#no one is allowed to judge me for the following tag

[lottieurl]

sarah waters, fingersmith

#sarah waters #fingersmith #words #no one is allowed to judge me for the following tag #r: i kneel into a dream where i am good & loved #book tag

[mojoflower]

So You Want to Tumbl?

There are lots of newcomers here these days, and I thought I'd spell out how to begin and what it means to ‘curate your own dash’ for folks who haven't grown along with Tumblr for the past decade.

If you're coming from a platform where content is fed to you, Tumblr can seem barren and intimidating in the beginning.  But that's actually a good thing!  What it means is that you will see what you want to.  If you're in a fighting mood, go find political discourse.  If you're feeling fragile, make your dash nothing but art and nature.

How to begin?

You’ve made your blog and picked out your icon (seriously, choose an icon:  otherwise you’re indistinguishable from bots).  Feel free to be anonymous.  Most of us are, and it’s wonderful to have a place that’s not tied to your Real Life.  Here you can be a fandom freak (like me!) and no one judges you and your boss will never find out.

Now seek out tags that interest you.  For example, I was just looking through #moss because I like peace and green things and old-growth forests.  (And, apparently, beautifully naked fae-men, heh.)

Now you follow that tag (if it's a popular tag, it'll say how many followers the tag has, which is beneficial to know if you're making a post that you want to reach all its interested audience) and posts with that tag automatically fill your dash. Voila, you have begun to curate your experience!

Do Follow:  tags; blogs in that tag that you like; people who comment on posts in the blog/tag you follow that seem like they’re up your alley.  The more people you follow, the more varied and nuanced your dash is.

Don’t Follow:  people who make comments or posts that raise your blood pressure.  Topics that upset you.  Discourse that has you arguing in your head for the rest of the day.  PLEASE avoid toxicity.  Real Life is hard enough.

How to be Social and Interact

If you want to find your tribe and interact, it’s best to start following individual blogs.  (If you follow a blog, they have an opportunity to follow you back.  Simply following a tag is a passive, one-way street.)  To Tumbl is to be in a vast cocktail party, and you need to mingle and eavesdrop to find the things that galvanize you.

How to be seen and heard

💬Comment on posts (please always stay positive and enthusiastic:  we really try to avoid toxicity).  You can read other comments (and reblogged comments) by clicking on the notes:

🔁Reblog posts you like, both to show your support and to show other people what kind of things get you excited.  Reblogging is essential to the tumblr ecosystem, because it’s the only way posts move around and get seen.  You can also “like” posts, but that's a much more passive way to interact. Also, reblogs and your own original posts show up on your blog and prove that you're not a bot.

Create your own posts and remember that the first 20 tags you use are essential, because that’s what gets you seen (and followed) by strangers.  Tags 21-30 are good for searching and archiving on your own blog, but they don’t count on the dash.  Instructions on how to Make A Post.

Participate!  Once you find your crowd, you’ll discover that there are always things going on.  For example, in fandoms, we’ve got writing events, art events, crafting and cons.  The more you try to be involved, the more new friends you’ll discover.  Tumblr allows for such an organic community.  One person has a thought, and many others build on that thought, creating something far greater than the sum of its parts.

There is no real algorithm beyond using those first 20 tags.  This may be discouraging to folks who are used to working an algorithm, but we like it fine here, because it keeps everyone real and keeps obnoxious social climbers/capitalists out of your face.

Be patient!  Just like in real life, when you find yourself in a crowd of people you don’t know, it takes a while to form connections.  Watch and listen, and learn to read the room.  Honestly, the thing that will win you the most friends/followers is honest enthusiasm about your space.

Don’t aim for the big names to become your new buddies.  You’re more likely to find a thriving coterie among other fresh faces.  Don’t assume that because they’re small or new they have nothing to offer you.  Often, this is the fire that keeps any given corner of Tumblr going.

Tumblr Etiquette

NEVER REPOST (without explicit permission).  Reposting is when you cut and paste from someone else’s content and then make it into a brand new post under your own blog name.  That is stealing and is very condemned.  Reblogging is when you use 🔁and the OP (original poster) remains attached to their post and continues to see and be in charge of interactions.  

Reblog in addition to Liking. A post that you 'like' is static. You are not helping it to get to a broader audience. If the post or poster is something/someone you support, then REBLOG that sucker: it deserves to fly!

Reblog and add your own content.  One of the best parts of Tumblr is that you can comment on a post, or even add to it in your reblog (as long as you’re not being a dick, okay?  Or changing the topic, which is known as ‘hijacking a post’).  Here is a wonderful example of the Tumblr ecosystem at work, where someone had a thought, other people had thoughts about that thought, and then a bunch of artists jumped in.  Tumblr posts BUILD COMMUNITY, and you can be a part of that conversation.  (Do try to refrain from reblogging with vacuous comments just because you want people to notice you rather than because you actually have something to add, though.  That’s just clutter.)

The most important part of “curating your experience” is learning to Block.

You can block individual blogs, Anons, people in the comments that you find upsetting.  Here's a post on How to Block.

Block entire tags or keywords if they are triggers for you.  (Here is a post on how to do that.) 

Blocking is self-care.  It is not a platform to demonstrate to the community how much you hate someone and how they should, too.  Usually the blocked person never even knows you’ve blocked them.  If they do something egregious (like tell you or someone else to kill themselves), then ‘Report’ them.

You can block something (like #US Politics) if you can’t handle it at the moment, and then unblock it later.  Block a friend if they’re spamming something you don’t like and then unblock them later.  It’s all good!  You are in control of what shows up on your dash.

But doesn’t this mean my dash will be single-topic and boring?

The simultaneous joy and pitfall in following individuals is that MANY blogs are not single-topic.  You will be exposed to all kinds of reblogs/ideas/other people from the folks you chose to follow, and can decide for yourself if you (a) want to be involved in that topic, (b) are indifferent to that topic, or (c) want to run from it screaming.

Also, the blogs you follow will move from hobby/theme/passion over time, and you can move with them, appreciate their new topic without vibing with it, or drop them altogether.

And THIS is how you curate your dash, my friends.

***Install New XKit extension.  It’ll make your life easier!

***Here's the Tumblr Help Center, where you can learn more details.

#welcome to tumblr #new users #tumblr #tumblr etiquette #tumblr tips #how to tumbl #mojo muses #twitter refugees #long post

[mirnilop]

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

#🐇 penned #🌈🖼️ wh #feat. some random ocs i made up for the sake of the fic #welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #x reader #reader-insert #yandere x reader #i love randomly throwing in ronald dorelaine #cause we have no idea who he is or what he's like #so he can be whatever i need him to be #yandere wally darling #yandere wally darling x reader #welcome home mob au #clownsuu

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Tolerate It pt 2 || Young! Coriolanus Snow X Reader

"Now, you're runnin' down the hallway and you know what they all say You don't know what you got until it's gone" You don't need to read pt 1 to understand whats happening but if you want to ITS HERE

https://www.tumblr.com/twirlingsmilingwriting/737294906027098112/tolerate-it-youngcoriolanus-snow-x-reader?source=share

TLDR: Truly feeling like the luckiest person alive when your former classmate and short term boyfriend asked you to marry him. Not even a year into the marriage and also a year into his presidency does the original love and admiration you felt from him start to dissipate. You can't help but feel trapped and tricked into a marriage in which he may have never loved you to begin with.

Warnings: Angst, Love-Bombing, marriage, gender ambiguous reader, typical snow tags (manipulation), alcohol, alluding to sexual acts but not described at the end, kissing, unclear motives, capitol parties, crying

Word count: 3k

a/n I was not going to make a part two to this story originally because I thought it was a one shot but some people asked for a part two and my big juicy brain started making up ideas!! lowkey wanted to title this one "You're Losing Me" for the next part but then it'd be hard to find. Let's pretend its called "You're losing me" :') ~

Dazzling lights decorated the gardens of the capital. I stood on the balcony feeling the wind blow through my hair and the satin of my frilly and extravagant blouse. The sounds of music and people chattering from below filled my ears. I closed my eyes and hummed tuning into the moment. I could hear his voice. He was talking to guests in the plaza. I could hear the smile on face in his voice as he charmed the guests, his charisma grew with each passing day. It was the same charm that led me down the path of falling in love with him. I exhaled the breath I didn't even notice I was holding and opened my eyes to take in the sight again. My eyes followed the sound of his voice and I spotted my husband down by a catering table. His tall, slender figure danced delicately through the air. His posture was different from when I first met him. He was always confident but the air around him felt different now. His aura was different but I truly had no right to judge the character of a man I rarely spoke to these days.

A heavy, dragged sigh escaped my lips and I sat back and watched his tantalizing smile and words tease and enchant the party guests. He parted his hair a different way today. I noticed every aspect of him, the way his shirt fit so snugly around his broad shoulders and draped over his thin waist. The gold watch decorated his wrist ever so gently. Truly, his beauty was delicate. He had such a whimsical and frail appearance but his energy made him seem like he was three times the man he was, the man he wanted to be. His head tilted up and his eyes met mine. I froze like the ice the color of his eyes were. His smile dropped and he nodded at me, letting his eyes do the talking.

'Smile more and come down here'

Instantly, a curated diamond-encrusted smile plastered my face and I dusted off my satin shirt and walked down the stairs of the balcony to the main area ever so carefully. Floating down the steps and through the crowd, my body finally reached his side and I interlocked my arm with his. He smiled down at me and I felt my heart beat a little faster. It felt real, at least to me. I loved it when we had parties because Coryo would adorn me with the affection I missed from him. His hand smoothed down to the small of my back and I looked over to smile at the party guests.

"Good evening y/n, you look dazzling," the capital man said, I'm sure I knew him from somewhere but his face was unrecognizable from the copious amounts of fillers he had put in it. I bowed my head to thank him without saying a word. I wasn't too sure if I was allowed to speak yet. That question would soon be answered when I felt a tug at my arm and I looked up to see my husband smiling at me.

'talk more smile less'

Swallowing my breath, I turned my attention back to the man. "Thank you, you also look fabulous, it is my pleasure to be able to serve such fine guests such as yourself at this party tonight," I spoke softly and confidently. I felt Coryos' nails dig slightly into the flesh of my hand. 'you're talking too much'. Mild frustration bubbled in me but it was cut short by the laughter of the party guest. "wow Snow, you truly know how to keep your partner in check huh?" He joked and Coryo started to laugh too before brushing off the comment and continuing to chat with the man about business, politics, and violence. I started to feel a little awkward but once I felt my husband release his hold on me and tap my hip three times, I knew I was done being his arm candy in this moment. Bowing my head, I excused myself and made something up about how I had to 'tend to the roses'.

Walking through the crowds of people I made sure to smile and wave at the happy partygoers while parting through them like the Red Sea. Arriving finally at a bowl filled with some sort of fruity and alcoholic concoction, I flimsily started to fill myself a cup. Leaning against a pillar by the bowl, I started to sip my drink and watched the people dance when suddenly, I heard a man's voice speaking to me. My eyes drifted to meet his and he started to walk over to me extending his hand out for a handshake.

"Wow... truly I am delighted to be in the presence of the right hand of the ruler of Panem. Hello, y/n, It is truly an honor to make your acquaintance" He said, a cheeky smile spread across his face. His orange curls decoratively fell upon his forehead and he had a certain glimmer in his eyes. He was clearly overjoyed to see me and that made me feel... nice?

"Oh goodness please, save me the formalities. And what might your name be?" I asked taking his hand in mine and shaking it. "Curtis"

"Short and sweet, I like that name"

He smiled even brighter than before and laughed, throwing his head back and retracting his hand from the handshake. He was tall, very muscular, and he just had the most shimmery of brown eyes out there. His appearance almost reminded me of a former classmate of mine, Sejanus but ginger. I smiled back and started to giggle a little from just his laughter.

"Have you been enjoying the party?"

"I've been trying, isn't the night just gorgeous?

"Pardon my boldness, but it truly doesn't compare to the beauty that you are. The night looks good on you." His words were stern and it felt like his voice was dripping in honey. A soft blush danced across my cheeks. It had been so long since the last time I received a compliment that felt so genuine. I chuckled a little and shifted my eyes away from the ones of the man with all the right words to say.

"Coriolanus is a lucky man in so many ways but truly, ending up with you must be his proudest achievement. I'm honestly shocked that you're standing by yourself here now. He is a smart man but not a wise one to let you start to slip away" he continued. I was truly at a loss for words. I felt my heart start to beat faster and I felt guilt bubble up inside of me. I was married and this stranger of a man was making me feel a way I hadn't felt since my wedding day. A chuckle escaped my lips and my eyes reconnected with the brown ones of the man in front of me.

"Please don't flatter me here... I can assure you my husband is a talented, smart, and wise man."

