#my parents would stop me from using the INTERNET if they found a word like fuck in the lyrics of the songs i listened to at that age!

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Can you do a Tom blyth x reader where in a interview , the interviewer asks him if he wants to marry and have kids in the future and he answers that he already has a daughter with the reader and after few days he posts on Instagram a photo of his daughter playing in the grass when he was filming the movie nad the fans going crazy ( about how cute she is and smth like that )

My Girl || Tom Blyth x Actress!reader

A/n: baby fever right now is astronomically high 😭😭 also this song is my absolute fav and feels like it matches with this so def go listen to it!!!

Warnings: none :)

Wc:

Divider by @pommecita

“Tom, your fans have been asking if you plan on marrying and having children in the future,” Tom nods his head, a smile forming on his lips, “What can you say to them?” The interviewer directs her mic to Tom.

He could feel your eyes burning into the side of his face as his grip on your waist squeezes. “Marrying and having children?” Tom repeats. You watch in anticipation as you give him an encouraging smile. The two of you had been waiting for a moment like this.

It’s been three years since you gave birth to your daughter, Elsie, three years since Tom became a dad. The public had no idea whatsoever and you intended to keep it the way for a few years longer. Well, after a long conversation with Tom, it was time to stop hiding from the public.

“This is the first time I’ve actually spoken about this to the public but I have a daughter already,” His words make the women holding the mic gasp out loud as you both let out a chuckle at her reaction. “I know, shocking right!” Tom smiles.

“You have a daughter Tom? With….” She trails off as her eyes move to you. Tom pulls you to his chest as you give the woman a grin, nodding your head as she puts her hand on her chest and lets out another gasp. “Am I the first to know about this outside your close circles?” She asks.

“Yes! We’ve thought long and hard about releasing such private information but we decided it’s time we tell everyone. We can’t hide this forever,” You say as Tom watches you and nods. “Well there we have it! Tom Blyth and Y/n Y/l/n have a child together!” The interview says to the camera as you wave her goodbye and move along with the other cast members.

“That felt good,” You look up at Tom, happy to get it out. “It sure did, darling” He rubs your arm as the two of you take pictures for the paparazzi. Safe to say, that interview was blowing up.

Fans had mixed reactions to the news. Some were incredibly happy for the two of you, and some were utterly shocked at the news and were surprised at how the two of you kept this information on the low.

As you and Tom were doing the world promo tour with the rest of the cast members, there was always a question that popped up relating to your daughter, Elsie.

“Tom, Y/n! I think the internet is in shock to learn that you are parents to a three year old daughter, am I correct?” The man infront of you says as you both nod. “Yes! Our daughter’s name is Elsie, and we had a feeling this would shock fans quite a bit,” You quietly chuckle to yourself.

“It definitely has! How did you two pull this off? You know, not making fans suspect anything?” He asks as Tom replies, “Uh I think it was just mainly being super private about our personal lives. We both don’t share such information like that which lets us live peacefully without cameras following us around.”

“And you’ve done a wonderful job at that since we never knew about your three year old daughter,” He smiles as Tom thanks him, “Can you tell us more about Elsie? If you can?” He politely asks as you nod. “Of course. Well uh Elsie is very much a daddy’s girl,” You all chuckle as Tom holds your knee affectionately.

“She loves the outdoor so much, that’s where she wants to be most of the time.” Tom adds. “And how was it that you found out that you were going to be a dad, Tom?“

“Yes, so Y/n told me she was pregnant on my birthday in February I think it was?” He looks at you in confirmation as you nod, “It was actually during my auditioning progress for Billy the Kid. So when I got the role and started filming mid to late 2021, Elsie was already born”

“We were both 25 at the time and we felt like we were ready to you know, move onto the next chapter of our lives. I remember for my birthday, Y/n’s present to me was this baby onesie that said ‘daddy’s girl’” The man awes as Tom reminisces the moment.

“I was so shocked and happy that I started crying,” He laughs, “Correction, we started to cry,” You butt in with a small giggle. “I do have to mention, Y/n! You went through your pregnancy without the public even noticing! How in the world did you manage that as a public figure.

“It wasn’t hard, but at the same time it sort of was,” You let out a low chuckle as Tom rubs your thigh, listening to you talk. “I didn’t have any roles booked for that year so I just stayed on the low. I did what any other typical people did when they didn’t want others to notice your pregnancy which was to wear baggy clothes, covering my stomach and stuff like that.”

“I also made sure that people wouldn’t be able to recognise me when I was out in public and it worked very well.” “It did indeed. I think everyone wants to know, how’s life with a three year old daughter while filming. Was Elsie with the two of you went you filmed tbosas?”

“Yes she was actually! Everyone on set knew that we hadn’t said anything to the public about our daughter and they were such wonderful people and respected that. My mom also was with us to take care of Elsie when we weren’t able to.” “I don’t know how we would have lasted all those months without her honestly. She made everyone on set laugh, I actually think the cast members will start posting pictures of bts with Elsie now that we’ve released this information” Tom laughs as his mind goes back to all the time the crew would laugh at Elsie’s cuteness.

~

“You posted a picture on your instagram a couple days ago of you and your daughter, can you tell us a little bit of background information of this picture?” “Is this the one of you and Elsie in the forest?” You turn your head to Tom as he nods. “Yes! So that was the last day we filmed all the scenes in the forest. We’ve already said this I think but our daughter absolutely loves nature.”

“During takes she would just play around and I remember this one time, We were going through a scene and then Elsie just came up to me and clung around my leg while the cameras were rolling, do you remember that?” Tom grins at you as you recall the moment.

“I do, I have a video of it in my camera roll, it made everyone awe at her.” You let out a giggle as the interviewer smiles at the two of you. “It seems to me that the crew was pretty close to Elsie? Am I right in saying that?” You nod in agreement with her.

“We felt incredibly grateful of how everyone was so kind and supportive of the idea of Elsie being with us during the entirety of the filming process. The cast members would always be playing with her during our takes, and Elsie grew very fond of all of them.”

“Especially Viola actually!” Tom interjects as the interviewer gasps, “Really?” “Yes! Viola is such a sweetheart I honestly love her so much. Even when she was in her costume and she kinda looked terrifying, Elsie would always run up to her after the cameras stop rolling.” He chuckles.

The two of you honestly loved talking about Elsie during all your interviews. Your face would always hurt from smiling too much when you reminisce all the moments of your daughter during filming.

#tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #dad!tomblyth #fanfiction #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tomblythxactress!reader #tomblythfluff #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth x actress!reader #dad!tom blyth x reader #social media #social media au

[cameronspecial]

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 3)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Fight With A Parent, Swearing, and Fear of Relapse

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.0K

Summary: Rafe has accomplished his goals and is now able to meet his daughter for the first time.

Masterlist

Over the past month, Rafe has gotten a chance to learn more about Stella from his weekly meetings with Y/N. Stella was born on May 17th, 2020 at 10:59 A.M. Her first word was Joshy, said at eleven months old when she was calling for help from her uncle Josh when her uncle Benedict would mercilessly tickle her. At two years old, she became obsessed with witches after her mother read her a book about them and it has been her favourite topic of conversation since. Her favourite colour is dark purple and her favourite food is any soup in general because she likes to pretend she is drinking a witch's potion when she eats it. The most important fact of all to Rafe: Stella Rachel Y/L/N is his little girl’s full name. Y/N had tried her best to come up with a name close to Rafe, but all the names closer she found on the internet didn’t go with Stella. Nonetheless, the action still touched him when Y/N told him that was the reason.

And now, he’ll finally get to meet his little star. His hand fidgets with the small nob on his watch, making the hands go clockwise and counterclockwise. He watches as Y/N reads over his toxicology report. She didn’t require him to do a weekly toxicology report to prove that he was staying sober, but he wanted to show her she could trust him. The logical part of him knows she won’t say that he can’t meet Stella, yet a small part of him fears she might. 

The small smile she gives him relieves him of his anxiety, “This is great, Button. I’m so proud of the work you put into staying sober.” Forming a friendship with Y/N was another amazing thing that happened this month. When she started using the nickname she gave him the night Stella was conceived, he felt the air leave his lungs just like it does now. “Thanks. I was really scared that I might relapse this week after I got into an argument with my dad, but I called Diana, did some breathing exercises and looked at my picture of Stella. It all helped me get through it,” he replies truthfully. He had truly felt fear that week when he found himself on the road towards Barry’s trailer. Luckily, he was able to fight through his desire and pull over the car before he got there. Y/N nods and reaches out to place a reassuring hand on his, “Well, I’m glad you were able to recognize your craving and reach out for help with managing it. So do you want to come over after we finish our coffee?” 

His lips stretch so far apart that people would think he is the Joker. He pulls out his phone to check his schedule, “No, I won’t have enough time to go home and change if I come tonight. I also need to get her a few things before I meet her. How about tomorrow afternoon? Is that okay?” “You know you don’t have to make a big deal about this with the changing and the gifts. As long as you love her and show her that love, she is going to reciprocate those feelings,” Y/N argues. 

“I know, I just… Meeting her is all I have been dreaming about for the last month and I want it to be perfect. Plus, it really couldn’t hurt to get her a few bribery toys.”

“I understand how you feel. When Benny came home the week before Stella was born with the wrong colour paint for her room, I almost threw a chair at him. I wanted Finch yellow, but he got funky yellow. It didn’t matter that they were virtually the same colour. I just need her room to be exactly how I planned it. So you can come over tomorrow. Just don’t buy her too many toys.” 

“I can’t be held to a gift-buying limit. I have to make up for five years.”

——

Y/N watches as Stella tries to get ready by herself, thinking about what is going to happen in just ten minutes. “Mommy, help, please,” Stella cries out for help. Y/N’s focus returns to her daughter and she has to stop herself from laughing. Stella has gotten her shirt stuck on her head because she has been trying to get her head through the armhole. Y/N approaches the young girl and helps put her head through the right hole. “You were almost there, Stells. I’m proud of you,” she praises, giving the little girl a kiss on the head. Stella shouts a thank you as she runs into her mom’s room. 

Y/N follows her daughter to her room and carries Stella over to the bed. Once Stella is safely on the bed, Y/N turns toward her dresser to get her perfume. “One tiny spray for this wrist,” Y/N pushes the top of the perfume so the scent falls on her daughter’s wrist. “And one tiny spray for the other. Now, you are ready to go. Why don’t you wait in the living room for Mommy’s special guest to arrive.” The little girl runs off as her mother suggested and Y/N is left alone in her room. She looks at herself in her mirror, wondering how her life is going to change once Stella meets her dad. It’s not that Y/N doesn’t trust Rafe, he has shown her that he really is trying. It’s that Stella isn’t going to be solely Y/N’s anymore. She will have to share some parenting duties with Rafe and it feels strange for her to do that. She is the one who stayed up with Stella when she was puking all night last year. She is the one who would read the little girl a bedtime story every day. She is the one Stella goes to when she is scared. Now, Y/N is going to have to learn to let Rafe do those things too. 

Rafe nervously wipes the sweat off of his palm and adjusts the hat on his head. The time on the clock shows he is five minutes early, but he can’t wait any longer. He knocks on the door and rocks on the balls of his feet. The door creaks open, yet Rafe is met with an empty doorway. It is only when he looks down that he sees the perfect little star staring up at him with her brilliant blue eyes. “Stella Rachel Y/L/N, what have I told you about answering the door to strangers?” Y/N scolds, walking into the room with an adorable motherly look. Stella looks back at her mother with a pouty look, “I’m sorry, Mommy. But I knows we were going to have a special guest.”

Rafe is in awe at how adorable she is, but he takes this as his chance to do the first fatherly act he will ever do. “Your mother is right, Stella. What if I was a stranger?” he poses, kneeling down to her level. She gives him wide eyes, “But you weren’t. You are the man who Mommy yelled at.” Her words cause pain to shoot through his heart. The first memory his little girl has of him is his argument with her mother. Y/N can see the hurt that crosses Rafe’s face and beckons the pair away from the doorway. “Yes, he is, Baby. But he apologized to Mommy and we are friends again. Did you see his hat?” Y/N points out. The small blue eyes move from his face up to his head and her eyes turn to delight. “You’re wearing a witch’s hat!” she exclaims, reaching up to her father’s head to try it on. “Can I try it on, please?” Glad that his conversation start is working, he takes the hat off and places it on her tiny head. Everyone giggles as the big hat falls over her eyes. 

Now, that the ice has been sufficiently broken, Y/N decides it is time to make the introduction Rafe has been waiting for. “Stella, do you know why I asked my special friend to come visit?” Y/N sits on the couch, bringing Stella on her lap. The little girl shakes her head and rests it on her mother’s chest. “He’s your Daddy, Baby.” The excitement in his daughter’s eyes as she turns toward him sends him over the moon. The tiny girl flings herself into her arms and screams his new name. He never thought someone would call him those words, but now it’s the only one he wants to hear. “Does that mean you can play witch with me? I have a hat you can borrow.” With her now in his arms, he can smell the familiar vanilla fragrance of Y/N’s perfume. It makes him smile that she wants to be just like her mommy. Before he can answer, she runs off to her room to get her toys. She returns dragging a big plastic cauldron behind her. Rafe feels his father's instinct kick in. He jumps off of the couch and runs over to pick her and the cauldron up in his arms. Stella looks at him in awe, “Wow, my Daddy is super strong.” This absolutely kills him and he kisses her on the cheek. 

——

Y/N, Stella and Rafe have spent the afternoon playing various games their daughter wanted to play. When it got closer to dinner time, the three of them worked together to make something to eat. “Button, can you please pour me some more water?” Y/N asks, holding up her glass for him to do it. He picks up the water pitcher and pours it for her, “Of course, Buttercup.” Stella may be three and eleven months old, but she is very observant. Throughout the afternoon, she noticed the tiny glances Rafe would send Y/N’s way. She noticed how his hand would reach to find her skin, yet it never seemed to land. She noticed how he would always ask for Y/N’s approval. And just now, she saw how his lips formed a massive smile because of her mother’s attention. 

The small girl starts to form a plan in her head; she can see how much her father is pining for her mother. He clearly needs her help. “Mommy, I like Daddy’s hair. Do you?” she questions, looking back and forward between her parents. Y/N looks up from her food to look at Rafe, “I do like his hair. It looks nice when the front of his hair falls down like a little curtain.” He stops mid-stab of the pasta to look up at her through his lashes. “I’ll take note of that then, Buttercup,” he brings his hand up to hide the blush on his cheeks. Stella is very satisfied with the results of the beginning of her plan. She feels like a genius. Y/N doesn’t know that she is going to regret letting Stella watch Hallmark movies with her. 

——

After dinner, Rafe is preparing for the roughly hour-and-a-half drive back to the Outer Banks. Stella is holding on to Rafe for dear life because she isn’t ready for him to go. “Mommy, why can’t Daddy stay?” she begs, looking at her mother sadly. Y/N frowns at her daughter, “I’m sorry, Baby. Not yet, there is nowhere for him to sleep. Plus, Daddy has work tomorrow and you have daycare.” Rafe can see the struggle Y/N is having with saying no to Stella and he helps her out. “How about I go over to the diner on Friday? I’ll be there when you get back from daycare. Maybe I’ll even have a surprise,” he offers, whispering the last part in her ear. 

The darling’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree and loosens her arms from his neck. “Okay! I can’t wait to see you. Bye, Daddy. I love you,” she bids adieu. She hops down from his arms and runs to get ready for bed. The quicker she goes to bed, the faster Friday comes. Rafe calls back I love you. The two adults laugh at the child as they watch her run off. The laughter dies down and Y/N turns her body toward Rafe. “It’s okay that I come by on Friday, right?” Rafe confirms with a hopeful smile. 

“Of course, as long as you are sober, I won’t stop you from seeing her. The extra business is good too.” 

“Haha, I’ll make sure to deposit my paycheck before I go in then. Also, please let me know if you need anything. Money for food, rent, toys, clothes, tuition. Anything, okay. I want to pull my weight. She’s my daughter too.”

“I will, I promise. Thank you for coming over tonight. You made her day.”

They both look at each other for a second and then notice the time. “I should probably get going. It’s getting late,” Rafe concludes, taking a step closer to the door. Y/N tries to hide her slight disappointment, “Uh, yeah. Drive safe. See you on Friday.” Rafe nods his head and opens the door. “See you on Friday.” Y/N stays by the door as she watches Rafe walk down her driveway. She waves goodbye to him as he gets into his car and drives away. Once he is out of sight, she closes the door and reflects on the day. It was strange to have Rafe there, but she doesn’t regret the decision. She saw how much he cared for Stella and it solidified the idea in her mind that he is meant to be a father. This is a new kind of normal that she can get used to. 

——

Since Sarah and Rafe moved out of Tannyhill, Ward insisted on having family dinner every week. Everyone knows Sarah’s departure is the main reason why Ward wanted to do so, especially since Ward tried to have just Sarah come to dinner. However, thanks to Sarah, Ward gave in to inviting Rafe. Most dinners start with Ward getting small talk with Rafe about work out of the way before he moves on with asking Sarah about a full second-by-second breakdown of her week. And this Wednesday is not any different, but Rafe has something else other than work to talk to his dad about. 

“Actually, Dad, there is something I want to talk to you about,” Rafe brings to the table, looking Ward dead in his eyes. Ward stops chewing, not really expecting Rafe to have anything else to say. Ward tilts the end of his fork toward Rafe, “Okay, what is it?” “I have a daughter. Her name is Stella. She is three years old, almost four. And she looks exactly like me,” Rafe gets everything out in one go. He may have known about Stella for a month now, but he didn’t want to tell his family until he knew he could step up and be the person his daughter needed. This causes everyone at the table to freeze and look at Rafe in surprise. Ward’s eyes narrow; his brows become one. “What do you mean?” he gets out in a rough tone. 

“I mean that five years ago, I had sex with Y/N and she had a baby nine months after that. I didn’t know about Stella until last month. I didn’t want to tell you guys until I was a month sober and certain that I could be there for her.”

