hated that look on you, especially knowing how preventable all the sadness and frustration was, if you just gave him a real chance. Because Changbin could treat you so much better than that guy. So much he knew.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a forced smile. It was a smile so short that he wasn’t sure if it happened or if his eyes were betraying him for his own good, so that he wouldn’t immediately head into the house he was parked in front of and beat up your boyfriend.

“Hi.”

The second you had closed the door behind you, Changbin drove off, softly accelerating as he made his way down the road. The music from the party was becoming fainter by the second until, after a while, it stopped.

“You wanna talk about it?” Changbin questioned, unsure whether you had called him to complain or simply for comfort.

“Do I ever?” you whispered, an almost silent sniffle leaving your nostrils. Changbin could tell that you were trying not to show how truly upset you were for his sake. You knew all too well how angry Changbin could get whenever you told him about your boyfriend’s actions.

“Okay.”

Changbin didn’t push you. He never did, which was probably for the better anyways. Because he had never particularly liked hearing about your boyfriend – not the good parts and definitely not the bad parts. If it were up to him, the guy wouldn’t even be in your life.

Out of habit, you took off your shoes, pulling your legs up towards your chest for comfort and temperature reasons. You were clad in nothing but a shirt, a skirt, and fishnet stockings, so that you were feeling cold was no surprise with it being November and all.

“Here, take this!” Changbin said as he pulled his hoodie over his head, careful not to crash his car, before passing it to you. Usually, you would have rejected his offer. You were already so cold despite all the alcohol in your blood, so he must have been freezing. Though, right now, every bit of comfort was welcome.

“Thank you!”

As soon as you pulled the thick piece of clothing over your head, Changbin’s scent filled your nostrils, making a faint smile appear on your face. He noticed your short spurt of calmness and the way his hoodie looked hanging over your shoulder, and it warmed his heart.

“So...” Changbin’s voice trailed off as he forced himself to look at the road in front of you. “Yours or mine?”

“What do you wanna do? We could watch a movie or listen to music. Or we could- Woah!”

The second the two of you stepped into his bedroom, right after Changbin had closed the door behind himself, your hands were on him, pulling him onto his bed.

“I had a different idea in mind,” you told him with a grin as you sat on his lap. Changbin pushed his upper body off the mattress, meeting you halfway as you closed the gap between you in a heated kiss. Everything happened so quickly; he couldn’t have escaped your advances. Not even if he had wanted to.

As soon as Changbin tasted your lips, a hint of sweet alcohol still lingering on them, he was intoxicated, kissing you back just as hungrily. It was the same thing every time. He thought he could keep control, but as soon as your scent entered his Atmos, he was over and done for.

The feeling of your hands against his chest almost made him go feral. It was as if your touch controlled his heartbeat, and honestly, he didn’t mind. Your hands set his heart racing, the blood in his veins rushing through every part of his body. It didn’t take a minute for him to start feeling your effect on him.

In the back of his mind, Changbin always wondered if you could feel how excited he got. Until now, despite him getting this aroused every time you made out, you had never said anything about it. It was as though you had no idea how badly he wanted you, which was unbelievable to Changbin. Everyone knew, so how come you didn’t when you must have felt him strain against your crotch?

“Use your hands,” you ordered when you noticed that Changbin was keeping them behind his back to prop himself up. He could have certainly supported himself with his core alone.

As though your wish was his command, his hands made their way up your body, over your barely covered legs, until he reached your waist, gently gliding over the exposed skin. His actions caused goosebumps all over your skin, which he didn’t trust himself to think about further. It gave him confidence, though he didn’t want to read too much into it when he knew that you didn’t feel the same for him as he did for you. Even if you made out with him occasionally, he understood you just did it to get back at your boyfriend for whatever he had done to you.

Because Changbin wanted to take every bit he could get of you, he had kept his mouth shut up until now.

When he noticed just how much you enjoyed his touch, Changbin decided to go further this time. While your hands were wrapped around his neck, keeping him still for you to do as you pleased, his fingers started running up your stomach and towards your chest. And since you didn’t stop him, he decided to do something he had dreamed about so often in the past months.

Slowly but firmly, his fingers wandered below your bra, meeting your bare breasts. It made your breath hitch as you bit his lip in response, overwhelmed by the feeling of his strong hands all over you. Experimentally, he flicked one of your nipples, getting the exact reaction he had hoped for. Your back arched into him, your mouth leaving his as you threw your head into your neck, a soft groan escaping your lips. Changbin swore he had a tiny orgasm when you did.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” you whimpered, your arms ensuring enough space between the two of you so that Changbin could do his thing without any difficulty.

He pressed his lips against your neck simply so he wouldn’t accidentally profess his love for you out of sheer arousal. It was one thing to feel your reaction to him touching you, but a whole other thing to hear you say it.

As his tongue ran over your throat, leaving wet kisses along the way, you started grinding into him – unintentionally, that was. With his hands and lips all over you, you were bound to lose control at some time. Who could have known just how good Changbin was at all of this?

Until now, it had never gone beyond the point of making out. It was bad enough that you did when you had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who made you hate yourself every chance he got, and a boyfriend who cared for only himself, but a boyfriend, nonetheless. As much as you hated him sometimes, you could have never gone beyond making out with someone else. At least you thought you never could. But with Changbin doing so well in making you feel good, you needed to be extra careful not to let this go too far.

“You’re so good to me. So much better than him.”

Those words, as accidental as they were, broke Changbin. Where there was a hint of control before, after your confession, it became too much for him. Too much to handle and too much to still care about his feelings, possibly getting hurt. If not now, he would never get you all to himself.

So, without another thought in his head, one of Changbin’s hands made its way down your torso, only stopping once he hit the button of your skirt. With skilled fingers, Changbin opened it in a singular movement, pulling the zipper down as far as possible before throwing you onto his mattress so that he could position himself over you. And then, with his bulky legs on either side of your body, he took his shirt off. For the first time ever, you saw how well he was built, and it slowly but surely made you go crazy.

His muscular arms were only the start of a body you were sure had been trained for years. The breadth of his shoulders only further accentuated the tightness of his abs. When you noticed his perfectly sculptured chest muscles, you were close to completely losing it.

Before you could say anything to him, he had already started making his way down your body, his hot skin burning yours. He ran his tongue over your waistline for a while as he tried to take this moment in. As much as he wanted to stall to let this picture burn itself into his brain, Changbin was sure he wouldn’t last another second without tasting you, so he quickly moved on to your skirt.

Just when he was about to remove it, devouring you in a heartbeat – you were sure of that – you needed to end this.

“Binnie, no!”

Again, as though your words were his command, Changbin stopped immediately. A look of terror came across his face as his eyes met yours, trying to figure out if he had fucked things up entirely.

“I’m so sorry,” you told him, your hands coming up to shield your face in embarrassment. “But we can’t.”

Changbin looked at you in confusion, fearful he had misread the situation. You needed to assure him that it was nothing he had done – otherwise, he would have blamed all of this on himself.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Believe me, I do – more than anything, actually. But I have a boyfriend.” 

“You don’t have to remind me.” Changbin sounded spiteful, the simple mention of your crappy worse half annoying him.

“I know he sucks sometimes, but I can’t just cheat on him.” Changbin’s reaction confused you as he seemed to be in utter disbelief.

“What do you mean? We’ve been doing this for like six months. We’re far beyond just cheating by now.”

“Well, you might see it that way. But to me, this doesn’t count. It’s… nothing,” you explained, unintentionally breaking a piece of Changbin’s heart. Sure, he had already assumed you were just in this for the thrill and the comfort, but hearing you say it to his face... It almost broke the whole of him. “We’ve been kissing. That’s it. I’m sure my boyfriend’s kissed a ton of girls while being with me, so this is simply… getting back at him.”

As soon as those words had left your mouth, Changbin rolled off you, grabbing his shirt from beside your body before putting it back on and sitting down at the edge of his bed. A short moment of regret followed before you reminded yourself that this had to be done.

“Don’t be mad, please!” you begged him, a hint of despair in your voice.

