#and like i said barely remembers to feed myself i will take anything that i dont have to use energy to make

[twopercentboy]

my mom assumed that I wouldn't want to go to a potluck w the rest of my family because there would be a bunch of people I didn't know. Like thanks for thinking about my anxiety but dude it's free food, I barely remember to feed myself. why WOULDN'T I want to do

#also it was for my brother and his wrestling team #so like you KNOW there was gonna be alot of food #and like i said barely remembers to feed myself i will take anything that i dont have to use energy to make #also my entire family except me went ?? and the potluck was at the lake ??? #you know how much i would've liked to get free food AND time to just read on the beach ??? #thats such a vibe and they all just left me here 🧍 #rant

[webshooterrr9]

Take Care

Act Two Astarion x gn!reader

just fluff and angst if you squint, no smut

Sigh. "You don't have to do this, darling. I'm not some sort of child in need of coddling."

Despite his standoffish tone, Astarion makes no attempt to move away as you tend to the cuts on his arm. It had been a long day of adventuring, and your party most unfortunately ran into a horde of goblins on your way back to camp for the knight. Being stronger after a recent feed, Astarion fought most of them - giving him the most injuries.

You're being far too gentle. He watches closely in the dim lantern light as you wet the rag for cleaning. A part of him wishes you'd just hurt him instead. He knows how to deal with pain. He doesn't know how to deal with this.

Whatever this is, his mind tells him it needs to stop. Stop before he starts to care. He doesn't want to care about you. If he does, you'll be another thing for Cazador to use against him when the time comes.

He can't have that.

"Oh, shut up." you wave a dismissive hand before resuming your cleaning, gently wiping away the dirt and grime from his wounds. You sat comfortably in his lap as you worked. Another form of intimacy he was unsure about.

"I've received worse and lived, love. I'll be alright without your babying."

He would never admit it, but Astarion almost... enjoyed the way you so carefully tended to him. But it felt wrong. Why would you do this? It wasn't like his life was on the line, the goblins only inflicted minor injuries.

"I know you have, I've seen the poem that... he carved into your back. You showed me, remember?"

Astarion winces at the memory, and you feel sort of bad for bringing it up. But he just rolls his eyes, covering up the discomfort with a scoff.

That wretched devil. That evil, evil man.

"We're still travel companions, so I want to help you. Regardless of how minor it is." you continue, speaking slowly as you bandage up the cuts.

"Because I'm incapable?" there's a bite to his voice, one that he didn't mean to be there. But he couldn't help it. This was so... odd. "I managed to take care of myself just fine before you came along."

You look up at him, almost with a glare at his accusation. "I never said you were incapable, 'Starion. But you have to let others help you once in a while."

Gods, he hated it. He hated how caring you were, how sweetly you spoke to him, even when he was rude. How fondly you pictured him in your mind, even when he had done nothing but manipulate you so far.

How could you he so naive? He was obviously using you. And yet, you seemed to care about him, which pissed him off more.

He doesn't deserve someone as tender as you. As kind and caring.

Astarions grits his teeth as he speaks. "I don't have to let you do anything. I don't deserve that."

Why did he say that? How stupid of him so seem so vulnerable around you. And why does he want to curl up against you and let it all out? Why does he want you to wrap him up in your arms and whisper into his hair and tell him everything is going to be okay?

What is wrong with him?

You wrap up his cut tightly, giving him a glare. "You're wrong." you replied, short and direct. Your stare made it clear that this wasn't up for debate.

"You deserve just as much as everyone else. If not more, given what you've been through."

Astarion glares right back. If there was one thing he could do, it was argue. "You know nothing about me. I barely even told you half of it."

You don't know why he has to be so stubborn about this. Maybe it's his nature. Or maybe he's just too much of a coward to admit that he's actually starting to develop feelings for you. Astarion doesn't know which.

"I'm objectively the worst person on this team. You should be helping the others. Lae'zel got all scratched up too, you know."

"They've got each other." you argue back, just as stubborn as the elf. "But you, you've closed yourself off from everyone. Shut them out."

"If I don't take care of you, no one will. The Hells know that you wouldn't take care of yourself, either. You're too self-loathing for that."

When the hell did you become so perceptive? How in the world did you come to that conclusion? He wasn't self hating, he was just telling the truth. He was awful, evil. He knew it to be true.

...

Shit. Maybe you were right.

"Fine. Maybe your words have some truth in them." he sighs, not daring to look you in the eyes as he admits it. "You're right. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Damn it. Now he wants to hug you. The feeling he's been trying to avoid the entire time is bubbling up, threatening to engulf him.

Does it make him weak to want to be coddled and comforted by you? Would it make him just as pathetic as he was under Cazador's thumb? Would allowing himself this pampering, this affection, be nothing more than something to regret?

"I'm always right." you scoff. "You'd have picked up on that by now if you weren't so aloof."

You slide off of his lap once you're done bandaging, giving him some space. But you don't leave his tent.

You stay there, sitting in front of him, as a silent show of solidarity. "I'm not going anywhere. No matter how much you try to push me away."

The urge to pull you close and never let you go is overwhelming him. Astarion's not sure if he can trust himself to resist it.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks quietly, lowering his head a bit shamefully. "Why are you so insistent on helping me? I'm not worth it."

"Because you are worth it. And I won't stop until you believe it."

"I will not allow you to fall into tragedy when you can be so much more than that. I've seen your potential - on the battlefield and in camp. I refuse to let you waste your life in solitude."

Astarion wants to believe you. Desperately.

The evidence is staring him right in the face: the way that you care for him, how he feels secure in your presence.

But if he believes you, he can't hide any longer. He can't seek shelter behind the walls he's carefully erected within himself. And he can't shield himself from the vulnerability of admitting that he needs you. So instead he just says:

"Shut up."

You sigh. No matter how much you try to break him down, he stays persistent. "Fine."

"I'll stop talking, but you'd be a fool if you think I'm leaving."

He scoffs. "So what, you're just going to sit there and watch me all night?"

"If that's all you'll allow me, yes."

Allow. Such a sacred, unheard word to him.

Astarion didn't even have a response to that. In the end, he didn't have enough energy to make a snarky counter. And before he can form a coherent sentence and protest, his body makes a decision for him.

The elf slumps forward and places his head in your lap, curling up in a way that resembles a kitten. A stray seeking shelter.

Despite his efforts of stubborness, he closes his eyes and lets his body go slack.

He wants this.

You're relieved. For a moment, you sit still, not wanting to scare him away with any sudden movements. He needed this peace, and you wouldn't dare take it from him.

Slowly, you start to rake your fingers through his curls. Slowly, gently. Like a mother comforting her child.

He needs it. More than ever.

When you begin to run your fingers through his hair, it's like all his defenses dissolve away. Astarion lets out a quiet hum of contentment and presses his head further into your warmth, making himself as comfortable as possible in this precious moment.

Time seems to slow down as you sit there. There's no need for words. After so long of being taken and abused by his master, Astarion finds himself oddly calm. Safe.

It's strange to feel this comfortable. Even now he should have to urge to try and escape your touch, but he's not feeling those impulses.

He takes a deep breath and relaxes into your touch. The tension and discomfort that seemed to define his existence is melting away. For the first time in centuries, he feels he's where he belongs.

As you continue to pet his hair, you hear a quiet whisper come from your companion.

"Thank you."

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #fluff #bg3 #my baby deserves the world omg #i love him #webshooterrr9

[the-fiction-witch]

Y/n!

Media The Artful Dodgert

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty

Requested : I absolutely love your Jack Dawkins fic, I've just added your Newt fic to my library. You are an absolutely amazing writer.This is also a request for the jack Dawkins fic, as in could you write one where jack is reunited with someone who he knew back in London?? I just think it would be cute and you can do anything you want from there, anything you want haha Thank you for writing xxxx

I sighed finishing up with the ward rolling my sleeves up heading towards the stairwell, 

"Jack. Patient. Room four," Hetty said having come chasing after me, 

"What about them?"

"She's refusing to let Dr Sneed see her." 

I sighed, great last thing I need some little whiner, "Will she let me see her?"

"She says yes." 

"Alright," I sighed heading back down and quickly went to room four, "Hello Miss, Dr Dawkins, I heard you refused Dr Sneeds treatment?" I asked taking her paperwork to see what I was actually dealing with, it wasn't much just a mild head injury nothing worth keeping her in over. 

"He's a snivelling, Pompous Git" her voice said from the bed,  

I admit I chuckled a little, "Well we agree on something." 

"What was your name again?"

"Dawkins. Dr Jack Dawkins." I told her setting her paperwork back and actually looking at her, but- I had a heart attack. 

She sat with her long tight curls against the headboard of the bed, a bandage for her wound around her head, her skin slightly red where she clearly had not yet gotten use to the sun here, a long violet dress been repaired and fixed a hundred times. 

I- I felt like I was in a dream, I could barely beleive my own eyes, I- I was utterly convinced I'd never see her again. 

Y/n. She was a London street girl a year or two older then me, abandoned by her family and forced to make her own way, Much as I was. She didn't run with Fagin, the boys and I. She more made her own way but still we crossed paths. We were pickpockets and petty theives breaching only death it if became nessesary. She... Was The Violet Widow. Known though out London. She'd walk the streets as a evening girl but a man who paid her never got to finish, He would be taken home, stripped, tied, and riden until she had reached her desires then she would kill him, steal his clothes, money, watch and sell what she wouldn't keep or give to us boys. She kept herself nicely I must say, and she even married a few older wealther men taking their name for a few weeks before butching them too taking all that remained and being left as a widow. She lived just down the road from us, and any clothes she thought would she'd pass along, even if she couldn't always feed herself she always tried to feed us too. 

We of course were freindly and we'd both gotten each other out of jams more times then I dare to think. 

And Admittedtly I had spent more nights then I care to remember as a bored excited teenage boy, knoitted with the sheets of her bed, and with her. But she never minded, and she never charged me, and never let any of the other boys near her. 

Last I had heard she had been arrested on her most recent husbands murder charge, but that was only a week or two before I was locked up myself. 

I had greived for her, beloived her hung for her crimes or... atleast locked away somewhere I would never see her. 

Never in my life would I have pictured her, Here in port victoria let alone, here infront of me.

I was... thrilled to see her alive! But also... suspcious. 

"Hi, Dodger." 

Immediately I shut the door, locked it tight, pulled the windows shut and the blinds drawn leaving us in complete darkness and secrecy. Standing catching my breath at the foot of her bed my hands on my waist, 

"Y/n!?"

"Hi,"

"The bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Got into a fight with a card cheat," She sighed adjusting her bandage, 

"No- I don't mean the hospital, I mean Australia!" 

"On my travels..."

"Travels?" I glared, "I'm getting pretty fucking concerned right now, first Fagin shows up like the bloody ghost of Christmas past, and now you! What Oliver bloody twist gonna show up next week!" 

"He what?" She glared,

"What?"

"Fagin! Is here!"

"Yeah. showed up a few weeks back." 

"What the hell is he doing here?" 

"Got himself arrested, sent down here."

"You believe that do you?"

"What choice have I got?" I sighed, "So what are you doing down here?"

"Traveling, making my way around," She shrugged,

"And you want me to believe that do you?"

"Why would I Iie? I didn't know you were here, or Fagin, and yes I'd be pretty damn surprised Oliver Twist showed up too. It's a weird ass coincidence." She explained, 

"Alright," I sighed I did want to see her, I was happy even if I was concerned by this coincidence I couldn't be angry at her, "How's your head?" I asked sitting on her bed a moment to check her over

"Never had any complaints," She giggled 

"I'm serious."

"I thought you'd remember."

"Y/n."

"I feel fine Jack" she smiled, "Are you alright?"

I softened a little all these little jokes reminding me that it is still y/n. "As I can be,"

"Made quite the life for yourself down here. I take it... Dodger's gone?"

"Very much so. They hang escaped convicts here so... Dodger is dead. For all intensive purposes." I told her as I got up to finish her paperwork

"Understandable," she nodded "Dr Dawkins," She playfully smiled, 

"You still just Y/n?" I smiled, 

"Ohh god no uhhhhh... Y/n, Smith, Liswick, Warden, Petrecove, uhhh I'm sure there's a Llyod in there somewhere, I loose track" She said, "But just Y/n."

I smirked a little, "Humm... Still the Violet Widow I take it?"

"I see why you became a doctor, quiet the skills of deduction." she smiled,

"Yeah well I hope you're not here planning to add Dawkins to that lineup,"

"Why? Would it be so bad for... old friends to rekindle old flames now that they're all grown up," She smirked, 

"Don't even think about it." I warn her, "The issue there is I know what you do. and I know what you'll do to me on our wedding night."

"True." She smiled "You're letting me go then?"

"Yep, just keep it clean, and stay out of trouble" I told her, 

"I uhhh Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I only ask because it is you Jack, but do you think you could slip a girl a few coins before you send me away? just for an apple and a place to rest my head tonight," 

"You don't have anywhere to go? Or any money?"