“You better tell me that this is a joke because I can’t believe that you could be that much of a screw-up. How do you even know she is your daughter?”

“I told you, she looks exactly like me.”

“How do you know that’s not because you want to believe she does? How do you know that bitch isn’t lying to you? You were so useless that you didn’t even get a paternity.” 

Rafe stands up at what Ward calls Y/N and points a finger at his father. “You have no right to call her that. I know she isn’t lying because I trust her. I won’t make her get a paternity test,” he yells. Ward lets out a low chuckle, “Okay, fine. Do whatever you want. But I’m going to need you to get a lawyer and write up a contract for child support if that’s what the bitch is after. There is no way you are actually going to raise that kid.” “You need to stop calling the mother of your granddaughter a bitch. And why can’t I raise my daughter? You are always telling me I need to take responsibility and I am. Why can’t you just be proud of me?” he argues, his anger getting to a whole other level. The other members of the dinner see that this fight is not about to end any time soon, so Sarah steps in. “Dad, stop. This isn’t going anywhere. And you should be proud of Rafe. He overcame his addiction just so that he could be a better father. That’s amazing and I’m proud of him for that. I, for one, am excited to meet my niece,” Sarah reasons. Wheezie butts in too, “I want to meet Stella too.” Rafe gives them a thankful smile but gets up angrily.  

“Thank you guys for your support. I’ll talk to Y/N to find out when you can meet Stells. Dad, I wish I could say that I am surprised but I’m not,” he begins. “No matter what I do, I will never compare to Sarah and I won’t force you to meet your granddaughter. I think I’m going to go. Goodbye.” Rafe storms out of the house and slams the door. He gets to his truck and is about to drive away, yet he knows he shouldn’t. If he goes now, he is scared it will lead him to Barry’s. Instead, he pulls out his phone and dials a number that recently entered his contacts. “Hey, Button. Is everything okay?” Her voice is like a light guiding him back to home base. He vehemently shakes his head, “No, I’m not. Do you have time to talk?” Y/N immediately stops what she is doing and gives him her full attention for the whole night. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii @dark1paradise @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @alyisdead @emeloyy @js-a-writer

#a new kind of normal #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron series #rafe #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe obx #outerbanks #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks rafe #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx x reader #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #obx imagine

[dietmountaindewbae]

hiii i LOVE ur fics omg pls never stop writing,

could you maybe do something You-ish (the TV show "You") (idk if you've seen it but it's amazing) something stalker-ish? where alex is joe and reader is his, soon to be, gf (cuz he makes her) (any alex era) 💌

hope ur well🤍💋

xxiii. obsession

alex turner x reader

word count: 12626

summary: We ran into each other by chance or by fate, your clumsiness started something for me, something for us, and it's my duty to find out who you are. (the car! era) This story is written on Alex's narrative.

warnings: obsessions & rough s*x

song recommendation: tear you apart by she wants revenge

───── ୨୧ ─────

Ever since that day outside of a party, when you fell into my arms, drunk and loud, I had never felt so high, I had felt something the moment you smiled at me and flushed from the embarrassment, your eyes watery from the cold, your lips red full of blood, alcohol running fast through your veins, my heart falling from my mouth, you pulled away and hugged yourself, too embarrassed from what had happened, you thought it was too much booze, I thought it was meant to be, right place and right time. You just said "Sorry," I helped you to get back on your feet, our hands lightly graze and we lock in a stare, but then your mates dragged you across the street, they had dragged you away from me, like parents and their out-of-control kid, you waved goodbye at me, and all I could do was smile and wave goodbye to you, I was a fool, I didn't know what to say, it was one of those 'what would have happened?' moments when I ask myself, 'what if I had just said "It's ok, don't worry, love"' Icould vividly picture us walking down the street, going for some food because we were pissed, I would've kissed you, and asked for your number, then we could be dating, holding hands in the street, laughing at everything, hanging out with your stupid mates, if they hadn't been there and taken you away from me, I probably wouldn't have found meself, hiding behind the threes in the middle of a cold winter in LA, hoping to be in the warmth of your arms than out in the cold darkness of the street. I can't help to wonder if you ever think of me.

Your name and your last name stayed in a constant loop on my mind, one of your mates, the one with the light brown hair had screamed it as she found you falling into my arms, it would be stupid if I didn't look for you, right? You're gorgeous, you were nice and interesting, It would be weird if I didn't try to find your social media. It was easy to find you, I hate to admit how easy it is to find everything online these days, I found your Instagram and Facebook with just a few clicks on my computer, it's too easy it makes me laugh.

I scrolled through every single one of your posts on Facebook, you had a few, not many, everything was mainly about your little family trips and your sister's child, I made a note that you might just have Facebook out of pressure from your mother and sister since they always tag you in memes or those annoying TED Talk videos and you never answer, I found your mother's page, widowed, 49 years old, looks 45, she gave you her face, older sister, found her page too, married with a toddler, awfully bitter since she has to post where she is at all times, even if her child had taken a massive shit and had the looks of a giant worm, she would've posted it, I left the best for last. Your Instagram, no one these days uses Facebook.

Your Instagram was private but empty with not a single sight of you... so it's no use, what about your friends?... Hello you... I could hold on to these group pictures Larissa posted, thank you internet! Your friend group was small but they knew how to get around, only 4 people, two girls called Julie and Larissa, and Julie's boyfriend Luca, 5 if you counted me in, soon, luckily for me, Julie had an empty page, barely any pictures, just her and Luca but her profile was public but that lead me to find your other friend, Larissa had pictures of her face and some of you and Julie at pubs, very self-centered I suppose, Luca only posted about being a gym addict. I took a more personal approach, your sister Nina, who loves you very much, she had plenty of pictures of you. Thanksgiving was at your house, you looked gorgeous in those pictures, you wore a white dress with red flowers and black platforms, your long hair in beautiful waves, if any pervert were to see it, you would be such an easy victim with that long hair, but you're not, you're not so easy to hunt down in the dark. There was a picture of you and your sister's baby boy, sitting next to the three by a bay window, great. I took note of the stores, houses, and historical buildings nearby and then reality hit me as I took a cab on the way to your house.

Come on Alex, what are you doing? You look like a creep with your cap and coat in the middle of the night, It's only just a crush it'll go away, just like all the others. But you see? That's the problem with you, you're not, this is dangerous but I'll take my chances for you, I'm not obsessed with you, like I said, it's only just a crush. I hide behind some trees in front of your house on the other side of the street, and I contemplate this wonderful girl in her bedroom, going round and round with a book in her hands. 

At night me head couldn't stop spinning, making all of these scenarios, about a girl who meets a stranger, and they fall madly in love in just a split second. I didn't need more, I could hold on to your light vanilla perfume and the softness of your hair, your lips, your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve of your breasts in the blouse you wore that night, I want to hold you close and kiss you hard.

For next few days I followed you around, I made you a time table, every morning at 5:30 you went for a run, and you finished off at home some with exercises you found on YouTube, you were visibly struggling, and that made me laugh but I felt bad for doing so, you worked hard, you finished around 6:30, you liked walking like a true new yorker, in your most sober looks, sometimes in a dress with a blue navy sweater on top of dresses , jeans, and a silky shirt, winter or no winter, you loved wearing tank tops, loved exposing even just a little bit of your body, even in the coldest days, your legs, your beautiful shoulders, a v-neck, mini skirts, checkered shorts or pants, and sexy patterned tights with colors like pastel blue, and even red to spice up your all black outfits, and you always wore that luscious and berry coloured lipstick on your lips, heels, motorcycle boots, ballerina flats, dresses, chunky sweaters, straight leg vintage jeans, coats, heels, shoulder bags, mini bags, but what a must was, something that never came off of you, your golden necklace, you're an everything girl, you dressed for the day, it told you exactly what to wear, even if you broke your pattern, you mostly dressed like Jane Birkin, jeans, white shirt, chunky purse, but you love leather, leather belts, leather jackets. Then you walk to your favorite café, and your drink depends on how tired you feel, black coffee for busy days or cappuccinos for the days you don't feel in a rush, then you take the metro, read a book and sip on your coffee while listening to your music, you are in college by 7:30, have 30 minutes to spare, but you're wise, and you use them organize yourself while you ease up with some music, I've never seen a longer playlist to be honest, there's a bit of everything there, you write your things in a red wine journal, I wonder what's in those little pink notes you stick on your notebook.

I made sure you got safely to your workplace after school at 4:00 pm, a bakery, you love talking to the people at the register as they ask you for your favorite dessert, and you always choose the same, tiramisu, rich coffee with some liquor, mascarpone carefully enveloped with delicious whipping cream, and a touch of cocoa sifted all over the tiramisu, and you juggle back and forward with doing school work, help in the kitchen, serve the costumers with a bright and friendly smile, you're tired and they don't pay you enough. And when you get home a 10 pm, you don't go to sleep, you stay up until you're finished but you never truly are, no matter how late or early, you can't sleep, why is that beautiful? Aren't your sheets made of the softest cotton? But I can see, that you are compromised to live in a city that never sleeps, you get ready for your next job at your nearest live jazz pub as a bartender, I'm very familiar with that type of job, you serve the customers with a kind smile as the music rocks you, you talk to other girls, and the artists flirt with you from time to time but you didn't submit, you knew better than that, you got paid well, the tips that fell on your back pocket from the nasty old men helped you to afford your apartment, barely making it to the next cut but you made it.

And every restless night when your mind couldn't stop thinking you went out to the nearest pub, and you made new friends, some men flirted with you until sadly, one night I had to watch you leave with one of them, he conquered your body before me, I wonder if you ever think of me in that way, a sexy stranger, that clouded your mind with ideas until you finally gave in. He did what he wanted to do, and when he left, you were still flushed and needy, that night I watched you hump your pillow with angst to get yourself off, a gorgeous picture to see, one that was engraved in my brain since then.

Every night when I crashed in my bed, and I prayed for this to go away but it continued to grow, I prayed for you to get out of me head, but your face, your smile, every curve of your body lived in me head, and if I don't something about it, you'll hunt me down forever. 

I walked down the street on a Saturday night, It's been a week since we bumped into each other, discreetly searching for you with my eyes, until, I found you, in your West Village, street-level, white, vintage but modern apartment that might be hard for you to afford but you keep on paying it because the creepy landlord has a massive crush on you, he cannot fool me, I know what it's like.

You live in such a melancholic part of New York and also warm, old, and historic, it holds so many stories, and memories that's why it reminds you of home, like the baby pictures your mom posts, your living area illuminated with yellow lights from you mid-century lamps, like the sky in a beautiful afternoon, laying in your sette in a white tank top and panties, finally, you get to relax and enjoy yourself.

I could see the outline of your body through your thin linen white curtains, you were wearing vintage headphones connected to your record player, reading a book, Bukowski's 'Love Is A Dog From Hell' Yes, it must certainly is. Then suddenly you stood up, I'm certain you're barefoot, through a crack in the curtain I can see you're approaching the window, I could see the left side of your face, soft, round, cute little pointy nose, and your eyes, a sparkle in them as you stare into the sky, pink pouty lips, and a little beauty spot in your cheek, your phone in the ear, moving your lips with a smile as if you were talking to the person in the other line in real life. You nodded a couple of times and then you hung up, I saw the outline of your body, running towards your bedroom, what's got you in such a hurry? But before you forget, you turn up the music so loud the whole neighborhood can hear it, you choose something classic 'Bang Bang' by Nancy Sinatra, shoot me down, your linen curtain reflecting the light, and you take out your top in one move tossing it away, the outline of your naked beautiful body stretching had made me think so many things to do with it in less than a second, you pick your clothes with care, hanging them in front of your mirror, posing with the clothes on top of your body.

You sit somewhere in your room, and I can hardly see you, something about your magnetism draws me to you, so I stupidly cross the street and find shelter behind a three, but I get even more stupid as I get to see you doing your makeup in the mirror, your phone rings and your face goes blank, you answer and I see how your expressions change like the way flowers rot, gradually you get darker and darker, until... you break into tears putting an end to the call, and you push your phone away, you look into the mirror, and I see a tear roll down your cheek slowly, your face scrunched, and your cheeks reddened, you look at yourself in the mirror, all I can see is hate and rage, and then, you're cold as ice, not another tear rolls down your cheeks, you clean them up with a soft cotton pad and continue to apply makeup on your face, I wonder who has made you cry? even if it was just one small insignificant tear, whoever that was...they still made you cry.

Before you leave, you check yourself one last time, the dress you choose to wear was way better than the typical night outfits women wear these days, less ostentatious, you like dressing feminine, classic but modern, but not so pretty that you look like a little girl, you were more than pretty, you were hot, steaming, boiling, no man would approach you like that, and that was the sad truth for you but good news for both of us, not as any man would approach you, they had to have big balls to do so, baby doll dress, platforms, and a racer jacket, cute, stylish, edge, as always, you were sharp as a blade to the skin. Your hair is straight and it looks longer than when it's on your natural waves, and the wind blows perfectly on it, but that velvet red lipstick on your mouth might be the death of me.

You went outside, took a cab, and went out, I waved my arm, and soon enough a cab passed by.

"Where to?" The man said.

"Follow that cab in front of you," He took off, it was sad, drivers these days don't even care for men like this, the ones that just order to do something like that, there were a lot of crazy people here, and I had to protect you from them.

I see you being dropped off at a crowded pub, I hand a good amount of money to the man, and he drives off, I see you go inside, and you find your mates, I sit across from you, not too close so that you can see me but, but not so far so I don't hear you. You hug each one of them and you sit in the booth next to Julie.

"What's the occasion?" You said, next thing, Julie turns and shows a sparkling diamond on her finger, "Luke, Luke, Luke!" You teased her in awe, you held her hand carefully, examining it up close to the ring, "It's stunning" You said with a kind smile, it was amazing how I wished to be that hand, the one you caressed with care.

"I wanna do something big for the bachelorette, and I don't know where to start, I mean..." It must be hard for you, everyone around you is married or has a serious more than the 2-year relationship you can't hold on to, everyone has a kid now, everyone turns 27 and suddenly they already have a house, a child, and a loving husband, I wouldn't be like that ever, things won't be like that with me, I promise, we can take it as slow and calm as you want, or maybe go fast, I can go both ways, I just have to wait for the moment I may finally introduce myself to you, maybe by tomorrow when you go out but it must be soon before you forget about that last Saturday night, and it looks like you are in the process of, you are emptying those glasses of wine like coke in a hot summer day.

"Ease up with the wine," Larissa says, "You're gonna end up embarrassing yourself like the last time, you always have to pull a seen," Here we go.

"What fuckin' scene?" You spit back, "I was tired and I had been wearing high heels for more than 2 hours, yes, I was drunk but it was a genuine accident" You were annoyed, why could no one understand that? Accidents happen, and it must be hard for you to stand that pain, if I had stayed over, I would've given you a lovely massage, and treated you the way you're supposed to, I'm starting to be not very fond of Larissa.

"Uhu, yeah, but do you remember the last time you went to that party and got so drunk you "accidentally" confused a cigarette with marihuana and cried in the street like a baby?" Larissa, you just had to make it worse, didn't you?

"Fuck off, I can do whatever the fuck I want, if you don't want to believe me that's fine, oh!... and a scene, Larissa, a scene is what you pull when you yell at everyone as if you were the fucking owner of everything and everyone" You took your purse and rushed out, I see that Julie went out to get you, so I discreetly follow her, and find you waving your arm for a cab.

"Wait, don't go," Julie says with a caring tone, "I know you're not ok, you can't lie to me, you know how Lari is..."

"But why does she have to be a fuckin' news flasher of everything I do, embarrassing me in front of everyone, making me look like I'm not fun to be around," Julie tried to hug you but you wouldn't let her near.

"You say some scary shit while you're drunk, that's the only thing I'm going to agree on, but I can see you're not ok," Intuitive, honest, and kind, good choice for a friend.

"He called me" Julie sighs, who is he? This is the prize of being old fashioned, just like me, that's another thing I like about you, you have a life, even if you spend time alone, you go out in the world instead of taking a picture of it and expose your life, you have a little life, but it's yours and only yours.

"What did he want?" You shrugged and searched for something in your leather purse, taking a cigarette, and desperately flicking the lighter on.

"He just asked how I was, while he's off... modeling and possibly fucking two to three girls every single night, and he asks me how I am, drunk and high, he's so... he's-" To find the right words to describe that wanker only made me think about the damage he must have done to you, come on, spill the name, "That's not really everything, he's just-"

"Part of everything" Julie answered back, hugging you close to her, a caring hug, sweet, I could take a picture of it, I'm glad there is Julie for you, "Go home, and text me when you get there," She holds her arm up, taking a cab for you and sending you back home, I did the same thing as before, and the man did as he was told. But the problem was, you didn't go home, you went to a nearby liquor store and bought more wine for yourself, you drank it straight from the bag and you plugged in your wired earphones to your phone, kicking your feet and humming to the music 'New Dawn Fades' by Joy Division, a sad post-punk classic, you should be glad I am here to be on the look for you as you waddle in the steers, an easy target, if anyone dared to do anything to you, well, you must be glad there is me.

You walked a few blocks to your house, but you didn't go in, you couldn't hold yourself up anymore, so you sat by the staircase, defeated since you were desperately looking for your keys in your little purse, and you stared into the empty dark street, and you cried, you kept crying so hard it makes me feel the need to go and help you, I didn't really think about what I was doing, you were desperate, and I was afraid of letting you stay outside like that, then you stood up, unpredictable as always, I see you taking a fast pace. What are you thinking about? Did you forget something? You walk a few blocks until you stay still on a crowded street, the cars on that street go by faster, and you stare into the void as the red lights flash before you in straight lines, your cheeks stained with black tears, the darkness takes you in like one of their children, your head wrapped up in horrible ideas, so dark they blind your eyes, so atrocious your mind can only find one way to make you see the light at the end, you can't find peace, your body is tired, your eyebags are heavy, and you don't feel like yourself, you've lost control and you murmur something over and over again under your breath like some sort of sick prayer...