“I’m not-” Changbin cut himself off when he noticed how angry and fierce he sounded. It shocked him a little as he had always been sure you were the one person he could never yell at. A deep breath made him gain back control over his emotions, or at least the part of them he was willing to show to you. “I’m not angry. I’m frustrated.”

“Because I won’t have sex with you?” 

“Sure. Because I’m just a total jerk, right? Like your asshole boyfriend?”

Changbin didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but that you could even think all he wanted was to sleep with you made him so furious. Because even if you didn’t plan on ever sleeping with him, he would still let you use him like you had the past few months.

The guilty look on your face made Changbin regret ever saying anything.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“What’s going on with you, Binnie?” One of your hands came to his messy hair, softly running through the soft curls to comfort him. It was the least you could do after being the reason for his outrage. “You’re acting really strange.”

“You really don’t know?” You simply shook your head, eyebrows knitting together. At this point, Changbin just wanted to get this over with. So, with a sigh, he finally confessed what had been on the tip of his tongue for a while. “I’m frustrated because you still think your boyfriend will somehow change and become a decent guy. You’re holding on to something that just doesn’t work anymore, and if you just gave me a chance, I know I could… I know I’d be….”

Changbin stopped mid-sentence, overwhelmed by the thoughts running through his mind. There was so much he had held in and wanted to tell you, but he somehow didn’t find the right words.

Running his hand over his face, Changbin was trying to think of how to put it so that you would finally understand the depth of his feelings towards you. 

“I know you’re just doing this-“ he pointed between the two of you, “to get back at him, and honestly, I’m fine with that, but what we’re doing is so far beyond cheating, it just doesn’t make sense you don’t see it that way.” With those words, Changbin got off his bed, your touches – even if innocent – distracting him from telling you everything he wanted you to know. “You come to me whenever he hurts you, and you talk to me about your most inner fears and feelings. And only about two minutes ago, you said you wanted to sleep with me, more than anything. This isn’t just cheating in the physical, conservative way. You’re being unfaithful emotionally. Honestly, at this point, we might as well just fuck. It wouldn’t make a difference.”

“Why does putting a label on this even matter to you? I’m not cheating on you, am I?” you questioned, his frustration rubbing off on you. It was bad enough that you had been tormenting yourself about this whole thing for the past few months. But hearing how Changbin agreed, calling you a cheater when he was about the only person you felt you could trust anymore, made you understandably angry.

“Because he shouldn’t be your boyfriend in the first place. I should. You said it yourself, I’m much better to you than him. So, just be with me!” Changbin came to a halt before you, looking right into your eyes as the words left his mouth. For a few seconds, he searched them for a reaction, but other than surprise, he got nothing.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Silence fell upon you as you tried to take in what you had just learned. Despite the whole nature of your relationship – Changbin always being there for you, comforting you when your boyfriend hurt you – his confession was a total shock to you.

“I didn’t think you felt the same for me, but after everything you just said, I don’t think I was all that right. Do you even love him?”

“Binnie, don’t do this to me. Please!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t go on like this. Not when there might be a chance that you could be with me,” Changbin explained as he took your shaking hands into his. “Tell me, right now, do you like him more than me?”

Again, a thick veil of quiet hung over you. It was heavy, so heavy you couldn’t breathe.

“Binnie…” your voice broke, emotions taking over. “I don’t know what you want to hear.”

“I think you do,” Changbin said, one of his hands coming up to your face, softly running over your cheek. Subconsciously, you leaned into his touch for a second before drawing away. That simple act, even though it didn’t compare to words, was enough for Changbin to assume your answer himself. Taking a step back and letting your hands slip from his grip, he took a deep breath to calm down. You couldn’t have been sure, but you thought you saw a single tear gathering in the corner of his eye. “I’m gonna drive you home now.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement as he rushed past you and out of the room. With a heavy heart and a guilty feeling inside your gut, you followed him.

The tension in the car was thick. You both felt it, even if you had different reasons for it.

Changbin wanted this car ride to end as soon as possible. It wasn’t because he didn’t like being around you anymore now that you had unintentionally broken his heart. More like the total opposite, actually. With every minute he was around you – hearing your breath, feeling your presence, smelling your scent – the need to just get over his feelings and kiss you again grew worse. Even if that meant you’d be right back where you started. Making out without a care, releasing the tension your boyfriend had caused you. He didn’t trust himself to make the right, logical decisions and spear himself from the pain while in your proximity, so he wanted to get out of it. For his sake and yours.

You, on the other hand, didn’t want this ride to end. You feared that the moment you got out of the car, Changbin would drive off into the distance and be out of your life for good. And even though that would have been the right, logical next step, at least so that you stood faithful to your boyfriend, you didn’t want that. Because Changbin, other than your boyfriend, made you feel safe. Loved. At this moment, you needed to grasp every opportunity to feel like a human rather than an object someone could easily toy with. Unfortunately, your boyfriend hadn’t and couldn’t give that to you.

It was a real dilemma, two people who desperately wanted to be with each other but couldn’t because of stupid rules and basic human decency. You should have felt guilty for even thinking about someone else like that, but somehow you didn’t. Maybe you would have had your boyfriend not been doing the same thing, letting you know just how many alternatives he had.

Thinking of all the girls with whom your boyfriend had probably cheated on you, your heart grew heavy. It burned your lungs and throat, and soon enough, you couldn’t breathe anymore. Paired with the overwhelming feeling of loss, as soon as Changbin left his hometown, it quickly became too much for you. Perhaps it was that you knew how right now would most likely be the last moments you shared with him.

“Changbin, stop!”

The second Changbin brought his car to a halt at the side of the road, you undid your seatbelt before opening the door and heading outside.

The wind blew through the dark fields before you, hitting your body in a strong, cold gush. It was refreshing, so much so that you felt like you could breathe and think again. For about a minute, you simply stood there, reflecting on everything that had just happened, trying to figure out how to fix it. Because giving up wasn’t an option if it meant that you could and likely would lose Changbin.

“y/n, get back in the car,” Changbin called from behind you as your watery eyes kept staring into the distance. “Come on, now! It’s cold outside, and I don’t have any more hoodies to give you.”

As you were reminded of the thick piece of clothing still hugging your figure, your eyes wandered towards it. Subconsciously, you had held onto it throughout the past minutes as though it was a life jacket. A lifeline you were desperately clinging to. You remembered how Changbin had handed it to you the second he realised you were cold and the feeling it had given you ever since. And suddenly, the realisation hit you.

For as long as you recalled, Changbin had always been like that. He had always made sure you were okay before anything else. He had never pushed you further than you were comfortable with. He had never even asked you a question that could have possibly offended you. Whenever you had vented to him about your boyfriend’s actions, he had simply sat there, listening. He never once complained, even though you knew he hated it. For Changbin, you came first. Always.

You felt stupid for not seeing it earlier when the signs had been there, ever since you met Changbin a year earlier.

“y/n?” As Changbin called out for you again, you turned around, catching him leaning up against the open car door on his side of the car. Concern was laced in his voice and visible on his face.

“Coming,” you told him as you made your way back to the car, closing the door behind you after sliding onto the comfortable seat. His eyes followed you, his body only joining you once he was sure you were safe and sound inside his car. 

“You good?” Changbin asked, his eyes still searching your body for a hint of what had happened. He was clueless as to why you had made him stop in the middle of nowhere, just to step out of the car and stare at nothing.

He waited for an answer, as always so considerate to give you enough time, so you nodded. There was so much you wanted to tell him. All the pieces finally started fitting together, though you needed a minute to see the whole picture. When Changbin’s hands met the steering wheel, his right hand about to turn the ignition, you stopped him. Your left hand came to grasp his, quickly catching his attention. His eyes found you, again so confused as to why you were acting the way you did. 

“Stop,” you whispered, voice still too weak to talk properly. The way Changbin’s eyes bored into you made you so nervous. Because the last time he had looked at you that way, mere minutes earlier when you were still in his room, you had hurt him. “I need to tell you something. So, please just... Don’t drive yet.”

Slowly his hands left their places, landing in his lap as his eyes wandered towards the road ahead. The patience he had, even until this moment, still surprised you. He could have easily ignored your words and driven off to get away from you as soon as possible. You knew he wanted to, but still, he didn’t. He was patient, considerate, and put you first, like always. So, the least you could do was be honest.