My breathing started to slow down as I tried to calm myself down so the obvious blush would remove itself from my face. I toyed with the cup in my hand and took the last sip. He noticed the cup was empty and offered his hand out to take it from me. He said he could refill it for me and I cautiously handed it over to him watching as he poured me another cup of the fruity drink.

"Here you go"

He handed it back to me with two hands and let his other hand rest on top of my own when he handed it back to me.

"Thank yo-"

My words were cut off quickly by the feeling of cold slender hands on my waist, pulling me back. "y/n, darling, I was looking for you" Coryo spoke lightly and spun me around to face him. His hands ran up my body and rested on either side of my face. His blue eyes stared into my own and a soft smile met his lips. "We have a toast to make sweetheart, who is this?" His cold fingertips rubbed either side of my cheeks and I melted right back into his touch. "This is Curtis, I assumed you invited him." I spoke gently and watched his face. He glared at Curtis and his Adams apple bobbed while he clenched his jaw. He tilted his head slightly at the man then brought his gaze back to me and then looked back at Curtis. His fingers interlocked with mine and instantly a joyful light-hearted feeling filled my body. It was the hand Curtis was just touching so I knew Coryo was trying to prove a point here but god, it felt so good to have him touch me so intimately again. "Well Curtis, I'm a little shocked no one ever told you to stay away from things that aren't yours." His words spoke venomously in my ears and a shiver went down my spine. Mild anger was spread across his face as he held me even closer. The ginger man said something in response but I was too enchanted by my husband to process any of it.

Coryo brought his attention back to me and I felt his hand slide up my body and hold onto the back of my head. It happened so quickly when he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine harshly and aggressively. I gasped into the kiss and brought my hands up to either side of his face, holding him ever so gently to not overstep my place. His other hand went right onto the small of my back and he leaned forward more, dipping me. This felt like a scene out of a movie. Warmth started to build up in my breathless figure and he pulled away slowly, scanning my face before he smirked slowly. Some time during the kiss, the man had left and it felt like it was just me and Coryo in the crowd now. I felt a little dizzy, dazed, and confused. My thumbs continued to rub little circles into his cheeks and I smiled and whispered, "I love you." His smirk dropped and he pulled away fully and looked around. I felt his fingers wrap around my wrist and he started to drag me to the stairs leading up to the balcony.

I was stumbling over my feet a little trying to keep up with him. When we reached the top of the balcony, Snow looked over at me. His cool and calculated eyes looked me up and down to make sure my appearance was on par with his standards. He exhaled heavily before turning his attention to the people still partying. His booming voice halted the night and the music stopped. The capital guests turned their attention to us in confusion.

"Everyone, I am sorry to end this night so early but I'm afraid circumstances have mixed with their consequences. Before you all disperse, I'd like to make a toast. First, a toast to my beautiful spouse whom I could truly not do anything without"

My heart melted and a warm smile spread across my face. Coriolanus only glanced at me before continuing.

"and lastly, a toast to you all for attending tonight."

He picked up a glass cup that he had resting at the top of the railing and lifted it to the sky. Everyone toasted and took a sip of their drinks. Coryo not so subtly didn't but he placed the cup down and issued another goodbye to the guest before turning to me and placing his hands on my waist again and looked down on me. His expression was unreadable to me. The rest of the party guests started to file out. I heard one masculine voice start to cough violently but as I started to turn my head to look over at the source of the sound, Coriolanus took me by the hand again and dragged me into the house.

He dragged me up to the bedroom and slammed the door. A thick silence started to fill the room. His head was tilted down low, staring at the ground. I stood still and started to fidget with my sleeve. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Do you make me out to be a fool, y/n?"

"W- what?"

"Oh don't play stupid with me now. You have one job and it is to be my partner and I leave you alone for a second and you know what you go and do? You disrespect me. You so aimlessly let another man flirt with you in front of everyone at MY party"

"Coryo I love you so much, another man could never replace you in my heart I promise. I am so lucky to have you" I started to ramble and stammer over my words. He brought his head up slowly to look at me from his side of the room. He looked haunting.

"Look at your hand" he demanded. Nervously, my gaze dropped down to my hand and I noticed it.

"You're not wearing your wedding ring. You can't even try to pretend you like me. That ring shows a promise that we are supposed to be together forever, you are supposed to serve me forever, and you go around, letting other men flirt and flatter you and without your ring above all things. Clearly, this means nothing to you. How am I supposed to tolerate this kind of behavior. You ungrateful piece of-" Tears were welling up in his angry eyes as they threatened to spill from mine. I yelled so loudly I scared myself,

"Stop! Stop! please stop I can't take it! You're losing me Coryo you're losing me! I don't understand. I have given you everything. I have given you the best of me, I polish everything in your life to paint you a blue sky and you have done nothing but blow dust onto the pages of what was supposed to be the story of our love. I don't understand how I am letting myself stay with you, with this man, no this stranger who is nothing but an empty shell, a reminder of what used to be and the relationship I was manipulated into. Coryo I- I want out. I can't be with you anymore" I was crying furiously and shaking. I moved to sit on the edge of the bed and tried to recollect myself. Coriolanus said nothing for a moment before I heard a crack in his voice.

I hadn't noticed that he had moved his way across the room and he now stood by my feet at the edge of the bed. Hot tears streamed down his face. It didn't feel angry anymore though, it felt sad. He suddenly dropped to his knees in front of me and held my hands in his. He cried into my knees and I felt my heart shatter.

"I- I'm so sorry y/n... I had no idea you were feeling like this. This is my fault I should be a better husband. Please don't leave, I'll give you everything, every last breath in my chest if I can, I love you... I love you... I love you..." He cried out desperately and I started to cry more too. His sobs were being muffled by my legs. My fingers reached his hair and started to stroke it softly.

"Coryo.... Coryo I love you too... I love you so much. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'd never leave you I promise." He slowly looked up at me with his bloodshot and puffy eyes. His plump lips were lightly parted and his eyes searched mine. I blinked away another tear and reached my arms out to hold him close. His eyes welled up with tears again and his lips pressed downwards into a frown before he stood up again and he leaned down into my arms. I stood up to try and match his level and started to cry into his chest while he cried into my shoulder. His behavior was like a switch, one moment he was angry at me and the next he was so incredibly sad. I can't stand to see Coryo hurt. I love him too much, need him too much. Our bodies rocked back and forth before I whispered another "I love you" into his chest. I felt his lips on my neck for a moment when he smirked against my skin and stopped crying. I was still sobbing into his chest and whispering a mix of sorry's and sweet nothings. Coryo kissed my neck and pulled back.

"It's okay... stop crying, you're an ugly crier for a beautiful face. I love you" He said softly. I couldn't process the legitimacy of anything in this situation. His face relaxed fully and he was looking at me with a blank expression now. I wiped my tears and he smiled weakly before planting a gentle kiss on my lips. I fell into his warmth and fell in love with him all over again in that moment. He pulled back and gave my forehead a little peck.

"Let me show you how much you mean to me darling..." He spoke softly and I nodded and wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug he mumbled a word into my skin but I couldn't make it out.

"easy..."

~

PART THREE

#coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #the hunger games #tom blyth imagine #tbosas #president snow #young president snow #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #hunger games #thg series #thg

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

How to Leave Comments on Fanfiction

So, I recently made a poll to know if people might find it helpful to have a list of things they could talk about when leaving comments on fanfictions, be it on Ao3 or on here. A majority of people were interested in seeing the post so, well, I'm making it. I started writing and posting stuff online when I was a teenager, on a website where leaving constructive criticism was the norm. It's by far the place where I've gotten the most feedback and it was an incredibly formative experience for me as a young writer — and it taught me how to leave detailed comments.

Writing comments doesn't necessarily come easy. It's something that you may need to learn how to do, but the good news is that you can learn how to do it, so don't worry if you don't know what to say at first. Hopefully this list will give you some pointers on how to do that.

This is more or less the list I go through when I want to leave a detailed comment. Even if I don't have a specific idea at first, I'll go through the steps and I never come out empty-handed.

Comment etiquette:

What became apparent with the poll I made was that a lot of people worry about how they'll be perceived by the writers if they leave a comment. Now, obviously, writers aren't a monolith, but 99% of the time writers will be thrilled that you took the time to leave a comment to let them know what you enjoyed in their fic. I cannot stress this enough. We're not going to judge someone based on a positive comment they leave.

As it stands, on Tumblr and Ao3, it's seen as rude to leave negative feedback, unless the author has explicitly asked for it/agreed to it, so that's what I'll be going over here. Since quite a few writers did say on that post that they would like to get constructive comments as well, stay tuned, I'm trying to get something together to do that for authors. Other than that, you're good to go.

The main ways to let an author know your thoughts on a fic on Tumblr are:

reblogging a fic with your thoughts underneath it

reblogging with your thoughts in the tags, which is often less formal

leaving a comment as a 'reaction'

sending in an ask if they're activated on the blog (which means you can stay anonymous, if anon asks are allowed)

Reblogging means that your followers will see the post as well, and is therefore really appreciated on Tumblr.

As a note, you may find different systems work for different fics! Maybe leaving tag rambles works for you when commenting on drabbles, for example for me it's the system I use to leave comments on smut.

General advice:

Everything I'm saying in here is for people who want to be able to leave longer/more detailed comments and don't always know where to start. If, for whatever reason, you're not comfortable or you don't have time to do it at the moment, a simple "I love the fic, thank you for writing it" always goes a long way for an author.

The key thing to keep in mind if you're trying to find something else to say, I think, is to try making the comment specific to the fic you're leaving it on. It shows the writer what you took away from the fic and the fic's strong points, which is both meaningful and helpful to an author.

Comments don't have to be long to be meaningful. Don't stress about writing a ton; a one-sentence comment highlighting the fic's humor or how emotional it made you can be incredibly impactful.

With this out of the way, I'll go through things you can talk about in a comment, starting with what I think is the easiest and moving on to things that could require more thought. You don't have to do all of that. You may never use some of the things on that list. Leaving comments should not be a source of anxiety. So take what you want from the list, maybe come back to it if you need more inspiration, and don't worry too much about it :)

Favorite line(s) : pull from the fic to let the author know what your favorite line was. If you wish, you can expand on that by saying why it was your favorite: did it make you laugh? Did it make you feel something specific? Did the author nail the characterization with it? Was there some incredible metaphor? Did you find it beautiful or poetic even if you can't go into detail? Is there one line in particular at the beginning of the fic that hooked you in and made you want to keep reading?

All of that is very valuable for a writer to know. Some of my favorite comments I've gotten were a list of a reader's favorite lines from a fic with one or two sentences to explain why they liked them, so don't hesitate to do that more than once if you can!

Emotions:  if there’s one thing I know about writers, it’s that we’re thrilled when we’ve made you cry. So tell us: how did the writing make you feel? Did you laugh out loud? If you did, was it the dialogue, or the narrator? Did it make you cry? Which part? Could you relate to one of the characters? Did it make you feel seen? Did the fluff make you feel all fuzzy inside or did the angst twist knots in your stomach? This isn't an exhaustive list, and emotions are great to draw from when you're leaving a comment!

Favorite element of the writing: Is there one thing in the writing that struck you as being particularly good, or what was your favorite thing to read? Is the author a master at writing dialogue? Are their descriptions so good you could see the whole scene? Are they really good at getting in a character's head and describing their emotions? Were you hooked from the start and couldn't stop until you reached the end?

Characterization: Now, this might be less instinctive, but if you've been in a fandom for a while, you'll probably be able to identify these things fairly easily. You can tell the author if you think they've nailed one aspect of a character. Did you have a favorite character in the fic? What did you think of them? Did the author manage to capture their voice? Was the attitude spot-on? Which parts of the character, if you can name them? Were there aspects of the character you particularly enjoyed? Did the author shine a light on something you hadn't considered or on something you don't think is highlighted often enough? Is there one thing from the fic you can actually picture/hear a character doing/saying in your head?

Style: I'd argue this is the hardest part, and you shouldn't feel bad if it's not something you can really comment on. As someone whose first language isn't English, I know I struggle with it. Style can be perceived as the way the author's voice comes through in the text. It can come through in punctuation, in the way sentences are formed, in the choice of the words themselves. If, when you read, you feel something intangible that doesn't fit well in the other categories, it just might be the author's style.

Here are some things (non-exhaustive list, of course) you could say about an author's style: it can be direct, straight to the point. The author doesn't bother with ornaments. Every sentence feels impactful. Maybe the writing feels intense. You're overwhelmed by the characters and their feelings and you feel truly engulfed in the story. Maybe the style is light and airy. It's so easy to read you don't even notice you are reading. Maybe the writing is intricate. Going through it is like piecing a puzzle together, sentences are foreshadowing and metaphors reveal deep truths about the characters. Maybe the style is rich. While not always the easiest, it's a pleasure to read through it, the author has a wide vocabulary, and you might want to compare it to a well-written novel.