"No."

"How'd you get here then?"

"Spent my last few coins on the boat trip here, figured I'd get a job or earn money my usual way, I haven't even all that lucky yet," 

I felt awful, nowing the girl who use to gived me soup and clothes kept me happy and better off then I ever could have been without her, now had to ask me for money just to rest her head, but... I don't get paid, meerly food and accomodation, What little I had was for me and I'd worked my ass numb at the card table to get it, But... I can't say not to her "I... I think I can."

"I'd pay you back," she said, 

"Yeah, how?"

she stopped short a moment expecting me to say no and she clearly did not actually having an answer, "How I always used to?"

"Yeah?" I smirked a little 

"mhm" she nodded moving her dress and opening her legs 

"...Deal" I smirked crawling into bed with her "I've missed you" I smirked pulling her into a kiss feeling the intensity of our time apart 

"I missed you too Jack," She smirked 

#thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #thomas sangster #thearttfuldodger #the artful dodger #theartfuldogger #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins

[heartnosekid]

well, friends. i’m sure a good lot of you have seen this post. i was denied today. i have to contact a lawyer and i don't even know how to begin advocating for myself outside of simply contacting the firm an ex-friend of mine used to obtain disability.

if you would rather not read the whole vent, i completely understand. but if you would still like to provide answers or support to me, here are my main issues.

i need advice from others who have been denied disability and have gone through a lawyer to obtain it. i need advice on what to do about getting started with victim advocacy. that's about it, i reckon. i love you all. my dm's are open. you will be blocked if you clown.

and yes, i realize my stim blog is not the place to talk about this. i understand, but this is my largest audience and i feel i would be a fool to not post this somewhere it may be actually received.

tw for mental health talk / long vent under the cut, particularly of the despairing kind, and also mentions of CSA / CSAM, psychosis, and my general disabilities. if this post needs more trigger tags, please let me know and i'll add them.

my whole life i have been treated as if i am not struggling because i can do the bare minimum to keep myself alive. i can survive, but never thrive, and even surviving now has become difficult. i can't feed myself regularly, my guardians do that for me. i can't stand for longer than a few minutes at a time without extreme duress and pain, which makes cleaning, showering, and going out super difficult and beyond draining. i can understand abstract concepts and certain ideas and am emotionally intelligent, but i struggle heavily with understanding money or how government works, particularly when it comes to laws and loopholes. i don't know when i'm "being had", as it were, and others have pointed this out to me throughout my adulthood. it feels as though this entire disability journey has been me "being had". they gave me something to cling on to, the possibility i may be able to receive real help, and it seems as though they basically knew the whole time they were going to deny me again. for the fourth time. i know that is unrealistic but, it does feel that way.

i wrote several full length books when i was a child / young teenager, and had two published. i won't share the titles because i have outgrown what i wrote and find them childish and frankly embarrassing, but everyone upon learning that i have written and had novels published, immediately jumps to the conclusion that i am some kind of self-sufficient, incredibly intelligent and capable person. i have never once been able to effectively take care of myself. without my guardians, i wouldn't be able to manage money, insurance, bills, cars, groceries, among other things. i don't even halfway understand how insurance on anything even works despite having been shown how it works.

i can see something, be "taught" to the best of someone's ability, and i will still not be able to learn. this has been a constant issue throughout my life, and the american public school system has continually helped these issues perpetuate. all schooling has done is teach me how to parrot back concepts and ideas, remember them for a limited amount of time before losing them to the void, and not how to fundamentally understand and learn them or utilize them in daily life. even higher education was like this, and i was not able to thrive throughout my experience with college despite making mostly okay grades (i cheated and lied a lot, okay. i'm not proud of it but i felt i had to get through or i would be severely punished). i had to a sign an agreement that i personally still do not fully understand to "obtain" my associate's degree, and i do not know why despite the fact it was explained to me, in detail. the information has not registered, and i now no longer have anyone that was involved in said agreement to explain it to me. everyone i say this to is like, "what? that doesn't make any sense." and i'm like. yeah. it doesn't, and i have zero ability to explain it to them in a way that makes sense.

i mention my associate's degree because i am sure in some form or fashion it was used against me in the disability process, since i was "able to complete higher education". also it should be noted i did an early college program. also probably has been used against me. also cheated through most of it.

people have always considered my kind of autism to be hyper competent, since it appeared that way when i was a child, despite showing several signs that i was struggling with a math-centric learning disability, called dyscalculia. i have since deteriorated to the point of barely having the knowledge a young adult should have, about how life works financially and honestly in general.

i have extreme fear about what may happen to me without proper assistance. my guardians will be able to take care of me for some time, but after that? that feels like a black hole to me. it doesn't exist nor will it while i am under-assisted, and this black hole fills me with utter despair. i try not to let it permeate my daily life, so as to not dwell in a future that doesn't exist yet and has the possibility for change. but god. it fills me with literal existential dread, and it is becoming so much more difficult to ignore the older i get.

a lot of factors have been used against me my entire life to deny me assistance, and these reasons being yet another factor has really dredged up a lot of shit from my past.

this is besides the point, but i also learned recently that CSAM was made and distributed of me when i was a child and wow. that has hit me in ways i cannot even describe. part of me is like, why was i not allowed to know after the fact, even when i became an adult? i was directly involved. why did no one tell me my abuser was convicted for counts of spreading CSAM, and that they lied directly to the court system about their inappropriate actions with me? i was disenfranchised in more ways than one by more than one person on allowance of my abuser, and i am just now hearing about it. i don't know how to deal and i don't know how to get started with victim advocacy in my area.

but at the same time, whilst being treated as severely more competent than i am, i have also been infantilized relentlessly, by nearly everyone around me. how does this make any sense. i feel incredibly stupid and uninformed and at the same time privy to things about my disabilities others are not, while not being able to effectively communicate it. i feel i am screaming and begging for help, nearly at my wits end with a lot of things, and all of it is reading as "owie booboo" to anyone who could do anything to help. i feel i am falling through the cracks, and i fear having to crawl back up through them. i fear i won't make the trek. i fear i will lose motivation and let myself rot. it feels like no one in a position of power has taken a true effort to really help me and i cannot help or advocate for myself. i am very scared.

on top of all of that stuff, i am withdrawing pretty heavily from cymbalta, experiencing heightened panic attacks every day, PNES (psychogenic non-epileptic seizures), more episodes of psychosis and hallucinating than i'm used to, all of my mental and physical issues are out of control, and now this disability stuff. i also won't be able to see a psychiatrist for...maybe a week or so more, so no bridge meds till then.

these last couple weeks have just really kicked me down. thank you for reading if you got this far. i appreciate you more than you know and i have no idea where i would be without y'all and this blog. i love you all so very much.

-ish

#ish talks #disability #vent #mental health #CSA mention #CSAM mention #physical disability mention #mental disability mention #psychosis mention #hallucination mention #dyscalculia #neurodivergent #autism #victim advocacy #PNES #ableism

[bloody-bee-tea]

IntiMarch 2024 Day 21 - Leiser

The prompt for this was "I want to thank you"

Suguru can already feel his jaw ache before he even sets foot onto the Gojo estate and not even Satoru’s hand in his is any help.

He hates these visits; hates how their life is being dissected and found lacking by people who have never been happy a single moment in their entire life and most of all he hates how coming here stresses Satoru out so much that he barely sleeps for days before and after these visits.

They wouldn’t even be coming here if it was left to their choice, but Satoru’s family has made it crystal clear that they have the power to absolutely destroy the life they’ve built for themselves and he doesn’t put it past them to do it, too.

So they have to come here once every four months and pretend that everything is fine and that they don’t want to burn down the entire estate.

It’s getting harder the longer these visits go on.

“Breathe,” Satoru says, squeezing his hand and Suguru takes a deep breath.

“I hate it here,” he whispers, which makes Satoru laugh slightly.

“I know. Can’t say I fancy this place myself. But it’ll be fine.”

“Nothing about this will be fine,” Suguru grumbles under his breath because he long ago abandoned hope that they could have one civil dinner. 

He’s not even waiting for a nice one anymore; he’d be content with civil but even that seems to be unachievable these days.

Satoru’s family sucks.

Greetings are stiff and awkward and when they make it through the appetiser without a single word spoken, Suguru knows that something is up.

Normally they would be laying in on them by now, berating them for living their own lives instead of adhering to the family rules and the fact that Satoru’s parents haven’t said a single word at all is putting Suguru on edge.

Satoru on the other hand seems entirely unbothered; he’s happily digging into his food and treating it more like a main course than the appetiser it really is and the sight is like a balm to Suguru’s soul. He puts part of his own food on Satoru’s plate, not being able to stomach a bite more of this in the tense silence, and when Satoru gives him a bright smile in return, Suguru feels his nerves settling.

That is until the main course is being brought in and Satoru’s father clears his throat.

“We wanted to thank you,” he says, his eyes fixed on Suguru when he looks over and Suguru tenses up.

That is so not something he wants to hear from these people.

“For what?” he asks, forcing himself to at least pretend to be polite even though he’s missing by a mile, going by the amused curve of Satoru’s mouth.

“For taming him,” Satoru’s father says with a nod towards Satoru and for a moment Suguru thinks he must have heard wrong. 

There is no way he just said that, after all.

“He used to be feral, like an animal, always yapping, always making noise and causing trouble, biting the hand that feeds him. Not anymore, though, and we all agree that we have you to thank for that. We’re not sure how you did it, what methods you used, but they were certainly effective. And you have our thanks for that.”

Satoru’s father sounds honestly pleased, as if the words he just uttered don’t make bile rise in Suguru’s throat and he puts his chopsticks down more harshly than probably necessary.

Suguru opens his mouth to let these people know exactly what he thinks about this, when Satoru’s hand comes down on his thigh, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Thanks,” Satoru brightly says, giving his most pleasant smile to his parents. “The method he used was love, not that you’d know anything about that.”

His voice is so cheerful that it almost makes Suguru smile, before he remembers the absolutely horrid things his father just said and then the anger is back.

“Satoru,” his father warningly says and the gleam in his eyes tells Suguru that he wants him to argue, if only so that he can yell at Satoru, if only so he can be reassured that Satoru is still a fuck-up in his eyes. 

Satoru’s parents really are so fucked up.

“Now, there are two choices,” Satoru goes on, completely ignoring his father’s glare and staying remarkably calm. “Either we take the rest of dinner in silence, like it was meant to be, or we leave for now. Your choice.”

“I see you couldn’t fix his insubordination,” Satoru’s father grumbles towards Suguru. “Maybe teach him not to talk back to his elders at one point.”

“Maybe if the elders showed any respect he wouldn’t feel the need to,” Suguru snaps back and then turns to Satoru. “I guess we’re leaving for now.”

“Remember what leaving could mean for you,” Satoru’s father reminds them, noticeably colder than when he praised Suguru just moments ago but Suguru couldn’t care less.

“We’re allowed to miss one dinner per year,” he stiffly gives back. “Consider it this one.”

Satoru’s father makes an offended sound but Suguru couldn’t care any less about that. He just needs to get out of this godforsaken house before he tears it all down and makes things unnecessarily difficult for the both of them.

“Let’s go, Satoru.”

“Gladly,” Satoru says with a smile and doesn’t spare one glance for his parents.

They don’t talk on the way back to their apartment and that’s fine. It’s not as if there’s something to say anyway. They both know that Satoru’s parents are the absolute fucking worst and that nothing they said is true so there’s no need to reassure the other of that. They made the decision to leave together, so there’s no need to apologise for that. And Satoru knows that Suguru loves him no matter what his stupid fucking family says, so there’s no need to say that either.

It’s good, being quiet with each other, even though a very tiny voice in Suguru’s head won’t shut up about how Satoru has changed since their teenager days, how he really has gotten more quiet over the years and if maybe what Suguru thought to be a good thing is actually a bad thing.

He tells that voice to shut up as best as he can, because he honestly trusts that Satoru would have told him if he overstepped some lines or forced him to do something he didn’t like and since that never happened, Suguru simply has to be content with the knowledge that it’s a normal change Satoru went through.

And Satoru doesn’t seem unhappy, so Suguru really shouldn’t worry all too much about this.

It isn’t until they reached their home, until they changed into more comfortable clothes and are cuddled up on the couch, take-out food on the way, that Satoru speaks.

“You know, he’s right actually,” he softly says and presses closer to Suguru. “And I wanted to thank you.”

“He’s right?” Suguru demands to know, completely disregarding the second part of his statement. “How can you even say that? He’s a fucking horrible human being and nothing he has ever said about you is true!”

“But this is, Suguru, and it’s not a bad thing. I used to be all the things he said.”

“He called you a feral animal!” Suguru reminds him because he cannot believe what he’s hearing right now.

“May I remind you that I did bit you the second day we knew each other?” Satoru gently reminds him and then huffs out a laugh. “You cried because you were so scared you’re going to get rabies.”

Okay, fair, Suguru thinks and laughs as well, burying his face in Satoru’s hair.

“I still don’t like the way he talked about you.”