“The reason why I can’t have sex with you isn’t that I don’t want to.” 

“You don’t have to explain, y/n. It’s fine. I get it. You don’t want to cheat on your….“ For the first time ever, you noticed Changbin’s inability to say the word boyfriend in reference to your relationship. Had this not been a serious situation, you would have probably teased him for it. “On him. I need to accept that.” 

“Binnie, just... Please shut up for a moment,” you ordered him, eager to finally voice your mind. Changbin didn’t need to be told twice, his mouth closing as soon as you had told him to. “The reason I can’t have sex with you isn’t that I don’t want to. It’s that sex with you might break everything. Break me.”

Changbin’s eyes darted towards you, his face a mix of shock and confusion. You couldn’t blame him for that, either. Had you just been given a little more time, even just a few more minutes, so that you got think about how to phrase your words, it would have made a lot more sense. But you didn’t have more time. You needed to tell him now, so you wouldn’t risk completely losing him.

“The thing I used to love most about my relationship was the sex. I know that isn’t a good thing and that a relationship should be much more than that, but it is true. I used to love loving my boyfriend, everywhere and anytime. It didn’t matter because I was always in the mood.”

“Please, stop talking,” Changbin spoke, his hands now in fists, knuckles white enough for you to start worrying.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, and I’m sorry. But just… bear with me, okay? I’m actually going somewhere,” you tried calming Changbin down, though you weren’t sure if it was working. So, you merely kept going. “As I said, I used to love... doing it. And I didn’t think anything could change that. And then it did. All of a sudden, I just couldn’t do it anymore. The plug was pulled, and I wasn’t interested in it anymore.”

As your eyes were focused on your hands in your lap, you felt Changbin’s gaze on your skin. It made you nervous as much as it made you feel warm. He was truly listening to you, something so simple, though at the same time meaningful.

“I tried convincing myself that it was normal. That after a year of being together, we just lost that initial spark. That just happens. At least, that’s what I thought.” You bit your lip, feeling your emotions gradually taking over you. “But now… I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong.”

You teared up. Maybe it was the realisation that your relationship was falling apart before your eyes. Even if the past few months had been awful, you had still loved your boyfriend at some point. Realising that you had been lying to yourself just to try and stay faithful to someone who treated you like garbage was a rather emotional situation.

Your sudden outburst may have also been because of Changbin and how he observed you, still with so much love and adoration. Something you weren’t sure you deserved after how you had treated him. For months, you had acted as though you two meant nothing. Like he was just your way of coping with your boyfriend’s actions. You had even said it to his face just ten minutes ago.

It made you feel dirty. Guilty.

“Please don’t cry, y/n.” One of Changbin’s hands came up to your face, wiping the tears away from your cheeks. It was the last drop, one action that made you surer than ever that you needed to finally listen to your heart.

“I think that maybe, I lost interest in him because of you.”

Changbin stopped all his movements, his finger lingering below your cheekbone as he stared at you in disbelief. As if, with one short sentence, you had made all his efforts worthwhile. All the sleepless nights he had spent thinking of you, wanting to be with you, hug you, cuddle with you, make love to you. Finally, it was not for nothing. 

“What are you saying, y/n?” Changbin needed to make sure his ears hadn’t betrayed him. He had dreamt about this moment - you coming to terms with your feelings for him - too often to not be hesitant now. He didn’t want to risk losing you because of a simple misunderstanding on his part.

“I’m saying that there is a possibility that me meeting you was around the same time that I lost interest in him… I don’t know. Maybe it’s uncorrelated. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense.” With the following words, you turned your head to look at him, your eyes still a little glassy. “I think I’m in love with- you.“

Changbin couldn’t stop himself. Hearing those words come out of your mouth was everything Changbin had dreamed of and more. It was overwhelming in so many ways that he couldn’t help but kiss you. Out of relief as much as out of love. Because after six months of letting you go every night so that you could sleep in another man’s bed, he knew so much. He loved you with every piece of his heart.

When you kissed him back after a few moments of hesitation, Changbin was sure his heart exploded into a thousand little puzzle pieces. The blood in his veins was going crazy, rushing to every part of his body just like it had done back at his place. That he could be aroused simply by your kiss was unbelievable to him.

You let him take over you for a while, giving him what you could tell he had craved for so long. You. And all of you, not just that part you were willing to commit.

When he moved his seat as far back as possible and pulled you over the centre console onto his lap, you let him. It was close to impossible to not lose focus when Changbin’s lips felt so native to your skin. As though you were a magnet pulling him towards you – his mouth to your neck and his hands to your hips, waist and thighs. It didn’t take long for you to notice the impact his antics had on you.

Changbin’s mouth was glued to your neck, licking over the most sensitive parts, his hands groping onto you below his hoodie. Your walls were throbbing below your shorts, around nothing when all you needed was him inside you. That’s what it felt like, at least. As though you would combust if you didn’t take this further.

As much as you loved Changbin pulling you so close, manhandling you just because he lost himself in finally having you all to himself, you knew it couldn’t go on. Even though it damn right felt like it at the moment, he didn’t have you all to himself. There was still a part of you that was attached somewhere else, to somebody else. 

“Bin-” you moaned, cutting yourself off while struggling to stop this. Honestly, there was so much you wanted to do with and to Changbin, though stopping him was not on the list. Nevertheless, it needed to be done. So, with a little more force to your voice and a slight push to his chest, you spoke up again, “Binnie!”

As expected, Changbin stopped his antics, his face coming up to look at you, cheeks red, lips frozen in a smile. How you could not give him the world right that moment, you didn’t know. 

“You want to go back to my place?” he questioned, hand already halfway at the ignition.

“No, that’s not it,” you replied, closing your eyes so that, maybe, this became a little easier. “I don’t think we should be doing anything right now. At least not before I got the chance to talk to him.”

Changbin’s smile dropped, which was to be expected after you had blown him off. Of course, he would have never pushed you to do anything with him when you didn’t want to. Though he was more than sure that it wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You stopping anything else from happening was decency. Something your boyfriend didn’t deserve to begin with, but it made Changbin love you even more.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Changbin accepting your decision with no reluctance shouldn’t have surprised you at this point. It made your heart swell anyway. After two years with someone constantly cheating on you, hurting you, and not taking you seriously, Changbin was a true blessing.

“What? You expected me to force you to have sex with me just because you told me you have the hots for me?”

“Of course not.” A light chuckle escaped your lips at his never-ending joy. “You’re the perfect gentleman. Always have been,” you told him, planting a tender kiss on his lips.

Somehow, knowing you couldn’t sleep with him at the moment, and his acceptance, didn’t stop the heat roaring inside you. You knew you would never forgive yourself if you had sex with Changbin before talking to your boyfriend and ending things. Still, it felt like you were about to explode from all the build-up tension inside. Especially after forcing yourself to not give in to your urges twice in one night.

You probably shouldn’t have, but you decided at this point that, maybe, just a little taste of Changbin wouldn’t hurt. It would definitely help benefit your cravings, knowing how at least one of you got lucky tonight. And you were more than willing to let it be him.

 When you drew away from his lips, you leaned your forehead against his. It was an innocent action that could have easily led to him taking you home right away. At least to an unexpecting Changbin, it did. The grin on your face went unnoticed by him.

“I just wish there was a way I could thank you for that,” you said, softly kissing the side of his neck. “And for waiting.” Another kiss, a little closer to his collarbone while your hands made their way down his torso. “And for always respecting me.”

“Why would you thank me for that? That’s what you do for the people you-”

That Changbin stopped talking this time wasn’t because you had in any way told him to do so. It was the natural reaction to you getting off his lap and kneeling in front of him on the floor of his car, right between his thighs and the steering wheel. That it was mere centimetres from hitting your head didn’t bother you. 

“What are you doing?” Changbin questioned in confusion, looking down at you, eyebrows drawn together. Only when your hand met his thighs, pushing them apart so you could comfortably sit between them, did he get your idea. And when your hand landed on top of his noticeable bulge, slightly applying pressure, there was no doubt left in his mind. He understood that you were about to do what he had already assumed. “Woah!”