If you identify specific elements of that style (metaphors, interesting use of punctuation, etc.), don't hesitate to point them out and let the author know you enjoy them!

That is it for this post, hopefully it doesn't look too daunting — again, you absolutely do not need to do all that in any comment, but maybe going through this list can help you leave comments for authors you enjoy.

I like to end my comments with 'Thank you for writing and sharing this with us', so I'll tell you thank you for reading, I hope this was helpful, and please consider reblogging if you'd like to save this or if you think it could help someone else!

As a bonus, my friend @elidebrey and I (but mostly her) made a 'checklist' for commenting, to help remember all this if that's something you'd like, so use at will!

A big thank you to @elidebrey, @yoongihan and @antoniorhinothethird for their precious opinions on this ♥

#fanfiction #ao3 #fic #fic things #fanfic #archive of our own #author things #fanfic comments #ao3 comments #writing #long post #very long post #fandom

[strayrumia]

Road to Relationship (Ch. 1)

lee know x fem!reader

Synopsis: [Y/N] and Minho have been best friends since childhood. The two have never talked about the possibility of a romantic relationship between them, but then again, why risk losing a friendship? As they continue their college years, [Y/N] starts to take interests in the guys around her. Unbeknownst to [Y/n], her best friend may actually take that risk the more she goes after guys who don't really deserve her. - or - [Y/N] starts to crush on other guys, but Minho doesn't like the idea of other guys being beside her romantically but him.

Follow these best friends as they navigate their feelings for one another!

Genre(s): fluff, best friends to lovers, angst, love triangles Other tags: jealous/possessive minho, bts side story, fake texts au, semi-social media au + written Content Warning(s): swearing, suggestive themes, mention(s) of forgetting to eat/take care of yourself will be updated every chapter! This Chapter in specific has: swearing, mention(s) of forgetting to eat, mention(s) of fear of rejection/losing a friendship

After you've finished texting your best friend, you looked up at the lecture before you. You were taking a communication class, more specifically, a debate class, so that it would help prepare you to see the other side of arguments as well as be able to defend your own stance. If you were honest, as much as you did have some interest taking the class, you were mostly taking it due to it being the most interesting undergraduate general education course in one of the required catalogs. The professor was teaching something you were familiar with due to reading the previously assigned texts, so it allowed you some time to divert your attention.

You glanced over at your side where you watched your classmate crush listen to the lecture intently and take down some notes.

Jeon Jungkook was his name. The same handsome man who happened to be in the same classes as you in the previous semester and now sits beside you out of comfort and familiarity. You didn't know much about him other than Minho's mention of being part of the same dance club as him on-campus and that he was well-versed in many things, judging by his stickers on his laptop.

It had to be a sign if he's in your class again. There's no way he would be in the same class - if you recall, he's not the same major as you! After the last situationship you've put yourself into, you made a mental note to yourself to never let yourself beg for a man's attention or love ever again. That doesn't stop your crushing or attempts to get closer to the attractive being beside you.

"Alright, class. I'll give you all a few minutes to find yourself someone to work with for this assignment."

You quickly looked up at the instructions on the projector screen.

PRACTICE: Work in a pair and find a topic you both want to debate about. You will have 2 rounds with 1 minute each to try and convince the other to join your side. If you concede, then you lose.

The timing has been so perfect.

"Hey, [Y/N], was it?" Jungkook's low voice startled you, prompting you to turn your head to his direction immediately. You tried your best to calm any nerves rising and took a quick breath.

"Yes! Jungkook, right?"

"Yeah, that's me," he grinned in return, the bunny-like smile sending butterflies in your stomach. There was something about his smile that sent your heart racing yet you couldn't quite put a finger on it. He was just so cute! "I remember we had a couple classes before. Honestly I don't know anyone else in this class... would you mind being my partner for this practice?"

You were prepared for being the one to initiate, so his words took you aback. Regardless, you tried to shake the feelings off and returned his smile. "I don't mind at all!"

"Great! Well, I don't want to take all the ideas - do you have a topic in mind you want to argue about?" Jungkook asked.

"Uh..." You were left speechless. You internally panicked before you started overhearing a conversation by your peers nearby. They were throwing ideas about romance and dating, especially during this time. They seemed to develop a topic of dating people they knew versus dating people through apps. Their conversation gave you an idea. "How about the idea of dating?"

"Huh?" Shoot. Was that suspicious of you to suddenly bring up? His surprised reaction made you not only confused, but surprised before you started to panic yet again.

"Wh-what I mean is...! Dating is an interesting topic nowadays, y'know... going for strangers online on apps or going for the people you start to get acquainted with in-person... it's a very interesting debate to have!" You tried to explain, trying to fight the nervous blush creeping onto your cheeks. The more you tried to defend the idea, the more you started to ramble and felt your ears go red. Luckily for you, Jungkook seemed more interested and acknowledged your words.

"Ah, I see... you make a great point. I think I like the idea of discussing romance as a topic. What about the idea of possibly dating an acquaintance versus dating someone, like say, your best friend?" Jungkook suggested. The idea struck onto your mind and got you intrigued in return. You approved the idea but before you two can discuss which side to take, the professor silenced the class and began to call for volunteers to take the stand.

You thought long and hard about the idea. Dating an acquaintance to you is dating someone you're pretty much strangers with. You can still build that relationship, get to know each other, and eventually learn whether or not you would be a perfect match. It wouldn't be too bad, right?

Dating your best friend, however, was a different topic. You immediately thought about Minho when Jungkook brought up the idea. You tried to think about the possibility of having a romantic relationship with him but only certain flashbacks came up.

"[Y/N], don't tell me you forgot to eat again! Ugh, how many times do I have to tell you to take care of yourself?!"

"Haha, I still can't believe you fell trying to race me! ...What do you mean, [Y/N]? Yes, it was funny!! Don't worry, I'll patch you up, I'm done laughing!"

"You're going to adopt a cat?! [Y/N], you ARE a cat! ...But I'll support you through it, as long as you take care of yourself and the little one."

You blinked a couple times reminiscing before you shook your head at the memories. You couldn't even fathom a romantic relationship with your best friend when all he does is scold and nag you while making fun of you at the same time. How is any of that romantic anyway? It wouldn't be like him nor would you be able to believe him to be a romantic in the first place. Nope, there's no way you could see yourself in a relationship with him.

You were pulled from your thought process when you heard your professor call Jungkook's name. Jungkook had volunteered to go up and mentioned you being his partner, forcing you to stand in front of the class with him.

"I can't imagine dating my best friend..." You muttered under your breath, but it does not go unnoticed. Jungkook patted your shoulder and gave you a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, I'll take that argument if it makes it easier for you."

What a kind guy! You thought to yourself as you silently praised him for taking initiative.

Your professor reset the timer on the projector screen, prompting you both to take a deep breath to start. "Timer starts... now! [Y/N], your side first."

You exhaled and looked at Jungkook in his brown eyes. "Dating an acquaintance is better in all levels. The acquaintance being a close friend is entirely up to you and your comfortability. You can get to know them more and prevent yourself from any possible heartbreak with the idea of losing a friend if things don't work out."

Jungkook gave you a challenging grin in return as he started. "Dating your best friend would lessen the heartbreak. You'd be with someone you've known your whole life, the one who knows you well enough that they wouldn't betray your trust. You would never have a dark moment with them because not only will you have your eternal partner, but your best friend in one."

You fought the temptation to frown and defended your stance. "What's the point in risking a relationship with someone you care so much about? If things don't work out, you will subject yourself to losing a best friend, your other half almost. It's better to go for someone who's essentially a stranger to you so it can be up to your judgment of whether they're trustworthy or partner-material or not."

"Oh, but you mentioned that your best friend is essentially your other half. The idea is still likely, is it not? Then the only things you're worried about are the fears of losing your close friend due to romantic interest and rejection." Your grin faltered ever so slightly at the surprising claim, but Jungkook continued. "If they're single and they're willing to pursue that relationship with you, then why not go for it, unless you're unwilling? If you two respect each other enough and your platonic relationship is more than that, then a little romance shouldn't break that."

Any attempt of countering was put to a halt. 'Damn, he's good...' you thought to yourself as the professor's two minute timer went off. You both went back to your seats as the professor continued the lecture following your activity. You mindlessly took notes of his lecture as you let Jungkook's defense get to your head. You were in disbelief that he was able to defend his stance so well, let alone it feeling like he was calling you out.

You shook off the idea of ever pursuing a relationship with Minho, but you were content with your relationship as it is. You didn't think it needed to be anything more, nor did it seem like Minho was interested in you that way. No, he definitely doesn't seem like it. With how much he would scold you and nag you, he was taking more of a motherly role towards you than anything else.

You looked at Jungkook through your peripheral vision, where you noticed he'd glance a few times at your direction while taking his own notes. You didn't think much of it. After all, all you could think about was either he has his own experience with relationships with a close friend or that he's just that damn good at debates.

Once the professor ended the lecture, you started to put your things away into your backpack when a familiar voice called your name.

"I'm sorry if I accused you of something there, [Y/N]. If I hurt your feelings in any way, I didn't mean to." Jungkook said, his bag hanging off one shoulder as he apologetically scratched the back of his head.

"N-no, you didn't hurt me at all! You're actually really good at debates! I have no doubt you'll ace this class with flying colors." You felt guilty at the possibility that your reaction made him overthink his words, but it also made you feel good to see that he cared about his actions if it did affect you. He truly is a kind person.

"You think so? Thank you, I'm glad to hear it!" his smile returned, never failing to send your heart leaping for joy at the sight. "I'm especially glad to hear it now that we'll be working together for the next project."

'Huh?' Oh, that's right. You recall that towards the end of the lecture, the professor mentioned that we'll be working with that same partner for the next project. You'll be either revisiting the same topic you've debated against for the class activity or decide on a different one. Either way, you'll have a longer timer of ten minutes to make sure you're able to debate against the other side. As each day passes by, you'll have to send written reports and updates of how your side of the speech is going while working with your partner to make sure you touch base on both sides. This meant...

"I guess we should exchange contact information so that we can keep each other accountable with our respective updates, huh?" you said, hoping any ounce of your excitement and nervousness was not apparent in your voice.

"Yeah, if you don't mind!"

With that, you both exchanged phone numbers and said your goodbyes as Jungkook walked away with his friend, who was waiting outside the door for him. As soon as he disappeared from sight, you immediately pulled out your personal messages with Minho.

To be continued...

Prologue | Chapter 1 (You are Here) | Chapter 2 ->

Profiles | RtR Masterlist

TAGLIST (OPEN): nappynapnaps

#kpop imagines #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz au #stray kids fake texts #kpop fanfic

[nightgoodomens]

Shipping D/M is fine, cute even. It's disrespecting their partners that a lot of us draw the line at. Don't say that never happens either. I have seen it personally and have blocked more than one blog for it. Calling their relationships with their partners fake, or over, or nothing but baby trapping, or whatever else is beyond just cute fun shipping. It's actually hurtful and has led to things like Georgia being bullied off Twitter. That is taking things way too far.

Super long answer so I put it under read more, also if you’re not interested in these conversations then you can simply not click ‘read more’ and everybody wins.

You do realise that nobody is obliged to respect and love Georgia and Anna just because one is David’s wife and the other is Michael’s girlfriend?

There is this weird thing in this fandom that just because you’re Michael’s and/or David’s fan you must love and respect their partners and think their relationships are perfect. And that’s simply not true.

Georgia and Anna are separate people. I will judge them based on what they show and it would be healthy if others started to too, because while many are shocked that the ladies are not entitled to automatic respect and in extreme cases worship, I am surprised Georgia is called a Queen because she films David doing grocery shopping and Anna is called a Queen because she will post a picture of miserable as fuck Michael.

But you know what? It doesn’t bother me. They make people happy? This is what people think they deserve to be worshipped for? Cool. I might think it’s weird but I will let people be and I’d appreciate if they let me be for not thinking that the sun shines out of their asses. What I see from them make me not a fan of them but I hardly have any deeper feelings about the two of them, so I usually don’t talk about them.

People are allowed to theorise on celebs, their partners, and their relationships, based on what they see from public people who provide the material themselves. There are private couples out there who share nothing because they don’t want the public to theorise, but the people we talk about aren’t one of them.

There’s no terms and agreements that you are only allowed to squeak at what you see.

It goes both ways. If someone is allowed to comment positively, then someone else is allowed to comment negatively.

You are allowed to disagree with one and agree with another or form a completely different opinion.

The blogs that I read merely provide their thoughts on what they see. The shippers themselves discuss and sometimes even disagree with each other - politely. One thinks that. The other thinks something a bit different. Third one pops in with a completely different mindset. And that’s fine. They have a chat and that’s it. If it bothers anyone to see discussions about relationships then they can always block. But it looks like it only bothers when the discussions aren’t positive.