“Me neither, but—” Satoru wriggles around until he can sling his arms around Suguru’s middle and press kisses to his chin. “He still wasn’t wrong. I used to be all of the things he said and sometimes even worse. That only changed with you.”

Suguru goes cold at that.

“I did not—domesticate you,” he hisses out because just the thought makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“No, that’s not what I meant, not at all. And it’s not as if you used any methods, as if there’s anything you could tell my parents that you did. Like I said at that table—it’s your love that changed me.”

“Huh?” Suguru intelligently asks because he doesn’t get it.

How can his love change Satoru this much?

“I used to be loud and brash and rude and annoying because no one was paying attention to me. My parents only cared when I exceeded their expectations—which I could never do because no matter what I did they always expected more. Apart from that, they only cared when I embarrassed them or otherwise brought shame to the family, as they liked to call it.”

“Oh god, I can imagine how you did that,” Suguru groans out because Satoru’s mischievous side makes so much more sense now.

“What I’m trying to say is that I had to be loud for them to notice me; otherwise they would look right past me. If I wasn’t causing problems or being exceptional they wouldn’t notice me. Dinners were always silent unless I yapped on, like my father called it. It’s not as if a whole lot of talking ever happened in that household. I’m not even sure when my parents last spoke to each other,” Satoru explains and Suguru pulls him closer to himself.

Satoru has never talked this much about his family and Suguru gets why. It’s not a nice topic, that’s for sure.

“So what’s changed for you?” he wants to know because something definitely has changed.

Satoru is no longer constantly talking, vying for attention or otherwise making sure he’s being heard. And Suguru has a hard time believing that his love could be the reason for that.

“You. You changed me,” Satoru says and smiles up at him. “I know you see me. I know that no matter what I do, you’re aware of me. You don’t ignore me if I’m not annoying. I don’t have to hang off you every second of every day to make you remember that I am still here. You always know that I’m there.”

“Satoru,” Suguru whispers out, suddenly feeling choked up.

“It’s because you love me, just like I am, even loud and brash, but also quiet and relaxed and for that, I want to thank you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Suguru chokes out, having to hold back tears because this is really not something Satoru should thank him for. Not now, not ever.

“With you I can,” Satoru teases him and moves away, so he can take Suguru’s face into his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Suguru immediately gives back, even if his voice wobbles dangerously but this is something that can never go without an answer, no matter what.

“I know. Thank you.”

“No, Satoru,” Suguru vehemently says and cups Satoru’s face in his hands in return. “I should thank you for allowing me in, for giving me a chance, for letting me love you. And for you loving me as well. I wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Yeah, I know, you’d be off way worse,” Satoru teasingly says, but there’s nothing teasing in the way Suguru nods.

“I would be, yes,” he agrees, because he doesn’t even want to imagine where he would be if Satoru hadn’t been there for him all this time.

He definitely wouldn’t be this happy, that much Suguru knows for sure.

“Suguru!” Satoru exclaims and goes a lovely shade of red, because for all the years they’ve spent together, he still hasn’t learned how to take a compliment from Suguru.

“Satoru!” Suguru gives back, smiling brightly and pulling Satoru close for a kiss. “I am very happy to have you,” he whispers against Satoru’s lips and Satoru goes lax against him.

“That’s my line,” he complaints, but he nuzzles the side of Suguru’s face, clearly more than content.

“It can be our line,” Suguru softly gives back and smiles when Satoru agrees.

“That sounds good.”

And even that is an understatement, because in Suguru’s mind, that sounds perfect.

There is this German song called "Leiser" which is about a bad relationship where the singer goes quieter and quieter the more time passes because their partner is not paying attention to them, but I always thought it would be so nice to find someone you can be quiet with, and I think that holds especially true with Satoru.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #established relationship #dysfunctional family #hurt/comfort #fluff

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

in your earlier ask you said that yves is pretty much anti child so is he also anti pet? or maybe anti puppy/kitten/baby animal? when you described yves pretty much conditioning reader to dislike kids it reminded me when i got my kitten when she was three weeks old. it was during the lockdown so although i was there 24/7 i was lacking sleep because she refused to sleep on her own and i had to feed her every two hours and when she got older she got hyper and i needed to play with her so she could chill out a little more. i remember as i put her to sleep in my lap for the third time i thought to myself “is this what babies are like? but worse, dirtier and for a longer time?” as much as i love my little fur baby i don’t think i could go through that again so i wonder yves’ thoughts on pets. he gives off those vibes that he hates fur everywhere and can’t stand barking lol. but then again if reader wants a pet im assuming he’ll accommodate somehow.

Pets that need his constant attention like most mammals and noisy animals like the majority of birds are a big no for him.

However, he doesn't mind having reptilians as pets. As long as they're big enough to not lose them. He is indifferent to fishes, but he sees them more as home decor than actual living beings. Something akin to owning lava lamps.

He especially likes snakes. It fits with the aesthetic of his house and they're one of the lowest maintenance pets there is. He would meet all of its physical needs, but other than that, he wouldn't care to spend more time with it than necessary. The snake will be locked up in its enclosure at all times, unless you want to interact with it and he knows that your personality wouldn't lead to trouble. He knows everything there is to know about the snake, yet he sees it as a mere display piece for his living room.

Yves despises insects, he uses the presence of them as a sign that the environment isn't clean, and he does not appreciate having to think his house is filthy. No matter how much research he does on them and how many results show that insects do not necessarily equal dirty, Yves just could not accept them.

He is not squeamish, though. Yves despises them but he is not afraid of them, he knows how to handle a tarantula gently and keep calm when it decides to crawl under his turtleneck. If you threw a bucket of cockroaches on him he would not scream or flail, he would dodge it gracefully before dusting himself off. If any got onto him, he will just pick them off his clothes as if they're paper stickers. Yves will not beat around the bush and try to find a roll of newspaper or a bug spray, he is squashing that colony of spiders with his bare hands.

The way he could simply grab a handful of mealworms without hesitation makes the world think he loves bugs. He doesn't, not one bit.

You could simply shove him in a vat full of writhing maggots and he would come out as if he took a leisure swim in the pool, combing his hair with his fingers to get rid of any leftovers.

Yves would be annoyed more than horrified, lecturing you that pushing him into ponds of worms is rude while he jerks his head to expel the ones that are stuck in his ears.

Not to say he is inept at taking care of them. Yves can be an excellent caretaker for any and every animal. His research skills are unbelievably godly and he loathes the idea of him being perceived as incompetent in anything.

Yves also has a strangely high tolerance for all things disgusting and vile, he could clean up the most brutal bloody murder scene complete with mutilated bodies, decomposition, faeces, urine, vomit and other bodily fluids without wearing gloves or a gas mask; and still have an appetite to eat lunch immediately after. Vacuuming fur and sifting through the litter box is nothing to him. He just does not find much fulfillment in owning a pet. Hence, a pet becomes a parasite in his life, and he detests all things vermin.

If you wanted a furry companion so badly, he will hit the books and review the patterns in your life again.

Do you really want a pet or are you actually just bored? If it's the latter, he could effectively fill your time and make you forget about your desire for an animal companion. He could also negotiate his way out of this too.

Are you someone who hyper fixate on something or someone, then lose all interest after a few months? Then, he could wait it out. Taking care of your newest breathing toy as he counts down until you finally decide to abandon it and move on to greener pastures.

Are you someone who easily gives up at the first encounter of a problem? Maybe all it takes for you to drop the interest entirely is a meow that's too loud or a nip that's a bit too painful. He's going to train the animal to misbehave around you.

Are you someone who is susceptible to peer pressure? He is going to train your pet to misbehave around your loved ones. Manipulate your friends and family into thinking that you're an abusive or neglectful pet owner. He doesn't have to say a word to you, everyone is doing the pressuring for him.

Maybe you would fold under his dour glare and stern words, he can be quite scary at times. That generally reduces anyone into a shivering, crying mess that will not bring up the things that displeases him. This is usually the second-last resort to anything.

Perhaps you're a fierce animal lover and have a strong portfolio of being a cat or dog owner. You wouldn't give your beloved four legged friends up for the world, you will fight for them till your very last breath. Someone with unbreakable maternal/paternal instincts towards your precious fur babies. Giving them up is not in the equation.

Well, he is not above traumatizing you for life.

When push comes to shove, you might find your trusted non-human companions betraying you by lacerating your extremities to the point of no repair. Puncturing your throat with its sharp canines and claws, leaving you to breathe on a ventilator while Yves takes care of you in the hospital.

Or he could direct the attack to someone else, make you liable for lasting damages and having to put your seemingly rabid pets down. You would also have to live with the guilt of knowing you're mainly responsible for disfiguring that poor child's face, changing his life for the worse, just because you "didn't" train them well.

He warned you not to test him. Yves has been lenient and his patience has reached its limits. He may love you and want the best for you, but he is also very, very selfish.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves

[distant-velleity]

Be Mine

Summary: Promise Day has rolled around for Twisted Wonderland. Or: three shorts for Valentine's Day with my OCs. Word count: 800+ A/N: Hiiii. I wrote these last night on a last-minute whim. Please enjoy them until White Day comes around <333

Tagging: @thehollowwriter @kitwasnothere @nahelenia for the sillies :))

~

[I]

As soon as Yu opens the front door, there’s a fanned-out hand of face-down playing cards offered to him.

“Pick a card, any card,” declares Ace.

“It’s too early in the morning for any of this,” Yu complains, rubbing the remaining sleep out of his eyes and proceeding to lightly tap the rightmost card.

With his free hand, Ace takes that card and flips it over. He whistles softly but appreciatively. “Ace of Hearts? Good choice.”

“Isn’t that—”

Ace flicks his wrist and, with a burst of magical sparkles, a bouquet of fresh roses replaces the card before Yu can even blink. 

“Happy Promise Day, Yu,” Ace announces, bearing a devious but still endearingly boyish smirk. “I got up bright and early to give you these, so we’d better stick together today, got it?”

Yu doesn’t even realize that his shocked expression has become a disbelieving smile. “You goof. Waking me up at the crack of dawn to make sure you’d be the first to give me anything.” He laughs and takes the bouquet gladly, hugging it to his chest. “I appreciate it a lot, Ace. I promise, today’s a day for us.” 

Ace slings an arm, casual and warm despite the chilly February air, over Yu’s shoulders. “Glad to hear it. Now, how about breakfast over at Heartslabyul? Trey said he’d whip up something nice for today…”

“Oh, absolutely.”

-

[II]

Cute date locations… Things to do with your S/O… “This is a sign to take her/him to …”

Santiago sighs and keeps scrolling. It’s not that he isn’t interested in his feed, but rather that he has no use for it. After all, who would he even do cute couple things with—

“Santiago.” 

Just a word from a familiar melodious voice, and then a small box is placed on the desk before him with an impatient tap. It’s black with a velvety sheen to it, and tied together neatly with a golden ribbon. 

He blinks once, looks up at Chrysos, and blinks again. “What—”

“Dark chocolates with raspberry filling,” Chrysos says, quickly, as if he doesn’t want to leave any room to doubt himself. “For Promise Day.”

Santiago isn’t sure what he should be more amazed by—the fact that Chrysos remembered his preferences (of course he did, it’s Chrysos) or how the merman hasn’t just bolted or made a threat of violence yet.

“You’d better enjoy them, I made them myself with guidance from Azul,” adds Chrysos, his skin looking decidedly more flushed by the moment. 

“You… Holy shit, Chrysos,” Santiago marvels. It’s not an exaggeration to say he would probably just reach up and kiss Chrysos right now if there weren’t personal and societal obstacles in the way. “This is… I mean… thanks.”

A pleased little smile makes its way onto Chrysos’ face, and Santiago thinks—

…Maybe there is someone I could do all that ridiculously cheesy couple stuff with.

-

[III]

“Azul,” calls Jade, “someone would like to see you.”

Occupied as he is with the White Day menu for next month and improved Promise Day recipes for next year, Azul barely gives the summons a second thought. “Tell them to come again later. I’m busy.”

There’s a pause, and then Jade peeks back in again. “I’m not sure you’ll want to keep this one waiting. He did schedule something with you.”

That gets Azul to look up from his work. Mentally, he files through a list of names, recalling distantly that he had been excited for something last night and yet he’s blanking now—

“It’s fine, Jade. No need to negotiate with him.” Davis steps inside, looking surprisingly cleaned up for someone wearing the Savanaclaw uniform. “Overworking again, huh? Still, sorry for taking up your time, Azul.”

Azul remembers now, with embarrassing clarity, why he’d been nearly bursting at the seams with anticipation last night. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures. “I was just about to take a break.”

“...Right,” replies Davis, somewhere between amused or skeptical, or being both. “Uh, anyway—” He looks over his shoulder to make sure Jade has left, which he has. “—I didn’t want to make a scene earlier, so I’ll give it to you now.”

From behind his back, he brings out a small vase with two lavender-blue roses in it. They glimmer faintly.