"A loaded gun won't set you free"

I see you take a step forward, now standing on the pavement, my heart drops to my stomach, and I run to get you, the wind blowing my cap away, what are you doing? why are you doing this? I can fix it, I can fix you, I can help you, I'll make it all disappear, before you take another step, the bus coming your way was out to get you, and you closed your eyes, but I won't let you go like that, my hand grasps your shoulder tightly, and I pull you to my arms, you're cold, shivering, your wired earphones fall from your head and get tangled in your hair.

"Are you alright?" Your face is wet with tears, and you look at me with big eyes, flushed again from the embarrassment, but that sparkle, that little fucking sparkle just makes me so mad, I'd kill for you to see me like that over and over, your little nose red, your eyelids a bit puffy.

You quickly wipe your tears, "Erm..." You sniffed, and you stared into my face with a cute and educated smile, "No... I mean, yes... sorry, I'm just... I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry," You scan my face, the familiarity of it makes a grin spread on your lips, "If I sound like a creep please stop me, but, I think I know you" Your lips curl into a bigger smile, as you realize who I am, I am that man, I am the man who will always be there for you, "You're that guy I fell into the other day" I pretend as if am amazed over who small the world is.

"Hey you," You said to me with a smile.

"Hello you" We both look to our feet, and I feel some warmth creeping up me cheeks, "We gotta stop meetin' like this" I see you flush, looking at me through your lashes, you slowly bite your bottom lip as you brush your hair out of the way, flirty. You struggle to untangle your earphones from your hair, I take a step forward and gently untangle them.

"You just had to come and rescue me again huh? Who are you? Superman?" I hear your voice, and your laughter like a melody I would love to hear over and over again, gentle, a little deep, but beautiful, I can see that behind all of that dark makeup and those dark looks, you're a sweet but lost little girl.

"I'm Batman" You're laughing and blushing at my jokes, that means that you like me.

"I like your accent batman" That's nice to hear, some people say that it sounds too rough and I sound like a scumbag, but I'm glad your ears enjoy the sound of it.

"Thanks, love" You take a step forward, your eyes looking at mine and then at my lips, it's hard to breathe right now.

"What are you doin' so late, huh? Are you wearing your costume?" You tease me, and we begin to walk together, to nowhere, just where we want this conversation to take us.

"Sort of, and you?" You shrugged, what a hard night you had. I'm worried about you, you didn't need to apologize for "not thinking", we kept walking until the smell of food dilated our nose trails.

"Just went for some drinks with a couple of friends nothing too exciting... do you mind if we stop for some food?" My fantasies had become real, you wanted to get some street pizza, the nice old man smiling at you tenderly, he's nice, not creepy, just a nice man, you ask for two slices of pepperoni with Italian sausage and the man is nice enough to give you the most fresh and warm slices of pizza, "Here, it's on me... it's the least I can do"

"Thank you" You chuckled and waved it off, gosh I wish I could just freeze this moment forever.

"I should be thanking you..." You wait to hear my name, and I stay silent contemplating this moment for a second, this is how it starts.

"Alex" You shake hands with me as your tongue, teeth, and lips articulate your name, you have a lovely name, and I'm crazy about you, "Charmed" I hold my gaze at you as you slowly let go of me hand.

"So, what were your plans for the night before I had completely crashed them" Funny, dark jokes, sarcasm, you're really smart but you don't like showing it off, you make me laugh so much, it's clear we have the same humor, that's another reason as to why you're perfect for me and I am for you.

"Um... I thought about going out somewhere, anywhere, sometimes I can't sleep... I'm afraid of losing life by being a slave of me work, me house, everythin' but I found something exciting" You smile to yourself, and you smile at me, you see? We're perfect.

"I do that sometimes... whenever I can't sleep, I go to a bar and you know... try to meet new people, I hate having to post about it on social media though, everyone has their screens glued to their faces, and I just don't like that, I don't wanna breathe my phone, I wanna breathe air" If I were you I would write a whole book about this, I love that you think just like that, we can be people for once, and run around the world and make it ours, "What do you do for a living?"

"Music producer" You smiled at me, "And I have the gift of guessing people's favorite artists,"

"Really? What are mine's?" I have the chance to look at you confidently, I see you like that, I can see how fast your heart is going, how you try to calm it with your breathing, your chest rising and falling fast, as I stare into your eyes intensely making little goosebumps crawl like spiders, I hope you know how much I like you.

"Nancy, Lana... and summat dark like Joy Division Unknown Pleasures" You clap and you're amazed at how exact I am, I can smell it on you.

"Exactly, I love them," You began to hum their songs, dancing on the street, I follow your lead, as you spin, "I was listening to it a few moments ago" You turn dark again, I'm not going to let you, I immediately regret ever saying that, I don't know what that bloody song did to you, but you were listening to it before you attempted to get crashed.

"I'm glad I was there" Sweeten up, tell me what's wrong, I'm here for you.

"Yeah... me too, I wasn't thinking straight..." You clean your throat, you cross your arms, and furrow you're eyebrows, it makes you angry to say it, makes you sad, makes you frustrated, and even so since you watch me patiently waiting for you to tell me what happened to you, I didn't have to say it, you already knew "I don't think you would like to hear about my problems Alex, they're meaningless"

"Nothin' is meaningless just like us meeting tonight perhaps..." Shite, I take it back, I can see your face looking at me weirdly, but you smiled, you're fascinated? Did you like that?

"You're right," You warm up to me, I can see it in your body, I can see it in your face, I've given you no reason to not trust me, I'm harmless, I told you you can trust me, "But I want a ciggy, if you don't mind" You lean against a brick wall, your leg supporting your weight, I'm in love with your smooth and shiny legs, what's your secret?

"Mind if I steal one?" You say no with your head, you check your box again, and you curse in your head. The box has only one cigarette left.

"Sharing it is" You light your cigarette with your pink lighter, I can see some cute puppy stickers on it, you inhale the thick white smoke and exhale it, your whole body relaxing, feeling lighter, you feel calm, and you hand it to me, holding it between your index and your middle, you have a vintage silver rose ring in your middle, cracked red nail polish, and the cigarette butt was stained with your gorgeous red lipstick, I take it in between my lips, your lipstick tastes sweet like marshmallows, I savor it, Jesus, I hope I can taste your pretty lips soon.

"Talk to me," You sigh, and your mouth articulates each phrase, your voice tired and sad, I hear every detail of your story with care, a girl that can't control her alcohol, one that just wants to have fun, one that makes stupid mistakes but learns, I see beauty not only out but inside you, in your mistakes, in your intentions, in your life, you only got one, and you've made noble mistakes, I can see you're a whole woman, a hot and determined woman, but you have no road clear enough, no road to pick, you're chasing something you don't even know what it is.

"So now, I'm just trying to see what happens, I'm getting my degree soon, and then I'll keep working, maybe I'll start something on my own" Maybe if you don't love your work, at least you can come home back to me, I'll cook dinner, I'll wash your clothes, I'll set the table, I'll prep you a warm bath, I'll shower you, you won't move a single finger when you come home to me, "How's working as a music producer?"

"Oh, well, it's great... sometimes we have our differences but most of the time I just do what people tell me to do, in secret I make their music better, sometimes they don't notice and they just brag about how amazing was their idea" Your cigarette burns away into my fingers, I set it off into the wall and discreetly put it inside my pocket, you change the direction, we're going back, you're shamelessly eying me up and down, I swear if you don't stop...

"What are your favorite bands?" You're changing the subject, I don't like that, I don't like that you don't want to talk about what you've told me, but I keep you interested.

"Well... an old-time favorite is The Strokes" I answer firmly, you take out from your purse your earphones, plug them into your phone, and press play on the music as we walk together sharing your music, 'Call It Fate Call It Karma' on full volume.

"Might be basic for you, but I don't see a better song for this moment" You turn to face me, and we stop in the dark corner of the sidewalk, your eyes greedy and precious, that bloody spark in your dark eyes excites me, it's all in your eyes, I can see it clearly, I can see what you want from me, you blink slowly and wait for me to make the next move, and I don't doubt for a second, I close the space between us, and very gently press the palm of my hand to your warm cheek, it's warm and pink, staring into your eyes like stars in the black sky, kissing your lips, sweet as burned marshmallows in a bonfire night, you kiss me so softly at first, but you make that animal inside me come alive, I'm a man, I'm an animal, and I kiss your tender lips hungrily, I didn't expect for you to answer back with the same hunger, you feed me with your kiss, and your breath tastes like ecstasy, I'm a junkie, sweet sweet nicotine, I'm a chain smoker, "Take me home, Alex..."

"I'll take you anywhere you tell me, sweetheart" You grab my hand, fingers intertwined, and I feel 15 again, my palms are sweaty, my sweat is cold, and I feel so warm in my clothes, I can't wait to take them off, the anticipation getting the best of me, you make my dreams come true, and I'm so happy the world had chosen you to fall into my arms. I'm your protector, a guardian angel.

On the way home, we sneak to share some angsty kisses three or more times, you're getting me worked up, letting me touch you, grasping your hips, biting my lip, kissing my cheek, moaning my name into my lips, you're making my head spin. We walk up the stairs together, opening the door to your shelter, you have a lovely house, so clean that some things are allowed to be misplaced, it's big because you don't like having so many things out, your bed is on the other side of the wall were you living area is, the vague familiarity of it makes me feel like I'm imagining it all.

"This my girl cave, my crib" You joke, I take pictures of it in my head from bottom to top, every single inch, every place I imagine us being in, watching tele, cooking together, making a mess of the kitchen of course, dancing, fucking, scratching your wooden countertop, "What do you think?"

"It's-" We both get freaked out by the knocks at your door, some dickhead calling out your name, begging you to open the door, you roll your eyes, you know exactly who he is.

You swing open the door, cross your arms, and stand your ground, marking that he's not welcome here, you're strong, you're determined, go you! Show some teeth, "I don't wanna hear another one of your crazy fucking stories, tell them to your mother, Cameron" You were about to shut the door in his face but he stops it with his foot, that must've hurt Cameron, that's your ex isn't he? The one who made you cry, "Leave" You spit.

"I won't, you can't possibly ask for something like that... you and I know there's no one better than me, no better match than us" You stay silent, why are you thinking? why are you second-guessing? He takes a step forward, he's getting closer, you're face is a frown, you don't want him to touch you even though he keeps trying.

"I don't want you here, you must leave now Cameron, I want you out" He turns into hysteric laughter, he thinks you're crazy, he thinks you've lost your mind, well big shot, you're not it, Cameron only wants to hurt you with his words, he wants to make the most damage, he gets off at this, making you his only real standard, but Cameron will never treat you like you must be treated.

"Don't talk me to like that" I take his aggressiveness as a sign to take a step in, who the fuck does this wanker think he is to talk to you like that? You see that's a real scumbag, and I'll be his worst nightmare.

"Like what?" I come up from the back, cocky, sounding like a total prick, and I can see that you love it, when I sound like this, dominant, confident, "She's telling you to go, I'm telling you to fuck off. Now" I slam my voice at him, there are scary people in this world, there are men like Cameron, he has an intense gaze, but he wouldn't ever pick up a fight for anyone, yes... not even you, he's too vain, a narcissist, he is all bark but no bite, and then there are the men who would move mountains for their loved ones, he steps away, and I shut the door close, I can feel you shivering beneath my skin.

You stare at me, and I drag you in closer, that's what you like... you liked to be treated rough, you like being needed, I push your hips against mine, I can see it in your face, you've felt it, you've felt how hard my cock is, and it's hurting so fucking bad now, I can't wait for another second, I can't wait to take you to bed, you jump on me, wrapping your gorgeous soft legs on me, I decide to leave the first reminder of me on your kitchen table, laying your body on top of the cold wooden countertop for the first reminder of me and the things I'm about to do to you, my knuckles pull down your panties, ripping them off from your skin, your pussy glistening, bathed in your wetness, I can smell your flesh from the distance, like a predator and their victim, I'm a lion, "I'm gonna fuckin' tear you apart"

"Fuuuckin' please" You moan so loudly I bet it could be heard from across the street, and your voice shivers, I've barely even touched you yet, and you're already so wet for me, what are you thinking about? what's in your mind? I wish I could crack your skull open.

I lower myself in between your legs, I've been so busy admiring your body, the scent of the almond oil you rub on your smooth legs, I bet that you shaved them today, and I wonder what else have you shaved, your dress rides to your hips as you contortion under my touch, Jesus, you're desperate for it, but no, I want to enjoy you.

"Calm the fuck down, lay still and close your eyes" I order, and you stiffen up, staying quiet, and still, "Atta girl", I can finally see what's in between your gorgeous long legs, a pink and small pussy, Jesus, I bet you're so fucking tight by the looks of it, my ring and middle finger begin their assault, pressing down vertically against your clit, you hum and your hips writhe against me fingers, slowly, pushing them, you like that, rubbing yourself against them, and when I see you through the glass I lose my mind, I see how me fingers get coated and damped in your wetness, and I love watching you get so worked up by that, I can feel me cock just getting harder by the second, it's hurting and it's a pulsing pain, but I bare with it just for you, because now I'm going to show you how exactly you're supposed to get fucked.

I spread open your pussy, pink and warm, swollen clit I pinch in between me fingers, and you hiss but you only get wetter, if I pinched for a little longer you were sure coming all over the table. I open me mouth to taste your warm and savory juices, I suck and kiss your clit, picking up with my tongue your wetness, you're going to cum so good, I can feel it building up, you're in for a ride, and you've just begun to climb up the roller coaster.

"Oh... that's soo good" You gasp and sigh, I let my two fingers twist inside your pussy, me knuckles rimming your walls slowly, the bumpy and hard skin of my fingers make you gently fuck yourself into them, while I watch you with my tongue lapping over your clit teasingly, just those gentle touches make your legs shake, and your walls to contract, you're wonderful, you behave well, your hands slowly crawling into me hair, pulling it gently, your little whimpers get me worked up and I have to put in the biggest effort to not palm meself, I want you to feel every inch of me.

"You feel so lovely, babe doll" This feels so right, you bite on my lower lip, pulling my flesh until it bleeds. You're a sucker for my accent, you really are, you enjoy hearing me voice, doesn't it relax you? Doesn't it turn you on? I want to know what it is... I want to feel what it is, your legs keep shaking and your body keeps getting stiffer, your lower abdomen making pressure, and your walls are closing around me fingers, I shake them inside you, your mouth falls open, my lips sucking your clit harder and your body arches until I feel your cunt losing up, feeling your release leaking out of that tiny little hole, I'm eager to taste it, I eat your pussy eagerly, you know I'm hungry for it, my mouth eating your pussy like a soft and warm bun, and you taste just as sweet, just as good as I imagined, I won't let you rest, I will keep you on the limit. I drag you forward, making you kiss me lips, "Do you taste that? Taste how sweet you are... taste how good I ate you"

"And you're gonna fuck me just as good?" Your hand sneaks in between me legs, you love how hard my dick is for you, it makes you feel so thrilled, makes you feel good about yourself, and it makes you feel hot.

"You'll just have to wait a little bit longer, I'm not done with you" I'm certain about something, you're a kinky little shit, and I know you want something like this, I bend you over the kitchen table, and you're just ready for it, arching your back, spreading your legs, you're not putting a fight, my hand kneads your ass like dough, and spanks it hard over and over again, "You precious little thing, are you going to do everything I tell you to do?"

"No" You state firmly, earning another smack in your ass.

"Tell me summat..." I push my hips against your dripping wet cunt, that's oozing for another smack, "How much do you want it?" You sigh, rubbing your ass against my cock, you're killing me, you better stop now, the friction, the warmth, your goddamn smell, "Answer me you fuckin' cunt" You giggle, you do love it.

"I want you so bad" You whisper, no, I don't like that.

"Not enough" The smacks you earn are getting harder to bear, but you enjoy them, and so do I, you masochistic little shit.

"I need you inside me, Alex... I can't wait any longer" You rock your hips against mine, humping your naked pussy against my bulge, "Please..." You whimper so sweetly, I can't handle it any longer, I take off your dress, and you're wearing nothing but your tall black heels, looking like a fuckin' hooker, but I bet that's what you like.

"You want it you fucking slut?" You keep whimpering and rubbing yourself on me jeans, I bet that you've stained them already, "Come here" I turn you around and kiss you deeply, I can feel your hands unbuttoning my shirt as fast as you can, even in the heat of the moment you don't break my shirt but I couldn't care less, I take your hands and make fists ripping it apart and throwing it away, you're even faster to take out my jeans and leaving me on my boxers, that's the one good thing about me, I can see how your eyes lit up as you see how hard me fat cock is for you, you bite your lower lip and I pull you back up from your knees.

Time for reminder number two, the settee, I pull you up, and you sit in my arm until I put you back to the ground gently, I have to let you know that I was here, I need you to know how good I am, no other man could please you like that, I pull your leg up while you hold yourself up with the other, your pussy is so fucking wet my cock slides inside you so easily, I can feel the electric shocks that run all over your body, "Hard, please" You whine, I'm going to show you what hard actually is.

My hips thrust inside you so roughly the settee moves out of place, your nails dig into the cushions as I keep railing your tight hole harder, and you scream like bloody murder, I hope your neighbors don't call the police, I hope they can see how hard you're getting your cunt fucked, I want everyone that walks by to hear you, "You wanted hard babe!" You moan and scream, and keep getting your pussy pounded like meat being beaten up to get it tender. I dig your head into the pillows.

"Don't... d-don't-" Don't what?

"I can't understand you, babe, can you repeat that for me?" You pant trying to catch your breath, and your legs are numbing up, and I can see they've lost some strength, "Do you want me to stop, because I can" As I saw you didn't make a move, I began to pull out but you stopped, digging your nails into my wrist.