I block people being creepy about Crowley and Aziraphale and they’re fictional so I don’t blame anyone for blocking anyone else for whatever reason. It’s your space. Make it whatever you want it to be.

Now, Twitter is hell. It gave people the opportunity to talk with celebs. Some use it wisely. Some are slightly over the top, some are pure creeps, some are weird. If someone messages Georgia or Anna with their theory then they’re an idiot. That’s it.

I have never heard of Georgia being bullied off Twitter because of shippers so I can’t comment on that. The last time she was bullied off Twitter was because she searched her name on Twitter which she’s known for and then responded to a teenager who talked about her views (without tagging her) regarding the war. She decided to respond. People attacked. She decided to quit.

Now, I have two opinions on that - One, I think what happens on Twitter is insane. There is a reason why anybody with bigger following is refusing to post any opinions now because no matter what opinion they will give, it won’t satisfy everyone, and a mob of hate will follow. Two - barely a few months prior Georgia saw exactly what happened to Michael for sharing his opinion when he was actually asked for it, so I am not sure why she thought that fishing for trouble herself was a good idea. I guess she thought she’s above the treatment that Michael received which is interesting. Or she simply didn’t think. But considering she was posting photoshoots of herself moments later on Instagram fishing for compliments from fans… She survived the realisation that not all fans will always worship her.

Also - just a final point. It really isn’t evil or stupid to theorise and I’d urge people to have a bit of a read about PR relationships because it’s nothing new. Generally have a read about PR and you will understand why believing everything that you see on social media is simply foolish. Use common sense, trust your gut, question yourself and your views. There is a reason why celebrities have PR. There is a reason why there are contracts involved. If a bunch of people say something stinks here and they’re noticing patterns of PR/fake relationships/unhappy relationships etc… maybe have a read instead of having a meltdown about how dare they suggest this relationship isn’t an utmost perfection.

It’s good for your own development; learning behaviours and patterns to make it easier for yourself to spot people fooling you in personal relationships and in business relationships. Learn the signs of bullshit and toxicity, you will be surprised how much easier they can make your life and have you avoid shit. Be critical and use common sense. If something doesn’t click, there is a reason for it.

You see on social media how your friend bullshits people because they post a picture of the best boyfriend in the world while you know they are fighting three bloody times a day. You think celebs are truthful on social media?

Anyway this has gotten long - my point is: People are allowed to theorise but they’re stupid if they directly message the person about it.

#dingdong night went on for too long #oh well #hugs and kisses mwah mwah #NightGoodOmens answers #I had a tag for such posts so you can block them and I forgot fuuuuuck #Michael and David answers #was that it #I don’t knowwwww

[artsyhamster]

And we've reached the end! I cannot believe we made it but here are the final four. :)

You know the drill by now, explanations and ramblings underneath the cut :D

(1) THE FOOL / THE MAGICIAN / THE HIGH PRIESTESS |

(2) THE EMPRESS / THE EMPEROR / THE HIEROPHANT |

(3) THE LOVERS / THE CHARIOT / STRENGTH |

(4) THE HERMIT / WHEEL OF FORTUNE / JUSTICE |

(5) THE HANGED MAND | DEATH | TEMPERANCE |

(6) THE DEVIL / THE TOWER / THE STAR |

(7) THE MOON / THE SUN / JUDGEMENT / THE WORLD

THE MOON - As I mentioned in the previous set, I had The Star and The Moon exchanged at first. Colorwise I found the Balcony Smoker to be more fitting but descriptionwise.... "[The fool's] bliss (...) makes him vulnerable to the illusions of the Moon" fit Klaasje more. I feel like Harry related to her on a level and of course was drawn to her beauty, and fell for her deception. Or well at least I did lol. Although I don't even want to call it deception, more like...obfuscation in self-defense. Klaasje on the rooftop staring at a moon seemed like a nice visual image too.

THE SUN - I had. So much trouble. Filling this role. Since The sun stands for everything warm and joyous. "It enlightens, so the Fool both feels and understands the goodness of the world." And it's pretty hard to find something joyous in Revachol. I almost chose Ruby just for the orange aesthetics and the sort of... enlightenment. But considering she might shoot herself in the head, I refused to put her in the role of the sun. I wanted to save the Insulidan phasmid for THE WORLD at first, but I am damn happy I let go of that thought. Especially since the story starts and begins with the fool anyway. SO YEAH. I love this stick bug.... I cannot describe it. After you go through this whole bleak game, filled with death, misery, failure and coldness you find this...walking wonder. And the soundtrack to this encapsulates it so well, too. The phasmid scene always fills me with so much happiness T_T

JUDGEMENT - Also one of the the cards that were pretty clear to me from the beginning. Trant looks pretty menacing here but I love it lol. I added a small Harry, because under the judging eyes of his colleagues, everyone would feel small. "The Fool has been reborn. His false, ego-self has been shed, allowing his radiant, true self to manifest." The radiance is debatable, but Harry definitely went through a lot of development in the past few days and hopefully he came out a better person. He isn't absolved of his past mistakes and further judged on those, rather he is judged on the things he did right. And I don't know, what I like about Harry in general is that he is an absolute fuckup but if you give a person the right support and faith in them to be better, they can. If you keep reminding people only of the things they've done wrong, you are taking their room to grow, by defining them as an irredeemable failure.

THE WORLD - "The Fool reenters the World, but this time with a more complete understanding. He has integrated all the disparate parts of himself and achieved wholeness. He has reached a new level of happiness and fulfillment." Well, what can I say. Our fool Harry started this journey full of ignorance but he opened his eyes to the mistakes of the past and learned from them, and is now hopefully ready to tackle life anew. And I love the last sentence of The Fool's story: This cycle is over, but, the Fool will never stop growing. Soon he will be ready to begin a new journey that will lead him to ever greater levels of understanding. While this chapter of his life is over, there'll be new stories to be told. Setbacks and more opportunities to grow, and only time will tell where his journey will lead him this time.

Thanks to everyone who followed me and Harry on this journey and read through my ramblings. Also thanks for all the lovely tags & comments, it was an absolute pleasure reading through these. <3 Much Love!

#disco elysium #klaasje amandou #trant heidelstam #insulidan phasmid #disco elysium fanart #harry dubois #tarot #tarot cards

[blissfulip]

Dopamine

On AO3

Viktor x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, idiots in love (?) dubious science, mostly canon compliant, no use of y/n, chemist!reader, eventual smut, masturbation, angry sex, unprotected sex,

Cw: lot's of blood, slight spice if you squint

Words: 1.7k

[A/N: bit of a shorter one this time, in preparation for the teeth-rotting fluff and filth that awaits in the final chapter~ tags and content warnings to be updated in each chapter, updates weekly(ish). (also, let me know if you want to be tagged in fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201

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Chapter 8: Blood-tinted

You had become so small all of a sudden. The earnest compulsion to scream at Viktor, to tell him how much his constant presence in your life lately had exerted an influence over your thoughts—a negative one you planned to clarify soon thereafter—was brought to a halt. The blood made you panic, and seeing you there, his own shoulders depleted into a pronounced hunch, as if he expected you to pester him with questions he did not want to answer. 

You didn’t; instead, your hand swiftly held his wrist as you conducted him out of the bathroom, and out there, you swerved through the commotion of people clustering in the middle of the room to make your way to the infirmary. It was too late for the nurse to be there, but the room itself was never locked, you knew, so you turned the door handle without a second thought and dragged what remained of Viktor inside. 

Viktor sat on one of the cots, lifting his head up with what you assumed was the intention to stop the bleeding. 

“Don’t do that; the blood is going to end up in your throat." You said as you grabbed a towel and placed it in front of his face, “Pinch right there—yes, there you go." You continued gently nudging his head forward with your other hand. You noticed the bleeding was also coming out of a small cut on the bridge of his nose, so you needed to find some gauze. You heard Viktor sigh audibly behind you as you rummaged through the drawers. 

“Care to explain?”

Silence 

“Viktor, what happened?” You said this time, looking at him. He closed his eyes and breathed in. 

“I got punched in the face; I believe you’re smart enough to figure that out.”

“Color me shocked!” You said in a sardonic hiss. “By whom and why?” You said punctuating each question with an ironic stare at the same time as you soaked a small piece of gauze in saline solution. Viktor winced slightly at the pain. 

“That vacuous donkey, and I suppose he was unhappy as a consequence of me preventing him from following you into the bathroom.” 

“Asher?” He chuckled at how fast you got to his name with only that description. “Why would he follow me into the bathroom?”

“Judging by my state, I think you can presume I did not ask any questions.”

Although your knitted frown made it seem like you were upset, it was confusion that bounced all over the walls of your skull. 

“Why?” You managed to ask, finally.

“I’ve already said—“

“No, why did you do it? It simply doesn't make any sense to me that you would put yourself in jeopardy for me.”

Silence once again. 

“A jumbled mess, selfish, intolerable, and big-headed, remember?”

Silence. 

“I don’t actually believe you are most of those things.” Viktor started in a timid voice. “You are not selfish; eh, I suppose I feel a sense of longing for the time in my life where I would take risks the way that you are allowed to do now. I envy that freedom, that’s all.”

The hand you had holding his face in place had long dropped to hold the edge of the cot firmly. 

“I do think you are a mess, but that carefree nature you have is not something negative necessarily,” he continued when you gave no signs of interjecting, “and when I said big-headed, I meant to say stubborn.”

“Oh.” A small smile creeped up the corners of your mouth. “I thought you meant I have a big head.”

“I can assure you that you have a normal-sized head.” Viktor said with a lighthearted chuckle. “But you are, in fact, very stubborn.”

“Fair.” 

A comfortable atmosphere washed over as you went back to disinfecting his wound. The bleeding had stopped both from his nose and the cut, so you rummaged through the drawers once more to find some medical tape to patch him up. 

“To be fair, I also don’t believe you are most of the things I said yesterday.”

“The things you said before we slept together, or during?” You rolled your eyes. 

“Before.”

Viktor hummed, a small smirk on his dry-blood-tinted lips.

“So I’m a tad more tolerable to you than I thought, but getting into a fight for me still feels unbelievable.”

Viktor inhaled sharply before giving you a defeated look. 

“I can tell you are trying to make me say it, and I don’t appreciate that.” 

“Say what?” He looked at you with one eyebrow raised and a long silence, slowly letting it sink in. You were dumbfounded. He couldn’t possibly mean it, but then again, if the previous night did something, it was proving your attraction to him was mutual, and now knowing he does not in fact have the deep aversion to you that you were certain he did, it all fit into an odd puzzle perfectly. 

To him, the long, numb silence you had fallen into as your mind followed your convoluted line of reasoning had come off as a cold but polite rejection.

“Naturally, everything was likely circumstantial on your part, and I understand that,” he started saying as he stood up. “You were heavily intoxicated that night at Lara’s house…” 

“What? No Viktor—“ You started to say this as you moved out of his way.

“...and I appreciate how well you dealt with what transpired at the lab. I do apologize; however, I should have put my feelings in check and known it was a terrible idea...” Every word he uttered left his mouth louder than the last, and you could hear the tension in his voice as he tried to find the correct string of words to use. Around the last few words, you heard his volume deplete, and before he even finished speaking, his nose started bleeding again. 

“Viktor, stop! You are bleeding again— settle down for fucks sake!” Anything you could have said would’ve been useless, as he seemed to not hear any word that came out of you at that moment. He leaned against the wall, and the blood trickled down his mouth like delicately embroidered stitches over his lips.

“...my care should have extended to what happened yesterday; deep down, I knew it wouldn’t be a casual slip-up and an easy-to-forget mistake as it probably is for you, yet I couldn’t hold back—though it was entirely my fault. I recognize that, and I won’t hold it against you…” 

It wasn’t that for you either. You said so out loud and tried to convince yourself of that much, but it was not the truth—another well-crafted lie that came porcelain cold and perfect through your teeth. The thin stream of red percolated all the way to his neck. You wanted to say so much, but only lying came easy to you; lies were far and detached, and telling Viktor how you felt seemed too near and vulnerable, too constricting. His eyes now looked at you, not expecting an answer but simply giving himself a break, glossy and distant but still vibrantly golden. You remembered the dreams you had the night before, and they fueled whatever timid wish you had in you. Sure, you couldn’t say something, but you could show him. 

The room was narrow enough that the step forward you took was small. You had him pinned against the wall, although not of your own volition, and that aided you in finding a firm grip on the sides of his face before you met his lips with your own. You almost second-guessed yourself when you initially felt no struggle, thinking he must have been so weak from the loss of blood that he hadn’t been able to wriggle himself out of your grasp. A metallic taste creeped its way into your mouth when Viktor’s fingers slithered their way to your jaw, softly prying it open to make way for his tongue. 