“Let me thank you, okay?”

The confident smile on your lips as you let your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his sweatpants made a pool of saliva gather in Changbin’s mouth. He swallowed hard before lifting his hips off the car seat so that you could pull his pants and underwear down his legs. The moments he was freed from his constraints, his swollen cock slapped against his stomach, all red and ready. That he had agreed to hold up on having sex was so much more meaningful now that you knew how much he must have been aching.

 With his head thrown back against his seat, Changbin simply waited for you to start. He was worried he would come too soon if he watched you go down on him. Too bad you wouldn’t have any of that.

“Look at me, Binnie,” you told Changbin, and with a deep breath, prepared to give anything to make himself last, his face turned to look at you.

When he noticed the adorable expression on your face, so sure of yourself and so excited to give him as much pleasure as he could take, he almost lost it. You slowly made your way up his bare thighs, leaving love marks every few centimetres, hands massaging his thick muscles.

“You good?” you questioned when you noticed how tense Changbin was, his thighs like rocks beneath your hands. 

“Y-Yes,” he answered, his voice breaking far too often for a three-letter word. You chuckled as you sat up a little further for better access.

Eventually, you let your fingers glide up Changbin’s girth, slowly and with as little pressure as you could muster. When you hit his tip, you felt him twitch below you as you softly let your thumb run over it, collecting his salty arousal.

“Mhm.” The moan leaving his throat sounded too heavenly to be natural, the sound flowing straight to your core. Your self-confidence only doubled, and so you finally let your lips touch him. Kissing your way up along the prominent vein on the underside, you soon reached the tip, replacing your thumb with your lips. The second your tongue met his most sensitive body part, you felt Changbin unintentionally buck into you.

Changbin wasn’t extraordinarily big, though the way his hips moved against your mouth in circles weakened your knees. Just imagining him doing the same movements inside you made you giddy. It also spurred you on, knowing and seeing just how good you could make him feel. And you had not even come close to doing what you knew you were capable of.

After focusing on his head for a while, kissing and licking all over him, you started taking him in deeper. It wasn’t deep enough to have him hit the back of your throat yet, though you were able to hollow your cheeks a little. The groan escaping his lips let you know just how good it must have already felt.

One of Changbin’s hands came to your head, fingers weaving though your hair to allow him more control over you. That he was becoming bolder every second, losing himself in the feeling of you, would have been more than enough reward for you. Though, when he started whispering silent praises, possibly unintended, you hit a whole new high. 

“Feels amazing…” Changbin mumbled through the wet sounds of your movement around him. It made you want to give even more of yourself to him. “So perfect.”

The more you let yourself go in the moment, squeezing Changbin’s thigh whenever murmured words of admiration left his lips, the faster you went. Your own excitement seemed almost impossible with how low your sex drive had been over the past year. Apparently, the problem hadn’t been you, as your boyfriend had often declared. To find that you weren’t broken but had simply been with the wrong person was a huge relief.

“Good god.”

The almost silent prayer took you back as you realised that Changbin had hit the back of your throat. That it was enough for him to start twitching inside your mouth, his head now thrown back against the headrest, made you want to do the same thing again. As uncomfortable as it was, you didn’t care as long as he was in bliss.

“Please…” Changbin begged, his voice merely above silence, and you were more than willing to give him what he wanted. So, with your grip around his thighs tightening, you let him slip deeper again. Until he reached deep enough for you to start gagging lightly. “Fuck!”

Changbin propped his left leg against the door on his side for leverage, bucking his hips against you, meeting your mouth in the middle. The scene must have looked so feral from the outside, the sounds and scents inside the car what you imagined porn to smell and sound like.

With your eyes squeezed shut, you gladly let him use you. When his second hand came to the back of your head, holding you still so that he could go his pace, you knew he was close. The first spurt of his high followed mere seconds later, the salty liquid running straight down your throat. That was when he finally calmed inside of you, the rest of him filling your mouth.

Soon enough, Changbin stopped twitching, his head rolling forward just in time to watch you swallow all his release. With cheeks tinted red, he bit his lips, feeling guilty for finishing so unexpectedly.

“Sorry,” he apologised as he took himself out of your mouth, a string of saliva clinging onto your lower lip. “Are you alright?”

“Ye-“ a cough cut you off, so Changbin hastily grabbed a bottle of water out of the compartment in the driver’s door. You mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ before emptying the whole bottle. When he also handed you a tissue to wipe away the access wetness from your lips, your heart rate had calmed down again.

Discarding the bottle on the backseat of his car, you slowly made your way back to the passenger’s seat, watching Changbin clean himself off before pulling his pants back up. Had this not been some of the messiest head of your life, it would have been a real sight for the Gods.

For a while, you simply sat next to each other, enjoying the moment as he came down from this highest of highs. He looked so ethereal, with his curly hair all messy and sweaty, his skin still so red and sticky from sweating so much. You couldn’t help but smile at this sight.

“What?” Changbin asked when he noticed your staring.

“Nothing,” you shrugged off. “Just wishing that I didn’t have a conscience, you know? I really want to go back to your place right about now and let you do all the things I know you’re dying to do.”

“Cheeky,” he teased you, leaning over the centre console of his car to kiss you even more intimately than before.

As you let yourself be taken in by his presence again, his scent so much wilder than usual, you noticed how aroused you truly were. With how soaked your panties were, you were surprised that your juices weren’t rolling down your legs already. 

Changbin seemed to notice your restlessness as he smiled against your lips.

“You know, it’s still early,” he explained with a smirk as his fingers met your fishnet-clad thigh, running higher up each second. “I bet that party isn’t over yet. Just, you know, if you want to go talk to him now.”

That game Changbin was playing was very unfair. His fingers running over your legs so faintly, barely touching you as they wandered higher and higher up, were distracting. And when his fingertip finally reached your soaked underwear, running along your slit over the thin fabric, you closed your eyes for a second.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the moan, when his finger tapped against your hooded clit a few times. It prompted sparks inside your veins like your body was the host to a firework. It gave you an idea of how good Changbin could treat you and how good he could make you feel. It quickly overshadowed all your morality.

“Drive!”

“You sure?” Changbin questioned cheekily, brushing his fingers against your nub a few times, running over it in slow circles.

“Don’t ask stupid questions. Just get me to that damn party.”

Changbin turned the ignition almost instantly, rapidly stirring the car to turn around. With one hand on the stirring wheel, his other hand picked up its pace right that moment. It made you jolt at the unexpected movement, a knot starting to form in your stomach already. A string of curse words left your mouth as you threw your head back at how amazing his fingers felt now that he wasn’t just teasing.

“Your wish is my command,” Changbin triumphantly added as he looked at you cheerfully. “Always.”

MasterlistLeave feedback!

#changbin hard thoughts #changbin scenarios #skz smut #changbin smut #skz x you #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #kpop scenarios #skz x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #kpop fanfic #kpop x y/n #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids smut #skz changbin x you #skz changbin x reader #changbin drabbles #changbin x you #changbin x y/n #changbin x reader #Spotify

[neonscandal]

https://www.tumblr.com/neonscandal/743718249842278400/the-girls-that-get-it-get-it?source=share

When I woke up just found your post...😭😳

Now, I just knew that you also ship castiel and eruri, Neon.... Can I ask your thoughts on those two ships?

I love the idea that you woke up to that post. 😅 Let that be what I'm remembered for, I guess haha

DESTIEL

There was something magical and embarrassing about being on tumblr during SuperWhoLock and I regret none of it. 👀 The queer baiting, on queer baiting, on queer baiting of Supernatural for 14 seasons before finally confirming what they'd strewn throughout the show was a short lived satisfaction considering how it ended. Adored ship, shit writing for it to all dissolve into a "bury your gays" trope. Ironically, I would very much compare this ship to if Katsuki Bakugo and Shoto Todoroki were to get together. I've said before somewhere that Bakugo is basically Dean Winchester. Now that I'm thinking about it, cold, doe eyed Castiel who warms up over time to socialization is for sure Todoroki. Ya know, for any of you TodoBaku's out there looking for inspo 🍰💥

ERURI

I subsist on a pretty filling diet of sarajamss' tiktok content which really keeps the ship alive. Levi is one of my favorite characters. But it feels like Iseyama wrote the man to suffer. How do you end up alone twice? Durable beyond reason and forced to bear the burden of his every comrade. Levi is the resilient flower that sprouts in the cracks of concrete. It would make sense to be harsh coming from the Underground. But the imperceptible softness he had for his regimen and the commander who never treated him like a threat (despite literally being sent to kill him)? I don't know why that's so cloying to me but it is. "Give up on your dreams and die" might as well have been "I love you" because, between them, there was the understanding of what that moment was and an implicit trust that Levi would make the sacrifice worth it.