"Don't stop for fucks sake" Now for the next one, I stay buried inside you like that, you keep trying to fuck yourself into me cock but I just won't allow it, I pick you up once more, and your legs around my torso, and you press your warm chest against mine, I lean back against the giant bookshelf next to your bedroom door, you hold on into the shelves for leverage while I drive my cock inside you, your pussy feels so tight I wish I could let this last forever, I'll make that pussy mine.

"You want more, babe?" You hum and gasp, yes of course you do, you're loving every single inch of me cock, "God you look so beautiful with your mouth opened like that," I lick your bottom lip, "And that little cunt of yours is so wet for me, you're just making things harder for me..." I pushed meself too hard inside you, the shelf shook, and something hard dropped to the ground but you ignored it, you've lost yourself in my touch, and I feel embarrassed for dropping something. Your inner animal wakes up as I throw you into your bed.

I crawl on top of you but you gather up your strength to flip me over, I didn't expect that, you've taken the lead and I want to see you lose control, you writhe your hips into mine, your eyes facing the roof, and your mouth wide open, your hair falling into your head, you looked possessed, but you had lost the power to think about what you were doing, "For fucks sake" If you keep moving like that, you're going to make this end sooner, and I've already planned everything out, I try to sit up but you hold me down, chocking me so hard that it's almost impossible to breathe for me, but I love that feeling, my head feels light, my vision is blurry, but I'm not going to give in to you, I already have, you have got to give into me.

I flip you over so harshly, your head almost slammed against your headboard, "Listen to me you fuckin' cunt" My harsh tone makes your core shake, "You ain't the one on command, now... I don't wanna repeat meself" It's arousing you, I can feel it in between your legs, you're shamelessly getting wetter, "Don't make me repeat meself again" You love to play with me, I see that naughty little smile curling into your lips.

"You already did" You like to pull on my hair, don't you? And you will pay for that.

"Don't fuck with me" Your eyebrows push together and your little smirk makes me go mad.

"You know I love to" Love? You "love to"? Does this mean that you might love me? Even just a tiny bit?

"You do, huh?" I begin to rock my hips against yours, slowly, passionately, like a slow and steaming dance, I see your fingers grasping the sheets making hard fists, "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into" And I'm not lying, you really don't.

"Show me Alex" You whisper to me those three words so sexily, charmingly, I've already lost my mind.

"I'll show you how a real man fucks you, babe," Your oozing with the thrill, "I'll show you how to behave... you little fuckin' cunt" Your mouth opens to moan and I take advantage of it to spit inside your mouth, both my hands chocking you, "You're mine... all mine"

"I'd love to" You whimper, "Make me yours please... please just do, I want you Alex" You keep asking me that with your little weak voice, your body that speaks to me, I can read it so easily, it tells me that I'm doing exactly what you want me to do, it shivers, and it quivers, and it sweats, it screams, it tightens, it stiffens, in your eyes I can feel your fast heartbeat in my fingers, and it goes just as fast as mine, my body against yours sounds like I'm butchering you, your neighbors must think I'm holding a knife against your throat, but it does go as deep, it does penetrate and it hurts you in the most magnificently and pleasingly way, your eyes red shot, and your voice gets quieter, shit, I'm losing you, I am.

"Wake up, wake up!" I scream to you, my hand patting your cheek lightly, your pulse is barely detectable, I slap you across your face and you gain back consciousness in the blink of an eye, I didn't want to do it, I would never do that, but when your lips curl into your devilish smile, I know see how you really are.

"Do that again Al" You tease me, I love it when you call me like that, no one ever really does that anymore, is that my new nickname? Al? You're going to remember me forever babe, I hope you do, and tomorrow when you wake up, I'm still going to be there, I'll make your breakfast, and I'll do anything you ask me to do, even dishes, you won't pick them up.

"You're mad, woman" You giggle, and you try to pick yourself up, I can't let you, I did knock you over completely, my hand very gently caresses your cheeks, it's red and fragile, it must burn or at least sting, "Let me do the kissing for now, babe"

"And the fucking too perhaps?" You smile at me, your cute little button nose is flushed, your cheeks and chest are red, your nipples are hard, it turned you on to this point, you're dark, what else are you not telling me? "I'm crazy about you" Those words will echo in my head for the rest of my days.

I take no rush into fucking you, I'm not just a guy you'll sleep with, I'm your man, and I wanted to make sweet sweet love to you, but you won't let me, you like it rough, hard, fast, I don't want this moment to be over, at least not for me yet, you can cum as many times as you like, and like the real man I am, I am profoundly true to the saying 'Happy wife, happy life'

I hug you close to me, that's the least I can do, if I'm going to lose control, let my heart tell yours how much I love you, even if you dump me like a puppy, I'll stay loyal, I'll follow your scent everywhere, I will forever remember the scent of your vanilla hair, your Dior perfume, and the golden necklace around your neck, I counted 15 moles on your body, even the one in between your legs, my hands grab your hair into fists as I pound you harder and harder, you're losing your mind and I'm losing control again, your bed squeaks so loudly and the headboards slams against the wall so harshly, but I don't stop I can't stop now, I can feel you, I can feel it coming, you bring yourself to an end again, the palm of my hand slowly adds pressure on your lower belly, to ease you up, the bed keeps squeaking so annoyingly, and even after we ignored the several warnings, the legs of your bed broke and your headboard fell to the ground, we both break into laughter.

"Oh God!" Your little laughter is so bubbly and funny, it makes me smile and feel so ashamed at the same time.

"I'm so sorry, I'll pay for that" You rub the tip of your little nose against mine, and look at me tenderly, your fingers caressing the back of my head, if only you could see the hearts in my eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous... you know, I've never broken a bed before... you're not going to be easy to forget batman, I hope you don't disappear into the night soon" I'll get you off first, but there's one thing you should be certain of.

"I never intended to" Was that too much? Sorry if that was too much, maybe it was... maybe it wasn't, I'm having a hard time reading your face right now, you're looking at me very seriously, I don't want to get my hopes up, but you're killing me, I should focus now, finish the deed, "But I'm still sorry about your bed though"

"Shut the fuck up, and keep fucking me" Whatever she wants, whatever she wants... You're already the song on the radio I got stuck in me head.

I pull us closer to the safest edge of your bed, toss your legs over me shoulders, and bend them over, I lean over and pound the living shit out of you, I was balls deep inside you, and you like it, so much that you dig your nails into my back, scratching my skin until red and bloody, I don't care how much it hurts, leave as many marks as you want, the deeper the better, my hair falls over my forehead and you make the kindest gesture, your brush it back with your long nails, even if by now I'm sweating like a pig you keep bringing me closer to you, I can feel the light tingles of you breathing in me face, of you biting down on my golden chain making laugh, making me go insane, I keep pushing harder, and you throw your head back, almost letting go of me, but I won't let you, I'll send you to heaven if you want, but don't leave without me.

"Oh, Alex... I'm so close, please..." Your eyeballs turn into beautiful glossy pearls, and you crumble down into pieces as you coat my cock in your warm release, I can feel your walls pushing it out and running down your cozy hole, I stay buried inside you, watching your mouth fall open and choke out your last orgasms, they spin in my head like a tiny little music box, "You're next, Alex... you can't end things like that... you know how much I want it, you already did so much for me" Wait, what are you doing?

Your hands run up my chest, and you massage my shoulders, "You really want me to breed you, you greedy little fuck?" Your hands go down and you massage my balls, Jesus, you really do, I bet you're not even aware of what you're doing to me... or are you?

"Yes Alex, use it... use me" You know exactly what you're doing, I drag my cock out just rimming your walls once again, I better start warming you up, but you don't want that now, you're thinking about me, about what I want, you deserve a little star on your forehead for being so caring, a man and its needs, it's nothing compared to your needs, and I bet you needed someone to get you off correctly.

"You're mine... I want you to say it" I promised to you since the beginning, I won't stop until you're mine, "Are you mine?" I look at you with my big eyes full of hope for you to say it, please tell me now.

"I'm yours Alex" My lips taste your mouth, your tongue dancing with mine. You're made of the sweetest poison

God, I remember that time I was watching through your window, that night you were laying down on your settee, your hand was vigorously and shamelessly rubbing your clit in circles, fucking your little cunt with two fingers, rocking yourself into your touch with the desperate need to rub yourself against something hard, just like you were rubbing yourself against me hard cock. You keep squeezing my balls, your hands sneak into my ass squeezing it gently to keep me going, you love having me right at the edge of ending it all, I can't keep it up for another moment anymore, you're big stary eyes, your little sparkles, your touches, the smell, the noises, you're begging for me cum, I slam my fist next to your head, dragging your body up as I push myself deep inside you and coat your walls in me creamy cum, you're pure bliss as I feel us both coming together, a gorgeous after bliss surrounding us, you have this certain smell, a certain heat, and you're just so beautiful with your cheeks flushed like that.

"Let me clean you up, it's me mess, just lay down" You nod your head, laying gently on your broken bed to not let it crash completely into the ground, you point your finger telling me where the toilet is, and I rush there to grab a few paper towels and clean your skin softly, soothingly, I can feel you relaxing, I can smell my body in yours, the smell of my cologne, your almond oil, and your pheromones. And when I'm done you grab my hand and I can see you thanking me for even that tiny gesture, that's nothing you should be thanking me for, that's the least.

"Now the question is... where are we going to sleep?" We? You want me to sleep here, with you? You're not quicking me out, or at least not yet, this is my chance and I would be lying if I didn't say I was the luckiest man alive.

"Maybe the settee would be a nice place" Your gorgeous olive green settee, corduroy, soft, and marked, I can see you smiling at the space in between your two cushions, I see your giant ivory bookshelf, another mark. I lean forward to pick up what I had dropped when we assaulted the shelf, but it wasn't one of the thousands of vinyl records you've got organized by letter, it's a case... a guitar case. I didn't know that about you. Tonight made me realize that you're a hat full of surprises, the deeper I search the more I find.

"Want some food?... I've got some nuggets and fries... and-" You close your fridge and turn to look at me, "Oh, you know how to play?" I nod my head, trying to stay as noble and humble, you smack your hand into your forehead, "Of course, you do," You sigh and I can hear you whispering to yourself, "Stupid question"

"And do you?" You hum as a yes, interesting, I bet you do, but why do you hide your guitar like that? As if it was buried in this beautiful world with music, colors, words, and meanings.

"I did..." You turn on your air frier and toss some nuggets and fries in there, I'm so happy that you're not like one of those crazy keto girls, you pour us some fresh orange juice as you keep talking to me, "But you know, my mom always told me 'that's just a hobby', and when I moved here I hoped to find some people that wanted to share this fire to try to make some music... but I never managed to, and then I just gave up"

"That's a bit sad, love... you shouldn't have" You lean over the kitchen countertop, amazing reminder, I see you smiling over the edge of your shoulder, but you turn to look at me as you pick up some of our clothes, and then you run into my shirt and you decided to wear it as your sex shirt, you look beautiful, "I mean, being a music producer and making it was hard, but it was even harder to follow something I'm not passionate about" That's what's wrong, you didn't follow your passion, that's what you're missing, "Have you got any songs?" Your face lights up but it quickly slips away, and the redness crawls into your face, What? I'm trying to help you, I want you to be happy with me and with your life.

"I can't accept that" You quickly answered, your head said no but I know you want this, it's served on a silver platter, why can't you let your reserved self accept this?

"Accept what? I haven't said anything, I just asked if you could sing for me... I know you have a lovely voice" You laugh sarcastically at me, leaning over to fetch your guitar, and searching for a notebook on your vinyl shelf.

You sit next to me, legs crossed, guitar on your lap, naked with just my shirt on, your knees holding your notebook as you search for the perfect page for me, you make sure that your guitar is tuned before you start and your thumb softly strums down the notes, making a lovely rhythm, and only two chords, C and Em, your voice sounds like a million angels, and I feel like a lost man after serving the purgatory, your voice is so hauntingly beautiful, your lyrics are very forward, and I'm happy to know through your lyrics how truly you feel about things, you don't search for big words you choose the right ones, you're bold, and you're wise, you try to put an end to your complicated feelings, your questions, everything, all in one song with a few strums and two simple chords.

"That's all," You say putting your guitar next to you, I'm blown away, "I know I suck"

"No!" I answer immediately, "You don't... I think it's beautiful"

"You're just saying that because..." No, I'm not just saying that because I want to fuck you, no not at all, don't you ever believe that.

"I'm saying that because I think you've got it, and you don't want to quit everything to live your dream, I know it must be difficult... but I'm being truthful, you've got summat and we can work on it" Why do you keep saying no with your head? Stop that, if I could rip it off right now... no, don't think that, "Come on, I'm not takin' a piss" You break into laughter with me, throwing your head back, you jump up the moment your oven dings and you run to flip the nuggets and the fries, putting 10 more minutes into the oven.

"Takin' a piss" You laugh to yourself, "Well, if you're not takin' a piss" You imitate my accent and it sounds so silly when you try to do it, "I'm not accepting your help Alex, you have your own thing, and if I'm going to do this, I have to do it on my own," Perfect, I'll take that.

"Why don't you go to Panda's next Saturday? They're looking for some people to play some music, any style, any theme, you can do whatever you want... I'm sure everyone will love you, and you know, there's always someone on the hunt for summat fresh!" I see you thinking about it, I'm not saying I'll help you, I'm just offering the start of something great for you, this is it for you. And yes, I am going to get you the best deal you could ever imagine, but first I have to run things through your notebook, I secretly hide your baby pink notebook, your initials written with a black sharpie, and I stash it in between the cushions.

"I'll think about it" I'll think about it. I hope you do go, I can't wait to see you singing for everyone, you will charm them, "Dinner is served me lord" You're also a dork, just like me, imagine all of the jokes we can make together, they'll be endless.

"My! Thank you, very kind" Dinousor nuggets with a side of fries, the melancholic feeling of your childhood must be present every single day, you squeeze some Ketchup into my plate, squirting into my chest.

"Whoops! Let me clean that for you" You lean in, sticking out your tongue to lick off the ketchup from my chest, "Eat up!" I'm in love with you, "And then we'll get on with that" You look down, and I do the same, shite, look what you do to me, you make me get so hard like a little boy hitting puberty.

"Bugger" I whisper under my breath, you heard it since you giggled, "You know, I think the food can wait right?" You push your plate away and you immediately crawl on top of me, kissing my lips so tenderly, caressing my chin with your fingers, and enjoying the texture of the little hairs that are growing on me cheeks.

"Mmm ketchup" You laugh into the kiss, and our teeth collide accidentally, and us by casualty, "You taste yummy"

"Imagine yourself" You blush hard, something tells me no one has ever made you feel that good about yourself, and that's because no one will see you with the same eyes as me, you're my girl, you will be, I try to flip you but instead you stop me, have I done something wrong?

"We're not going to break this couch, I love this fucking couch, you understand that?" You firmly said, your eyes threatening to kill me if I do as such, "I'm on top" I squeeze your ass tightly biting my bottom lip.

"Whatever she wants... but if I broke the bed it's 90% your fault," You scoffed and laughed as I peeled my shirt from your body gently, making sure I don't break more buttons so you could keep it, "Because you feel so good, and maybe you could be on top, but I know sooner or later... you'll be the one giving into me" Quite intense, wasn't I? Fuck!

"But for now, it's me who calls the shots, so if we break this... it will be 98% your fault, how do you like me now, smarty?" You secure your arms around my shoulder, I pull you in, chest on chest, as I give myself a few more strokes before you slowly slide down my cock, moaning so gently, I like feeling every part of you, I can see how your body twists and shivers when I hit that sweet spot.

"How do you like that?" I rub it in your face, how good I'm making you feel, "I guess one round just wasn't quite enough for you," You start humping on my cock slowly, you're just teasing me again, but I enjoy feeling your body move against mine, your little cries and moans, everything piles up in me, I know this time I'll enjoy you, picture you going in slow motion, I can feel your rapid heartbeat, I can feel the heat wave that raises and wrap us in, I can feel your body begging to mine to stay as close as possible, because that's what your body and my body want, we smile, we laugh, and I fall deeper in a hole full of love for you, and I'm no donkey to use the dirt to get out, I rather stay buried deep inside you just like now. Your body is tired, it's been two hours since your legs worked for the last time, and you beg for more into my ear.

"You're so good, I-I don't understand" What don't you understand, babe? Your fingers intertwine in the back of my head, as you writhe your hips to mine, our bodies dancing together so wonderfully, your hips move in circles against mine.

"Neither of those assholes could ever come close to me, I'm a real man..."

"And you've got the size" You flirt with me so shamelessly, your walls keep dragging me in, your head falls into my shoulder, you're giving into me, fading into me, and it's me time now, I finally get to give you what I wanted since the beginning, make sweet and honest love to you, my hands on your thighs I keep driving your body against mine, I gently bounce you on me lap just to get you to stay up again, you're eyes are shutting, your mouth is falling open again.

"Look at me" I order, and you do what I tell you to do, you look at me towards your end, I hope you can read it in my eyes, I hope you can feel how warm the flesh is, how my eyes, my brain, and heart have no space for anyone else but you, how mad you've made me, I'm obsessed, and I'm not going to lie to myself about it anymore, I don't want to just use you, I hope you can see that, but if you can't, I hope this is enough for you to understand it, my eyes big and dilated for you, my body feels so stiff, it's overwhelming, "You're so beautiful, love"

"If you keep calling me that, you're gonna make me fall in love, Alex"

So I'll say it every single day for the rest of my life, you feel so good on me, your body fits into mine so perfectly, and I'm so close, and so are you, the flesh is tender, the flowers bloom, the sun rises and it's heat rains all over the world, and you and I bond together for one last time before your body crashes into mine, I make a mess, but that's a bit on purpose, "Ah, yes" You sigh into my ear as you let it rest on top of mine. I have the chance to clean your body once more, to clean you up with care and love, my touch is so gentle your body fills with goosebumps, "You really don't have to Alex" You put your hand on my hand, and I freeze, should I stop? Am I making you uncomfortable?

"Sorry... if I'm doing too much" Your eyebrows push together and before I can get away you drag me back by my wrist and smile at me. What do you think of me?