You tasted his lips for a long while before you both had to grasp for air, Viktor being particularly in need of a break. Endearment peaked through his eyes as he unsuccessfully tried to wipe the bloody tint off your mouth and chin, and you both laughed quietly at the vampiric state of your faces, a picture painted by your silent confession to him. You could have said something then and even had something in mind, but your plans were spoiled by the dry sound of Jayce clearing his throat in an attempt to make himself known. 

You know there was nothing you could have said that would serve as an excuse for what happened, and no well-told lie could have steered Jayce’s mind away from the murder scene on your faces; thus, against what you would’ve normally done, you stayed quiet. Viktor did too. 

“Just so we’re clear, I always suspected.” He said, an eyebrow raised on his forehead as a sign of satisfaction. 

“Is it a prize you want? A pat on the back? A handshake?” Viktor said only half-annoyed, his mood unable to be ruined by any of Jayce’s brazen commentary.

“Do you mind?”

“Alright, I’m going. Just don't do it here; it’s so unsanitary.” He quickly left the room, only a millisecond away from being hit by a bloody towel thrown in his direction. One of the small pieces of gauze you still had on hand was enough to clean both of you up, and you helped each other out among light giggles and child-like mischief, followed by another small kiss to seal the deal. 

“How about a proper date?” You asked as you handed Viktor more cotton pads to replace the now-drenched one in his nose. “We could go to the café from last time.”

“I refuse; I won’t be able to look at that waitress's face without wanting to be swallowed by the ground with embarrassment.”

“How dramatic.” You said, rolling your eyes playfully, and Viktor shook his head.

“My dorm tomorrow, we can cook something; I’ve come to find out I rather enjoy it.”

“Why yours? Do you still think my dorm is messy?”

“Yes.” Your hand shot up to clutch your imaginary pearls in an inflated expression of fake outrage.

“Have you considered that if I keep going to yours, it will end up untidy as well?” You smirked at Viktor’s defeated expression.

“Fine.” He said with a loud, frustrated groan, followed by a mellow grin. 

#viktor #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader

[mountymase]

invisible string - part two

cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boy who broke my heart

pairing: reader x mason mount  summary: It’s been you and your daughter until life decides to prank you by putting her dad back into your life. The only problem is that he doesn’t know he’s her dad. warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing. warnings: agnst, fluff, swearing and smut. if you’re a minor, for heaven’s sake, do not interactauthor: this is my first time writing mason smut and i felt like he was judging me while i wrote it, so it’s safe to say i’m extremely embarassed. don’t forget this is FICTION! the parts in blockquote are for the flashbacks!

word count: 2.797k

PART ONE

tagging: @football1921 // @bgfgm // @yungbludz // @mjij123 // @charlessgf // @slightlyrecklessserande // @lovelynikol16 // @thoseboysinblue // @dinonuggiesforliferz // @lovingtidalwavepizza // @she-lives-in-her-dreams // @shannon-jade-99 // @il0veless // @mafiamount // @heli991113 // @pulisicsgirl // @l0verl4ne // @ mads-grace4 // @mounthings // @faatxma // @cicaspair418 // @faye01mcfc // @alwaysclassyeagle​ // @masonm19 // @tayswiftlovebot // @nhlfs // @batmansb1tch // @certifiedl0vergr1l // @slut4peterparker // @formula1mount

As a mother, something you promised to never do, was punishing your daughter for your poor actions and decisions. When Lily left her room all dressed up and ready to leave for her bestie’s house, your heart broke into a million pieces, because you couldn’t just tell her that the day she waited for so long wasn’t happening anymore. You, on the other hand, were a coward. Food poisoning was your excuse when you called Jaz to let her know you wouldn’t be able to go and she kindly offered for her husband to pick up Lily and give you the weekend off, promising she’d send you hourly updates on Lily and would bring her back home if you missed her too much. But time off never sounded so good, even if it broke your heart knowing that to think straight, you need your own daughter away.

The only other person who knew Mason was Lily’s father was Willow, your best friend, who was also there at the rehearsal. Her jaw dropped when you FaceTimed her to tell who exactly Summer, Jasmine and Debbie were, and she praised you as the greatest mum for not forbidding your daughter to have a great day with a friend she clearly loved so much. It wasn’t Lily’s fault, she didn't deserve to be punished because that was — SURPRISE! — her unknown family. For how long, though, would you be able to be such a great mum and let your daughter be friends with her cousin without knowing the truth? For allowing Jasmine and Debbie to spend time with Lily without knowing who she was? For how long would you be able to lie to all of them when they’ve shown you nothing but kindness, and Lily could be enjoying life with her paternal family? It wasn’t right to them, too, and your thoughts were mostly on Debbie and her husband.

For how long would you hide that she was Lilian Maisie because her father was Mason?

You did try to tell him, though. Instantly, your mind went to the night Lily was conceived.

The loud music and the bright lights were annoying, to say the least. Still, your hips perfectly moved to the sound of every beat and you were actually having fun. It was your best friend’s birthday and, as a sucker for birthdays, your mission was to have the greatest time and make sure your group of friends had a blast too. In your own little world, you poured champagne into your best friend’s mouth and allowed her to pour it into yours too, but you knew Willow’s reflexes weren’t the best when sober so why would they be when she was clearly already wasted?

“Fuuuuck!” The black slipper dress was glued to your body, but you couldn’t hold a loud laugh as Willow followed you. “Fuck, fuck. Whatever, fuck! Let’s go get another drink.” 

The thin line between carefree and careless was already there, even more so when you were bold enough to ask for tequila and returned to your booth with one bottle on each hand, knowing the group would want some shots. Almost stumbling on the last step that gave you access to the booth, sitting on the burgundy leather sofa, you frowned when a towel was given to you. Looking up, you found that cute guy who you’d been staring at, holding it for you and that big smile that made the corner of his eyes wrinkle flashing at you. 

“I thought you might need this, Miss Champagne.”

“How thoughtful of you to help me with my champagne problems…?”

“Mason.” He winked and your heart skipped a beat. How pathetic, swooning for a guy you just met. At a club, and completely drunk.

Mason was a cute name, but right now you could only think of how it’d sound if he made you moan it. You didn’t know, but he thought about that multiple times since you walked into the booth next to the one he shared with his friends and watched you, he thought of how those hips would move on top of his instead of moving to the beat of each song that filled the place. He thought how bad he wanted to just hold it and make you help move them for him. You were fun, your energy matched his and he was looking for an escape. And, on top of that, you were breathtakingly gorgeous and couldn’t care less for who he was when he told you, and you stated that the only athletes you cared about were swimmers - italians, to be more specific.

As the night went on and Willow was now forming a line of boys to kiss - twenty, to match her age - you wanted to go and stop her but you knew you wouldn’t be able. Instead, you switched the first guy for one of Mason’s friends and begged him to kiss your friend so good she wouldn’t want any other. Declan was on for the mission and they disappeared together after the kiss. 

You danced together, shared a few more shots of tequila and when Mason asked if you wanted to go to his place, there was no point playing difficult, you both wanted the same thing: fuck each other senseless. He got you all naked before you could even reach the stairs.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Masey.” You pouted, making him giggle at the nickname. Mentally, he was already fucking you and you could tell that by the way he looked at you. “And you’re perfect just like that, I don’t want you wearing nothing but the adorable flush on your cheeks while you’re here or I might have to punish you.” 

“Hmm, really? I think I’ll put my clothes back on, then.” On your tiptoes, you reached for his lips and brushed it with yours, his warm minted breath making you close your eyes and let out a low and hoarse moan that only worked as an incentive for Mason to grab your thighs and carry you into the living room, straight to his large dark sofa. “Too many clothes, Mason.”

He nodded and quickly got rid of the navy blue Nike hoodie and the basic white shirt at once, leaving his bare chest exposed. Your mouth watered as your eyes wandered through his body, noticing how beautifully sculpted it was, all in the right places. But what really caught your attention, innocently for the first time of the night, was the bulge under his faded blue jeans. You gulped.

“Like what you see?” Mason grinned and you quickly nodded, reaching out to unbutton his jeans. He softly slapped your hand. “Why so eager, baby?” The pet name made you moan, along with the tip of his fingers touching your nipples, then between your boobs and making the dangerous way to your lower stomach. 

“Mason…” You felt your pussy clench around nothing and he gave you another grin as he made himself comfortable on the sofa and you watched his head disappear between your legs.

You felt his breath against your pussy, making your eyes roll and your back arch. “Such a beautiful pussy, I bet it tastes so good.” Mason pressed his lips against your inner thigh as his fingers now played with your juices, teasing you, making your whole body shiver and crave for his touch. It felt like you were about to lose your fucking mind when he circled your clit with his thumb and his warm tongue played with your folds. Mason’s moans while eating your pussy were heavenly, he knew what he was doing and clearly enjoyed it, but you craved for more. 

“Mason, please,” You whimpered and your eyes met. Those big, brown eyes met yours and he lifted his head up, the sight of his lips wet from your juices making you bite your lower lip as hard as you could.

“Say it.”

“I need your cock inside me, now. I need you to fuck me.”

And he did, each thrust harder and deeper than the previous as Mason devoured you. Your sweat mixed with his, your moans, and the way he fucked you was something else. When his thrusts started to become sloppy and his breathing heavier, Mason quickly flipped you so you could ride him and your only goal was to make that man cum so hard he’d forget his name. 

“You take me so well, Y/n. Such a good girl.” You felt your pussy clench around him when he praised you. Leaning your body forward, you held his jaw with your hand and let it slowly slip to his throat. Mason just nodded and you grinned, finally squeezing it softly, making him moan louder. 

“You gonna cum for me, Mason?” He nodded again, holding your hips steady as he now moved his hips up again at his own clumsy pace. “Then look at me when you do it and while I cum all over your cock.”

He repeatedly moaned your name, his grunts only encouraging you to squeeze his throat a bit harder, only letting it go when a final loud grunt parted his lips and he came, followed by you, with your body finally crashing onto his.

“That was fucking great.” Mason giggled and you nodded in return, giggling too as you rolled to the side. 

“For drunk sex, it definitely was.” Looking down at his body once again, to appreciate the view next to you, you instantly frowned when you noticed his uncovered and still hard cock. “Mason, I thought you were wearing a condom?”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you thought how ridiculous and pathetic that night ended. You, with your legs spread open while that stranger you just had sex with literally digged your pussy to remove a condom that got stuck inside. Your only reaction was to panic, knowing how that could end. You just didn’t think it could end so beautifully, with you getting so much love from that tiny human you called Lilian Maisie.

Tears rolled down your cheeks when, now, memories of the following months flooded your mind. To go through that again, you’d have to find comfort on the red wine that’d been waiting for a special occasion for months. You drank it from the bottle, too broken to care for a fancy glass. 

Relief washed over your body when your period came the following month and you let him know through a text, to which he replied with stupid emojis. After that, Mason ghosted you. He unfollowed you on social media and his photo disappeared from WhatsApp too. Mason Mount was nothing but a memory and your life went back to normal, with you going out with Willow (no casual sex with strangers, though) but also focusing on your studies and your new job as a marketing intern for a Swedish fintech company that had just opened their London office. Things were so peaceful, so quiet and happy you feared it wouldn’t last long. But how you’d face the following events of your life were your own choice.  

You usually had that extra energy late at night, so finding a 24/7 gym was your priority when you and Willow decided to rent a flat and live your lives, just two best friends having fun and being adults without their parents around. Although that energy was there, you also felt exhausted. Most likely from all the stress you’d been through over the week. Lifting weights helped a lot but nothing could beat a good run, so you went for it and you could feel all the stress leaving your body. Then it all went black.

“She’s waking up.” You blinked a few times, letting your eyes adjust to the bright light. A few frowned faces around you and you recognised Willow, and your parents. 

What happened next almost made you want to pass out again and never wake up.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant, and you knew damn well who the father was.

The way you hunted Mason Mount when you left hospital was almost psychotic, but you’d never walk around with his child growing inside you without letting him know. You were having that baby, it was your decision, and although you felt like you didn’t need him, he had the right to know. But Mason’s reaction to you following him almost everywhere wasn’t what you hoped for.

When you knocked on his door that afternoon, he seemed confused to find you standing there, but welcomed you with a smile anyway. It was a weird atmosphere, that intimacy you shared had completely vanished even if there was nothing more intimate than carrying his baby inside you.

“I know why you’re here and I’m going to save us both from that.” Mason started, making you frown. “I think you’re a fantastic woman. You’re funny, gorgeous, but I’m not really looking for a relationship and I don’t think being friends would do us any good. That’s why I’ve decided to ghost you, and I still think it was the best decision.”