“They’re a species of rose native to the Queendom, but I experimented and used a bit of magic to create a variant with this color,” Davis explains, looking less tense the more he gets to talk academically. “Botany isn’t my specialty, so they’d normally wilt pretty soon after blooming, but I enchanted them to stay fresh for longer. So, if you want, you can keep it on your desk—”

“Of course,” says Azul immediately, not even giving him room to trail off. “They’re lovely, Davis—and you cultivated them yourself? Truly a man after all three of my hearts.”

He doesn’t realize how cheesy that sounds until after he says it, at which point he’s almost certain there is blood rushing to his cheeks and tinting them blue, but he keeps going with a half-confident smile. 

“If I were you, I would prepare myself for White Day. After all, I never let a debt go unpaid or my thanks go unknown.”

#kai's writing #twst oc #yuusona #chrysos pendentif #santiago parro #davis jayme #aceyu <3 #uhhh dont wanna tag any of the canon chars LOL #guys i promise i won't write it all the night before for white day 💀

[bangobeep]

A Love Letter to Jazzpunk, by Ed

It's crazy how fast time can go by when you're enjoying yourself. It's been about three years since I first encountered this game, and I could not be happier with where it's brought me. I've learned so much and met so many wonderful people through it.

For a game that can be played in 2 hours and a half, it sure is complex; so full of jokes and content that can take literal hours to be taken apart. It's brought me closer to an appreciation of things like abstract art, the cyberpunk genre, analog tech, vintage clothing, suits, among a few others.

I remember my first interaction with the game. Funnily enough, it was not through Ranboo like what I usually tell. Back in the day, 2021, I was a mere high school student who, to cope with the horrors of the pandemic, used to be into the DSMP. Woo. Yeah. No shame in admittance. Well, only a little bit.

There was this one cosplayer I used to follow on TikTok (if I recall correctly, their name is Fern [they/them]); mainly because of their c!Foolish cosplay. I was drawn to them and their energy and the way they portrayed characters! So, naturally, I followed them and interacted with their videos every now and then.

On the 23rd of June of 2021, I found myself doom-scrolling on the app (as one does), and I came across one of their videos, though this one was not from any media I knew or was used to watching from them.

The song spy? by WHOKILLEDXIX started playing, and there he was. Glasses and (makeshift) orange tie. Business card. Coat. A little unhinged, yet classy. The Editor.

I feel as if I was so drawn to him because of what I wanted to do after high school. I wanted to study literature in college to become an editor myself! I wanted to correct people's texts, be annoying about it and get paid for it! And would you look at that, the name of the guy is quite literally The Editor. LOL.

As the days went by, I found myself going back to the video, waiting for them to upload more, to feed into my curiosity. I loved the video I saw so much I saved it to my gallery the exact same day I saw it.

Then came the second one, with actual footage from the game. "Quick, look behind you." The Director says, and the camera cuts to the ground, and Fern's shoes. I heard their voices for the first time. "Improvise, I know you'll do well by me." He says again, and I grow ever so drawn to it. Five videos are more than enough. And while I don't look it up just yet, it's in my head.

Until the 25th of July 2021! Like I said, I used to be into the DSMP, though by then, the fixation was fading, and I found myself in that limbo where nothing quite caught my attention. On that day, Ranboo tweeted something about a Jazzpunk stream, and it instantly caught my attention. I was quick to put down anything I was doing to find out what it really was.

And though I was not particularly interested in them, or their streams anymore, I was hooked! I was not the kind to stay for an entire stream, yet there I was. Two hours and thirty something minutes of being beamed in the brain with pure madness.

And then it was over. And I found myself gripping every single piece of fanart I could find with my bare hands, screaming because there had got to be more, right? There had to be more.

And there was! That's when Tumblr became my main form of internet presence. First was Instagram, then came Twitter, and well, would you look at that, I made it here.

I started drawing. I must admit, my first few drawings were atrocious, but looking back on them now, I feel proud. People say that when you fixate on something, your art develops as you go, and they're right!

A year and a half are all my prior account lasted. By the same name. I made a stupid joke to my boyfriend, sending one (1) spam message in their ask box and it was gone! And so, bangobeep 2.0 came to fruition. But that's not the point.

Back when I first got into the game, the need for connection was strong. I found myself craving the partnership; the long, late-night talks about little details of the game, the roleplaying, the scenario thinking, and so the Jazzpunk server came to life on the 13th of August 2021. Named Jazzpunk Moment. I sent a DM to the people I saw most often in the tag back then: Pangolin-404 and Vendotlover, both of which I admired very much!

I remember looking at their art and reading their fanfics and thinking to myself: 'Wow, what I'd give to be able to talk to the cool kids!' And well, I did! I talked to both, and they both agreed to give me their discord, after which they (and a few others with time) joined the server.

Some time after that, I befriended them personally through our mutual love for the game and similar interests, as well as through general chitter chatter about me being hyperactive when on caffeine, 404/Caligula telling me about Sammy Lawrence from Bendy and the Ink Machine, and Ven telling me of xeir OC whose name came from Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss. I’m happy to say nowadays I still talk to both Caligula and Ven very often. In fact! I consider Cali one of my best friends, and I am kinda gay dating Ven. So, you know. Fun things bring fun people together. :)

Then came around people like Jazz Jazzanon, Zippy Zippycup, Jazzhands, Noah, Wither, and a couple others that, while I won’t mention, made this experience something wonderful for me.

I can’t quite find the words to express this something so dear to me. Jazzpunk, as short as it is, changed my life in ways I could’ve never imagined. I’ve started researching things I thought I’d never be into, started books I loved, got into music I had never listened to before, and it all helped build me as a person these three years. It’s brought me unimaginable amounts of comfort and joy, and I don’t think I’ll ever find something else that will make me feel this whole.

I could go on and on about how I have projected so many little aspects of my life onto my interpretation of it. About how the way I interpret Polyblank is highly influenced by those I love. About how the paintings in The Editor’s house fit him and his personality, but those are topics for another day.

The world out there is wacky and crazy, and Jazzpunk does a great job at feeding into the fact it can be strange, it can be difficult, and it can be fun.

So, to 10 years of community, 10 years of happiness, 10 years of a game that will stay with me forever, and many more to come!

Thank you, Jazzpunk.

#jazzpunk #jappy jazzpunk janniversary :^)

[bloodanddiscoballs]

Alright I said I was gonna make a sappy post for my 30th birthday so here it goes!:

I never thought I would live to see 30. I know that many people say that, and I'm sure that sentiment isn't unique on here. Here's the thing; I'm disabled. I have almost died due to my health 3 times since 2011 and indeed did once before being brought back. My immune system is nonexistent, and my chronic pain has me at currently 6 reconstructive back surgeries and round the clock pain medication.

When I was 17 years old, I became a victim of medical malpractice and had my entire life changed in an instant. Didn't get to go off to college, didn't get to work normally, didn't get to move out - didn't, didn't, didn't. For years, I was told that I would heal. That I would be fine. I was young! Young people don't get sick. I'll bounce back. Just be patient. But I didn't get better, I got worse. And every year older was another year into my 20s where I wasn't able to do "the normal stuff." I never finished college, but I did get some classes done. I would work for a few months before needing to quit. I got married and then divorced. All "failures" due to my health.

At 27, I went to see my therapist and sat down and told her that I couldn't see into my future. I remember telling her, "Every day is hell. I can't do this for another 10 years. I've barely made it through this last 10. I don't even know if I can do it for another 3." I was at the end of my rope, convinced that I wouldn't make it. My back was crumbling underneath me again, and insurance was fighting me tooth and nail to be approved for another surgery. I was bedridden. I was on the highest medication load I've taken, and it wasn't even touching my pain. I wasn't connected to anything - not my art, not friends, not the world around me. I was looking very seriously at my options of what I thought was either suffering or dying.

So, she suggested a mindfulness program. It was a 6-week course at UCSD (University of California San Diego) that taught you how to. essentially, live in the moment. At first, I thought it was honestly the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. I'll admit that I was sour on it, but I said I would try it and I paid for the class so I did it. I sat through the meditations, wrote on the topics they gave, went through the exercises they instructed, and did the full day retreat. And at the end of those 6 weeks, I was alive again. I learned to savor every bite of my food. I learned how to pay attention to the sun on my skin. I learned to enjoy how it felt to have my air move in and out of my lungs. I learned how to look in the mirror and love what I saw and dress myself in what made me happy (this is when I started with the disco clothes). The warm feel of skin, the taste of my favorite soda, the beautiful way my cat purrs, the glorious smell of rain, the lovely way dust looks illuminated by the sun - I learned how to Live.

My life is still hard. My pain has not improved. I did get that surgery, so now my back is thankfully more stable than it's ever been. I know that I probably won't live a very long time compared to most, but none of that makes me sad anymore, not really. I have my bad days, and I have my good days, and no matter what, I live in the moment. I feel my emotions and let them have their space within me before letting them flow. And after over a decade of not touching my art because I felt like it was robbed from me, I paint now. I paint for myself, and I paint for others, and by God, I enjoy every second of it. I feed the little barn cats out in the back of where I live now, and I love them. I enjoy the sound of the wind through the oak trees, and I listen to my music, and I take pictures of the bugs. I watch the clouds race by when it's about to storm, and I talk to the flowers that grow outside my fence. I love my bed for holding me on my bad days and love that I have pretty artwork from friends hanging on my walls to comfort me when I can't leave my room. I dress up in my fun disco stuff whenever I can, and on the days I can't, I enjoy my soft, comfy pj's. I talk to my friends online every day and apologize for the days I can't when my pain makes it too hard to think. I play fun video games and watch good movies and enjoy fun podcasts. I Live.

Today, I am 30 years old. I have lived through what should have killed me many times over. And I am so, so happy I am here. And for however long I have, I will continue to live in the moment, enjoying the days and moments I can and allowing the bad to simply be bad. I plan for tomorrow because that is all I can plan for.

I live, and that is enough.

#not sure how to tag this #hope i guess #also you can reblog this of you want #i dont mind

[greatqueenanna]

Have you heard about the new short in front of Wish and how they're using Hans as a punching bag again? I'm just so tired of Disney doing the same thing over and over again. It feels like they're personally attacking his fans. Like, we get it. Can you stop now?

I've read rumors and spoiler posts about it, yes.

First off, I want to see the short for myself first before I pass any real judgment. I'm sure the short is fun and harmless, and one thing I'm excited about is seeing Hans again in (what I presume) updated animation since Frozen. He showed up in Frozen Fever, but it was from a distance so you couldn't really see him too well.

More thoughts on this below the cut. It's a bit long and I didn't want to crowd everyone's feeds.

Second, on the subject of Hans being treated as a joke, I agree to an extent.

I do think that Hans isn't being treated the same way as other villains. Disney Villains, even when they have done pretty gruesome things, are given fun merchandise, songs, or promotional opportunities for their films or the 'Disney Villain' brand - at the very least they get some toys or t-shirts. Hans, on the other hand, barely gets any merchandise and is usually not featured in villain-related promotions. I think the last time Hans was present in anything was his Villain/Hero doll set he had with Elsa and the A Frozen Heart novel that was retconned by Forest of Shadows.

I would really love it if they brought him back in a meaningful way, instead of just random cameos that joke about his douche-ness. We get it. He's a douche. Can we expand on this character a bit more now? Maybe give him an opportunity to prove himself as a villain?

However, even with all this being said, I think the reason for this treatment is because of the uniqueness of Hans' overall character. Not only was he a twist villain, but he was a romantic interest for Anna - making him a little too realistic for many people.

Yes, characters like Frollo and Gaston also share the qualities of men trying to take advantage of women, and Mother Gothel does indeed show signs of a realistic abusive parent. But they're shown since the beginning that they are villainous, which helps the audience know to emotionally disconnect from them. This is the same for most villains.

Hans was shown to be desirable and then changed, which is what realistically happens when people are trapped in abusive relationships. We form attachments to these types of people and it's hard to just disconnect. It's difficult to just place him as a 'deliciously fun' Disney villain with the others when he hits too close to home.

This is why we see less of a fun side to him, and why we are often just shown him being a punching bag. Hans didn't just betray Anna, he betrayed the audience as well.

"But there have been other twist villains, like Callaghan, Mayor Bellwether, and Turbo."

Yes, but did these characters really have the same emotional attachment as Hans did? Not really. Callaghan came close, but we barely saw him interact or have an emotional connection to Hiro. Bellwether and Turbo (as King Candy) were nice to their protagonists, but again, didn't have that emotional attachment to them. Hans was Anna's light of hope after we saw her suffer during her childhood, and then he turned on her when she needed him the most. Remember the plethora of reaction videos to his betrayal when Frozen first came out? Hans is a pretty big deal.

I don't agree with the conclusion that this is meant to be an attack on Hans' fans. Sorry, but the Hans fandom is, and was never, big enough to warrant such a response from Disney and we barely agree with each other on everything. If there were hundreds of fans bombarding Frozen and Disney posts, then maybe I would believe it. However, if you actually look at Twitter, it's literally the same three or four people just insulting Jennifer Lee and spreading the #FireJenLee and #RedeemHans tags. That's the only Hans Fandom presence on Twitter, unfortunately.