"No, I'm just..." You sigh, you're troubled by your thoughts, "Not used to the 'aftercare' part that's all, you know, sex for us girls... it's not like we see it in films, or read in books, maybe I don't have that magic to turn a beast into a prince, and... I just I dunno, I don't feel weird... you make me feel special, normally, they just leave" Are you... maybe falling for me?

I smile at you, my thumb grazes your cheek softly, "I'm a man, and I'm messy but I just don't like doing that there's an attraction, and if we have sex, unless you ask me to leave I'll leave" I put away the paper towels in the trash, and when I come back I find you waiting for me with my shirt on your body.

"Well, if that's the case" My heart pumps one thousand miles per hour, I feel I'm entering a trance, about to puke my intestines out if you ask me to leave, "You don't mind staying?"

Fuck yeah! "Not at all" I try to keep me cool but I just can't, my heart betraying as I lay down with you.

After we finally had the chance to close our eyes, the sun peeks through the curtains of your windows, the sky painted orange and ocean blue, you smile at me, and you get back up from our little love nest that was the settee, you're quick to find the vinyl with the song we were listening together, the song we kissed to, the perfect song to watch the sunrise.

"Come with me!" I've never heard you so excited before, you run to the kitchen and fetch my boxers from the ground, and I'm a bit troubled by the thought of me wearing my jeans with no underwear but I do nevertheless because I would kill to see you like that every single day.

I cover my body with my coat, and you grab my hand, we run out of your house, and we go through this tiny little white gate, into a garden covered in green chasmophyte, that's the place where the flowers bloom in little boxes of dirt, the perfect place to see the sun, the perfect place to hide, to dream in, it's wonderful, you pull out a chair for me in this old rusty table, you find place to put your music and we listen to Call It Fate Call It Karma as the sun rises from the horizon, I pull you to my lap, wrapping your legs around my arms and hum the song to your ear, the birds are chirping, and the sun warms us from the once oh so cold night.

"You're a lovely singer," You say to my ear, I was never one to watch sunrises, I haven't done that since I was 17, and now with my busy life, I finally get to taste this little piece of paradise that you've given me.

"Not as good as you, bunny" You kiss my nose with a big smile, and I take out from my jeans a box of cigarettes and my old zippo, you set on my smoke, and you love to play with my zippo as your hands run through my naked skin, you love playing with fire, don't you? I just hope someday, you don't get burned in the fire of my love.

A/N

Anon, I want to kiss you. You don't know for how long I've been trying to figure out how to write this chapter, I had to watch You again but it was totally worth it, so thank you!

#alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #arctic monkeys #arctic monkeys one shots #alex turner fan fic #* is for smut <3 #alex turner #alex turner imagine #alex turner fanfic #alex turner angst #alex turner fic recommendations #alex turner fic recs #arctic monkeys fic recs #something about you #alex turner x y/n #anonymous requests #i love alex turner #i love him #matt helders #alex turner one shots #jamie cook #nick omalley #anonymus request #the car tour #the car era

[buckyarchives]

Domestic Life Of a Living With a Runaway Assassin. [Intro.]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x soulmate!reader

Summary: you hate many things in life. you hate soulmates. you hate the avengers. you hate guns. you hate loud snorers and complicated relationships.

Bucky Barnes is associated with all of those things, yet you can't find yourself hating him

W.c: 2.1K

Series playlist linked here

Author note: this was actually one of my first long form fics I wrote in many years, its carrys a nostalgic feeling and means a lot to me. i wrote it like last October and thought abt kinda rewriting some stuff and posting it here! I thought some of you guys woudk enjoy this story. this is only a short darbble that teases the story, next chapter shows how they met and everything after that. It takes place right after CA:TWS and it’s a soulmate AU!

Masterlist

Soulmates.

The legend goes that when the universe was created and whatever higher power you believed in created humans to have two sets of legs, two sets of arms, and two heads. Now because the world is cruel and no one can have nice things, whoever is in charge up there split us up into two beings but forever being connected by our souls. Spending the rest of our life waiting and searching for our other halves. Never being our true whole selves without them. How poetically tragic.

It turned into a weird way to make money nowadays, you felt like no one really cared about the reality of soulmates now. It was made into shitty romance movies, or stupid scientific searches for your one and only soulmate that was definitely an internet scam. People literally faking soul marks towards celebrities for their one chance with them that their delusional minds make up. 

All just a desperate attempt to feel whole and loved but your one and true person. Always and forever destined to be.

What a touching story. Too bad you think it's all bullshit

No genuinely, you were supposed to believe your life's purpose was to find this one person in the entire universe that matched you, and without them, you what? you were going to be miserable for the rest of your life? The universe is a scam. You had given up on the whole mad search for your other half years ago, you didn't understand why you couldn't go out and find your own partner without having to match up those stupid words on your shoulder. 

“I'm sorry, you probably don't feel very safe with me.”

Those stupid words. You hated the idea of soulmates but you couldn't stop yourself from the hours of wondering just what the hell that was supposed to mean. You had no interest in seeking out your soulmate but you could wonder what type of person they may be. Were they really a dangerous person? Would you genuinely not feel safe with the said person when you first meet? Would you even meet them?

Questions had swirled through your head since the day you got it. Those questions had died down a little, you were getting older and most of your peers had already met their soulmates. You noticed soulmates were not just romantic, they came in friendships, some didn't work out, some came between children and parents, and some came through your fire escape at night, covered in blood and knocking down your favorite plants.

With a loud crash, your feet carried you through your new york apartment to your living room. You saw the outline of him crouched down on the floor. “I'm so sorry, I know that was your favorite plant.”

Okay, spoiler. You had found your soulmate. You weren't excited about it as the rest of the world expected, but it happened. You weren't some hypocrite that would suddenly abandoned all beliefs and fell head over heels for your soulmate once you met like one of those stupid romance movies you mention earlier, you were not some cliche. Especially not with a poor excuse of a runaway-brainwashed-assassin soulmate, at least you would try convincing yourself that.

“My god Bucky, how many times do I have to tell you to just go through the door.” you pinch the bridge of your nose as the tired old man scrambles to clean up the dirt and scattered pot beneath him. “I mean, you practically live here now.”

“I'm not using the door, someone could see me.”

You think Like that's better than having someone see you climb through the fire escape, asshole. You scoff and shake your head and begin dragging yourself to the kitchen. You had a slight quirk at the end of your lips, an amused smile, you hoped Bucky didn’t see in the dark. Maybe he did, you didn’t really have enough time to ask him the deets on the effects of the serum. 

You swing open the cabinet door and grab a trash bag and first aid kit. God only knows how bent out of shape bucky is tonight. Making your way back into your living room, Buckys still muttering under his breath about your stupid plant and “god dammit it's fucking freezing out there.”

throwing the trash back at him, he looks up at you. His eyes are beautiful. His hair is sopping wet and you were hoping to any god above that he wasn't bleeding out on your floor. You were not losing your security deposit for your reckless runaway assassin soulmate. God, that's a mouthful, you need to give him a new nickname.

 “So, what's the damage?”

“s’ nothing, I'm just cold. It started raining hard.” he looks like a wet shaking dog. Your heart aches.

You look him up and down. Noticing the water dripping from all his clothing. “I see that.”

You sigh and take a few steps toward him. Bucky eyes follow your moments precisely. He has a bit of a staring problem. You snag the hair tie off your wrist and swiftly tie his brunette wet mop of a head into a little man bun. Cute. you shake your head.

“Stay, I'll be right back.”

Bucky watches you in awe as your body ascends back into the darkness of the room and around a corner. He's uncomfortable and his socks are wet. The leather vest is wet and he feels like he's trapped in his own skin, and Bucky feels too heavy. 

Slowly, he begins to unstrap all weapons on his body and toss them to the side so you don't have to see them. You didn't like guns. He had a designated place where he hides them because god-forbid Bucky messes up your apartment aesthetic with his dozen of unsettling and quite scary weapons. Your words, not his.

Unzipping the leather top and peeling the fabric off himself was less than a nice feeling, it made him cringe and sent a quick shiver down his spine. Bucky tossed it to the side, he’ll deal with that tomorrow. His hands feel the thin black shirt that's left, it's wet too. Fucking hell. He doesn’t remember the New York weather being this bad in September, he also barely remembers anything so his memory isn’t too reliable. Bucky slowly peels the fabric over his head, he hopes he doesn't mess up the bun you did, he never did it right.

Bucky hears your feet pad against your floor. He pushes back a smile. You're holding a towel and some clothes. He watches you as you crouch down next to him on the floor, he notices that your eyes are squinted and your bed head is apparent. A twinge of guilt hits him now knowing he had woken you up. Bucky whispers, “I woke you up.”

You sigh, again. “I was having a bad dream anyways.”

“About?”

You inhale, scoffing to yourself. “I was being chased by Jimmy Fallon with a jar of pickles – because you know, I hate pickles – and he was yelling at me about the importance of eating vegetables, but he sounded just like my mom.”

Bucky didn’t remember who Jimmy Fallon was, “you must think you’re so amusing, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Bucky curls his toes and is unfortunately reminded of his very wet socks. He leans forward to untie his hefty boots. Your eyes trail along his naked back, his muscles flex and suddenly you are just a little more awake. You watch his left arm in all its glory, taking note of the ragged and scarred tissues where metal meets skin. Scratch marks are littered around the edges, and you feel sad for him, imagining how those got there. The moonlight highlights his metal arm, making it shine and look quite beautiful. You could never tell Bucky that.

“It's been a week.” you finally breathe out. Bucky freezes in place as his fingers wrap around his laces. He feels guilty again. “And you didn't leave a note this time either. I thought...”

Trailing off, you stop yourself before you say something you were going to regret. Your mind wanders, you felt so incredibly stupid right now. Truth is, you didn't agree with the whole soulmate ordeal but it seemed like ever since your unconventional first meeting with Bucky, he has stuck to you like glue. He just kept coming back and then leaving again. 

It took you many of his overnight stays and weirdly domestic mornings making scrambled eggs together and then turning into a worry machine after he leaves. You realized had grown to care for him deeply. Bucky always came back, but you were scared for the day we might not. 

Bucky is– literally, a lost puppy. He had been on the run and actively avoiding the few stray agents that knew he was still alive when he met you. 

Bucky remembered back when he was a kid, dreaming about the day he would meet his soulmate. He and Steve would stay up all night talking about their soul marks, or just words (as they used to call it), and what they thought their soulmates would be like. Bucky was obsessed and simply put, a hopeless romantic. 

Then Steve met his soulmate, Peggy. And then he technically died and Hydra happened, Bucky thought his soulmate would have been dead because he was out of his time now. After being brainwashed and having been broken and put back together by Hydra, Bucky could still never shake the feeling of you still being out there, it was like some instinctive feeling in his bones, he had hope and it was one of the only things keeping him going. 

And he was right.

Bucky had many doubts when he first met you, given his situation. But you were not scared. And that was enough for him at the time.

But now he just feels guilty for giving you the burden of being his soulmate. He was trying, really.

“I'm sorry, doll.” his voice didn't sound like his own, he shrugged the rest of his boot off and followed with his socks. Finally. “I should have left a note. I'm safe, you're safe, and I'm here now.” 

Bucky heard you sniffled and you turned your head with an embarrassment look and glossy eyes. Like you were ashamed for caring.

“sweetheart...” he scooted closer, hoping you wouldn't mind his damp skin on yours. Bucky reached for you, wrapping his flesh hand around yours and giving you a small squeeze. Your head turned to him, a small smile hidden on your face by the darkness of the room. He saw it. Bucky might even think you're an angel. “I won't leave without saying something next time, I'm sorry.”

“Do I even want to know what you were doing out there?”

He hated lying to you but his life was complicated. “Just trying to fix some things I did.”

You nod. “Good.”

The silence between the two of you isn't uncomfortable, the past few months have been silent– at least with bucky. He is your soulmate. He is also the winter soldier, and the winter soldier is always moving and hiding. Bucky Barnes is always moving, always. He had been that way even way back in the Howling Commandos. 

You were his safe haven. Your relationship was on and off but your bond was strong, it was wordless and tentative and strung together by patching wounds at midnight and soft, domestic glances over coffee. Your house– just you were his place where he could just stop, pretend as if nothing mattered and sit on the couch and watch reality television that you loved. Bucky found it questionable but you said “it will help you get with the times.” Bucky just watched it because he knew it made you happy. 

Bucky Barnes had been moving all week, fast. He had almost died, twice. He was never going to let you know that though. Bucky was due for some Hell's Kitchen or dance moms. He was also not going to tell you that. 

The moonlight was fading and you could hear the faint sound of birds chirping outside, barely silenced by the bustling city life of people leaving for work. You are still sitting next to Bucky, and you nudge him with your elbow. His attention is now drawn to you. You bite your bottom lip, a horrible habit you had, bucky hated it. Bucky brings his thumb up to your face and pulls your lip away from your teeth. He wants to kiss you.

“Go take a shower, you stink.” That works too. He smiles and you laugh. Yeah, Bucky thinks he can stop for just a little longer this time.

-

Feedback and comments make the work go round, comment to be added to the tag list!

Tag list : @ivywasmaroon @ozwriterchick @slytherinambitious @wintermischief

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky fic #sebastian stan #bucky barns imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader #sebastian stan x reader

[seat-safety-switch]

I think we all have that family member we don’t want to see at the big functions. Family reunions. Family cookouts. Family feuds with a rival family over the distribution of methamphetamine in the tri-state area. Family funerals. Family violent reprisals shattering the peace of an otherwise calm suburban neighbourhood which had thought that it could just ignore the fact that a predator was living in their midst. Family bowling night.

In the past, I’ve told you about my squabbles with my incredibly rich cousin from the old country, Blyat Safety-Switch. He drapes himself in the most exquisite clothes, flies first class everywhere, and pays a person to wash his car for him. That last one is a little confusing to me, but I’m assured that very rich people opt to forego the simple pleasures of the hands in order to attend more business meetings. Yeah, he’s a real dick, and I don’t care if my mom reads this one and phones me up super angry in the morning. He’s not in this story.

Closer to home is what I would call the “less extended” section of the clan. When I was a young kid, my older cousin Mort and I would work on RC cars together, only to inevitably crank up the current a little bit too far and blow up the primitive batteries of the era. Sure, you could break open disposable cameras, remove the flash capacitor, and improve your thirty-foot times, but we had no money, and the tourists had long stopped coming by our neighbourhood once that issue of Time Magazine about our living conditions faded into memory. Mort and I had to come up with a new source of energy, and unfortunately at that time Mort had gotten the internet.

You see, back then the internet was full of bullshit. Not like today, where that bullshit is precision-engineered by an interlocking matrix of advanced computers and bad-faith foreign operatives. No, back then it was just made by bored people. Or at least mentally ill ones. Mort would download all these textfiles from BBSes, and then he would excitedly tell me about the things he had found with the help of his trusty Apple III+. You can make napalm in a microwave using styrofoam. You can make napalm in a microwave using gasoline and a kitchen sponge. You can clean a microwave before your parents come home using a combination of lemon juice, baking soda, and a toothbrush.

So what happened to Mort? He’s gainfully employed now, at a complicated office job that involves using Excel to save all of humanity. In other words, he’s still a sucker. And if he comes to Maw-Maw’s cookout this weekend, he still owes me a Tamiya Lunchbox.

[ssturniolo92]

matt sturniolo-right where you left me

pairing-matt sturniolo x reader

genre-angst

warnings-crying? heartbreak?

a/n-no happy ending sowwy😭

fight part 1 fight part 2

i felt my phone buzz, pulling it out i saw it was from matt. i felt my heartbeat speed up in anticipation.

hey, i’m in town. can we meet up?

i responded quickly, not caring what he thought of my quickness.

sure, our spot?

our spot was the only fancy place in town. i hadn’t been there since we were actually together, but what the hell right?

sounds good. tomorrow night, 8pm?

see you there.

i could hardly wait to see him. ever since christmas i couldn’t wait. i thought about him ever he day. we would text or facetime on occasion. but since his career has skyrocketed in the last year he’s been busy, so the calls and texts have been less frequent.

the next day i picked out my best dress, the one he liked the most on me. i pinned up my hair in a bun, but i had to use around 10 pins.

i was ready by seven, and just sat around waiting until 7:45, which is when i left my parents house.

as i drove all i could think about was what he wanted to meet up for. maybe he wanted to get back together? maybe he missed me? the endless questions filled my mind. i could barely handle the excitement.

i walked in the restaurant at exactly 8, and saw him already sitting at a table near the window in the corner. our table.

i walked over with a smile and he smiled back. i missed this feeling. last time we saw each other was confusing, maybe he wanted to make things official?

“and you’re, sitting in front of me. at the restaurant.”

“so how have you been?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“i’ve been good, really good.” i said, unable to contain my smile.

“schools good?” he asked.

“when i was still the one you want.”

“yeah, i love it.” i told him. “how’s youtube?”

“cross-legged in the dim-light everything was just right.”

“good. we’re busy. thinking of going on tour soon.” he said, and i noticed he was avoiding eye contact.

“so, did you wanna talk about something?” i asked hopefully, attempting to make eye contact.

“i could feel the mascara run.”

“yeah actually.” he said and i could tell he was about to continue. my mouth was dry from the nervousness, i brought my glass of water up to my mouth as he spoke.

“i met someone.”

“you told me that you met someone.”

i felt my stomach drop, as everything just stopped. i didn’t even realized i had dropped the glass until i rested my hand on the table and felt the sharp edges.

“glass shattered on the white cloth.”

i felt like i was going to throw up. this was worse than leaving him all those months ago. how could i move on from this?

“everybody moved on.”

i couldn’t bear to look at him. he met someone? i never expected him to say those words. never in my entire life. i felt stuck. like i couldn’t move. couldn’t breathe. this moment would be trapped inside of my brain forever. i felt like i would stay here forever.

“help. i’m still at the restaurant.”