You wanted to vomit, not sure if the baby or his words were causing that. Feeling like he hadn’t said enough, Mason continued.

“It was casual and I’d like to keep it that way, but I do wish you all the best, Y/n. And, if you don’t mind, I need to be somewhere in, like, 15 minutes, so…”

Mason had politely been a fucking asshole, never giving you the chance to say something. To explain why you were there, in the first place. He basically kicked you out of his house and the last thing you’d seen from it was the dark sofa. 

The weekend was the most depressing you had in the past 4 years. Leaving the sofa only when Jaz sent you a message announcing her mother would bring Lily home within an hour, you went for an almost cold shower even if it was freezing outside – it was the only thing that’d make you look decent after a weekend of pizza, alcohol and many, many tears.

The doorbell rang not long after you changed into clean clothes, the white towel still wrapped around your head because you were too lazy to give your hair a blow dry at the moment.

“Mummy, mummy, mummy!” Tiny arms circled your legs as Lily hid her face between them. Your heart melted, your body felt warm with all that love. “Mummy, I had so much fun with Summer, thank you for letting me go!”

“My beautiful baby,” You cooed, taking her in your arms, hiding your face on the crook of her neck. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Lily giggled, cupping your face with those tiny chubby hands only to smooch your entire face. “Missed you too, mummy. Now let me go!”

You heard Debbie’s warm laugh at your daughter’s wit behaviour, and that was the moment your heart broke into a million pieces. You wondered if there was any sort of weird feeling that made her like Lily, like there was with Summer. Maybe a special grandmother sixth sense.

“Thank you so much for doing this, Debbie. I had no idea I needed this time off.”

“Food poisoning, eh? Does he have a name, sweetheart?” You blushed, knowing the food poisoning excuse was ridiculous. Still, you just shook your head, not wanting to share for obvious reasons. “Jaz and I are very fond of you and the rest of the family can’t wait to meet you. They all loved meeting Lily.”

“That really means a lot, Debbie. Hopefully I’ll be feeling better next time.”

“I should be going now, but we’ll see each other soon!”

“Say goodbye to Debbie, Lils!”

“Bye, grandmama!” Your eyes teared instantly as you watched Lily waving from the sofa and Debbie waved back, blowing your daughter a kiss. Closing the door behind you, Lily was quicker to explain why she called Debbie that. “Summer said I could call her that because we’re besties and besties share.”

“Are you calling Jaz your mummy too?”

“No, mummy.” She giggled. “Don’t be silly. It’s just for granny, grandpa, uncle Lewis and uncle Masey.” Your chest clenched and there it was again, the urge to vomit. Lily’s following words were it: the final stab in your heart, the punch on your stomach. 

“Uncle Masey is really funny, he thinks it’s cool I’m called Maisie. Masey and Maisie. Isn’t it cool, mummy?”

It wasn’t.

**********

BONUS: the night you met - social media

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#mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount blurb

[justmystyles]

All or Nothing

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: you find a new way to tease Harry during a tour visit, and stumble upon a new way to drive him crazy.

warnings: smut, NSFW, if you're under 18 just don't.

a/n: @manrocket-mo sent me this video and asked me to write what he could possibly be reacting to. this is what I came up with. i don't know if it's really what you were looking for, and it kind of snowballed into something else, but i hope you enjoy it! thank you for thinking of me to write this, and i'm sorry it took me so long to get it finished.

i kind of envision this as part of the NYIML universe, so i guess you could say this is a one shot off of that series.

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

“I’m going to go change, wanna go pick some music? My laptop should still be connected to the speakers.” You tell Harry as you hang your coat up and slide off your shoes.

Harry looks at you in shock. “You’re actually giving me unsupervised access to your music collection?” 

You had always been protective over your music collection, claiming you had a long list of guilty pleasures. Harry wanted desperately to know everything about you, including all of the music you enjoyed. He had gotten bits and pieces out of you, but he knew you were still holding back, so allowing him to go through your music library was a huge step in your relationship. 

You looked at him and shrugged with a soft smile. “I trust you, and I know you’re not going to judge me.” 

Harry stepped up to you, cupping your face in his hands and pulling you in for a kiss. “I would never. I know that this is a big step for you, and it means the world to me that you trust me.” He kisses you once more. “I love you.” 

You giggle against his lips. “I love you too, weirdo.” You moved into the bedroom to put on some sweats, and Harry picked up your laptop from the coffee table, taking a seat on the couch.

“A whole playlist of boy band music?!” You hear Harry exclaim from the other room. “I knew you were holding out on me!” You giggled to yourself, waiting for the inevitable reaction. “What the fuck?!” 

You saunter out to the living room and take a seat beside Harry, tucking your legs underneath you. “Something wrong, babe?” You kiss him on the cheek, knowing exactly what was wrong. 

“You have an entire playlist of boy band music, like several hours of music, and there isn’t even a single One Direction song.” 

“H, I told you, I never followed your band.” You try to wrap your arm around him but he dodges out of your grasp. You chuckle at his dramatic display. 

“But you’ve heard the songs now, you didn’t think a single one of them was worthy of your playlist?” You shrug in response as he scrolls through the songs. “O-TOWN? O-Town is on here but not One Direction?” 

At the mention of the early 2000’s group, you get a mischievous glint in your eye. “Oh yeah, O-Town is great! Best boy band to ever be assembled on a television show!” 

He arched a brow in your direction, knowing exactly what you were doing. “Excuse me?” 

Giving Harry a hard time is one of your favorite things to do. You know he’s just being dramatic for fun, if you were genuinely hurting his feelings, you would stop and add the entire One Direction discography to that playlist. But teasing was one of your shared love languages, it’s why your relationship worked so well. 

“Yeah, they’re awesome. And lyrical geniuses too!” You continue. 

“Did they even write their own songs?” He asked incredulously. 

“No,” Harry’s eyes went wide, throwing his hands in the air. “But they sang the shit out of those songs. It’s like a time capsule for late nineties early two thousands slang. Not to mention the boner references, and a whole ass song about wet dreams.” 

Harry throws his head back, sinking further into the couch. “Ugh… maybe you were right to keep your music to yourself.” He teases. 

You chuckle as you shift on the couch, moving to straddle his lap. “They have this one song,” you begin as you trail kisses across his jaw and down his neck. “It’s about a girl and she’s beautiful, like they think she’s soooo beautiful, but she’s shy. She has no idea how beautiful she is. She keeps blushing, and looking down, and they just want to tell her how beautiful she is. It’s quite lovely.” 

You feel Harry’s chest shake in laughter, causing you to smirk against his skin. “Now you’re just making shit up.” 

“Nope, I’m dead ass.” You assure him. “Want me to play it?” You lean back, looking in his eyes with a mischievous glint. “We could make out while we listen.” 

“No to the song,” He states firmly. “But I will take you up on making out.” He runs his hands up your thighs as he leans forward, capturing your lips. 

A few weeks later, you’re back on the road with Harry. You hadn’t brought up O-Town again, but that didn’t mean you’d forgotten about that night, and you had a special surprise planned for him. As usual, throughout the show Harry’s eyes would travel to you in the VIP area, in those moments, the thousands of fans would seemingly disappear and it was just Harry, pouring his heart out to you. 

You had been so lost in his performance that you had almost forgotten about the little surprise you had planned for him. As he starts hitting the final notes of Sign of the Times, you catch his eye winking suggestively to maintain his attention. He gives you a curious look as you grab the hem of your sweatshirt and begin to pull it over your head. 

Once you were able to see him again, you noticed the smirk on his face as he studied the t-shirt you had been hiding all day. It was a black shirt with five young men doing their best blue steel to the camera ‘O-Town’ scrawled above their heads. He chuckled some more, as he completed the song. 

When it was over, he was saying his goodbyes and waving to the crowd, locking eyes with you once again as you ran your hands through your hair, lifting it over your shoulders and turning around to display the back of the shirt, which had two more pictures of the group, as well as a list of cities listed at the bottom. You turned to look over your shoulder, immediately catching his cheeky smirk. 

He wagged his finger at you playfully. “You bad girl,” he spoke into the microphone as his finger continued to shake in your direction. You felt an exciting chill run through you at his words, looking forward to what the rest of your evening held.

You knocked gently on Harry’s dressing room door, he quickly called for you to enter. He greeted you with his arms crossed over his chest and his brow arched. 

“Great show babe!” You said cheerfully, skipping up to him and pecking his pursed lips. “Cheer up, grumpy Gus!” 

He continued to stare, and you could tell he was willing himself not to grin at you. “You,” he paused, taking a deep breath. You weren’t sure if it was for dramatic effect, or to stop himself from laughing. “Dared to come to my show wearing another band’s merch?” 

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips. “Such a drama queen,” you bump your shoulder against his. “Come on, go change so we can go back to the hotel.” 

“Are you going to change too?” He deadpanned. 

You couldn’t help the smirk that took over, knowing what you had in store for him. “As soon as we get back. Promise.” He narrowed his eyes at you and moved into the bathroom to change.  

Despite his feigned annoyance, you spent the entire ride back to the hotel in Harry’s arms as he planted sporadic kisses on the top of your head. You held on to his free hand, playing with the rings that still adorned his fingers. Not much was said, your rides to the hotel were typically quiet. Harry liked to use that time to unwind from the chaos of being on stage. 

When you arrived back at the hotel, Harry dropped his bag at the door and plopped himself onto the couch. You followed him, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m going to go change into something a little more comfortable.” 

“Good,” he grunted, making you chuckle. 

“Meet me in bed?” He nodded and you moved into the bathroom. 

Once you had done your nightly skincare routine, and changed your clothes, you opened the bathroom door, leaning against the frame waiting for Harry to look up from his phone. He didn’t seem in any hurry to do so, so you cleared your throat to get his attention. 

He looked up, his eyes going wide and phone dropping to his lap when he saw you. You had changed into another tour shirt, one of his. It was a gray t-shirt, just barely covering your panties. His name, and a photo of him onstage across your chest.

“Better?” You asked with an arched brow. 

He didn’t say a word as he stood from the bed and stalked toward you, his eyes darkening. A knot began to form in your stomach the closer he got. When he reached you, his lips dropped to yours in a dizzying kiss. You moaned into his mouth, and his hands moved to your hips, grabbing you gruffly and turning you to lead you toward the bed. 

Your knees hit the mattress and Harry shoved you back, immediately coming over you and trailing his lips across your jaw, taking your earlobe between his teeth and tugging, causing you to moan.

“Harry,” you gasped. 

He growled in your ear, his hands traveling down your body. “I don’t think you’ve ever looked sexier.” His hands reached your panties and tore them off of your body. “I don’t know why you bothered with those though.” 

You giggled at his desperation, but were quickly silenced when he ran a finger through your folds. Your breath hitched, and your back arched. 

“Already dripping for me, such a good girl.” 

“Harry, please.” You begged. 

Harry looked at you with mischief in his eyes. “You show up to my show wearing that shirt, and you think you should be rewarded?” 

“But… but… I…” You stutter as he continues to tease you with his fingers. “I have this one now.” 

“Mmm… that you do,” he hummed, slowly inserting a finger. “And you’re going to keep it on.” 

You were momentarily taken out of your lust fueled daze by his words. “Keep it on?” You looked at him curiously. 

Harry nodded before kissing you again. “Mmhmm,” he confirmed. “I want to see my name plastered across those perfect tits while I fuck you.” 

You let out a soft whimper, if you had known wearing his merch would set him off like this, you would have done it a long time ago. He adds a second finger, and moves his thumb to circle your clit. His lips latched onto your neck, marking you with biting kisses. 

“I’m… I’m close.” You moaned, grinding your hips against his hand. 

“Let go angel, want it all over my fingers.” He spoke against your skin. 

With one final pump of his hand, your back arched and Harry’s name fell from your lips in a high pitched whine. He worked you through your first release, finally slowing to a stop. He removed his fingers and brought them to his mouth, keeping eye contact with you as he licked them clean. He hummed in satisfaction as he removed them, leaning down to kiss you deeply. 

“Are you ready to take all of me?” He asked, his voice low and raspy as he lowered his underwear, his hard length springing free. 

“Yes Harry, I need you.” You pleaded, lifting your hips in an attempt for some friction. 

He chuckled at your desperation, lining himself up with your entrance and pumping his hard cock a few times before driving into you in one swift motion. Pausing for a moment, allowing you to adjust as he intertwined your fingers and brought your joined hands over your head. 

You rolled your hips, signaling that you were ready and Harry pulled out to the tip, and slamming back into you. He set a rough and relentless pace, hitting that spot with each thrust. The room was filled with the sounds of your grunts, and skin slapping against skin.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned, he unlinked your hands, using one of his to hold himself over you as the other cupped your cheek. “I can’t believe you’re all mine.” 