Okay. Beginning to think I might be part of the problem.

#neon asks #anon asks #destiel #eruri #spn #aot #snk #supernatural #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #castiel #dean winchester #levi ackerman #erwin smith #anime #manga #tdbk #todobaku

[godsofhumanity]

🪓 desert-storm69 Follow

aita for not giving my nephew his inheritance?

i (M) come from a family 4. i have two sisters and a brother (older than me). growing up, my brother was always wayyy more favoured than I. Our father gave him all of his property and titles instead of me when he decided to retire. i was annoyed about this since i should’ve been included in the inheritance, but didn’t say anything because i’m pretty strong myself and not a crybaby. Anyways, a little while ago, my brother passed away (unrelated story, do not ask me for context. it was a NATURAL passing), and so i, like a good brother, took over my brother’s property and household and have been managing it peacefully ever since 😌.

However, recently my brother’s wife decided to come back to town and claims that her son should be managing the property instead of me. i politely told her that i’m a lot older than her son (he has no real world experience and would definitely be overwhelmed by the role), and so it really would be better for everyone if i stayed in charge. She argued that since it was originally my brother’s property, therefore his son should get everything, but i think that since my brother’s property was actually our father’s property and i’m the only remaining son of our father, it should be mine. my SIL decided to throw a big stink and has gotten all of our extended family involved too and no one can really make a decision about who the property should go to. my nephew and i have been forced to participate in all sorts of weird “trials” to try and see who’s best suited to stay in charge, and it’s just been incredibly exhausting 🙄 (yes, i have been winning ALL of them!). none of this would have happened if my SIL hadn’t gotten involved.

I’m really saddened by the way my SIL has handled the whole thing, and i know that her son just isn’t ready to take over from me 😒. He’s incredibly immature, short-tempered and generally unlikeable. Some things he’s done during this whole scenario include: chopping his mother’s head off, jacking off in MY LUNCH!!, and making an “L” sign on his forehead every time he sees me. i just can’t stand the idea of a little brat like him taking what i’ve worked so hard to protect and grow 😡😡.

☀️ sun-official Follow

NTA!! your nephew sounds stupid, and you sound like a good, strong, upstanding member of society. don’t give up the fight! ignore all the idiotic replies. i’m sorry you had to go through this, if you need some more advice, feel free to DM me.

🪓 desert-storm69 Follow

no, i never even TOUCHED him. i’m nice to him all the time. he’s just crazy.

🪄 i-want-my-mummy Follow

uhmmm Set?? is that you. i s2g if this is you.. YTA stop lying about everything and please keep your hands and feet to yourself around my son!!

🧟‍♂️ hi-im-mummy-deactivated00200121

YTA, can you please just give @i-want-my-mummy's and my son what he deserves... we've been arguing about this for like 80+ years.

🪓 desert-storm69 Follow

how the hell are you even replying on my post?!?! i thought i got you deactivated!!!! @ staff deactivate everyone voting "YTA" immediately!!!!11!!

#y'all only hate me because i threatened to kill you all on multiple occasions #weaklings

(534 notes)

#is this anything... i thought it was the funniest thing of my life #i love seeing those reddit threads. i've had this drafted for ages now and now im finally posting ^-^ #egyptian gods #egyptian mythology #contendings of horus and set #seth #set #horus #osiris #isis #ra #re #neith #incorrect egyptian gods #incorrect egyptian mythology #incorrect mythology #mythology #mythology memes #egyptian mythology memes #memes #mine #og

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

I feel like no one talks about the whole mumbattan sequence can you do a deep dive on that one

Oh Mumbattan, there is so much to unpack.

What I mean like that is that we have a lot of stuff going on not just on screen, but Miles and Gwen as well, which a lot of changes thanks to the circumstances and characters of screen. If it took me two posts to talk just about a portion of the Clock Tower scene, I am sure Mumbattan is going to be multiple.

They will probably be short since I think there are a lot of moments not necessarily connected to the ones before, that I think that deserve their own post, etc.

So let's start Mumbattan with the actual beginning, or at least the beginning of Gwen's and Miles interactions in Mumbattan.

As per custom, we start a little earlier since set up is important.

(Side note, I just lost half of the original post because Tumblr is a nightmare to use for post and I will probably fist fight whoever coded this if given the chance. So the writing and the screenshots may be a bit rough because I am pissed.)

Something that caught my attention while rewinding this scene, was Gwen's exchange and behaviour towards the spot here.

I think is good time to remember that Gwen is probably an internal mess right now.

She knew she blew up with The Spot, she got cocky, thought the guy was going to be easy, and focused on Miles more than in her mission.

Gwen is in a tough position right now, she is basically homeless, she needed to abandon her old life, her home and the people in her life; none of those things are easy, let alone when you are forced to and being a teen.

The Spidersociety seems kind of a like a dream come true at first, and she is happy to be in it; but we can see how she is still missing certain things the society just cannot give her. A company is not a replacement for family and friends. I honestly believe part of the reason she is hyped about it is because she wants to focus on the positives to avoid the negatives.

Seeing Miles was a gamble, one where she risked too much by refusing to leave his side, and she may pay the price for this; she earlier was looking extremely shaken at the idea of being sent home.

While she is having all of this, it didn't escape me the longing and the defeat in her face when she say goodbye to Miles without knowing he was there. That is also weighting on her.

Not gonna lie, is funny that a character that feels so entitled to people react the way he wants (like he asking the guy he was robbing to not make this a bad experience for him,) accidentally say something that for him is just a comment, but DAMN I can imagine how much it had to sting for Gwen.

The reason I brought up the other screenshots and this close up of Gwen, is to pay attention to her masks.

I had mentioned in other post, the masks are extremely expressive for what they are, which is a handy way to show expressions when you are character's face is hidden.

In multiple shots, Gwen looks angry; this isn't like the battle with Vulture when even after almost getting her face sliced she was just back to cracking jokes and not taking stuff too seriously, just the regular amount of a spidey.

This isn't a joke to her, this is important, and she isn't in a good mood already. So her doing a joke that feels tired isn't shocking.

But while The Spot was just talking about the joke, after letting down her mentor, underestimating what Lila determined as a canon killer for MULTIPLE universes, and having trouble getting a hold of the guy; hearing "That's the best you can do?" Had to suck.

(While going for Miles's frame, I realized Gwen just looks angrier before she hears him; which is to say. DAMN Miles you really picked a bad time.)

You know? Something I like to do in my writing, is bring scenarios that are different in context but the basics of it repeat as to carry a meaning behind it, reinforcing an idea either for the characters who are seeing the pattern (or think to see a pattern,) or the audience.

Some of it can be wishful thinking but this movie has much going on that I bet a lot of what I am picking up was meant to be that way.

This particular moment is interesting because Gwen is just dealing with a mess that happened because she was prioritizing Miles over her mission, and what happens shortly after?

Miles distracts her from the villain, which also gets him an opening to kick her and escape.

Damn.

You may be wondering why bring those frames of Gwen falling and Miles finally getting her, this is important for two things.

One, this will go to show something later about the importance of team and the tragedy of the spider people (that would be their own post because I had a lot to say, and a scene in particular during this sequence scared the living shit out of me, 3 times.)

But another factor is this is all quietly reinforcing in Gwen's mind, how she shouldn't had gotten to see Miles.

Not only did she lost her shot to capturing The Spot as his most vulnerable (because let's face it, if Gwen went to him without his ability to make holes it would had been done in less than 2 minutes,) she also lost track of him again thanks to Miles. And now she is having trouble with her footing.