#Hans #Prince Hans #frozen #greatqueenanna/responses

[lilac-hecox]

Okay when I saw the description snippet for the demon!Anthony fic and the belly bulge tag, where I thought it was gonna go was him just engorging himself on blood until he was distended and I mean, what you did was also very very hot but if you're taking requests I want that. Please. Or if you want you could make him a vampire instead, I'm not very attached to that part, I just have very specific kinks but hey, this account doesn't have my name on it so whatever. If you are taking requests I will request my very specific kink dammit!

Vampire!Anthony/Ian - Blood From You

--

In the many years Anthony has been alive he has drunk from so many different humans, tasted a variety of different bloods, but none were as tasty as Ian’s.

“Seriously,” Anthony says, “you’re like champaign in a world full of tap water.”

“Now I know you’re bullshitting.”

Anthony takes Ian’s wrist in his hand and presses his lips to the thin skin, feeling the pulse point thump against his lips. The feeling of Ian’s beating heart and the scent of his blood, even under the barrier of his skin, makes Anthony’s fangs ache.

“I wish I were. Life would be so much easier. I wouldn’t have to control myself so much as to not drain you dry.”

“I hate when you say that before you drink from me,” Ian says with a shiver.

Anthony tugs Ian a little closer and then brushes their lips together in a soft kiss.

“I would never hurt you.”

“I know that” Ian says plainly, though he searches Anthony’s eyes.

Ian’s been Anthony’s partner for a little over a year now. What started as a hunt for blood became so much more, more than anything Anthony could have predicted, and while he vowed to never become attached to a human – or a food source – here he was with Ian.

He really never would hurt Ian, but it is difficult. It’s like eating the most delicious meal you’ve ever tasted but only allowing yourself a handful of bites.

Ian glances behind him at the ancient grandfather clock near the back wall of the room.

“It’s nearly time,” he says casually. He tugs off his t-shirt and tosses it aside, revealing pale skin, a slightly soft belly and hips, and a warm smattering of hair across his torso and stomach. Anthony licks his lips and settles himself on the floor, stretching his legs out.

Ian shifts so he is straddling Anthony’s lap, his legs hooked loosely around Anthony’s waist. Anthony’s hands stroke up from Ian’s hips, fingers dancing across his ribs, his waist, up to his shoulders, until his fingers brush the soft and freckled skin of Ian’s neck.

“Tilt for me,” Anthony says.

Ian tilts his head to the right, allowing Anthony an expanse of pale skin on the left-hand side. For some vampires, feedings are more sterile, more business-like, for some it is more predatory, violent, some it is quick and messy, but for vampires like Anthony, feeding has taken a turn into something more erotic because it is Ian, because Ian is Anthony’s main food source, his human companion, his lover.

Ian shivers when Anthony holds his shoulders firmly.

“Now be still,” Anthony reminds.

Ian lets out a shivery breath, “I got it.”

Anthony licks the patch of skin he intends to bite, feeling Ian tremble just a little. Then he tilts his mouth and bares his fangs, sinking his sharp canines into Ian’s tender neck. Ian gasps and freezes up momentarily before he remembers to relax. The pain is quick, just a hot slice of it, as Ian has described it before.

Anthony uses the pressure of his mouth to pull at the blood, feeling it flood across his tongue. They both moan and Ian’s hands cling to Anthony’s shoulders and back. Anthony hums his pleasure at the taste. It really is like nothing else.

He’s heard some rumor, centuries ago, one that said that when you find a human that tastes better than anyone else ever has or ever will, it is a soul bond, a twin flame, the universe calling to you and asking you to answer. Anthony had never really believed that because while blood tasted good it was nothing to be called a gift from the universe.

Then, when he met Ian on a random autumn night in California, when he tasted his blood for the first time, he knew that it must be true.

He hasn’t told Ian about the legends and what it all might mean because he doesn’t know how to prove it, and he doesn’t want to scare Ian. Vampire and human relationships are designed to fall apart eventually, and Anthony often does not want to consider that.

“Anthony,” Ian moans lightly.

A heat flares inside of Anthony at Ian’s voice and as Ian’s blood fills him. He thinks, trying to count how much he’s pulled already. They’ve only just started. The clock against the far wall shows barely five minutes have gone by.

Anthony pulls back momentarily, “Are you alright?” he asks, his lips sticky from Ian’s blood.

Ian looks adorably dazed, his blue eyes a little foggy and glassy.

“I’m okay, it felt good. You can keep going.”

Anthony nods and leans in again, finds the same bite so he doesn’t have to pierce into Ian’s skin all over again. He pulls deeper than before, sucking huge mouthfuls of sweet blood into his mouth. Ian hangs on and shivers. Anthony can feel Ian’s hard crotch pressing against his stomach. That will be afterwards Ian’s reward for letting Anthony feed.

He drinks again, the richness of the blood flowing down his throat, warm in his belly.

They have a system, a set of cues they established to check in with one another.

“I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded,” Ian says.

That’s the first cue.

Anthony whines just a little frustratedly, he doesn’t want to let up so soon. The lightheadedness is normal, and Ian will be safe, it’s only the first sign that the feeding will need to end soon. Anthony drinks greedily, just a little messy, some of Ian’s blood flowing from the corner of his mouth and down Ian’s collarbones.

After a few moments Ian’s breathing starts getting rapid, his heart beating faster.

Cue number two.

“Anthony,” Ian says quietly, reminding him that the feeding will wrap up soon.

Anthony presses his face more insistently to Ian’s neck, to the bite, and pulls deep, a huge gulp flooding his mouth, sweet like nectar, the best wine, the richest dessert. Ian is a delicacy on his tongue.

Ian’s skin begins to feel cold and clammy to the touch and that is the third cue.

He needs to stop. Any more and he’ll put Ian in danger and he can’t do that. He has to tame the animalistic part of his brain begging him to keep going, demanding that he hold Ian down and drink his fill, drink until he’s drained Ian of every exquisite drop of blood in his body.

He takes a few more huge gulps of precious blood from Ian.

Ian’s fingers dig into his shoulders.

“Anthony!” he says, more panicked than before.

His voice snaps Anthony back to himself and he pulls away quickly. He touches Ian’s cheek with his hand, cupping his cool, pale skin.

“Are you okay?” Anthony asks, real concern there. He had zoned out and let himself become too fixated on the taste of Ian’s blood. He drank more than he usually does, quicker than he usually does.

Ian is shaking but he nods.

“Let me close it,” Anthony says.

He leans in and Ian flinches away. It makes a pain edge across Anthony’s heart.

“I won’t drink, I’m just going to close it, I promise.”

Ian gives a shaky nod and Anthony leans in and presses the flat of his tongue to the bite on Ian’s neck, stifling the wound and stopping the pull of blood, as if he were corking a leak.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” Anthony says, holding Ian’s face.

“It’s okay,” Ian says, though he doesn’t look well.

Anthony stands on his feet and easily picks Ian up into his arms. As soon as he stands, he can feel the warmth of Ian’s blood settling in his stomach. He feels heavy with it, weighted. Anthony sluggishly moves to settle Ian on their shared bed, smoothing away Ian’s sweaty hair.

“I’m going to grab the medicine,” Anthony says.

Ian nods and he lets his eyes flutter closed, too weak to open them at the moment.

Guilt sweeps through Anthony’s body. It is a curse to find the human whose blood tastes so sweet, so delicious. You must deny the very part of them that bonds you, the part of you that wants to devour every bit of the one you love and cherish. It’s happened. He’s heard cautionary tales, doomed romances, everything in between.

He promised never to hurt Ian and he intends to hold that promise.

Anthony goes to the bathroom and collects the medicine for Ian. Something to quickly restore his blood cells and boost his energy. They rarely have to use it and Anthony again feels bad.

As he has the bottle in hand, he can’t help but glance at himself in the long mirror in the bathroom. He still isn’t sure where the rumor that vampires can’t see their reflection comes from, but he sees himself, blood-stained lips, dark eyes, and he can even see the way his stomach is slightly distended, pulls just a little at his sweater. Anthony momentarily lifts his sweater and sees his stomach rounded just a bit from drinking Ian’s blood. He really had taken too much.

Anthony hurries to the bedroom and uncorks the medicine, taking a fill of the purple liquid with the rubber tipped dropper.

“Open,” Anthony instructs.

Ian opens his mouth and Anthony drops the medicine onto Ian’s tongue.

He stops the medicine and then sets it on the nightstand before crawling into bed with Ian, curling into his warm body. He takes Ian’s hand again and presses a kiss to the palm.

“I’m sorry,” Anthony says again.

“It’s okay, I feel better already,” Ian says, though his eyes are still closed, but the color has returned to his cheeks.

Anthony hums and kisses Ian’s palm again, pressing his warm hand to his own icy cheek, thinking of how much more careful he must be in the future with his most prized possession.

200 follower prompts

#ianthony #vampire!anthony #vampire au #human!ian #blood drinking #belly bulge #belly distending #soulmate au #sorta #smoshships #polysmosh #my writing #my fic #my fics #200 follower milestone event #sorry this only has a little of what you asked for but this idea got away from me and i had this blood drinking scene in my head #prompts #open requests

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

Ember Tears

~ A Halloween Story

Fyodor x gn!reader

My Navigation is here.

Synopsis: a rainy autumn night and a demon with an unquenchable thirst.

This is the last piece for my Autumn Festival 2022.

Warnings: yandere!Fyodor (incl. yandere themes), what is Fedya without some god complex? vampire!Fyodor, vampire!reader

Note: I had a lot of fun writing all of these, I hope you enjoyed them 💕

Wordcount: 800+

Perhaps, he was getting rusty. He could still smell the sweet fragrance lingering in the air - whether it was your blood that compelled him, or the grape juice tinting your lips red.

Either way, he had decided to keep an eye on you. This - obsession - he had only felt once before: when he was freshly turned; inexperienced and greedy. Greed. Yes. What better way to describe his current predicament? Unable to decide if he should feed on you, or devour you whole. To paint your halo black, dripping with thick blood.

He hummed, finally starting to move again. For a moment, the moon reflected on his skin. The curve of his jaw was graceful and the blue lines shimmering through his porcelain skin were nothing but aristocratic. He was beautiful. For a moment, the air was still around him. Then, he was gone.

It had been centuries since he had last seen your face. However, he remembered you being far more docile prey. Now, your eyes were flickering with rage as you bared your teeth at him.

"Ah, my dearest myshka, it has been a while, no?" You shivered at the sound of his voice, like velvet on his tongue. His accent was as present as ever, and it sent a stab to your heart to hear it again.

"What do you want, demon?"

He clicked his tongue, laying his hand on his chest as if wounded by your words.

"Come now, you don´t mean that."

"What do you want?"

He sent a quiet smile your way and you had to force yourself not to take a step back.

"I am just as surprised to see you as you are, myshka."

"I´m supposed to believe that?"

He chuckled.

"I am serious. I was merely walking by the harbour when you passed. I didn´t even recognise you. How come your blood smells sweeter than I remember? Who have you been feeding on?" he teased.

"You were too hungry to notice such trivial things back then."

"Ah."

He pondered for a moment.

"I was quite foolish back then, I will admit that."

You raised your eyebrows, but didn´t say anything.

"Such a shame," he sighed. "If I had only met you later, I don´t think I would have forgotten a smell as intoxicating as yours."

You glared at him. He laid his head to the side, his smile a mockery of sweetness, but before he could open his mouth again, you turned around and walked away.

He lifted his head, smile vanishing and eyes turning calculating.

"Myshka, myshka," he tutted, "What on earth are you doing?"

You flinched when he suddenly appeared before you. You stayed still even when he laid his hand on your cheek, fingers running over your skin and tilting your head to face him. "Don´t be like that. Can you blame me for wanting to keep you all to myself?" He leaned down, nose brushing against your neck, and breathed in. He let out a quiet groan at your smell. "How did I miss a price as beautiful as you?"

"You tried to kill me," you forced out.

"I saved you." He said it so matter-of-factly that for a moment, you didn´t know how to respond.

"You - you think you saved me?" He only hummed when you slapped away his hand. "You turned me into a monster!"

His arm snaked around your waist and pulled you flush against his body. His mouth hovered over your skin, before pulling back a little to look into your eyes.

You had forgotten how beautiful he was. His eyes were mesmerising - deep violet and far wiser than they were all those centuries back. You could see stolen blood pump through his veins, and yet his fingers were so cold against your skin.

"Did I?" he asked you with a low voice, "Did I really? Think about it, myshka, were where you when I found you?"

"The library."

He laughed.

"Ah, I see. I should have phrased this better. Where were you, when this form found you?"

You looked to the side.

"Because I remember you begging for my help."

Your eyes flared up with anger when you faced him again.

"You know that´s not what I meant."

"Then, would you have preferred to let that imbecile kill you?"

"Yes."