“Only yours, Harry. Always.” You said, your voice wavering slightly. 

You watched as his eyes flitted from your face, to the shirt that still covered your upper body. He felt your walls begin to flutter around him and he knew you were close. “That’s it baby, come all over my cock. I need it.” His thrusts became erratic as he approached his own release. 

Your hands gripped Harry’s biceps, your nails digging into the skin as you fell over the edge, Harry’s name falling off your lips in a series of moans as you coated his cock. 

“That’s it, such a good gi… fuck.” He groaned as he reached his climax. 

He collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as you came down from your high. Eventually, he removed himself from you and rolled onto his back, pulling you to his side. 

“So,” you broke the silence in the room. “What I got from that is that I don’t need to buy fancy lingerie, just need shirts with your face on them.”

You felt his chest shake with laughter. “Don’t kink shame me.” 

“No shame,” you said defensively. “Just observing.” You placed a series of light kisses on his chest. 

***

A few weeks later, Harry was still on the road and you had returned home. You were sitting in your living room watching television when there was a knock at the door. You answered it to find a delivery man with a large package. You accepted it happily and tore it open as soon as the door was shut. 

There was a note, your name written on the front. You smiled, instantly knowing who it was from. You opened it and read the hand-written message. 

One of everything. It’s good to have options.

-H

P.S. Send pictures of them all. ;)

You ripped open the tissue paper and started removing the contents. Laughing to yourself when you realized that he had sent you every piece of merch he currently had. You laid them out on the living room floor, taking a picture that included each piece and texting it to Harry with the caption, ‘just like you asked’. The response came within seconds. 

That’s not what I meant, and you know it. 

You did know it, but you couldn’t help but tease him a little. You brought everything into the bedroom, and put them on one by one, taking pictures of yourself posing in various positions. Once you had taken all the photos, you created a new shared album in your phone, naming it ‘Spank Bank’ and inviting Harry to it. Another, nearly immediate response. 

That’s more like it. 

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry's house #love on tour #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic

[thebluestbluewords]

and soon it’ll be spring

testing out some character voices. Set in a vague future timeline, fandom-typical discussions of child abuse.

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Carlos hasn't seen his mother in years. Hasn't spoken to her since he left the isle. There's phones, and computers, and mail service to the isle, and sometimes the reception even works now, but he hasn't reached out. 

Evie sends letters to her mother sometimes. She addresses them to her old castle, encloses herbs and chocolate and eyeshadow. She doesn't read the responses that come back, but her mother sends them anyway, and Evie keeps sending her packages even though she can't bear to see whatever her mother has to say back to her. 

Carlos can't even do that. 

He's a bad son, probably. An ungrateful brat. Useless. Worthless. His mother could have drowned him as a baby, killed him like an unwanted puppy, and they'd all have been better off without the bother. He's been a bad son since he was born. Weak. A vulnerability. 

He breathes, keeps his voice steady. "Yup. That." 

Diego moves in a flurry of violent motion. He's facing away, towards the river, but Carlos still has to suppress the urge to flinch. Diego wears heavy boots, steel-toes even though he's never been in a real factory in his life, and every Isle kid's seen the damage they can do. 

The rock he kicked goes flying into the river. 

"Fuck." his cousin snaps. "Fuck! I remember that." 

Carlos can't laugh, but there's a sort of bubbling fear that's catching in his throat, and he can let some of it out. "Hah. Yeah. Um, I sort of — I cried a lot, that summer? It was hot and awful and you wouldn't come by the house, and I wasn't allowed to be at yours, so we started looking for a better hideout that year. D'you remember when Ivy found that place by the forest—" 

"—the one with the metal roof, where we got trapped by Kaa and you rigged a crossbow out of guitar strings." Diego finishes. "Fuck. I knew we found a new hideout that year, but I thought it was 'cause we got those drums for Sierra and couldn't keep them quiet down in the warehouse." 

Carlos shrugs. He's always been the little one, the tag-along. Diego's gang didn't tell him anything when he was a kid, and they still don't really talk. He's magicam friends with Sierra and Ivy, but Mia won't even accept his follow request. They didn't want him then, they don't want him now, and it's not even really a sore point anymore. He's got his own pack. No teenagers really want a little kid hanging around them, especially a kid who's already showing that he's a weak point.  "Might'a been. I dunno." 

"Nah, it was 'cause dad didn't want you hanging around the house anymore," Diego says firmly, shaking his head. "We found a new place so you'd have somewhere to go'n hide when your mom went ballistic. You were tiny, y'know."

It's sort of a logical leap, but sort of not.

 "I'm still short." Carlos points out. "You don't feel compelled to protect me now, right?" 

"Hah. Hah. Very funny, nerd." 

"I'm just saying—”He ducks the hand that shoots out to scrub his hair into a rat's nest. Score one for Isle kid instincts. "I'm say-ing," Carlos continues, undeterred. "That you didn't have to protect me back then. I could've taken care of myself." 

"You were a kid." 

"And you were what, twelve? Thirteen?" 

"Older," Diego says firmly. He's still looking out towards the water. "Old enough to protect my baby cousin." 

"Mom didn't kill me. I'm still here." 

Diego's arms are smooth and unmarked by the round cigarette burns that cover Carlos's arms, hands, chest, belly. Anywhere he was soft, she liked to burn. 

"She could've," Diego rasps out. "She almost did. I wasn't big enough to stop her."

"The spell—”

"FUCK THE SPELL." he shouts. Too loud. People are looking at them. People in Auradon love to stare and judge VKs, even when they're dressed just like anyone else in the city, but shouting was a reason to stare even back home. 

Diego notices, and drops his arms down, swinging the cup in his hand back and forth like a melting pendulum of coffee and sugar.  "Fuck it," he repeats, quieter. "If Auradon wanted us alive so bad, they should've put in the work themselves instead of relying on the barrier to keep bouncing us back." 

Carlos lifts one shoulder in agreement. He's pretty sure that the spell does a lot more than just keep them in their bodies, what with the healing factor and the way it won't kick you back in unless you've got a body to go back to, but it's a solid enough argument if you don't go into specifics. Claudine and the religious types at Dragon Hall had a whole rant on tap about how the barrier was being used to bounce their souls out of their path to heaven, so that they'd rejoin their bodies again and keep them alive even longer, but thinking about the concept of souls makes Carlos feel an emotion that Mal calls "stabbing" and Jay calls "a working bullshit sensor." Evie calls it "a rational emotional response to religious guilt-tripping bullshit", which sounds better than stabbing, but like, the point still stands that souls aren't real and listening to Claudine's lecture about them makes Carlos feel mostly doubtful, and also sort of like he's a shitty person. Which is probably the point of religion.

"S'not really bouncing," he says quietly, keeping his voice low and face turned down. People stare less if they're not obviously talking to each other, because Auradon has different standards for communication and watching VKs shout-talk directly at each other makes people stare. "It's not like we ever really die."

Diego levels a flat look at him. 

"Okay, yeah, they should've put more work into keeping us alive," Carlos agrees, because it's true. Auradon locked them up and threw away the key, and didn't even bother to check on their island of villains once they'd settled down from the initial bloodshed and power scrambles. "But the scientific basis for being bounced back into our bodies by the spell just isn't there. If they're using the barrier to trap our souls or whatever in an impenetrable bubble, then how're new souls getting in for the kids born on the Isle? If it's a true closed system it doesn't make sense. And I know--" He sucks in a breath before Diego can get a word in edgewise, because he knows. The souls aren't the point. The magic isn't even the point. "It doesn't matter how they're keeping us there so long as there's still kids starving and being killed on that rock. I know. But I can't push the wheels of government any faster, because I'm not the fucking king, or a representative, or anything. I'm a testimony at best,and it's not like being born on the Isle gives me the power to do anything about it."

Diego snorts. "Wow, you can't fix twenty years of systematic disenfranchisement on your own? Call the presses, my genius cousin can't fix something in five years that took twenty to break in the first place." 

The guilt that lives in the place where other people keep their feelings swirls up in Carlos's chest again. "I could've tried." 

"In between what, surviving high school? Petitioning the king to listen to us? 'Cause it seems like we're a lot further than we'd've been without your crew's work." 

"I built a machine to break the barrier," Carlos tells the river. "Back home. Before we left. It nearly worked." 

Diego kicks another rock into the river. "I know." 

Carlos feels his heart stutter-stop. "You—what?" 

"I know," Diego repeats. "You built shit all the time. You'd talk about it in your sleep. I stopped by that treehouse of yours one time, and you had the whole thing torn apart. You were talking to your crew about it. I listened for a while."

"When?"

The cold bottom of his cousin's coffee cup bonks into Carlos's skull. "Before you left, genius. I dunno. You didn't have it working yet."

"I thought I was being sneaky about that."

"You were. I'm just sneakier. If you'd been reverse engineering the whole barrier, you'd've built it better right?" 

"I would've given us the dignity of dying, if that's what you're asking." 

"Yeah." Diego says quietly, and then. "Fuck. That's morbid." 

Carlos shrugs. Maybe thinking about better ways to die makes them morbid, but it's still comforting to think that if he'd been the one to engineer their prison, that he'd've been able to give them the mercy of actually dying. "We're villains. It's our speciality. We're supposed to be all about death, and murder, and stuff." 

Diego laughs. They laugh the same way, the two of them. More of a bark than a real laugh. There's probably some irony there, if they wanted to go digging for it. "Didn't you hear, little cousin? We're supposed to be good now. No more murder. We're reformed villains, no more claws and fangs." 

They're reformed, but Diego still calls at 3am sometimes, just to make sure that he's still breathing. 

"Damn, guess I'll have to return the axe I bought," Carlos drawls, hefting his cup up like it's a weapon. "And the rat poison, and the chains for the dungeon..." 

"Kinky." 

#my fic #descendants #descendants fic #I don’t know if this makes sense anymore without the layers of Being Insane About My Own AU #but!!! #they’re talking about a specific family event that happened when they were like. Eleven and fourteenish. #carlos de vil #diego de vil #cinderellaverse

[vodika-vibes]

Hello the wonderful and talented Vod'ika!

Congrats on 500 followers!!

Could I request Arc Trooper Jesse, Peridot, and a Late Summer Evening?

😍 You have sparked my adoration for Jesse.

Thank you!

And The Cicadas Sang

Summary: Everything about Jesse is strong, including his love for his cyare.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Jesse x F!Reader

Word Count: 584

Prompt: Peridot - Strong Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I'm always happy to share my love for Jesse. He's my baby. So, my idea for this story came from long summers spent listening to the cicadas scream outside my bedroom while I was a teenager. I hope you like it!

Jesse leans back in the chair, his eyes closing as he lets the song of summer wash over him. His cyare, his perfect beautiful cyare, likes to laugh and shake her head when he calls the cicadas that.

Still, aside from a few lightly teasing remarks, she doesn’t judge him overly much for his fascination with these insects.

“I knew I’d find you out here,” There’s the familiar sound of a glass door sliding open, and Jesse opens his eyes to tilt his head back, a grin crossing his face when he sees her standing there. She’s dressed down…way down, a tank top and her panties and not much else. “How are you not melting into a puddle? There’s no Air Conditioning out here.”

“Come on, cyare. It’s not that bad.”

She makes a face at him and gestures vaguely to her hair, which is starting to frizz from the humidity, in spite of the late hour.

“You’re wrong.”

Jesse’s grin broadens, “You look beautiful.”

“Ugh.”

“Cyare~” He shifts on the chair so he’s half facing her and holds his hands out to her, “Come and sit with me.”

She sighs, “We’re going to be eaten alive by mosquitos, Jesse.” But, even so, she opens the screen door and steps onto the back porch to join him, “You’re lucky I don’t have any neighbors, or else they’d be getting a show.”

“They’d all think, ‘damn, that Jesse guy is a lucky asshole’.” Jesse replies, catching her hips when she steps around him to sit in the other chair. He tugs her onto his lap and swings her legs sideways over the arm of the chair, “There, isn’t that better?”

“It’d be better if it wasn’t so hot.” She complains, even as she tucks her head against his shoulder and lightly rubs her cheek against the thin material of his shirt.

“If it was colder, we couldn’t be outside together.” Jesse tightens his arms around her and lightly nudges her with his shoulder, “And you look stunning under the starlight.”

She averts her gaze with a shy laugh, and Jesse feels his heart swell. She’s so adorable, even with everything they’ve done together, after all the time they’ve been dating, she still gets embarrassed when he compliments her.

Maker, he loves her so much.

He nudges her one more time, and she lifts her gaze to meet his, “I love you.” Jesse murmurs, “So much.”

Her lips curl up into a small smile, “How much?”