Miles is lucky the circumstances kind of support his stance, and that he is cute.

In most movies I will see a guy following the girl he likes I say that's a red flag of the size of a house. But considering everything I can't really blame him.

He doesn't know how much is at stake, or how much can get worse; but he knows that The Spot is doing this partially thanks to him, and he may be filling guilty for assuming he was already done for when he wasn't. And now the girl he likes is in deep shit because of this, and he has more information than the rest.

(Or he should, Miguel seems to have eyes everywhere, no idea how much he knows about the Spot.)

It was still stupid? For sure, he really has no way home, has never done dimension hoping, and certainly didn't think about glitching before this.

But his heart is in a good place.

Yeah Gwen is still pissed regardless.

I think even if Miles has the best intentions she doesn't appreciate being followed, doesn't appreciate having him as is another thing she needs to be juggling in this situation, which is a lot already.

We will talk about the falling scene better, because that deserves it's own post, and also that scene made me suffer in theatres so I will get my compensation by rambling later about it.

This is something I will come back later, probably more than once. Not gonna lie the first time I saw this movie this hurt (And that was before getting as obsessed with this ship as I am now, mind you,) and it only got worse seeing it a second time when you know what will happen.

Regardless, is ties nicely to the rest of this post. Gwen is stress out, conflicted about her role as a spiderwoman and just being a teen, and in the heat of the moment, she does think that seeing him and trying to get that connection with the circumstances at hand is a bad idea.

Once again, heat of the moment, I think she would had probably continue being mad if the things that happened didn't happen; but I think this will come back later on by her realizing that she wasn't getting blindsided by Miles, but the organization.

#ghostflower #gwiles #gwen stacy #miles morales #the spot #atsv spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #atsv #across the spiderverse #ghostflower files #ask #how I manage to make this so long these moments last SUCH few seconds

[leossmoonn]

Eddie Munson: Thigh Guy (hc)

masterlist

note - tumblr has forced me to create a whole new draft bc they have their post button like right there and my fingers move to fast and i dont think. But anyways, enjoy this cute idea by @tiredbeebo !

summary - what the title says

warnings / includes - little bit suggestive, nothing too horrible lol, lots of fluff!

————

Eddie cannot keep his hands to himself. He usually keeps himself under control when you’re in public, but when you’re alone …

As soon as you sit down on his couch, he literally launches himself into your thighs

Just full on buries his face into your thighs.

He likes to grab them and massage your soft skin, kissing everywhere

“Eds, that tickles!” you laugh.

He loves falling asleep on them as well

“Baby, I need to move,” you say.

“Nu-uh. These bad boys are my favorite pillows.”

Your thighs are so comfortable he literally falls asleep on them in seconds

“What a baby,” you roll your eyes with a smile.

“Yep. That’s me,” he mumbles in his sleep.

He sleeps so well on your thighs he literally drools 😭

He swears that he gets the best sleep when he’s laying on your thighs

But you love cuddling that way. He makes you feel loved and supported, even on days where maybe you don’t feel so great about your body!

He’s the sweetest ☺️☺️

I think his favorite thing to do is probably lay between your thighs while you two are in bed. Whether you’re reading to him or listening to music

And the thigh massages 😫

Those usually make you fall asleep as well

And not to mention the hickies he leaves sometimes 😏

“Eddie! I can’t wear shorts now and it’s like a million degrees outside!”

He’ll just look at you and shrug

“Oops…”

While he lays on your thighs, you play with his hair

Sometimes you’ll brush your fingers with your fingers, especially since his hair can get kind of tangled sometimes lol

You also sometimes braid his hair and it makes his hair all the more curly

I also like to think he just likes to squeeze your thighs.

He likes to lay his hands flat on your thighs and lowk think about how they look wrapped around his head 🌝🌝

“Whatcha thinking about?” you ask as he has been staring at your legs for like 10 minutes

“Uh? O-Oh nothing…”

He def shows you what he’s thinking about later 😏

All in all though, just taking a nap while laying on your thighs is the only time of peace he has

We all know he gets called a freak and gets bullied by assholes, and you’re the only person that makes him feel normal

He’s so lucky to have you. He always calls you “Hawkins’ hottest girl.”

So when you guys hang out, you always allow him to take a nap on your thighs no matter what

You enjoy it as well. He makes a great blanket :D

————

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@rootbeerfaygo @murdockcastleslut @mrs-dr-reid @bluebberrypie @tiredbeebo @milkiane @mitskimybelovedd @munsaniac

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie munson headcannon

[mindmeltonabun-blog]

My Demon: Theories and Analysis for Eps 1-6

Hi Readers!

Let me start this post by saying what I originally wrote was just deleted after I hit the "save draft" button on Tumblr. I'm so pissed because I had spent hours working on this post!! For those who have followed my blog for a very long time, you know I usually provide a very in-depth analysis of dramas. 

Given what just happened and time constraints, I will keep this post very short. I may make mini posts next week to further elaborate on some points discussed here, but it just depends on if I have the time.

If you have any questions, please feel free to hit the "ask me anything" button and I will try my best to answer them promptly. I hope "My Demon" fandom won't be as toxic as the "Alchemy of Souls" fandom and misuse the "ask me anything" button to send me death threats or insults. If you don't like what I write, you can simply scroll along. The end. Also, don't plagiarize my shit. This was a huge issue during AOS and I really didn't appreciate it at all. If you want to use my ideas, give me credit for them.

Ok, let’s put on our thinking caps. Time to analyze and theorize!

Demons

In the context of this show, “demons” are individuals who used to be human but are now forced to fulfill human wishes in order to keep on living forever. The terms are simple: humans get their deepest desires fulfilled but will die in 10 years and go to hell. For demons, as long as they sign new contracts and collect souls, they won’t combust and be wiped from existence. It remains unknown how often demons must sign contracts/collect souls before they start to combust. Before demons were loan sharks, they were guardians of humans. 

We start this drama with Jeong Gu Won, who has lived happily for the last 200 yrs as a demon. Gu Won has no recollection of his human life. We don’t know if this aspect of Gu Won is something present in all demons or just him. Gu Won’s perfect little world is turned upside down after he saves Do Do Hee from Rash Dude aka Jeffrey Dahmer. Now, we don’t know why his tattoo was transferred to Do Hee but it’s implied the full moon and water had something to do with it. If you have read other posts of mine, you will know that when there’s a full moon it usually means a transformation and a new start. The whole falling into the water could be viewed as a sort of baptism, symbolizing the end of an old life and the beginning of a new life. I feel like before this show ends, Gu Won and Do Hee will end up in the water under the full moon again to symbolize Gu Won’s full transformation into a human. Like right now he’s like a quasi-demon haha. His transformation into a full human is currently ongoing. I think that as he starts to develop more human emotions/remember his human memories, his powers as a demon will begin to decline. 

Gu Won’s Past Life…A Story of Crime and Punishment

One thing I’ve learned from analyzing many dramas over the years is when a writer shows us a book or mentions a movie, we should look into them if we want a glimpse into what will happen in a drama. Now in Ep 1, you see #2 Wild Dog reading, “Crime and Punishment” by Fyodor Dostoevsky which was hilarious because he didn’t strike me as the type to read such a dense piece of literature. Seeing this book took me back to my high school days when we had to read and analyze this book. For those who don’t know, Russian works tend to be very long and are usually about suffering haha.

For the sake of time, I’ll you a very brief overview of what happened in “Crime and Punishment”. The story begins with a law student, Rodion Raskolnikov, who quits school because he can’t afford it anymore. The guy then has a mental breakdown of sorts and decides to kill the elderly owner of the pawnshop and her half-sister. He justifies his actions by rationalizing that by killing the pawnshop owner, he could take the valuables within her pawn shop and use them to fund his education which would eventually earn him a well-paying job. In turn, he would use the money earned to benefit the greater good. 