[time skip]

“still sitting in a corner i haunt.”

i still found myself dreaming of that night. even weeks later. i just couldn’t handle the thought of him leaving my life completely, i guess i should’ve known this was coming when i walked out on him.

“cross-legged in the dim light.”

i still remembered every time we met there, our first date, when he asked me to be his girlfriend, when he first said i love you. everything happened there. that place was where we started and ended.

“they say what a sad sight.”

i still went there, when i really missed him. i would pray that i wouldn’t see him and this girl that he had met there, but i guess he knew that that was our place, a place frozen in time.

“i, i stayed there.”

the employees knew and felt sympathy towards me, i could tell. but i didn’t deserve it. i should’ve known this would happen. ever since that night.

“dust collected on my pinned up hair.”

i saw pictures of them online, the whole internet was happy for them. i was too. i just couldn’t get out of that loop. that feeling that i should wait for him. that feeling of nostalgia and longing.

“i’m sure that you got a wife out there, kids and christmas.”

by the time the holidays came around i was sure they were serious, and i was happy for him. as happy as i could be. she looked nice. she was pretty. she had a nice smile. she wasn’t frozen in time like me.

“but i’m unaware, cause i’m right where-”

while i didnt know every single detail of their relationship, i knew they were happy. so instead of moving, i moped on. unaware of the world around me.

“i cause no harm.”

i had gotten multiple texts from chris and nick asking if i was okay. i hadn’t posted on any social media in months, as far as everyone was concerned i was frozen in time, simply stuck in the past.

“mind my business.”

and even if i did go out, i preferred to stay quiet. during lectures and classes i refrained from raising my hand or talking. and i was sure everyone knew why by now, dating someone who’s sorta famous has its cons; especially when you break up.

“if our live died young, i can’t bear witness.”

i feel like maybe things could’ve been different in another world. so instead of facing it, i turn my head away from the truth. choosing to stay. where you were staying, you didn’t know.

“and it’s been so long.”

you would walk the streets, feeling the sympathetic stares from the other people. you tried to come home to boston as often as you could, and you heard what they said about you.

“did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?” “time went on for everybody else she won’t know it.” “she’s still 19, inside her fantasy.”

“did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?” “breakups happen everyday you don’t have to lose it.”

“but if you ever think you got it wrong, i’m right where you left me.”

you knew that if he ever decided to come back to you, he knew where to find you.

“you left me no, oh you left me no, you left me no choice but to stay here forever.”

you didn’t have it in you to move on. you knew that. everyone knew. so you would just stay here forever.

#milarq46 #matt #sturniolo #chris #chris sturniolo #fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #nick #nick sturniolo #spotify

[pebblysand]

Heyyyy im dying for an update on castles!! Any hope of getting one soon?😭💗

hi anon! thanks for your message! the tl;dr answer to this is: no.

or, i don't know. maybe? sigh. it's just been a lot lately.

it's a funny one, you know? most of you will not remember this, but there used to be a time when i would share (maybe overshare - is that a word? i've always wondered why that is a word when it's your platform and your rules and people can just choose to ignore you) on tumblr. not just about fics and writing and peaky blinders, but also about me. the stuff i felt. the stuff that was going on in my life. lots of things.

i grew up in an era of blogging and livejournal (seeing dreamwidth make a comeback lately is oh-so-bizarre, btw) where people opened up online - sometimes too much. this was before doxxing, before cancel culture, before it became dangerous to do so. people would complain about their jobs, their mates - the internet was an outlet. and, i don't know if it was better or worse, i'm not here to make value judgements and i've always thought people who say "things were better in my day" sound like absolute twats, but it was undoubtedly different. i've had this conversation with someone on discord lately, about the dreamwidth comeback actually, when this person said: 'people get real personal on there, though' and i was like: 'yeah, i suppose it's just the culture of the place.' a place where, unlike tumblr and everything that came after it, most of the content produced was through words, rather than images. when the internet was still made for writers and you weren't afraid of "clogging" someone's dash with posts that were too long to be digested in less than ten seconds.

the thing is: i like writing. it makes it easier to organise thoughts. and, up to 2020 (2021, even) i used to post monthly updates on my writing, but also about my life, for you. remember how i told you when i passed my bar exam? how i quit my job, found another job, and then another one. i told you about the boy and hinted at my break-up. i told you about how one of my best friends sank into a very toxic relationship, from which i couldn't save her. i told you when my dad died. it wasn't even that long ago. and, i explained to you that for these reasons, and maybe others, i didn't have a chapter out as early as i would have liked. and, you understood. you were kept up with what was going on. it was the pandemic and a different time.

but then, gradually (oh-so-quickly and oh-so-slowly), "you" became "many." i like that word - "many" - it's what my hairdresser said the first time she cut my hair: "they are very fine, but there are very, very, many of them." i suppose that between the first chapter of castles and the latest, my follower count grew into the hundreds and i got - well, scared. scared to share: what i thought, why i wasn't posting, how much or how little i was writing, how i was feeling. because there were too many of you. because i started to hold myself up to higher standards, too.

the truth is that no one wants to listen to anyone on the internet complain. it's not fun. and, specifically, no one wants to listen to fanfiction writers complain. why would they? why would they moan about how busy they are? about how creatively drained they might be? about how maintaining a healthy balance between real life, a job, and writing, is hard, if you do it seriously. because it's a hobby. because it's not "real" writing. because it doesn't matter.

well, anon, i'll tell you something. the voice in my head, it goes like this: why are you tired? it's just fanfiction. stop taking yourself and your little stupid story so seriously. stop thinking this is Important because you're writing about something you feel is important. no one cares. and: you only wrote 80,000 words last year, people write full-blown nanos in a month, calm down. it's not that bad, you don't have children. it's not that bad, you don't have dying parents. it's not that bad, you have money. you're a white cis privileged girl who can afford to spend her free time on writing because you don't have to work multiple paying jobs to foot the bills. so many people do. people who are much busier than you write a lot more than you do. shut up, what are you crying about? why are you responding to this poor anon with anything other than "soon, i hope." they weren't even mean about it.

and, i like the word "many" because it encompasses the realness of it, the repetition of it. many, many, many. it's less theoretical than "a lot". you can't say: a lot, a lot, a lot. it's morning as i write this, irish drizzle blown in by the wind against my window, thin droplets like static and i wonder: could i isolate thirty thousand? count up to thirty thousand little drops of rain against glass and imagine what that would look like as people. that's a small stadium, isn't it? and, it's also almost how many people have clicked on castles, in the past three years. it's also how many people, in my head, are telling me to just suck it up and write the next chapter. it's been a month already, hasn't it?

to tell you the truth, i still overshare with some people. there's a very small discord i'm on which is more like a group chat with my best internet friends. it's a lot of fun. and, i'm not going to tag them here for fear that you might come at them with pitchforks, but after i was explaining this to them, how exhausted and drained and lost i've been feeling lately, i had some, last week, tell me i should just give up castles. just stop, recharge, take care of myself. it's just a fic, it doesn't matter. let it go, you know?

so, yeah. you read that right, anon dearest. people who i really love, and trust, told me i should put your beloved on an indefinite hiatus and move on with my life. how's that for an update? and, they didn't say it in a "this is a bad fic and it's not worth continuing" kind of way, but in a "it's not worth working yourself into the ground" kind of way. in a "fanfiction is a hobby" kind of way.

i typically count years from september to august (i'm still in school, in my head, sue me) and this past one has been long and hard. for reasons that i won't explain because of the "very many" issue i mentioned above. for reasons that i also won't explain because as i also mentioned above, i can't help but always compare myself to people who have it worse. but, the fact of the matter is that whilst i'm not really asking for sympathy, i do want to say this, as i hope it will help provide a bit of context to how i'm feeling right now, in terms of writing.

anon dearest, i'm exhausted. i'm bored. i'm turning thirty in 24 days. i'm sick and tired of putting everything in my life on hold "until i finish castles". i would estimate that right now (and for the past three years) castles has eaten up about 75% of my free time. i think the first couple years, i didn't really mind. because it was the pandemic. because there wasn't much else i wanted to do. but now, when i see my friends, i try to schedule it on weekday evenings because i want to keep my weekends for writing. when i travel at the weekends, take holidays, do anything that will take me more than a couple hours, it's a compromise made against writing time. a compromise i often feel guilty about because it delays the next update and because ultimately, it delays the moment when i do finish castles. when i am able to move on to something else. move on with my life and also maybe another story of my own.

these past few months, i wrote almost every day from late march until last week because i knew i'd be going home to france in august and wouldn't be able to write there, so i needed to get ahead. everything in my life is planned around writing and updating and i'm a little bit burnt out, anon. it's typical summer me, nothing to really worry about, i felt the same last year (those who were already here will remember) but it doesn't make it suck less. and, that's why people are telling me to give up. because i keep getting stuck in this cycle of overworking myself, getting burnt out, taking a month off and diving back in again. it's fanfiction and it's a hobby and it's meant to be fun and it's just not fun anymore. it feels endless and draining and like a vampire eating my "good" years. time my mates are spending getting married and having children. and, even if i don't think that's what i want for myself, precisely, i still don't feel like the life i'm currently living is one i want to be living in five years' time.

i don't want to be exhausted. i don't want to be working all the time. this groundhog day of getting up, opening up my (work, or personal) laptop, deliveroo-ing my meals, working until 9:30 pm, and repeat. i have seven chapters left to go to the end, which will take 12 to 18 months, and i don't think i can go on like this for another year. i don't want to. something's gotta give: my IRL life, my job, or this "hobby", and it is logical (oh-so-logical) that it should be the latter.

and, yet. when my pocket friends suggested this, i came at them with pitchforks. i said: no. no, no, no, no. i can't give up. i don't want to give up. i love this story. it's unnerving and draining and exhausting, but haven't touched it for a week and i already miss it - it's crazy. and, it's true: it's not fun, but writing, to me, has never been "fun". it's: fulfilling, exhilarating, meaningful, it gives me the chills and a sense of peace but it's not "fun". i don't know who the fuck writes for "fun". you can enjoy things that aren't "fun", you know? i definitely do.

and, if i had to pick one thing to give up on that list, honestly, it would be my job - 100%. i'd finish castles in six months, if i could give that up. but, i can't, lovely anon. because fanfic doesn't pay. because writing doesn't pay. and whilst i do have a savings account that i intend to use someday to take time off to write, i don't think i could justify using it for anything other than original fiction. because at least, there would be a tiny bit of hope that the book might get picked up and i could make my money back. i can't, like, quit my job to write fanfiction, can i? even if i did set up a patreon, i doubt you all would want to fund me, lol.

so, i don't know. i don't know what to do, anon. i don't want to give up castles. realistically, i probably won't. realistically, i'm probably going to keep ploughing through and overworking myself and feeling like i'm throwing my youth and my free time away into this project that everyone will most likely forget the moment it is finished. right now, to answer your question, i have about 6,000 words on the new chapter. right now, i'm also taking august off writing. to recharge, to sleep, and only write if i feel like it. later? i don't know. i think i'm in a place where i've just got 30,000 words out in three months and i'm too brain-dead to think clearly. i am acutely aware that this issue doesn't have a solution (or at least one that i like) but i might be more willing to compromise my life again after a bit of rest and holidays.

anyway, sorry for being a debbie downer, anon. and sorry i don't have an update for you. i'm dying for one, too.

#asked and answered #castles #i might delete this later cause it's so depressing and it's not *me* but it's also how i feel right now #i just don't know what to do lads

[tragic-shadows]

24. Family in town from the plot prompt?

Title: Family In Town

Word Count: 2082

Warnings: implied parental abuse

Pairing: GibbsxReader

A/N: Sorry for taking so long. Exams suck and I'm so, so tired.

“Y/N!” Gibbs barks, slapping you in the head with a magazine. “Go sleep at home. It’s late.”

“Uhhgg.” You groan, pulling your face away from your keyboard. 

“Ew,” Gibbs retaliates, reaching up to your face and peeling off a used napkin. 

“Thanks,” you grumble.

“Ya’ alright?” Gibbs questions.

“No,” you state plainly. “My mom and sister are coming into town for Christmas in a few days.”

“What’s so bad about that?” He shrugs and takes a seat at his desk.

“Haven’t slept since, they’re only coming to meet my boyfriend.”

“Didn’t ya’ break up 2 months ago?”

“Yup.”

“And they don’t know?”

You sigh. “Nope,” you mutter. “My mother is very.. interesting. Austin and I were dating for 3 years before I found out he was cheating. I guess she just assumed we would get engaged this year and since we haven’t, here come the questions.”

“And she’s never met him?”

“No, luckily. She lives all the way in Alaska. Her and my sister go on amazing adventures and what not.”

“So whatcha gonna do?”

“Fantastic question,” you sneer, putting your head between your hands. “If she isn’t impressed with me, she’s going to stop funding me.”

“Funding?”

“Only way I’m living in DC. The ‘probie pay’ I get isn’t nearly enough to afford my apartment with the rates of inflation.” 

“She ever seen him?”

“What?”

“Have they ever seen him? Pictures or something? What’s it called where you put those little things on the internet, they only last a short period of time?”

“Snaps?”

“Sure.”

“She doesn’t have any social media, nor a phone. She reached me by a dang landline at some rest stop. Gibbs, if I don’t impress my mother and convince her I’m getting engaged, she’s going to make me move back home. She’s a crappy person and a crappy mother. My sisters no better.”

“When they gettin’ here?”

“Tomorrow I think. At least I hope so. The sooner the better and I can get this done and over with. I’ve been setting stuff up, in case I need to move, for the past week. Thats why I’m so tired.”

“Tell ya’ what Y/N. Call me when they arrive and I’ll make something happen, kay?”

You look at him quizzically, trying to figure out what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“It’s late, go home, get some rest. Don’t even need to come in unless we gotta case.”

“You sure boss? I can handle it, I’ll be fine.”

“I know ya’ will, but it’s alright.”

-

-

-

The next day when your mom arrives, she immediately turns her nose up at where you live. 

“An apartment, really Y/N? I’m paying you my own good money so you can live in an apartment?”

You grumble something under your breath, taking her and your sisters suitcases and wheeling them to the guest room.

“Ew, this won’t do,” your sister shakes her head as she pushes down on the mattress. “It feels like I’m going to fall right through!”

“Sorry Amanda,” you say very unapologetically. “This is all I got. You can either take the bed or the couch. Heck take the floor. I didn’t ask you to come so it’s not my job to tailor to your needs.”

“Keep that attitude in check missy,” your mother waves her hand in front of your face and you roll your eyes. “Now when is that hunk gettin here? What’s his name again?”

“Adam? Alex? Arthur?” Amanda tries.

“Austin,” you groan. “Well, actually..” You figure it’s best to get it out. Maybe they’ll just leave. “Austin and I-“ you were cut off by your phone ringing. “One sec,” you say, taking the call.

“Gibbs!” You exclaim. “They just got here. I was gonna let you know but I was bombarded with questions as soon as they walked in the door. Apparently a soft bed isn’t good enough for my hoity toity sibling.”

“Go to your front door.” Is all he says before hanging up.

You frown, unsure why he was so cryptic. But knowing your boss you bypass your family and click the door open. To your surprise, Gibbs is standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers. 

“Hey, Y/N. Your parents here yet?”

“I just told-“ but again you found him cutting you off, this time though it was because of a gentle kiss on your mouth, and then a whisper in your ear.

“I’m Austin,” he said. And then you understood.

“I’m so glad you could be here,” you said almost breathlessly. Gibbs had kissed you. Gibbs had kissed you. Gibbs had kissed you. Gibbs had kissed you. Gibbs had kissed you! “They’re in here.” You lower your voice. “Thank you.”

He put his hand in the small of your back, letting you lead him into the living room. “Mom, Amanda, this is my,” you hesitate. “Boyfriend. Austin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Gibbs extends his hand to your mom.

“You’re older than I would have expected.” She put her head close to him. “She’s not using you for se-“

“Mom!” You growl. You take a deep breath and calm yourself down. “Why don’t you go ahead and unpack, Austin and I will find something for lunch.”

“You’re the host Y/N,” Amanda frowns. “You should be unpacking.” 

“I’m going to pick up food. With Austin. Don’t break anything, don’t rearrange anything. Just unpack, and sit down. TV remote is right there, cable hasn’t been working so Netflix is your only choice.” With that, you grab your wallet and Gibbs by the arm and drag him outside. “What the hell?!” You exclaim, not angry just really really confused.

“Ya’ serious about them. Ya’ need to learn to stand up for yourself, not gonna lose you cause of some stupid money problem. I’m here so you can stay.”

“Are you sure?” You ask. “In order to do this we need to sell it really well.”

Gibbs reaches into his pocket bringing out a small box. “How’s this?”

Wow that was a nice ring. You whistle. “Dang. I think that’ll do it.”

“Yeah? Well let’s go pick up some food. Tell me ‘bout your folks.”

-

-

-

When you arrived home, you found your mother in the kitchen, making herself some coffee while Amanda lounged on the couch, watching some weird reality show. 

“Mexican,” you say, plopping down bags of takeout. You feel Gibbs squeeze your hand gently before he starts unpacking. 

“Your daughters a good host,” he comments nonchalantly.

“Good to know she can do something right,” your mom comments. “I’m Victoria, if I didn’t already say.” She sits down with her food, starting to eat. “Food’s fine,” she tells Amanda who begins eating after her mothers approval. “So Austin, you think you’re good enough for Y/N?”

“She thinks so. I hope so. Been together for almost three years.”

“What do you do?” Victoria asks.

“With the way his hands work he’s gotta be some sort of woodworker,” Amanda guesses.

Gibbs smiles, impressed. Although your sister was a pain in the behind, she was brilliant.  “Boat in the basement.”

“Really?” Your sister lit up. She was studying marine science so everything about the water fascinated her. 

“Mhm.”

“Whats her name?” 

“Y/N/N,” he says, winking at you. You feel yourself suppressing a blush.

Gibbs takes your hand on the top of the table as you continue to eat, rubbing slow circles with his thumb.