He leaned down, lips barely touching yours.

"I don´t think you would."

"I trusted you."

"I know."

"Why?" your eyes were helpless, and he cooed at you. Just like he did back then. Cradling your limp body, pressing soft kisses to your blood-covered neck.

"Because you asked me to help you. You were half dead, myshka, I might not have valued you as much as you deserved back then - something I deeply regret - but I couldn´t let you die. Especially after you asked for my help."

You sobbed, pressing closer into him.

"Why did you leave?"

He hummed, mouth above the faded marks on your neck.

"I don´t like weakness." You could not see how his eyes filled with disgust for a moment. "But," he conceded, hand protectively covering your head. "What is a God without something to protect?"

Your blood ran cold.

"To keep me?"

He lifted your face by your chin to smile at you.

"To devour you whole."

He silenced your scream with a kiss.

#fyodor bungou stray dogs #fyodor bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bsd x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #what-the-stories-have-foretold #x gn!reader #cafe employee

[equallyshaw]

𝔟𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔩. - 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔫𝔫 𝔥𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔢𝔰.

inspired by miss o rodrigos: brutal.

part of the "sour" imagine series.

Sour Masterlist:

Part two: all i want.

warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide indirectly (not named), mental health issues and angst.

word count: 3.5k

slight time jumps, 2018-2020-2022.

—

I'm so insecure, I think

That I'll die before I drink

And I'm so caught up in the news

Of who likes me and who hates you

And I'm so tired that I might

Quit my job, start a new life

And they'd all be so disappointed

'Cause who am I, if not exploited?

—

we broke up right after my 18th, because somebody was scared about what my supposed 'celebrity' status would do to his career. we broke up two weeks before i was awarded the gold medal for figure skating, at the 2018 olympics. he broke up with me because, he could not deal with the attention i got. attention, you say?

as much as i love this life, i hate what comes with it. i was barely 17, when the media turned me into a sexual icon for skating, or was a scapegoat because i came in 2nd at worlds and said that team usa did not have a chance at gold. they were wrong ofcourse, but you don't think i hated it too? i hated people on social media, following our every move. following yours, and sending me pictures + videos of you at parties with girls at your disposal and all up on you. that team usa's golden couple, were not as perfect as people made them out to be? because of my position i am terrified of what people will say, and what my coaches, teammates and managers think. always trying to please people, be the perfect starlit that i needed to be to win.

right before the olympics, and right after you broke up with me, i broke down. and some people will call me a baby because a lot of it was over you but was also, because of the amount of hate i had gotten. the amount of accusations of cheating, and apparently i was 'caught' drinking at a party which made team usa upset or that i went after a team usa hockey player that was not quinn. all untrue, ofcourse. i remember so clearly, thinking about dropping out because my mental health and anxiety were at a all time low and nobody did anything to supress the rumors, you even played along with it liking comments about me being in the wrong. i remember wanting to pull out, and doing a big fuck you to team usa and you, quinn. i wanted to be petty and disappear from the world. completley. it had gotten that bad. my coach shannon though, was one of the first to notice. she noticed how i didn't participate in anything other than what was required of me, and was one of the only people who tried to intervene on my behalf to no luck. team usa, pathetically, only and truly cared about hockey. skating, they could of gave two shits.

but then again, if i quit that would feed into there power. people would reval at the thought of tearing me down and 'winning' because i quit. i didn't want to give them that satisfaction but i didn't want to deal with it. also, the skating world and team usa needed somebody to not only be there scapegoat but somebody they could use to there advantage, not my personal. all they cared about was using me and then dumping me. so quickly, after taking a week off to personally sort out treatment options, i went back out into the plymoth ice and worked my ass off. tweaking parts of my routine, to add extra points and showed off my 'hard' side. something we had never explored before i needed to be soft and pretty. but the comittee, wanted me to win and to overshadow the rumors of why i took that week off. they told me this was it, if i didnt pull off a gold medal.

and i think about to this day, what would of happened if i did pull out of the 2018 games. who would i be now? where would i be? would i be with who i am today?

—

Where's my fucking teenage dream?

If someone tells me one more time

"Enjoy your youth, " I'm gonna cry

And I don't stick up for myself

I'm anxious and nothing can help

And I wish I'd done this before

And I wish people liked me more

—

ever since i had come to plymoth to continue my training at the age of 12 because the skating window was small, i hadn't lived a normal life. even more so, my parents had me homeschooled instead of going to public school with the rest of team usa. they believed that i would achieve more and quicker, if i spent more time in there. i had no friends. my coach shannon being my best friend and closest confidant, made me closed off. i mean i spoke to my teammates but becuase they were older, it was difficult to make that bond but i loved them nevertheless. and that's when you came into the picture. skating me off my feet, at the age of 15. literally. somebody decided to skate backwards during a open skate and bumped into me without realizing. i remember rolling my eyes, getting up and skating off the ice to disappear to the second rink. away from everybody.

you were so curious about me, asking anybody you could to find info about me. again, i didnt really have any friends so you relied on the trainers and coaches to coax information about me. i wish people my age, liked me more. it was so lonely, skating everyday and then going home to do school and then go back to the rink to do some off ice training. people thought i was weird becuase of it, even some of your teammates. it wasn't normal, and then you and some of the others our age, pulled me into a small knit group. where i thought for once, i was normal.

and then the rumors began, and nobody stood up for me. this was before we even started dating. i didn't stick up for myself because i wasnt given the oppurtunity or clearence to do so. i was scared to even walk by a camera when i had to. i tried to hide, and make myself small so i wouldn't be seen. nothing would help, though. and then once we broke up, i finally set the record straight in a instagram post after i won gold.

"to all the doubters, naysayers and drama fanatics- this is for you. i have worked my ass of since i was 12 to get here, through all the upsets, injuries, and extreme isolation as a kid, i have won. i won gold, baby. take that."

—

All I did was try my best

This the kind of thanks I get?

Unrelentlessly upset

They say these are the golden years

But I wish I could disappear

—

and then i wasnt seen until 2020, when the pandemic hit and my training was halted. i was seen on my way out of the training facility in plymouth. my manager said to the media, that my time was not over. that i still had a huge shot of making the 2022 team, despite this set back. i hated having the 'spotlight' back on me. i hated people watching my move again, fearing i would misstep and be looked down upon.

people still felt like i owed them something. people believed that despite me winning gold, i should of cleaner, sharper then what i did on that ice. i remember a rumor swirling around about how you had liked another instagram comment, about my routine and how i was apparently sloppy. does that make you feel good? does it make you upset, that i went to the olympics and you didnt? are you jealous?

god, i could never win with you. after everything, you still want to bring up old shit? shit that neither of us, had ever commented on? after seeing that swirl around on twitter, i shut the world out once again. my amazing boyfriend who was on the 2018 hockey olympic team wanted to reach out on my behalf but i kept telling him no. that you didn't deserve the time of day or energy spent. that he seriously didn't need to drive ten minutes down the road, to make a point. my skating would take care of that.

and then my mom was terrified during quarintine that i wouldn't be able to get a second gold because of not being on the ice. saying that even though i was in my prime, and my golden years, i might not be good enough because of this set back. so as soon as the rink reopened, i spent hours upon hours going over the basics and then moved my way onto the harder stuff that i had never attempted before. but i had moments where i felt like, i wasnt enough. that two of the closest people to me at one time, felt like i wasnt good enough. and i hate that you still have some power over me. that your opinion matters, because it did at one point.

—

I feel like no one wants me

And I hate the way I'm perceived

I only have two real friends

And lately, I'm a nervous wreck

'Cause I love people I don't like

—

even days before leading up the 2022 olympics, i still felt like i was not enough. and even though my boyfriend, from across the sea kept trying to keep my spirits up i was still sad and very lonely. a lot of people think that the olmypics are fun, and that is true, but it's also isolating. im also not the most outgoing or boisterous person to be around, so it made things difficult. yeah, i had friends from other countries that i got to hang with but i also just wanted my boyfriend. besides, shannon my coach- he was my best friend. i wish he was here again, but he was living out his dream in the nhl. now newly, apart of the seattle kraken. (a/n an hour plan ride from vancouver....) he couldn't be here. and then he went to post a picture of us two, and for the first time since we got together in 2019, we were finally public with the world. it was a shock to say the least. i enjoyed five minutes of blissfullness, before all the rumors and comments started to come in. and i know you saw that picture, and grew uncomfortable. im glad it did, because i know you cared more about me than you ever said.

and the days leading up to my final event, i freaked. i was a nervous wreck, thinking i sucked and that i would choke. and people were reaching out, thinking they were calming my nerves but no, it made it worst. and then you sent me a dm on insagram, thinking my number had changed. it was a simple, "go usa! cheering you on from vancouver." and im not gonna sit here and say i didnt appreciate it or love it, i had a tendancy to love people i didn't like becasue im a doormat. i allow people to walk all over me, and then just shut myself out from the world. it's what i do. it's what you do.

—

All I did was try my best

This the kind of thanks I get?

Unrelentlessly upset

—

i didn't win. i did not win the gold, i set out to get. maybe outing our relationship jinxed me? maybe the comments got to me and gave the other skater an edge? no, i couldn't blame it on him. he had done everything right, i just didn't win gold on my own accord. and now people are coming after me saying that i shouldn't have even gone to the olympics. i shouldn't have had the oppurunity to represent usa all these years. after everything i've done for the sport and country, this is how you repay me? so me, winning gold in 2018 doesn't matter? im only being reduced to my 2022, performance? a silver medal? like yeah, i wanted to win gold, but silver i think is still pretty good.

you did too. you messaged me right after the podium saying how phenomominal i was and how much you were rooting for me. even joking that you got some of the canucks team too, despite not being from there home country. and that you were there if i needed somebody to talk to, as friends ofcourse. i thanked you, but didn't go any further. god forbid that got out, and rumors ran wild.

my boyfriend welcomed me with open arms, as i touched down in seattle. i wanted to go there first, before going home to plymouth and seeing my extended friends and family. he was so sweet, and proud. he wanted to show me off every chance he got, which i liked but dreaded at the same time. i knew after the olympics were over, it would take a lot of convinving to get me to be in the public eye again. i hadn't even thought about the next four years and what it might entail. if i wanted to do another olympic run and to finish my career off with another gold.

and then he wanted me to go to the seattle vs vancouver game at home ice, the second week i was with him. i had ofcourse, laid low and kept pushing off the detroit parade/rally of me and another winter athelete's welcome home event like last time. my boyfriend kept saying that the kraken wanted to honor me, since i was thinking about extending my trip and potentially moving here. i mean, him and i had been dating for almost three years. the next logical step was to move in with him, but i wasn't sure i wanted that just yet. i wasn't sure if it was him, i wanted to do it with.

then the night rolled around, and i was being honored with my lovely silver medal. i took a deep breath and stood near the ice, shaking with nerves. i hated these things, again- explortation got old real quick. i walked out, waving my arms in the air and plastered my gold and fake winning smile to the sold out crowd. i could feel the thump of my heart beat in my ears, as i posed for the obvious picture with the captains. as i was walking back to exit the ice, my boyfriend stopped me trying to give me a full on kiss. and i freaked, turning my cheek in time to have him give me a kiss on the cheek. he knew i hated pda, and to do it on this stage- was so very uncalled for. i hated things like this. but then matty beniers who i knew back in plymoth skated up and saved the day. he greeted me with a huge smile, and we hugged. and then will borgen who was also at the 2018 olympics team, skated up as well and hugged me. they marveled at my silver, and congratulated me once again. i then tunred back towards my boyfriend and i gave him a small, flushed smile and turned back to the camera one last time. waving, before walking back off the ice. the seattle kraken gave me one last boisterous cheer, and i turned towards them blushing like a fool. and it was impossible to miss your gaze, from afar. i turned away quickly, and headed off.

later that evening, everything blew up. after a dissapointing loss again the canucks he broke up with me. my boyfriend of three years and friend of four, broke up with me. why? i never got a direct answer. and that night, i got on a red eye back to michigan. again, shutting out the world. i pushed off the parade/rally once again, apologizing to my fellow usa athlete stating that i was going through something personal. once again. they understood, and appreciated the extra time to spend with friends and family.

i was walking through the local coffee shop, and saw the one person i hadn't seen in person for a few years. mrs. hughes. the person that quite honestly, acted more like my mom then my own. she cared more about what i felt, thought and did outside of the rink. whilst, my mom cared more about my accolades and what i needed to work on or fix. the hughes at one point, was my chosen family when we were dating. always there to hang out, advice and a needed laugh. i ordered, and walked over towards and empty table pulling out my laptop to go over some school that needed to be done. being a senior at university of michigan was going to be over soon, and i couldnt be happier. but that didnt last long, when i felt ellen tap my shoulder. i turned in my seat, freaking out before a soft smile appeared on my face. she saw my under eyes that were now chronic from the lack of sleep, she saw the exhaustion plagueing my eyes, the messy hair from not bothering to tame my natural curly hair. she saw i was falling apart, and that everything was becoming to much. it was brutal out here.

she sat with me, and we spoke for three hours. going over the break up between quinn and i, why i left skating for a week, after the 2018 olympics, quinn's draft, me and ryan's relationship, getting back into the public eye, this olympic run, the breakup and now i was here. i was in the present. she gave me advice, comfort and motherly love that i ached for. she told me that quinn wouldn't stop bombarding the family groupchat about my every move at the olympics. he would stay up late to catch my skates or early. nearly missing a morning meeting, but it was worth it since i won silver. ellen told me that i won despite, the color of my medal. and that i should be proud no matter what. opposite of the words my mother chose. ellen said that i shouldn't rush another run, until i was for certain i was ready. i joked that i'd need a hughes by my side for that one and at this point i'd take any one of the three. she laughed, claiming that having some hughes drama might be good luck after all. i mean, i did win a gold medal after what quinn put me through.

she told me that when i was ready, i might reach out to quinn again. as a friend, ofcourse. what did i have to lose? she didn't say it to get us back together, but to mend that brutal breakup between us. that quinn stubbornly, never moved on because he still held out hope for the two of us. i nodded, claiming that i might reach out to him soon.