Raskolnikov saw himself as an Ubermensch (if you don’t know that means, I had briefly talked about it in my DAYS posts). He believed that since he was above everyone else, he was allowed to cross all societal, ethical, and moral lines because his success would help the greatest amount of people. The rest of the novel is about Raskolnikov’s internal struggles with what he did. He goes back and forth between confessing or not confessing to the murders. Eventually, the love interest in the story, Sonia, a devout Christian and source of morality for Raskolnikov, convinces him to turn himself in and confess. Raskolnikov ends up only having to serve a total of 8 years in a labor camp for the murders. While there, he finally realizes the errors of his ways and feels guilt for his past actions. He then was like “Sonia’s love saved me and I feel bad for making her suffer so when I get out, I’m going to repay her with infinite love for all she has done for me”. And bam! That’s where the story ends…with the start of his journey toward redemption haha. 

Gu Won is Raskolnikov in the sense that he thinks he’s better than everyone else and can therefore cross any line he so chooses. Based on a flashback in Ep 6, it seemed Gu Won had this kind of mindset even before he became a demon. So, what crime did Gu Won commit that landed him in Hell in the first place? I wouldn’t label it so much as an actual crime like murder but Gu Won probably got Do Hee’s past self killed. The guilt he felt after her death is probably what led to him become essentially trapped in a mental Hell, much like Madam Ju. Eventually, this guilt prevented him from entering heaven after he died. God/Lady probably took pity on him and offered him salvation in the form of becoming a demon; alternatively, it could be that God/Lady offered him a "sweet" contract where he could work as a demon in exchange for a second chance and a happier life with Do Hee in the future. Regardless of whatever the case may be, the important thing is that Gu Won needs to remember what happened in his past so he can seek forgiveness from Do Hee in the present and start his path toward redemption much like Raskolnikov. The truth sets you free haha. Gu Won is taking a step in the right direction though by protecting Do Hee. He could be like Raskolnikov and choose to give Do Hee infinite love for the rest of his life to make up for the horrible things he did to her in the past haha. Oh, one more thing for this section, the tattoo being on Do Hee’s wrist could symbolize that she was the reason why he became a demon in the first place. 

Murders of Do Hee’s Parents and Madam Ju/Who Is Abraxas

In my original post, this section was long, but as I previously mentioned, the stuff I wrote was deleted. I’m just going to give you the overall gist of it. I still think the person who killed Madam Ju was Ju Seok Hun and that the person who killed Do Hee’s parents was Madam Ju’s little brother/Seok Hun’s father. I don’t think Madam Ju directly killed Do Hee’s parents, but she felt guilty for their deaths because she covered up the incident to protect her little brother. After which, she cut him off and exiled him to Peru to live a hippie life haha. This is completely speculative though. Like we have two choices for who murdered Do Hee’s parents and Madam Ju. Choice #1 is Noh Suk Min and Noh Do Gyeong and Choice #2 Seok Hun’s father and Seok Hun. One argument I made for choice #2 is that if Suk Min and Do Gyeong were the real killers, wouldn’t the actor who played Do Gyeong be a main lead instead of a supporting character? Another argument was that Seok Hun has too many conflicting qualities about him. For example, he is a hippie who works in the corporate world and despite portraying a goody-two-shoes image, he suggests Do Hee should engage in some ethically questionable business practices like letting Mirae Investments buy shares of Mirae F&B to offset the losses. 

It’s also important to remember what Do Hee said about “sweet” things and how they’re always fake (except for Gu Won haha). Seok Hun is faker than acrylic nails. He puts on an act that he cares about her well-being when in reality, he hopes she dies. He must continue with this nice guy act because he doesn’t want her death to lead back to him. Just think about some things for a moment, if Do Hee died, who would the police suspect killed her? Would it be the people who openly voiced their disdain for her or the person whom she had a loving relationship with? It would be the former. The scene with Do Gyeong at the lockers is essentially Seok Hun setting him up to take the fall for Do Hee’s murder. At the end of the day, human greed is what drove Seok Hun to do what he did. Who knows, maybe his greed stems from being subjected to a frugal lifestyle while growing up. 

Crosses, Numerology, and Tarot

Amen, we are nearing the end. Ok, let’s keep going at record speed. So, crosses and Catholicism/Christianity are heavily present in this show. The same goes for numbers and tarot. They’re all connected. Some religious crosses can look like an “X” which looks like the Roman numeral 10. The number 10 is everywhere in this show. For example, the little girl was celebrating her 10th birthday and the Wheel of Fortune is the 10th tarot card in the Rider Waite Tarot Deck. Connecting numerology with tarot, the wheel of fortune represents the end of one journey and the beginning of another…1 + 0 = 1, where 1 symbolizes completion.

The clock in the promotional poster has a hand pointing at 10, which is different than the clocks seen at Gu Won’s place that only go from 0-9. While we are on the subject of 9, “Gu” means nine. Every time Gu Won started a new life, he named himself the next number following his current one. For example, he was Il (1) Won, then I (2) Won, and so forth. Now in his 9th life, he is called Gu Won. Get it? Ok, cool. What comes after 9? 10. After Gu Won completes his transformation into a human, he will be called Sip (10) Won haha. Additionally, did anyone notice the number 91 on the cake Do Hee baked for him? What’s 9+1? 10. 

Pay attention to the numbers in this show people! Always ask yourself what each number means and what it's connected to haha. When God/the Lady said, "I’m betting on all the odd numbers", many were like what does that mean? She’s referring to the numbers on tarot cards (Rider Waite Deck), which represent Gu Won and Do Hee. For example, which cards represent them? For starters, the 15th card aka the devil. 1+5=6 which is the lovers card. Another odd-numbered tarot card that is representative of Do Hee and Gu Won is the 9th card which is “The Hermit” because let’s be real here, they both were hermits before they met each other. The last major arcana tarot card in the deck is #21…THE WORLD aka GUARANTEED SUCCESS. So this is what God/Lady meant when she said she’s betting on all the odd numbers. It’s the writer’s way of telling us we are going to get a happy ending after all the chaos that will occur. 

One more intriguing number is 17. If you sniff around, you’ll notice that 17 is the number of years that have passed since Do Hee’s parents died. 17 is also the number of the coin locker where Jeffrey and Seok Hun exchange stuff. Hilariously, Gu Won’s passcode to his safe is “666”, which is the number of the beast/devil haha. In the newspaper clipping about the Sunwol Foundation, it said the theater was completed on June 7, 1977 and Gu Won’s name during that time was Chil (7) Won haha. The number 7 is seen as lucky in Korean and many Western cultures. 

MISC

The cross necklace Gu Won wears probably belonged to Do Hee’s past self or was given to Gu Won by Do Hee…..OH I just made another connection…..In “Crime and Punishment”, Sonia gave Raskolnikov a cross necklace. Also, in Crime and Punishment, Sonia was a prostitute and Do Hee was essentially one during the Joseon dynasty…. Kisaeng and prostitutes are basically the same thing haha. It’s also interesting that both Gu Won and Do Hee wear two necklaces, one silver and one gold. I wonder if there’s any meaning behind that.

In the newspaper clipping about Sunwol Foundation, the term 'Sun/Seon' is written in hanja and translates to 'to return/come back.' This element was part of Gu Won's original name, Yi Sun/Seon. Additionally, 'wol' means moon. Therefore, I interpreted 'Sunwol' to mean 'Sun and Moon' or 'Moon That Returns.' In a broader sense, Sunwol can be likened to the Taj Mahal—a building or monument constructed in memory of a beloved. One could also view Sunwol as a place that narrates the love story of the Sun (Gu Won) and the Moon (Do Hee) or as a place built with the hope that Gu Won’s beloved moon would return one day.

Ok, folks, that concludes this very brief TA post. WOOHOO! Sorry if there were any grammatical mistakes or typos, and if this post seemed a bit disorganized. I really have to get to bed and didn't have time to edit this haha. See you all next week maybe!