“So how old are you, Austin?” Victoria asks, almost causing you to spit out your rice. He just squeezes your hand again, letting you know he didn’t mind.

“Doesn’t matter.” He answers.

Your mom nods. “Well lunch was decent. I’m taking a nap.” 

She goes into the bedroom, leaving Amanda back to her show and you and Gibbs to clean up. 

-

-

-

“Was thinking we’d go to the park later?” Gibbs asks. “Propose then and don’t worry the rest of the week.” 

“Good idea.”

“Mind if I kiss you?” He asks. 

“I think that’ll be better,” you respond, handing him a plate to dry. “Thats what people in love do when they get engaged.” You however didn’t realize he meant now. Pressing you against the counter, his lips meet yours. You immediately melt against him, taking your hand to his neck and kissing him back. You feel a vibration from his pocket just as you were getting comfortable. You bite your lip to stop from protesting as Gibbs pulls away, answering the call.

“McGee,” he mouths to you. “Gotta go.” 

“No,” you whisper, pulling him back to you. You then heard the TV shut off, knowing your sister was probably coming to get a snack. So you kiss Gibbs gently again. 

“Ew..” You hear Amanda say. “Dang Y/N, maybe you do have game. You too old man.” She looked Gibbs up and down before speaking again. “Mom wants to know what time we’re going to the bar.” 

“Bar? Amanda we have a case, we have to go.”

“No case,” Gibbs answers, sliding his hand into yours. “Wanted me to show him how to season a turkey.”

“Seriously?” You and Amanda ask at the same time. 

“Bar!” You hear your mother yell from the living room. She comes in with a face full of makeup.

“Thought you were taking a nap?” 

“Need a drink. Got the.. what’s that called? When you’re tired from a plane?”

“Jet lag?” Gibbs all but laughed.

“Yeah, what Justin said.”

“Austin,” Gibbs corrects. “You guys go. I’ll help McGee.”

-

-

-

The bar was packed and it smelled like weed. For some stupid reason you’d let your family pick the spot, even though you knew it was bad. The food was adequate but the atmosphere sucked. You let them out to do whatever they wanted and took a seat at the bar, ordering a drink and chugging it down. 

After about a half hour of doing absolutely nothing but drinking, you felt a body slide into the booth next to you. “Sorry bout that. Delilah’s very particular.”

“Yeah..” You say not really paying attention.

“Ya’ want me to help ya’ cook tomorrow?”

“Hmm..” 

“Then we can drown in lava.”

“Sounds cool..” You mumble in response. 

“Y/N/N,” Gibbs puts his hand on your arm, turning you to him. “Why’s it so important you impress your mom?”

“I already told you, the-“

“No. Other than the money.”

“I- because I’ve been second to my sister since the day she was born. I’m older, she’s hotter, smarter, funnier. Everything er. And I’m.. me. They’re both angry because I supported my dad. When we found out my mom was cheating I went with him, then he died a few years ago and I had to rely on her instead. I hate her!” You yell, feeling tears welling in your eyes. 

“You’re drunk,” Gibbs realizes. “Where the folks?”

“Can we go home?” You ask, staring right at him. 

He looks around the bar, seeing no sign of your family he takes your hand, leading you out onto the chilly street. “Ya okay?”

“Fine,” you stumble, grabbing onto him for support. “Walk home?” You ask.

“Sure.” He rubs your back gently. 

“Austin?” You ask. “Do you think I’m hot?”

Gibbs laughs, realizing you were more drunk than he had initially thought. “Of course I do,” he answers.

“Yeah? That why you’ve been flirting with me lately?” You blink flirtily at him. 

“Kay, let’s walk faster.”

“Nahhh,” you say, stopping and running your hand up his chest. “I hate my family. And I hated Austin too. I lied, you know that? I didn’t love him. They made me date him. Made me marry him, but I broke it off. They still never met him so that was good. And so—“

Gibbs kissed you again, pulling you in under the light of the street lamp. He ran his hands through your hair, and you grabbed him in by the waist, not sure what was going on but not wanting it to stop either. 

“What are we doing..” You whisper, looking into his blue eyes.

“Stop letting them push ya’ ‘round,” he said gently, pushing your hair behind your ear. “I’m not gonna be Austin, but I’m gonna be me. They’re just gonna have to be alright with that. Kay?”

“What are you saying?” You everything but plead for him to tell you. 

“I’m here for you, Y/N. Your mom doesn’t approve? Good thing my mortgage was paid off over 10 years ago,” he chuckled, taking you under his arm and rubbing your back. “Love you, Y/N/N. Always have.” 

TAGS: @aleck-cross @ah-blossom @ilovemark1951 @marennnx @originalsoulcollector @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

#gibbs x y/n #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #ncis reader insert #gibbs #x reader

[elfwreck]

“Find a way to take your pain and turn it into armor, because we the ones who have stolen their weapons and learned to dance with knives are not your enemy” that’s cool how you’re turning someone desperately feeling the need to justify their trauma and feeling guilty for having boundaries into a creative writing assignment. Real classy. I love the part where you imply that they’re weak for having a trigger and shame people for being hurt by their peers using slurs against them with no regard to their mental wellbeing. If you could make your tone a little more holier-than-though I think it would really drive your point home.

( To work within your bloviated metaphor, it’s great that you’ve stolen our enemies’ knives and are dancing with them, but if you’re stabbing other people while you frolic, they’re still gonna get hurt, and they’re allowed to defend themselves from you or get pissed at you.)

They’re allowed to be angry.

They’re allowed to defend themselves.

They’re allowed to attempt to get me and my friends and the entire active, parade-throwing gathering-hosting queer community of to stop using the word “queer.” (They are not likely to succeed. But they are welcome to try.)

They are not weak for having a trigger.

But what triggers them is not going to go away. They have the choice to avoid the existing queer community--the one that’s been happily, proudly using the word “queer” to identify themselves for over 30 years--or find a way through their trigger.

This is an impasse point.

On one side, we have people saying, “Stop using this word where I can see it; it hurts me.”

On the other, we have people saying, “I have found my true self and it includes this word, and denying that truth hurts me.”

I have been told that my self-labels are harmful to myself and the people around me. That they make me an unfit parent. That they make me unfit to be around children at all. That they make me unemployable. That they make me damned, and justify physical attacks against me.

And I have clawed my way into a place where I can use those words freely, and I’m not giving them up because strangers on the internet say they are hurt when I use them.

Strangers not-on-the-internet, and sometimes not-strangers, have been telling me my identity is hurtful to them for years. If I didn’t accept their arguments, I’m not likely to accept the new ones.

The ones who are hurt by the way other people describe themselves, are the ones who are going to have to change. Not because they are weaker or less worthy or deserve to be hurt - but because their core request is, “Please hide who you are,” and we are done with that.

Don’t like? Don’t read. Block me.

They can change by either making their peace with the word - and I’m not saying that’s an easy, simple route - or by avoiding the people who use it.

#anon asks #queer language

[sapphos-catpanions]

“No, it’s not about young gays and lesbians – at least not in the way you think.

“When I first entered the gender debate about ten years ago, the entire concept of childhood transition was barely on the radar. It wasn’t until a few years later – especially with the debut of TLC’s I Am Jazz in 2015 – that you started to see the focus of the debate shift from adults to children. But when TERFs did notice that referrals to gender clinics were slowly starting to rise, most of them immediately interpreted it as a form of modern-day conversion therapy. Homophobic parents, so the story goes, where turning their gay sons into straight daughters and lesbian daughters into straight sons.

“At the time, that was probably an accurate assessment. When the first wave of detransitioners emerged in the middle of the 2010’s, it was made up almost entirely of young gays and lesbians. I don’t consider myself part of that wave – although I spent my high school years identifying as various flavors of transgender too, I was lucky enough to grow up in a region where access to any real medical intervention was pretty much impossible – but I would still say my own attraction to gender theory was also intimately wrapped up with my own sexuality and the pressures I felt from the conservative community I found myself in. Back then, there just wasn’t much of a reason for straight kids to find transition appealing, whereas there was a certain type of LGB kid for whom it made sense in a twisted way.

“But things have changed a lot in the years since gender theory began exploding into popular culture, and the narratives that previously made sense are rapidly becoming irrelevant. In my two and half years teaching in this district, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gay or lesbian student transition to better “fit in” with heterosexuality. Nowadays, gay and lesbian teenagers mainly live their lives as, well, gay and lesbian teenagers – it’s the socially awkward heterosexuals who flock around them, desperate for a “marginalized identity” of their own, that you need to be worrying about.

“In other words: It used to be that childhood transition was a way for gay kids to make themselves straight, but now it’s primarily a way for straight kids to make themselves gay. And why wouldn’t they? In these internet-poisoned youth subcultures, being a boring straight kid (especially a boring straight girl!) puts you at the absolute bottom of the hierarchy, a totally acceptable target for barely-concealed contempt and passive bullying. I had a group of queer students who ate lunch by my desk every day, and every other joke they made was about the one “token heterosexual” who liked to hang out with them. Of course, she was non-binary too by the end of the year – you can only take peers “punching up” at you for so long before you’d want to join them on their level.

“This, more than anywhere else, is where common TERF arguments break down. It’s not that modern gender theory isn’t homophobic. It is, undoubtedly. But it’s homophobic less in the sense that it represses homosexuality and more that it elevates it to a sort of in-demand cultural signifier, wildly disconnected from any actual same-sex desire. Ironically, the TERF impulse to immediately center gay and lesbian youth in these talking points is part of the problem – most of these children are transitioning precisely because they want to roleplay as an oppressed minority, and the assumption that every social ill must always have a unique impact on LGB people in particular just feeds that obsession. If you really want to stop children from transitioning, you better start saying it’s for boring straight kids, not gay ones!

__

“As I wrap up, let me just say: I don’t want anyone who reads this piece to think TERFs are only “half right,” just because I’m pointing out some places where their analysis goes wrong. On everything that actually matters, they’re the only ones out there today consistently capturing the reality I see on the ground. It’s just that they noticed what was going on before anyone else did, back when all this nonsense was strictly the domain of a few fanatics and its primary victims were gay and lesbian kids; it’s no surprise that some of their talking points are in need of an update in 2022, now that gender theory is a full-blown social phenomenon. But their fundamental analysis still captures something essential that snappier criticisms from conservatives and centrists often miss.

“You can’t understand gender theory today unless you understand teenage girls today – and like it or not, you can’t understand teenage girls today if you’re tuning out the feminists who have been ringing alarm bells for decades now. So go find some TERFs and really listen to what they have to say, as long as you remember that the situation is changing rapidly and not everything that was right on the money years ago is perfectly accurate now. As for me, I’ve got about fifteen more sensitivity trainings to wrap up.”

https://wesleyyang.substack.com/p/gender-theory-in-schools-two-things?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email

#gender dysphoria #trans #nonbinary

[asteral-feileacan]

☁️, 💌 and 🪐 please!

Thank you! :D

☁️ - What made you choose your username?

I love this one, and I finally get to drop my username lore! This is actually quite a bit of history, so buckle up.

As a child, I was obsessed with Lassie, which is something that not a lot of people seem to really know for some reason. Anyway, my Lassie is actually split between the 1994 and 2005 movies, although I only saw the 1994 version later in my childhood and grew up with the 2005 one.

This obsession was so much so that whenever little me played make-believe, I would call myself Lassie and, well, it just kind of stuck and wouldn't go away. So when I eventually joined the internet at a once-questionable age(which started out fine because I was only using educational sites, but I still ended up on Discord just under the age requirement a couple of years later XDD)

At this time, "Lassie" for some reason morphed into "Lasspeep" and "Lassie Peep" - I think this was because of my parents, but I have no idea why XD So those variations were my usernames as I started to use the big scary internet. Eventually I did drop "peep", but Lassie has such a chokehold on me that I still use it, especially on Discord.

Fast forward to about a year or two ago, and I was looking for a name with more oomph behind it for my profiles on Tumblr, AO3 and FF.net. I had been going by Kit-Kat-of-Midgard, which I didn't really like, and so I started trying out a lot of things - username generators, random word lists, etc, but nothing was clicking. Then in a stroke of inspiration, I decided to go back to my roots, as it were. I used to use Google Docs as a kind of social media before I joined Discord, and to differentiate between the people in the group, we all picked colours and fonts to type in. Mine was cornflower blue, and that led me straight to the cornflower. While I was on that topic, I found its family name, Asteraceae, and that piqued my interest, but it still wasn't quite right. When I kept reading, I came across the order Asterales, which IMMEDIATELY made me go, "yep, that's the one."

So I had the base, and at some point I shortened it to simply Asteral. I really loved that, but I also wanted a second part, to get a message across that showed more of who I am. This one was a LOT easier, I have to say. I'm Irish, so I decided I'd go for an Irish word, and the struggle was just to figure out what word that would be.

SO I grew up being brainwashed into loving the band a-ha(I still love them), and it was a known fact that my favourite song of theirs is Butterfly, Butterfly. So my brain gremlins picked up my last remaining braincell, and translated "Butterfly" into Irish, which Google Translate(I don't speak Irish, sorry) told me was "féileacán". So, boom. Asteral Féileacán. Unfortunately, for the most part, the sites I'm on don't allow me to include the fadas, so it shows as Feileacan instead. Rest assured that the correct way is lurking somewhere behind there! But that's the admittedly long-winded explanation behind my usernames and why they're connected by a string.

💌 - How many unread emails do you have right now?

Oh. Oh no. I have several email accounts... in total, I have 337 unread emails spread out across four different emails, though they're mostly from automatic mailing lists from YouTube or AO3. My professional email account is paid much more attention, so it has no unread emails. >:) Rest assured that I will now be clearing out all my emails.

🪐 - Name three good things going on in your life right now.

Aw, this one is sweet <3

Theatre. I'm having a lot of fun engaging in theatre for the first time in my life through King Lear - I know I won't shut up about it, but I'm honestly really excited, and rehearsals are honestly the highlight two days of my week.

My writing spark. Writing has become fun again, and because of that, I've been able to post what I'm working on with less fear. This is huge for me because I stopped posted for years, and even though I was still working on things, I wasn't working on them in a capacity that was satisfying to me. I'm doing much better now, and a lot happier with what I'm doing.

Being connected outside of the internet. I have to say that this past year('23, so far '24) has been amazing. I got the chance to meet people IRL and make friends, I've been changing my very hermit-like habits and getting out more, and while it hasn't always been easy and I'm still struggling a lot with numerous things, I think I'm in a better place than I would have been two years ago. <3

#ask game

[butchered-icarian]

Man, I think fandoms are fucking great.

Because like, back in 2020, during the pandemic, I had to go back to my parent's home and this was one of the most depressing events that ever happened to me thus far, I was beaten down and all that. The situation was bad *bad*, on top of that, I didn't know who I was, or what I was anymore. Then I blinked and I found myself stumbling back into the Les Mis fandom, then a little bit deeper this time, because way back in 2012 I was still fairly a kid, right. So I got back to the Les Mis fandom, get myself a discord account and determined to learn how to use it this time, then joined a server.

It was wonderful, because honestly, at that point I identified myself as bisexual and genderfluid, despite that I was way more comfortable whenever someone addressed me as a dude, because you know, innerlised transphobia - and let me tell you, I've never interacted with so many queer people who are so proud of being themselves: trans people, genderfluid people, non-binary people, you name it. Which got me started questioning myself, y'know, as one would.

And then Elliot Page came out. I love T.U.A and Vanya at the moment was one of the characters I enjoyed dearly, and I adore Elliot Page, so when he came out, something in me cracked along with it the moment I saw him on Oprah and was beaming with genuine happiness and relief. That's when I know, so not long afterwards, I came out.

After that, I rejoined the Star Wars fandom. Well, I write, but at the time, I've basically swore off writing, because I found discontentment everytime words hit the paper. I couldn't write long because I couldn't stay focus, and I was too busy wallowing myself in what would people perceive of my writings, and whether the thing that I wrote entertain others or not; that I was in constant jealousy of friends who also write and have better view counts. So I decided to stop. Then I found love in Star Wars again with The Mandalorian and the odd pair of DinLuke, which was why I joined the big DL server back then.

This time I was greeted with a space full of - let's say - people who are ahead in life, people who are way older than me, basically internet grandparents etc. - and they're still here kicking in fandom space and write stories about characters they love. I looked at them and I thought, wow, I want to be like them when I grow up. I want to stop feeling miserable all the time and make it that far in life still being able to do what I love and enjoy like they do. So I started working on myself. I got myself to seek professional help. My therapist, though I was only able to did few sections with her, was extremely helpful. I started nudging myself towards the light, then I started writing again.

People in the server were so helpful. They gave me advices and tips, encouraged me endlessly, until finally, after years, I was able to write something that I found myself truthfully enjoy, not for the sake of anyone else.

Which then later lead me to the Top Gun fandom, which I was never able to imagine myself being interested, yet here we are. This fandom really is something, a celebration of creation if I may say so - I've lost count of the events currently hosted within the fandom space, but it's a joy knowing you can always jump into one anytime of the month - and once again I found myself surrounded by writers, who are cheerful and encouraging, which lead to me finally joining NaNoWriMo officially without bailing out for the first time ever. The joy of November, waking up to work then whenever I got to rest, I could always find people scattered from all over the globe to write with me, cheering each other. I was able to write 30k!!! Can you believe it! And now I can't wait for this year's NaNo, because this gave me the boost I need to start working on my original fiction idea.

So yeah. Fandoms are fucking great, and I love my amazing fandom friends that I've made along the way.