Jesse leans in and bumps his forehead against hers, his gaze remaining locked with her own, “I love you more than there are stars in the sky. More than all of the water on Kamino. More than all of the sand on Tatooine-”

She tilts her head and catches his lips with her own, silencing his rambling. Her hands, soft and warm and gentle, come up to caress his face, and gentle fingers trace the tattoo on his face.

“I love you just as much,” She whispers against his lips, “Thank you for choosing me.”

“Thank you for allowing yourself to be chosen.” Jesse replies, before he catches her lips in another, deeper, kiss.

Sometimes, true love is finding each other after a decade apart.

Other times, true love is finding a way to stay together even if you’re from different worlds.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes true love is sitting on your lover’s lap in the muggy summer heat listening to the cicadas sing the song of summer all around you.

#star wars #tcw #vodika-vibes 500 followers celebration #arc trooper jesse x reader #jesse x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[holylulusworld]

Snuggle Time - Flufftober 14

Summary: You and Lee spend a rainy day on the couch.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: fluff, snuggling & cuddling, a hint of low self-esteem, established relationship

A/N: Please be aware I mostly do not write canon for Lee.

Rating: Teen

Words: 485

Square filled for @warmandfluffybingocards: Square 17: Weird nicknames

Square filled for @sebastianstanbingo: Square 7: Planting flowers

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

“No. It’s raining again,” you sigh deeply as the weather just ruined your plans for today. “Crap. Why today out of all days.”

For days you have prepared a romantic picnic for you and Lee to celebrate your second anniversary. Now the rain has not only ruined the tulips you planted in the backyard, but your plans too.

“What’s wrong?” Lee stands next to you. He looks out of the window. “Oh no, the rain ruined the flowers we planted.” He runs his hand over your back, knowing how much you loved the tulips. “We can plant new ones, Chipmunk.“

“I know, Stud-Muffin,“ you nod, but your eyes are sad. “It’s just, that I had this whole day planned. I already packed the picnic basket and now it’s raining.”

“How about we go out? I’ll take you out for dinner, Y/N.” Lee glances at you. He sighs as you shake your head. “Why not?”

“I hate when people watch me eat. Most of the time, I feel like they judge me because of my size. I can’t even eat dessert without feeling guilty.”

“My sweet little chipmunk, I don’t care what people think about you or me. If you want to eat dessert, you’ll get it,” Lee states. “If you don’t want to go out. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. I prepared the food and got the wine you like so much. I even baked your favorite pie,” you sniffle. “Now everything is ruined.”

“Wait here, Y/N,” Lee pecks your cheek. “I got an idea, chipmunk…”

“All done. Now close your eyes and follow me,” Lee covers your eyes with his hands and guides you inside the living room. “I hope you like it.”

“What did you do?” You gasp when Lee drops his hands, allowing you to see. He placed the picnic blanket on the couch and placed the food you prepared on the coffee table. Lee even lit candles all over the room and shut the blinds. “This is beautiful, Lee.”

“Only because of the food you prepared,” he sheepishly admits. “I know it’s not the park, or a fancy restaurant, but welcome to Casa Bodecker. We have food, wine, and free cuddles.”

You giggle. “I’ll take a slice of the pie, some wine, and lots of cuddles.”

“Let me prepare a plate for you, Y/N,” Lee points at the couch. “Have a seat, and get comfortable. I’ll be right there for you.”

You sit on the sofa and wrap yourself in one of the blankets Lee placed on the couch. 

“I’ll take those cuddles now Lee. I can eat later.” 

“You sure?” Lee sits next to you. “Aren’t you hungry?” 

You scoot closer to rest your head against his shoulder and cover Lee and you with the blanket. “That’s all I want.”

“Me too,” he kisses the crown of your hair. “Happy anniversary, Y/N.”

“Happy anniversary, Lee.”

Tags in reblog.

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x female reader #warmandfluffybingo #sebastianstanbingo #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #Snuggle Time - Flufftober 14 #kinktober vs flufftober 2023

[qqtxt]

[🎈] the music of surprise [🦊]

[!] this is for the 1k followers mini fics. click here to find out more! ✿ pairing: yeonjun x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / fluff / 899 words / unnecessary beomgyu slander (I'm SORRY) ✿ request: [music] + yeonjun (for our muses to sing / play instruments) ✿ note: i tweaked it (winkwink) slightly differently for this one! [main masterlist 🌸] / [event masterlist] / [tag: #qqtxt: 1k]

being in a relationship with someone who sings and raps for a living, meaning that oftentimes, the microphone went to him instead of you. when it came to instruments, he's the one excited to see it and even more to see your fascination and adoration when he serenades you at any given moment he has. now, not that you have a problem with that considering you love, love love listening to yeonjun sing or rap but imagine the surprise on yeonjun's face when he's taken a short break out of the recording room, only to return to see you fiddling with the guitar and your singing sending the shivers down his spine?

"you can sing?!" yeonjun didn't realise he was going to be so loud, but apparently he was to the point it made you jolt away from the guitar as he closed the door behind him. "junnie!" you chuckle nervously, attempting to put the instrument down but he's quick to kneel before you, gently pushing the guitar back onto your lap, "you never told me you could play..."

you see the admiration in his eyes as he peers up to you, hopeful that you'd continue whatever you were doing before and you can't resist it when he's looking at you like that. you sigh and shake your head, keeping your hold on the guitar as you lean back into the sofa, "i mean... i used to play a while back but it's been a long time since i played. i came here to visit you but you weren't here so while i was waiting i figured i could just..." you attempt to put the guitar away again, only for yeonjun's hands to carefully reappear to put it back onto your lap with a wide grin.

"could you play for me? sing even, if you're comfortable?" yeonjun asked so sweetly, that it felt like a sin turning him down. you're remembering all the times you couldn't fall asleep and yeonjun would hum a familiar, calming tune. sometimes it's a song you know, sometimes it's something foreign but it still manages to lull you to sleep. the only time he had ever heard you sing was during a belt-out karaoke session with the boys or your friends, even then he thinks you sound amazing (either that or he really, really loves you). so... what could it hurt?

you stable the guitar on your lap with an elbow keeping it in place, extending your pinky out to him to–"promise you won't judge me? i'm not a singer by profession so technically, i am allowed to be shit."

he laughs and shakes his head, but reaches out to lock pinkies with you, "never. i'll never judge you. now, please?" he lets go of your pinky so he can sit on his legs as he looks up at you, retrieving a pillow on the side as he hugs it, waiting in anticipation.

the thing that happens next is what completely makes yeonjun fall to his knees for you even though he's already on them. you're hesitantly feeling up the guitar, then, your fingers start strumming a tune of a lullaby he sings during difficult days that embeds in his mind. la vie en rose. it was simplistic, romantic... and yeonjun thought he couldn't love you more than he already did. he didn't even know one of his hands had unfolded from hugging the pillow, resting on one of your knees as you started to sing. it's soft, a little whisper-like but it echoes in yeonjun's ears and aims straight for his chest until he's holding onto his breath; afraid that if he breathes, he'll break this trance of being able to listen to you sing, let alone play the guitar whilst doing so.

you manage until the first chorus and promptly stop when you look up to see yeonjun pressing his lips to a thin line; features a bit unreadable for your liking that–"i-is it that bad?"

"bad?!" his eyes bulges, hands tossing the pillow so he can kneel up to grab you by the face, "baby, you can sing! how did you hide this from me?!"

"you've heard me in karaoke..."

"that's different and you know it. you singing here like this and screaming to bang bang bang with beomgyu is different."

you snort, finally able to put the guitar away and yeonjun half-drags you onto his lap, joining him on the floor despite the multiple chairs and sofas around you. "can i listen to you sing again sometime? you sounded really good," he murmurs, planting a kiss on your lips before pulling back to see you getting shy at the attention he's showering you with. your shyness doesn't last long when you squeeze yeonjun's shoulders, looking up to meet his gaze when you ask: "am i better than beoms?"

"oh, by a mile. consider him out of tubatu and replaced with you," yeonjun says without a pause. it makes you laugh, leaning forward to hug him and bury your face to his neck as he holds you. he can tell you're still growing to the thought of singing to him again or playing the guitar around him but maybe with time, one day, you'll be comfortable to do whatever you want around him and that's what gets yeonjun to smile as he nuzzles into you, staying like that for a while.

#qqtxt: 1k #txt scenarios #txt reactions #txt imagines #txt scenario #txt x you #txt x reader #txt x y/n #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun reactions

[joanquill]

Marriage proposal

I'm going to go with Will cuz that man is quite mischievous. I want a situation where they caught the reader off guard by embarrassing them infront of everyone about this. You choose either the town? school? or in the middle of a mission love yah Full fluff mix with crack ehhehe imagine Sherlock's face

William James Moriarty

Tag/s: Crack-ish, Fluff, Established Relationship

"Oh?" you mused, seeing a familiar consulting detective wandering around the halls of Durham University.

You lightly laughed as you followed him, blending yourself with the crowd of students to remain undetected.

"Excuse me," you tapped his shoulder, making him jolt and quickly turn to you.

"(Y/N)!" he sighed, making you lightly laugh.

"Looking for someone?" you questioned, an amused smile on your face as he smirked.

"Who do you think? I was promised dinner,"

"By the way," Sherlock mused, following you through the halls.

"I didn't peg you to be a fellow professor,"

"Because I'm not," you clarified, showing him the basket you were carrying, "I'm just on an errand. William forgot his lunch... again," you sighed, remembering the crowd of students questioning your relationship with their mathematics professor.

"Really?" Sherlock raised a brow, "A man with his intellect forgetting his lunch?"

"It baffles me as well," you chuckled, knowing questioning William would only lead you to more confusing answers.

"Besides," you turned to your heel, facing Sherlock, "We're already here," you smiled, peeking through the window.

There were only the students inside, with no sign of William.

"Ah-! Right... They have exams..." you muttered, forgetting William's reminder.

"Then, let's go in," Sherlock smiled, putting his arm around your shoulder as you entered the classroom.

"Wha- Sherlock!?" you whispered loudly as you and he sat at the back.

"I don't think this is allowed!" you reminded, not wanting to get in trouble.

"Relax," he reassured, pulling two pens from under the desk.

"Proctors rarely check on the students, and the students themselves are busy reviewing..." Sherlock snuck his hand around the tables, pulling out two pens,

"And they always have extra copies of the exams," he reassured you as he gave you one, but you were still unsure.

"Besides," he grinned, pulling you closer.

"Don't you want to see Will's reaction?" your eyes widened at the idea, making you smile.

"All right then,"

Some students were able to recognize you, but you managed to convince them to keep it a secret to prank their professor.

The proctor also didn't seem to see you from the sea of students, seeing as he dozed off, letting you and Sherlock take the test along with the others.

From the front page, you already knew you were going to fail.

And judging by the student's reactions, it seemed you weren't the only one.

But despite that, you tried to answer the ones you remembered William taught you and doodled for the rest of the time.

"How did you do?" Sherlock asked as you as the students crowded William, complaining over the exam's difficulty.

"I'm not sure... But I hope my drawing of a cat would at least give me five points," you snickered, showing him your doodles.

"Ah, let's go," Sherlock whispered, seeing the students disperse as William compiled the exams.

You both kept quiet as you walked down, William's back facing you as he arranged the papers.

"Sensei~," Sherlock called out, making William turn around in surprise.

"Good morning, sensei~," you copied Sherlock's tone with a smile, satisfied with his reaction as Sherlock wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"Did we pass your test?" Sherlock taunted, an unamused look on William's face.

You noticed some students were taking their time packing their bags, or better yet, some were still hovering around the door.

"I assume you will be joining us for lunch?" William questioned, swiftly pulling you to his side.

"I was promised dinner," he reminded with a grin, "And I feel like I'm going witness something interesting..." he added, his eyes trailing to William's pocket.

"Well, I know when I'm not wanted," you chuckled, stepping back from the two men.

"You two enjoy your date," you teased, making everyone around you freeze as William softly rolled his eyes.

"Afraid that would not be possible," he smiled, grabbing your hand and lifting it to his lips.

"I couldn't possibly ask for your hand in marriage when you're not around, now can I?" he winked, pulling you to his side as you walked out of the classroom and Sherlock close behind, making the students shout in shock and excitement.

You, on the other hand, followed William in complete shock while Sherlock was close behind you both, stifling his laughter.

"...Huh?" you asked William, who only smiled at you.

You looked back to Sherlock, who laughed loudly in response.

"I wasn't expecting you to propose like that, Liam,"

"Well, I highly doubt (Y/N) would consider it a real proposal. Let alone think it actually happened," the two men continued to converse.

You only followed along, your brain barely comprehending what happened in the classroom and not hearing their conversation.

"Then, how about lunch? Since you'll be spending dinner preparing for your actual proposal,"

"I don't remember agreeing to that,"

#yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #valentines #william moriarty x reader #william james moriarty #william moriarty #jq valentines event