—

Got a broken ego, broken heart

And God, I don't even know where to start

—

i reached out to you via text after confirming it with your mom, that it was still the same number. after some back and fourth on our break up, i finally was able to make peace with it. i was able to make peace with you, after all these years. and then we got onto face time, and i saw that stupid face of yours. one that brought me back to the good times. and then you asked me about my relationship with ryan and i sat there for a few seconds debating on telling you. but ellen would tell him, if i didn't. i told him that ryan broke up with me after the game, never giving me a clear reason. and now i had to put together a make shift reasoning and mend my broken heart. i didn't know where to start though. i saw that it made you uncomfortable, and i understood why. even though we had broken up, you still had a huge love for me. you still cared about me, and with the rumors throughout the years, you still kept up with me. hanigng onto any sliver of information on me when i kept my profile low. always hoping to see me in michigan when you came home, always hoping that luke would run into me at practice and say something. we did, but it never went past the how are you's and good luck's. you still loved me, in the most stubborn way. and then you suggested sarcastically, that i take a trip out to vancouver once, i had the parade/rally. i caught your eye and smiled. "i mean, what's stopping me?" i innocently asked. you took that sliver of information and ran with it. arranging everything, and coordinating his schedule to accomidate my flight in. in the back of my mind, i discarded the return home flight. knowing full well, that by the time it rolls around- i wouldnt be needing it.

i would be flying in with a broken heart and wouldn't leave simply because, i wouldn't want to. knowing, just knowing that you'd be back in my life in more ways than one. Until you know, you become a traitor once again.

—

i hope you all enjoyed!!! there will be a follow up imagine for this becuase, why not? i can't not now, im too invested in this relationship. please reblog and like!

Tags: @jayda12 @dazeddobson

#Quinn hughes #Quinn Hughes blurb #Quinn Hughes imagine #nhl #hockey #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #figure skating #Quinn Hughes x oc #usa hockey #sour hockey imagines

[tired-biscuit]

i've just seen your posts on dash biscuit and its so sad you're feeling like that :( If i'm to tell you the honest truth biscuit, I don't remember how I found your account but i remember being so intrigued and hooked immediately - I went on to read your War General Kiba (to somewhat expose myself.. I am War General Kiba anon from around a month ago) bc your writing itched my brain so fuckin good !!

It makes me so sad that uni started recently for me and I have been so caught up I haven't gotten around to reblogging war general kiba because I haven't gotten the moment to write my thoughts regarding those:( they're sitting in my drafts. I decided I would read every single one of your fics a month ago (unfortunately I haven't been able to yet) - including the naruto thirst you elaborated on for me, and though I haven't gotten time to read it, THANK YOU SO MUCH BISCUIT for taking your time out to do that :( <3

You deserve every single one of those likes , but you deserve them alongside an equal amount of reblogs :/ i sincerely hope that these followers and whatnot pull their heads out of their ass and start reblogging - because if they don't, they're not going to have anything to read. bc biscuit you are such an amazing and talented writer, and it always blows my mind we get to read your masterpieces for free. FOR FREE!!!! that is so crazy like, this is stuff that could get you MILLIONS and we have the blessing from you to type a few words onto our screens and read it! like WOW thank you so much <3 🍁 anon

oh my gosh, you’re so sweet; imma start sobbing!

listen, you don’t have to apologize for not being able to read my fics; i get it, life happens and we get busy as people and fanfiction definitely is NOT everything there is to life! so please don’t say sorry for that because there is literally no need for it, like i said. YOU’RE GOOD!

it just grinds my gears that i’m not allowed to vent on here about this particular topic because some people will INSTANTLY jump the wagon to call me ungrateful. i get it, i get notes, but people usually don’t understand that likes don’t mean shit on here and that the majority of those notes are just that: likes. sure, i get a little notif that someone liked my story, but i have no clue what they thought about it based from that heart. i have no clue if they’ve even actually read it. to make matters even worse, it makes the post just straight up fucking die.

i spend hours and hours and hours writing, editing, rereading, tweaking the same story for ages. i could just not post it and keep it to myself, sure, but i enjoy interacting with my moots and my followers in general, and giving people that share my interest in the same characters something to read about, because let’s be real; kiba is niche af. i like feeding the kiba girlies because i barely had anything to eat a couple years back when it comes to him and i’ve worked my fucking ass off for those notes over the years, SO OF COURSE I APPRECIATE THEM, OK?

this debate, or whatever you wanna call it, has been circling around here for ages and it’s useless at this point, i think... writers, artists, creators of all sorts say “please say thank you for my creation that i made for YOU after you’ve asked, i beg” and people call us ungrateful or stuck up or whatever the fuck. i mean, do people seriously think i enjoy self-reblogging all the time and begging for interaction like that robin hood meme with the cup???????? no, i do it because it is the only way people will see my work before it disappears into the ether once again, ffs!!!!!!!!

ANYWAYS, i will write a drabble for your war general!kiba ask when i have the time, i promise! i just want to actually make it good and write like a proper story instead of just my thoughts because he is very dear to me and i am a perfectionist when it comes to my royalty AU and it makes me overthink and just… yeah! he has been sitting in the back of my head, clanking his heavy weapons impatiently, lmao.

I LOVE YOU!

#biscuit mail #🍁 anon

[dragonsarecool]

Febwhump Day 18 - Too Weak to Move

A/N: Doc helps a recovering Marty while stuck in 1885. A continuation of Day 12 Semi-Conscious.

The optimism Doc had experienced when Marty first started regaining consciousness hadn't lasted as long as he'd hoped.

If anything, that optimism had been quickly replaced with irritation and frustration. Teenagers simply do not make good patients.

It'd been another three days at the McFly farm before the town doctor had decreed Marty was strong enough to return to Doc's workshop. He'd barely spoken for the first couple of days, as he only had the strength to stay awake long enough to finish the majority of a bowl of soup before returning to a state of slumber.

Doc had never cared for someone so unwell before, and had been heavily reliant on the doctor's advice when he first brought Marty home. He'd panicked the first time he was asked to give an unconscious Marty some water: "But he'll choke! He's unconscious!"

"Trust me, Emmett," The doctor had said calmly. "Maggie was doin' this when he was delirious and jumping all over the bed! Surely you ain't gonna let a woman provide better care?"

Doc had chosen to ignore the sexist remark, gently pressing a spoonful of water against Marty's lips. He almost dropped it when the young man's mouth opened involuntarily and swallowed the hydrating liquid. Okay…so at least I'm not going to drown the kid. That's good to know.

The doctor and Maggie McFly had given him a crash course on feeding and hygiene, which Doc knew Marty would be horribly embarrassed about once he was lucid again, but they were chores that needed to be done to give him strength to recover.

Although every time he fell asleep, Marty woke each time to find he felt slightly stronger, and was slowly regaining his stamina to perform daily tasks. Despite this accomplishment, he was still physically weak after being bedridden for ten days, and could barely stand by himself without Doc's support. It would take ten minutes to get to and from the bathroom, and as the days passed, Marty found himself growing more and more frustrated with his apparent lack of progress.

But Doc knew exactly what was running through Marty's head. Although it had been a long time ago, he remembered what being a teenage boy was like, and the seeming invincibility that the young mind believed it possessed. He also remembered how frustrated he'd been after coming down with polio as a young man, and the lengthy recovery process.

It explained exactly why he found Marty half-hanging out of the bed, his face red with exertion as he weakly tried to push himself upright with his elbow. Rushing too soon and jumping into things. I wonder if this experience will prevent his car accident?

"My God, Marty, what the hell are you doing?" Doc rushed from the doorway to his friend's side, hoisting Marty's scarily-light frame onto the mattress. "You know you're supposed to call me if you need the restroom!"

Marty was initially too winded to answer. His chest hurt as he finally found the breath to wheeze out a reply. "I can…manage…"

"Marty, you need to slow down!" Doc pleaded. "You're pushing yourself too hard-"

"Doc, I'm supposed to be able to do this!" Marty cried in exasperation, stunning Doc with his outburst. His voice was growing stronger; the young man's true feelings were finally coming to the surface, and it seemed they were about to bubble over. "I…I'm not an old man, for Christ's sake! I should be able to get up and walk and not have to piss myself in a damned pan! The fact that I've been lying in my own sweat and having people wipe my ass is so…so-"

Marty trailed off as his body tried to release a sob while also inhaling enough air. Doc helped him into a sitting position, placing a couple of pillows behind his bony shoulders for support. The young man sobbed and wheezed pathetically before he was able to regain control of his breathing, and he rubbed his face in agitation. "I-I don't deserve all this, Doc, I s-should be able to-"

"But you're sick, Marty. That's an acceptable excuse to not be able to do it all," Doc spoke kindly. "And you've never been this sick before either. Even in 1985, you'd still take a while to recover."

Marty raised an eyebrow. "Even with all the extra medical stuff?"

"Yes. Medications and intravenous fluids definitely would've helped, but only time will help you to recover."

Marty nodded wearily and closed his eyes, seemingly satisfied with that explanation for the time being. "S'pose we're not going back to the future anytime soon then?"

"Not until you're well again. I can't lift you in and out of the Delorean without popping a few vertebrae."

The young man groaned, lifting a hand to massage his forehead. "God, I really miss Tylenol."

Doc laughed. "Don't forget the antibiotics, too."

"Oh yeah. Them too."

#bttf #back to the future #fanfiction #whump #febwhump #febwhump24 #febwhump2024

[hertzwritings]

To have and to hold, chapter 5

A/N: Babes, my loves, my darlings, my birds – I’m so happy that you guys like this amazing piece, commissioned by @snackycake1975​. I am deeply grateful for all your response to it, and I’m happy to see that pure fluff and flirty Henry does something to you as it does to me. These two idiots in love are FINALLY GETTING SOME.  

If you also want a piece completely personalized for you with your storyline, name or whatever you might want, you can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a drabble, one-shot or multichapter fic just for you!

Love y’all so much, thank you for going on this crazy ride with me.

Remember, feedback feeds the soul and my requests and askbox are always open – there’s no limits, because I am me and I have none.

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Plus Sized!Female reader (Rachel)

Contains: language, fluff, SMUT (minors DNI), praise-kink, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fluffy smut (flut?), creampie, Soft!Henry (so freaking soft you guys), mature talks about love and stuff

Wordcount: 3.302

 Moon song

 Previously… “Then…” He stood flush against your body, his other hand cupping the other side of your face and his hot breath fanned over you; he smelled like summer rain and vanilla. “I want to ruin our friendship.”

And then his lips touched yours.

 It was instantaneous. His lips touched yours, and you were truly gone. You were no longer you, no you were tethered to this man forever. You were his, even if this was it, and he’d never want you again.

It wasn’t fireworks or the instant knowing that all would right itself in the world, there wasn’t a buzz or crackle of electricity between you; no, it was home. It was tongue and teeth, desperation seeping into your veins from the force of the kiss, but it felt so good, you never wanted it to stop. His breath fanned over your face, and you groaned when his tongue slid against yours with a soft moan in his throat.   His lips felt familiar, so much like you had spent nothing but your life kissing them, his arms around you felt like they had never been anywhere else. The way a slight groan tumbled from his lips as you wrapped your arms around him, felt like it was yours to keep always.

You barely noticed him lifting you, holding you tightly and carrying you to his bedroom. You’d happily die right here, in his arms with his lips and tongue moving like this on yours. Someone had to draw back to catch a breath – he initiated the kiss, he ended it, but not without letting your noses press together and gently – almost as if you weighed nothing to him – laid you on the bed, his body over yours.