#croissant rambles

[higurashinonakukoronii]

texas passed a bill protecting minor's use of the internet and its sooo fucking bad oh my god.. i just skimmed it and its a fucking doozy

honestly i cant imagine this thing holds up against a court at all, the wording is so broad and yet defined in all the wrong places.

for example just check out this section here:

shit like this being baked into laws makes me clench my bootycheeks, because its so fucking broad you just know its going to be used for malice!!! "as determined by the district or school" is just a free pass to bring down the censorship hammer and further demean the line between church & state.

some of it feels reasonable but you can't justify these means when its coupled with little landmines.

additionally, as far as i read there is no section outlining actions an online service provider should take in order to circumvent minors simply.. putting a different age?

basically, if you say you're under 18 and a known minor, online service providers will no longer allow you to adjust your age once set (in other words, if you put like 2010 as your birthday, its stuck as 2010 until you turn 18.) this shakes out since most websites don't allow you to change your birthday anymore anyways (or they allow like 1 adjustment at most, which is another baked in way for minors to circumvent age restrictions until they turn of age too but whatever).

my problem with this though is once again, if the minor simply just lied, there's literally nothing stopping them from getting away with that unless:

a.) as provided in the section, the verified parent disputes the registered age of the minor

or

b.) if digital service providers begin requiring IDs to register an account.

either option is disastrous for sure. don't think i need to spell out how many levels of violated i would feel by any social media asking me for my ID, when they already sell plenty of my data without that to begin with.

this bill all banks on the degrees to which parents follow through on their responsibilities to ensure online safety. while it does create an obligation for schools to provide online safety materials to parents, by no means does that secure any sort of followthrough by said parents to assume that duty. i can't imagine providing a legal avenue to assert that right is going to do anything to somehow change that. in other words, you can lead a horse to water but you can't force it to drink.

one of the only notable highlights of this bill in my opinion i'll provide a snippet of as well, although a later defined section provides protection of trade secrets

i think that digital service providers absolutely need to be held accountable by third parties to dash any chances of another elsagate moment. also, i like that this bill asks companies to share their safety techniques with each other, even if that's never put into practice.

ultimately this isn't any type of call to action or intensive unpacking of all this bill entails so feel free to read it here, i just found it interesting and unnerving and wanted to articulate my own thoughts on it somewhere.

Oh right and just before ending this post, if it couldn't get any more transparent that this is a weird surveillance state thing, this bill is also called the SCOPE act.

#politics #texas HB 18

[liminalpsych]

Treasuring the cringe

tl;dr: I found out that people are still reading a niche fanfic I wrote over the course of my entire adolescence, roughly two decades ago. But writing that story very literally kept me alive some days as a depressed, closeted teen, and so I treasure the story and have left it online even though I find it painfully, embarrassingly cringe-worthy at this point in my life.

Full story:

Just the other day, I joined a Discord about fanfic from my very first active fandom. I wanted to see what the fandom was like nowadays (I was honestly surprised to stumble across an active Discord server) and if there was anyone from back in my day. *shakes cane* “Back in my day” (in the fandom) was 1997-2005 or so. Maybe even later, through some of college. Age ~11 or 12 onwards.

I mention all of this, and the person in the chat says, “I think there’s not a lot of people here you would know of — most of us are new, young people who might not have been born in 1997” lololol okay thanks, I’ll just feel old then*.

They ask me if I’ve got any experience with fanfiction in the fandom. I answer yes, because my longest story I ever completed was in that fandom (worked on it from ~13 y/o right up until I turned 19), at ~110k words or so. They ask for a link.

Me: Ahahaha oh no, i wrote it over the course of my high school years and it’s … not held up but uh. Might still be on ye olde FFN, lemme see if I can find it

Me: anyway, please don’t judge me, I was young and dealing with a lot 😉 *links the fic*

Other person: Oh look it’s that one!

Me: oh no

Them: I’ve read it multiple times!

Me: oh whew

Them: It’s the top place on the TV Tropes Fanfic Recs page for the fandom

Me: …I can never show my face in the fandom again.

Another person chimed in with a very lovely reframe: "Be proud of younger you, for if not for them you would not be the person you are today."

Which is indeed a large part of the reason I haven't deleted that fanfic from the internet. Certainly it's divorced from my current internet presence, because I find it painfully cringe-worthy, and still get embarrassed when my memory presents me with some of the more questionable plot choices.

But when I felt the most despair, when I just wanted everything to stop, when I wanted to just not feel like this anymore, I grabbed onto any silly little thing to keep going. Just one more day, and then another.

And the fact that I hadn't finished the story was one of those silly little things that kept me going.

"I can't die yet, I owe it to my characters to finish their story."

"I can't die yet, people have been reading this story and deserve to get an ending to it first."

"I can't die yet, then I won't ever find out what happens." (I was a pure discovery writer/pantser at the time.)

So I let it stay up, because it was an important, influential part of my life, and in a way it saved my life on multiple occasions. And a story written over the course of several years, during a time of rapid personal growth and identity development, is a fascinating reflection of the that process.

I look back and I can see the anger I was denying in myself, the anger I couldn't express in my daily life, all expressing through the main character. I see an exploration of the relationship with my parents and authority and imposed morality and the hypocrisy of the structures imposing that morality, all things I was struggling with at the time. I see a reflection of my own trauma, the toxic family dynamic I grew up on, drawn in abstract allegory without even realizing it. I see the struggle with my own sexuality, closeted even to myself but showing up on the page. I can even see hints of my still-in-the-egg gender identity showing up in some of the narrative choices and POV characters, though I don't think anyone else would recognize it as such.

15-20 years later, I'm in such a better place. I'm consciously aware of many of the things I was subconsciously or unconsciously expressing as a teenager. I have a lot more hope, and a lot better relationships with myself and others now.

If you have access to your very early writing, it can be a cringy but valuable, insightful process to go back through it and see what you notice now. Things that were subconscious or unconscious at the time, but showed up in your characters, storytelling, genre, plot, dialogue.

* I don't actually have qualms about getting older. I was the youngest in my various friend groups for most of my life, so it's nice not to be the young one anymore. And you could not pay me enough to go back to my adolescence or my 20's. My thirties have been pretty great so far. I expect my forties will be pretty good too.

#fanfic #fandom #tw mental illness #psychology #personal stuff #transformative works #on writing #identity

[howtocareforbunnyboys]

Hi, I have a question. How would someone go about telling their partner they age regress? I wanna tell my partner but can’t find the words. :(

Ooh, that's the age old question, isn't it? "I want my loved one to know and love all of me. How can I become vulnerable with them, and give them the opportunity to love me fully, when rejection would hurt so much worse if they did know?"

[Personal background] First, I want to state that I've actually never been in your situation. I used to regress (I think they call what I did "age dreaming" online now) when I was immersed in an actively traumatic, abusive environment and had no way out. So the bulk of it was in high school. I did regress a little in early undergrad, and then I stopped due to shame, and found other coping mechanisms (for better or worse).

[Personal background] I've been in... 7 relationships? 3 of those were people who were involved in age regression. 3 never found out, and one I told once as a sort of "I used to do this back in the day," and they said they used to too, and we never gave any details or discussed it again. We were at least tipsy, if not drunk, and revealing our traumas and secrets. I wouldn't advise that method to anyone else.

As a result, feel free to take my advice with a grain of salt. I'm just a stranger on the internet, after all.

However, here is what I would advise:

If you're going to have them understand you, then you need to understand yourself, at least enough to begin to verbalize what you're feeling. This can be hard! Take your time with it.

Ask yourself these questions, and write down your responses somewhere very secure. It could be a locked Word document, a password-protected blog, a paper journal, anything. It could even be drawings/doodles if you tend to think in pictures. The writing is for you, so you can organize your thoughts, start to verbalize, and catch yourself if you start to spiral or go off topic.

Is your regression voluntary, involuntary, or a mix?

Under what circumstances do you tend to regress?

How do you feel before, during, and after? (I.e., what is your emotional experience?)

What benefits do you gain from regression? Write a pro/con list. (I'm not trying to argue you out of it, of course. It's just to help you understand yourself fully, and to anticipate potential objections and questions)

How do you feel towards that soft place inside yourself that you explore when you regress? (I.e., what is your relationship like with your "inner child")

How are you currently engaging in re-parenting your inner child? How do you fulfill their physical and emotional needs?

I tend to assume that anyone who regresses has experienced, or is experiencing, trauma/abuse. I don't know if that's a fair assumption. I'm not a psychiatrist or psychologist. Now, I'm not asking you to dwell on your worst memories; that would be deeply irresponsible of me. However, it would be good for you to be lightly aware of what you're regressing to get a break from, if that makes sense.

This is just good advice for anyone, but try reading the personal bill of rights, and seeing which ones you accept easily, and which ones make you uncomfortable to apply to yourself. This is a link to a pdf version, but it's all over various counseling websites.

What do you want out of telling them? What do you hope they'll say or do? What is the best case scenario?

What is the worst reasonable scenario? (Emphasis on reasonable scenario, not nightmare scenario.) How would you respond to and handle that?

What is the most likely scenario?

Before you decide to tell them, you need to be willing to accept it if they say:

"I need some time to think about this. This is new information, and I'm not sure what I think. Let's stop talking about it for now."

"I feel uncomfortable with this. I understand that this is something that you need, and you do in private, but I don't want to participate or hear about it."

"This is really unexpected. I've never heard of this before, and I'm scared that it means I've never actually known you, because I'm struggling to square this new information with my previous understanding of you. I don't know what this means about your mental health, and what it means about me that I'm attracted to someone who is sometimes a child. This is deeply frightening for me, I am freaking out, and I don't know how to respond."

Gaining new information about someone, especially "taboo" information, can be hard.

How strong is your relationship? How serious are both of you about it?

Regression is a super vulnerable state. It's soft and tender and raw, and you need to be able to trust the hands you're placing it in to be kind and gentle and loving and compassionate.

How do they handle their difficult emotions? How do they act and react when they're frightened? When they're angry? When they're threatened? Betrayed? Stressed? Anxious?......... What I'm getting at here, is that the more comfortable they are being vulnerable with you, the more emotionally aware they are, the less likely they are to lash out if they're threatened or scared by this new information.

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

Alright, let's fast forward. You've come to know yourself, and what you need, and what you want. You feel confident that if they react poorly, it won't break you. You feel confident that they'll be honest and clear with their emotions, and hear you out and not lash out and hurt you. You have determined that you're serious enough in this relationship that it's worth the risk. You've determined that you're both emotionally mature enough to work through this calmly.

First, make sure they know something of your mental health. Again, you don't have to go through traumatic details, but they should know and accept your baseline stress and distress levels, and be accepting and understanding of any symptoms you are struggling with. <- this is really important, because it tells you that they understand and accept mental differences, and especially experiences that they do not personally have. They need to be able to put themselves in your place, or "walk a mile in someone's shoes" or however you want to phrase it.

(By the way, if they automatically dismiss / denigrate others for liking things that they don't, or having mental illnesses they don't understand... this is a huge red flag and I wouldn't tell them about your regression. They're just not ready for it. It doesn't make them a bad person, but they've got some stuff to work through.)

Next, I'd allow them to see your enthusiasm at some "child-like" things that you've probably been hiding from them. Maybe you pretend you don't love your stuffies as much as you do. Maybe you hide your coloring books. Maybe you tone down your glee when a certain topic comes up, or you tamp down the urge to talk about your favorite kids' show when something reminds you of it. Talk about favorite childhood memories, and say you'd like to go to the zoo again, or you wonder if they still sell that toy you loved. Say you'd like to capture that emotion again, about how free etc you felt at that time. See how they react.

If they shut down the conversation like "yeah, it's too bad we're adults. Kids get all the fun haha, but we all have to grow up sometime" or "yeah but kids are so annoying" that's not a great sign.

If they respond by suggesting more adult-oriented versions of what you liked (for example, if you liked playing with nerf guns or squirt guns, and they suggest archery), that's a neutral sign.

If they respond by sharing their own childlike interests, their own favorite childhood memories, nostalgia, etc that's a good sign because it shows they want to connect with you, and are willing to be vulnerable.

If they respond by encouraging you to go to the zoo with them, to buy that toy you loved, etc ... that's a great sign!

See how they react to playfulness and spontaneity. See how they feel about children. If they're a rigid traditionalist that struggles with playfulness and messy children... again, that's a bad sign.

------

Now, at some point, you'll have done all the prep work you possibly can. You'll have tested how open-minded they are, how accepting they are, and whether they even like kids. At some point, you'll have to decide whether or not they have earned your trust.

How you word it exactly is up to you. You know yourself and your partner best. But I will give you this advice:

1. If you approach something with shame, it prepares someone to react as if it's shameful.

2. Don't put ideas in their head. If you lead with "I'm not a p-d-phile", well, now you've shocked them, freaked them out, and made them start thinking about really nasty things.

3. Be honest and vulnerable with them. Explain that you trust them, and you're telling them this because you love and trust them enough to want them to know all of you, even the non-standard parts. Even the parts that most need love. But that you're nervous about telling them, so please hold you and listen with tenderness. (Use your own words, obviously).

4. Explain about your childhood, what you didn't get but you needed, or when you stopped getting what you needed. Remind them of what's stressful in your life now. Explain what you learned by learning about yourself! How you give yourself, those injured parts of yourself, the unconditional love you need to heal. How you let yourself let down your armor, lay down your weapons, and create a safe place for you to be sweet, and young, and innocent, with no repercussions. That you have this wonderful, precious time all for yourself, and it's really important to you, and you want them to know about it, so that they know all about you.

Do not ask them for anything in that first conversation. You are only asking them to listen, and take in the information, and to not insult you over it. That is it. If they ask to participate, and you want them to, that's great! But it's very possible that they'll need time to even wrap their head around it.

If they later come to express gentle, kind curiosity, then you can say "if you want to, I think I'd be comfortable inviting you into my playspace, but you don't have to" or something neutral like that. Don't put pressure onto them.

And maybe they come, and they enjoy themselves, and they want to play, too! Or babysit! But maybe they don't enjoy themselves, and that's okay, too. You have to be willing to run that risk, and accept that it's not their cup of tea.

------

Personally, I love caring for little ones because, to put it bluntly, I have baby fever. I have had baby fever since I was in my very early 20s, like 22. I want to raise a kid so, so bad that it's actually difficult to articulate. I'm also absolutely not in a situation where I can provide the kind of life for my future kid that I would want.

I find caring for a regressed person to be sweet, and precious, and soothing. I also feel a bit like it's low-stakes parenting because, well. Bunny's already had his first childhood. I can't go back in time and mess it up more, lol. And when he's big, I can discuss ideas and get feedback on past performance, so that I can improve my parenting skills. (He always gives me positive reviews, though, so I learn more from parenting blogs and early childhood development materials.)

I don't know if that's helpful at all, but yeah, caring for Bunny is healing for him, and it helps manage my baby fever (though it doesn't CURE it. I still want to adopt a little baby or toddler or young kid. Like, really badly. )

Hope this helped!

#written by rowan

[ceasarslegion]

That breaking bad shitpost reminded me of the time one of my college friends told me it was irresponsible of my parents to let me watch breaking bad when it was still airing because i was 10 at the time it premiered. Thing is, im no fan of a lot of the ways i was raised, but the way i was exposed to media growing up i actually do agree with.

I've said this before, but both of my parents have always been massive horror fans. Part of why they started initially dating was because they finally found someone who wouldn't cower away from blood and guts. They never hid this passion of theirs from me, they just made sure I understood what I was looking at before they would put up their framed BTS photos of The Evil Dead or Halloween. That they were just photos, that there's blood in them because the movies had blood in them, that they're just movies and those characters aren't real.

I definitely think growing up in a horror stan household has a very different approach to media exposure than others simply because they have a different attitude towards things that are too extreme for most other viewers. Horror is in and of itself an acquired taste, after all. I can't count how many times my friends have thought it was deeply strange to borderline disturbing that our family movie nights involved slashers and psychological terrors. But the thing is, the kind of media my parents enjoy i very much believe set the stage to how i was exposed to things growing up.

They didn't really,,, believe in the rating system, if that's the right word to use. They saw it as a general suggestion rather than a concrete thing. And as a side note, as I would go on to get a film degree in my future, I'm glad they did, because the history of the modern rating system is extremely mormon, for lack of a better term.

But anyway, instead of adhering to an outside source telling them how to raise their kid, they instead took it in the direction where as long as I understood what I was seeing, I had the emotional and moral intelligence to know the difference between right, wrong, and when shit was complicated, and it didn't have any negative effects on me, I was allowed to see it. Full stop. To help that process along, I could ask them any questions I had about whatever I was watching, reading, or playing, we could have open and non-judgmental discussions about my own interpretations of these texts, and they never put any parental locks on things like my netflix profile and would send me to EB Games with signed notes saying they'd allow me to buy M-rated games with my allowance if I wanted them. Very few things ever got taken away from me, if any. I can't really remember anything off the top of my head, other than just not being allowed to talk to strange adults on the internet or give out any personal info, which I think was the only hard limit they placed on my media consumption. But that was an actual safety issue, not anything to do with this idea that I couldn't handle seeing morally dubious things depicted on-screen. In fact, my parents thought the rating system was kind of insulting to my emotional and moral intelligence lmao.

So yeah, I watched breaking bad as it was first airing, and yes, I was 10 when it first began. Which would probably make a good chunk of this site explode into discourse about how problematique that is and how it made think bad things were good, actually. But the thing is, my parents knew from their own firsthand experience with horror that just seeing dubious things doesn't inherently damage your psyche or alter your sense of right and wrong. So instead of adhering to this outdated and extremely generalized idea of what kids should be exposed to at what age, they instead actually talked to me about the things i wanted to watch and made sure I understood what they were, and that I had enough critical thinking skills to engage in them without negative consequences. As long as those two things were met, I could consume whatever media I wanted.

Fuck man, on the breaking bad topic I remember one time hearing my mom say "I would rather he see people having sex than killing each other, but he watches breaking bad anyway" regarding my interest in game of thrones in the 8th grade.

Anyway, the point here is that although there's lots of things I have beef with regarding my parents, their approach to my media exposure I think was a hell of a lot better than this webbed site's approach of "if you're under 18 all sex drugs and violence will TRAUMATIZE you and if you don't portray ONLY goodness and clear right and wrong actions your audience will thing BAD things are actually GOOD regardless of their age sometimes"

#story time #shut up dames