#my demon

[el-writes-things]

in bloom🪷

hello! this is my first post on my writing blog :) which is kind of fun! (and very nerve wracking aaa)

so i offer to the haikaveh nation: a short, fluffy haikaveh oneshot (ish) thing! inspired by @enden-k ‘s fantasy au (written info here), go check that out, it’s super neat!

alright i’ll stop now :) hope u like it! (also, i don’t know how to work tumblr despite being on it for the last 5 years the formatting is horrible and i apologize)

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“You’re going to get sick if you traipse around like that,” Alhaitham called. Kaveh rolled his eyes with a groan, stooping to pick another of the bright yellow flowers that bloomed along the shore of the creek the pair had stopped at to refill their bottles. The water rushed around his ankles and the sun was warm, replacing his pain with something akin to pure light, thrumming in his body and through his veins, and Kaveh felt so good and healthy and strong for the first time in a long time, so he refused to let Alhaitham’s words force him out of the shallows. He slipped the flower into one of his braids and waded on.

“Stop nagging like an old woman. What does it matter to you? I’m the one who’s…”

Dying. I’m the one who’s dying, so why does it matter what I do?

He trailed off, then cleared his throat, turning to hide the way his smile dropped at the thought in that same moment, but it wasn’t as if Alhaitham didn’t know exactly what he was thinking about. He observed too much to simply be ignorant to Kaveh’s moods. “The one who’s paying your wages. Let me have my fun, alright?”

“You’re not actually paying me anything, dearest prince,” Alhaitham replied, flipping a page of his dark blue spell book from where he sat at the edge of the creek. If he’d noticed the swift change mid-sentence, he didn’t show it. 

“You get the idea. And don’t they look pretty?” Kaveh insisted. He tucked another one of the star-shaped plants besides the mourning flowers in his hair, turning to smile at his traveling companion.

Alhaitham’s expression was unreadable as he scanned Kaveh’s new look. His pants were soaked with water, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his forehead was streaked with dirt, and his hair was slightly tangled from his desperate efforts to make the flowers stay still. 

The witch’s large hat covered his elegant features as he stood before Kaveh could stare long enough to embarrass himself, but was that a hint of a smile that he caught? “Yes, you look great for a plant murderer. Can we leave now?”

“Fine, fine. So impatient.”

Kaveh straightened up and washed his hands of the accumulated dirt, watching clear droplets slide off his tanned skin and back into the creek with small ripples as he walked through the water to the other shore, where Alhaitham waited.

“You’ve got something on your face.”

Looking up, Kaveh collided straight into Alhaitham’s chest with a small “ouch”. Alhaitham looked entirely unbothered, reaching down for Kaveh. One hand held Kaveh’s face gently and the other wiped the smudge of dirt off of his forehead. Surprised by this display of kindness, Kaveh absently brought his hand up, touching the spot where he swore he felt a ghost of Alhaitham’s fingers over his skin.

Alhaitham examined the dirt on his fingers distastefully. “I’ll put this one on your tab,” he said, dusting off his hands. His darkly painted nails flashed dully in the sun. 

“Hey. Hey, no, wait-”

Alhaitham smirked. “Your clothes are all wet. Do you want me to dry them off for you?”

Kaveh huffed. “Why, so you can put something else on my tab? No, thanks. They’ll dry off soon enough.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” was the only response he received, and the witch strolled off. Kaveh glared satisfyingly at his retreating back as he followed.

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     Annoyingly, the witch was right. As usual. 

The sun set much quicker than Kaveh had anticipated, and his clothes were still damp when it got dark. It wasn’t long before he was shivering, his teeth chattering almost violently in his skull. The desert was so much colder at night than strictly necessary, he decided, somewhat annoyed at the sudden change in temperature.

Alhaitham stopped again, turning to look at Kaveh up and down. If he wanted to dream, Kaveh would have said he looked almost concerned.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stop, princeling?”

“J-just a little f-further is f-fine,” he managed through his somewhat blue lips. He rubbed the cold skin of his arms sharply, trying to feel warm again. He missed the sun.

“I’m not dragging you around if you’re sick. We’ll stop for today, alright? You have no more say in the matter.”

Before Kaveh could protest, Alhaitham veered off the path and set to work constructing camp.

He wasn’t ever entirely sure if it was the usage of magic that made Alhaitham so quick to finish tasks that would have taken Kaveh much longer, but in what seemed like seconds, a tent was constructed and Alhaitham had created a small, interestingly blue fire. It sparked cheerfully, spitting bright green stars that flew from the heat, gleaming in the dark before sputtering out again, warmer than any fire he’d ever felt. Fascinating. 

Alhaitham surveyed his own handiwork for a moment, seeming satisfied. He rummaged through his belongings, which he’d set beside the fire, not even stopping to glance at Kaveh when he asked, “Do you have a change of clothing?”

Kaveh tugged self consciously at his elaborately designed, and still damp, sleeves, shaking his head. “No. I don’t exactly have a lot of worldly goods, you know.”

“Hm. It’s a good thing that I’m much more prepared than you.”

The witch produced a set of clothes, similar to the ones he was wearing, and walked back towards where Kaveh was standing. “Wear these, until your clothes dry off. You can change in the tent.”

He deposited the outfit carelessly in Kaveh’s arms, along with a towel, and returned to poking around the fire.

Grumbling, Kaveh shifted the fabric around his arms. Deciding that he had no choice but to obey, he made his way to where the tent stood stoically against the night sky, pushing his way in.

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       In spite of it all, Kaveh got sick.

He’d dried off and changed into Alhaitham’s clothes, which were shockingly soft and warm, if a bit loose. It wasn’t long before he had fallen asleep by the fire, bundled in blankets with the hot soup Alhaitham had made bringing a comfortable warmth to his skin, but it wasn’t enough. He was losing body heat, fast, and all of the blankets in the world couldn’t stop it.

When he woke up, cold pooling in the pit of his stomach and his fingertips nearly white with the feeling, Alhaitham was gone. Kaveh didn’t know why, but he was gone, and it scared him more than he’d ever imagined it would. 

Shivering, he let out a low, pained noise. It sounded weak and pathetic, even to him. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had tried at all. It wasn’t as if he expected Haitham to suddenly come and save him. What would he do, anyways? Kaveh wouldn’t die from a little cold like this. It wasn’t the cause of any concern.

Even so, he found himself hoping against hope that Alhaitham would do something for him. 

But what? his fever-addled brain demanded of him. Having no answer, he could do nothing more than drift off back into sleep once more, alone in the cold. 

Where was Alhaitham?

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Kaveh awoke again to an unexpected feeling of total warmth.

It took him a moment to remember where he was. In front of the beautifully blue fire, wrapped in thick blankets, alone…

Alone? No, he wasn’t alone. Who…

“You’re awake.”

Arms. Around him? And it was warm, and he felt safe. Kaveh was still struggling to piece together full sentences, string together coherent thoughts. They glided away from him, like slippery silver fish just out of reach. Attempts to grasp them only caused them to swim further away. 

It was still warm and safe, though, and he felt himself relax against his will. Into what, exactly?

Alhaitham brushed a strand of hair out of Kaveh’s face with surprising tenderness, tucking it into the carefully maintained braids, a bit messy and complete with the flowers he’d picked along with the dark red mourning flowers. Kaveh found himself leaning against his hand, and Alhaitham simply allowed him to remain there, his weight comfortably nestled against the witch’s from his spot apparently nestled into his lap. He felt Alhaitham’s every breath against his back, feeling insignificant, yet strangely comforted by it. He was small in the witch’s clothes and even smaller curled up in his lap, but he mattered to Alhaitham, and that was all that was important to him in that moment.

“You know, you were really cold when I got back. You worried me.” Alhaitham’s voice was calm, as usual, but Kaveh imagined that he heard some real concern there. 

Kaveh found his lips curling into a smile, despite his weariness. He was feeling sleepy again, and comfortable, yet he managed to speak. “You were worried about me?”

Alhaitham paused for a moment, then flicked Kaveh’s hair back into his face again, feigning annoyance. “Don’t get such grand ideas. I intend to collect my payment from you, that’s all.”

“Mhm. And I suppose you’re going to put this on the tab?”

He was already slipping away again, his mind drifting towards dreams of old times and sweet-tasting memories before he could hear Alhaitham’s response. Alhaitham knew Kaveh was sleeping, but he responded anyway.

“No, it’s alright. This one will be free of charge.”

Holding the prince’s body in his arms a little tighter, Alhaitham let himself relax into the feeling of being so close to another. 

#haikaveh #kavehtham #kavetham #kaveh #alhaitham #not my au! #writing