“Say the word, and I’ll back off. I’ll never mention it again and I’ll keep everything I said for myself.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over yours – it was entirely unfair how close he was, yet still left a chasm between you. “Henry, I swear to God, if you don’t get back here, I’ll murder you.” You whispered back, fingers clawing at his neck. You felt him smile, before his lips touched yours again. This time it was longing and desperate, all the unsaid things on his lips transferring to yours; you knew the words, because you thought them yourself. His hands were everywhere, roaming every single inch of skin he could touch, before grunted slightly displeased. “Take it off.” He tugged at the hem of your dress and kissed you deeply again. “Henry…” For some reason, that seemed more imposing and daunting than having actual sex with him.

He stopped kissing you and pulled back slightly to look at you. You worried your lower lip with your teeth, palms clammy. Why you hadn’t thought about him seeing you naked before now was a mystery, but now that the thought was in your head, it made no effort to leave. “Darling…” He kissed your cheekbone. “If it’s too much or too fast, I can…” You shook your head. “It’s not that, I promise, I want this just as much as you do.” You whispered, acutely aware of how heavy your body felt at this moment. “I just…” You stopped yourself, but he understood – he always understood, even when you were silent. “Baby. Baby, look at me.” You found his eyes. His fingers traced your collarbone, then your neck, your cheekbones, before brushing over your lips. “You are all I want. All I have wanted for a long time. All of you. You know that, right?” You did, somewhere deep inside, but insecurity was a bitch, and you were not strong enough to stand up against it. “I just… Uhm, I… Naked.” You say, not really sure what you wanted to say. He smiled and kissed you gently, pulling you to your feet, before his hands landed on your hips. He looked in your eyes, waiting for you to object. You didn’t.

His fingers trailed down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake, as the drifted to the hem of your dress again. Your breath hitched as he gently and so slowly began pulling it up over your hips, your waist, your breasts and then your head. His breath was staggered as he took you in, his eyes wide and darkened. You blushed under his gaze and your instinct was to move your hands to cover your chest, but his fingers found your wrists. “No.” His voice was hoarse and desperate. “Please, let me just…” He gently guided your arms down to your sides. “God, you’re ethereal.” He almost exhaled it like a desperate prayer to a God, he didn’t believe in. You blushed furiously. He kissed your neck. “This…” He licked a small stripe along your pulse point. “Is beautiful.” He moved his lips to your collarbone, and you gasped as his teeth dragged against your skin. “This? I could kiss every second of every day.” He mumbled against your heated skin. He still held your wrists with his fingers, and you were shivering. “These…” He placed feather-light kisses to the swell of your chest, his fingers leaving your wrists to open your bra – he let it fall to the ground and the man moaned at the sight. “Could stop my heart.” He slowly bent down in his knees, until his lips touched your stomach – the pudgy, stupid thing in the middle of your body, you could never get rid of. “This…” He kissed your overheated skin; it was leaving permanent marks on your very soul, and you were burning up as his fingers gripped your hips hard, fingertips rough against your skin, and you were shaking. You were slick already and he had barely done anything. “Is my favorite part of you… For now.” He winked up at you. “This is fucking beautiful, darling.” His lips trailed wet kisses to your right and then left side of your hips, and a moan tumbled from your lips. He smiled against your skin. “These? Fuck, I love these. These take my breath away.” He mumbled, embedding the shape of his lips against your skin like a tattoo. Your breath hitched, and if he didn’t have his hands on your hips, you would’ve fallen back on your ass, when his lips touched your left thigh, leaving wet kisses all the way down to your knee, before repeating the process on your right. Your legs were shaking, and you were panting now, barely able to form a cohesive thought.

“I love these.” He kissed again. “These? I want wrapped around my head.” “Henry, for heaven’s sake…” You mumbled. He glanced up at you, and you felt so fucking powerful as you looked down at this giant mountain of a man, kneeling and adoring every inch of your body. “And that’s what I intent to do. Have them wrapped around my head.” He simply stated before he gripped you tighter, stood up and held you to his body as he turned your back to the bed; your nipples pebbled, and you breathed out a soft fuck as he nudged you to lay down and began removing his own clothes. You weren’t close to being nervous now. No, now, you were a quivering mess of emotions and lust, wanting him buried inside of you for as long as he could be. If you had your way, it would be forever. He stood in his boxers in front of you, a boyish smile on his face and reddened cheeks, running a hand through his hair. “How do you look like that!?” you grumbled. “You’re like… Fucking photoshopped.” He laughed at that, and descended on you, kissing your lips deeply – you could feel his length press against you, and you mewled and rolled your hips. His fingers grabbed the waistline of your underwear and pulled them down your legs, moaning at the sight of your slick heat. He rutted against the comforter under you. “As much as I would like to do that right now, I do have a promise I have to see through.” He grinned at you and before you had time to even think, he flipped you.

You squealed as you were pulled on top of him, gripping his shoulders so tightly, you were sure your nails were leaving marks. He chuckled and got comfortable under you, his fingers moving from your hips to your chest, gently rolling your nipples with rough fingers. You closed your eyes and gasped at the feeling. “Sit on my face.” It wasn’t a demand, nor was it a real request; you knew that tone of voice well enough to know he wasn’t kidding, and he was going to get his way. “Henry, I can’t, I’ll suffocate you!” You protested. He raised an eyebrow and placed his hands back on your waist. “Glorious way to die, love.” “Henry, don’t joke.” “I’m not.” He inched you slowly up his chest, until you were hovering over his face. You were holding on tightly to the headboard and refused to sit down in pure fear that you’d break his nose. He rolled his eyes. “This won’t do, will it, baby?” He mumbled before a bruising grip lowered you to his face and oh, God.

His tongue was on your clit in the same second as you sat down, a low rumble in his throat vibrating through his mouth and straight onto you; you bucked your hips and moaned at the feeling. He knew what he was doing, clearly, his tongue lapping and licking long, hard stripes against you, drawing pleasure closer and closer; you were writhing and moaning over him, hips bucking wildly, a thin sheen of sweat covering your back as you rode his face, him eating you like a starving man, that tasted Lembas bread from The Lord of The Rings for the first time, and by God, you loved it. It felt like too much and entirely too little at the same time, his tongue swirling and lapping at you until you stilled on top of him and came hard – it hit you out of nowhere, exploding like a burning star in your body, setting your nerves on fire.

You barely noticed yourself screaming his name, as he drank every drop from you.

You slumped back on the bed, breathing heavily and your body still shaking with after-shocks of your orgasm, when he found your lips again and kissed you deeply, yourself lingering on his tongue. You felt him jostle around and a soft sound of fabric hitting the floor, before he hovered over you again. You whined and tried to grab him to inch him to your mouth, but he just kissed you and shook his head. “All about you tonight, love. I want to show you how much I want you.” He whispered, lining himself up. Even without seeing it, you could feel how thick he was, and your eyes rolled back at the feeling of the head of his cock slid against your clit. You wanted him to break you.  

He kissed you deeply as he slowly inched his cock inside of you. He was shaking with sheer willpower to keep himself moving slowly, letting you adjust, although you didn’t need it – you’d never be able to adjust completely to the way he filled you completely. Not just in the physical sense, but in every sense of the word; he filled you with love and compassion, the sensation of rightness washing over you in waves, and you’d never be able to go back to someone else. You were forever ruined by him. When he bottomed out in you, you both moaned and you slung your arms around his neck. Your legs found a place around his waist, and his eyes found yours again – they bored into yours with so much passion and love behind the sea of blue, it took your breath away. He began moving slowly, pulling himself back before pushing back in again, dragging every vein against your walls. You whined and clawed at his back and rolled your hips. “Henry, please…” “Please what, my love?” The nickname made you preen. “Please, take me. Please, please…” he smiled at you. “As you wish.” He pulled back excruciatingly slow before slamming back into you, his pace picking up and breathing following. You were lost in the pleasure and feeling of Henry inside of you; it was fucking heaven as he fucked you deeply, his lips murmuring praise into your neck. You had never felt so wanted in your life before, and you got lost in trying to keep up with his length moving inside of you, while his fingers worshipped every inch of your body and his lips moved lazily across your heated skin. He angled his hips and without warning or buildup, your orgasm rushed over you as waves lapping at your feet at the sea, pulling you under, down, down, down, until you gasped for a breath and your legs relaxed on either side of him. Everything in you shook, and you felt like you were halfway to jellyfish at this point, your breathing ragged as a few extra shocks from your orgasm ran through you, sparking nerves into action. “Henry…” You were a mess under him. “Look at you, darling, you’re doing so well for me… One more, you can do one more.” He mumbled frenzied with lips against your skin. “You do so well, baby, please, one more for me…” He angled his hips again and you gasped. “I can’t, baby, I can’t…” You knew the words were a lie because it was already building, but it felt impossible to tip over that edge again. “Yes, you can. For me, love…” He kissed your lips deeply and you exploded again, your back arching off from the bed, your arms so tight, they were close to cramping and your mouth was against his in a silent scream. it felt so good, too much and too little all at once; you wanted this to last forever, if you had a say in it. “Good girl, there’s my girl…” He whispered. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, baby…” He thrusted deeply and his pace faltered for a second, inching closer to his own release. “You’re taking me so fucking well, darling.” “Please, Henry, I want to feel you…” You mumbled, kissing his bare shoulder. “Baby…” he moaned your name, letting it flavor his tongue as it rolled from his lips. “What do you want?” You moaned at his words. He wasn’t even being filthy or rowdy, but the way he said the words made you clench around him, drawing a deep groan from him. “Fill me.” You whimpered desperately and wrapped your legs tighter around his waist. He chuckled and the sound sent shivers down your spine. He picked up his pace and began thrusting without regard for tempo or flourishing, simply just burying himself in you. The sounds that tumbled from his mouth were sinful and when he bit down on your sensitive skin at the juncture of your shoulder and neck, you almost blacked out. “With me, darling…” He whispered, kissing and licking at the spot, he just bit down on. You rolled your hips to meet him, desperate to feel him, damned be the consequences of it.

He faltered again and the pace became wanton as he neared the edge. He snaked a hand down between you and found the bundle of nerves, rubbing small, deliberate circles on it. “With me, darling, please…” You didn’t know if you even could do more, your body was in override and you were whining under him, feeling entirely too much.

He crashed over the edge first; he groaned and whispered your name as ropes of cum shot into you, painting your walls. The warmth and the twitching sent you spiraling too, the coil somewhere in you snapping completely as you came undone under him. The coil had snapped in a million pieces, broken apart and floating in you as pleasure ran through your body, but with a single kiss, he put it together again. Weaving it back together with his words of worship and love, small kisses to your sweat-slicked skin.

He slowly pulled out and rolled to his back next to you, tugging you to his chest. You sighed happily and flung your arm across his torso, your naked bodies breathing in sync. After a few moments (and a lot of his lips on your forehead, hairline and the top of your head), he turned slightly and looked at you with searching eyes. “Should we talk about it?” he asked slowly as if he expected you to say no. You smiled softly. “We probably should.” You answered plainly. In truth, you were terrified that this – whatever it was – was over as soon as it began. It could’ve been a lapse in him, maybe. “I know what you’re thinking, love.” He grinned. “I don’t plan on this to be a one-time thing.” He said and brough your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I cherish you all too much for that. Besides, now I’ve gotten an actual taste of you, and I’m not planning on letting that go. Ever.” You smiled and your heart did a small cartwheel inside of your chest. “But…” You stopped yourself, not wanting to ruin the moment. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Don’t hold back on me now, love.” You frowned playfully at him. “Fine.” You drew a deep breath. “I guess I’m just worried that we just jumped feet first into a very deep pool.” “How so?” Your eyes scanned his face and you let your hand draw small circles on his broad chest. “Uhm, well… I mean, I’ve… Okay, here’s the thing.” You decided it was now or never. “I’ve been in love with you for… Pretty much the entirety of our friendship. Ever since I met you, I’ve just… I’ve been content with being your friend, because then I had something and I’m so scared that we’ll lose that, if this goes to shit.” “Why should it go to shit?” He asked, gently putting a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You smiled. “Because things never work out the way I want them to.” “Baby, we can take it slow. We don’t have to be loud and proud right at this moment, if that’s not what you want. I know I want you, and that’s plenty for me.” He kissed your forehead and you smiled bashfully. He was truly a very physical man. “And to be truthful, I’ve loved you for just as long. We’ve been right idiots to ignore it, haven’t we?” He asked with a soft grin. “I suppose we have.” “Listen, I know we’re in lockdown and that you won’t be able to leave any way, but I really, really want you to stay. Even after. If you’ll have me, that is.” You sighed. How ever much you wanted to stay in this little bubble and experience Henry as a lover, you had obligations, work, a life that didn’t exactly fit the mold of his life. “I want to, it’s not that…” you began, looking back into his eyes. “I have a life, Henry. I can’t just uproot everything because I’m in love.” He grinned. “Say it again.” You rolled your eyes. “Really? I just…” “Please?” He pleaded and you couldn’t contain the smile that grazed your lips. “I’m in love with you.” “Again.” He slowly got on top of you, caging you between his arms. You felt his length twitch against your thigh. “I love you.” You whispered.

“As I love you.” He descended on you again, and thoughts of life outside of this bedroom ceased to exist for just a little while longer.

-------------------

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