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#okay. okay i should make a new post this is getting long
dilemmaontwolegs · 3 days
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Not A Verstappen: Away We Go {1}
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Autumn has been introduced to the world but there’s something more special for a first appearance: Monaco GP Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, fluff WC: 3.7k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry || One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine NAV: Away We Go || One || Two
The white noise in the nursery threatened to put you to sleep too but there were still dozens of messages to get through. There had been a constant stream of well wishes to your inbox since the announcement to the world but one had been left on read for three days now and a little rage built each time you reread it.
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It didn’t take long for new ‘exclusive’ information to pop up in the gossip pages, along with the photo you had taken and sent to Jos. It wasn’t a surprise at all, but it still hurt to read what he had said. Trusted sources close to Y/N say she is being monitored for Post Natal Depression and Psychosis, as it is no secret she has had trouble with mental health in the past.
“You are lucky, my love,” you whispered to your daughter who slept soundly in your arms. “Your fathers love you so much.”
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You carefully stood up from the rocking chair beside her cot but the moment you started to lower her to the mattress she began to stir.
“Already a little arm princess, aren’t you?” you chuckled, settling back into the chair to start rocking again.
You didn’t mind getting these rare moments alone with her, even if you were exhausted from waking up to breastfeed her all through the night. As soon as Charles and Lando finished their Zoom Meetings with their teams they would be stealing her away for their own snuggles. It was safe to say everyone was smitten with her. And that wasn’t an exaggeration. The front door barely closed before another visitor came, and Max had taken up permanent residence on the couch when he wasn’t needed elsewhere.
“Is she sleeping?” P whispered loudly as she stuck her head in the door.
“She is, but you can come in.”
Max trailed in after her having let himself in the apartment with his spare key. Your mother was out grocery shopping again so she could do more baking for the visitors of the day. You had told her she didn’t need to but she was enjoying the company and feeding a small army.
“Have you eaten?” Max asked as he knelt down beside P who gently stroked the blanket Autumn was swaddled in.
“You’re as bad as my mother.”
“I’m just checking. Kel said everyone comes to see the baby but no one asks how the mum is doing. I want to make sure my sister is okay too.”
“Now you’ve done it,” you croaked as you started to cry. “I’m over these damn hormones. I was fine until you arrived.”
Max laughed and rocked side to side. “You’ll get over it. Should we go to the living room or do you like sitting in the dark?”
You accepted his hand and let him pull you to your feet since he had long ago mastered the art of carrying a baby one-handed. “You’re going to have your hands full when Vicki drops.”
“I have two arms. Unless you're planning on having another one right away?”
“Max, I love you, but I will punch you if you ask that again. I am still having to sit on ice pads because no one warned me about the goddamn haemorrhoids-”
“Okay, okay, fuck, stop!” he begged with a disgusted look on his screwed up face. 
Satisfied he wouldn’t make the same mistake again, you went to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water and a juice box for Penelope. 
“So Toto still hasn’t confirmed anyone for Lewis’ seat next year,” you said, passing him one bottle before taking a seat with P. 
“You’ve been talking to him?”
“And others,” you admitted. A few more of the Team Principals had sent their congratulations and the ones with empty seats for 2025 expressed an interest, asking what your plans were. “As soon as my six week check up gets signed off Kristian is going to become my worst nightmare again.”
“Do your boyfriends know that’s your plan?”
You shrugged. It had been spoken about before Autumn was born but they all thought having her in your arms would change your mind about returning to racing. None of the other parents on the grid gave up their careers to grow their families, and while there were still empty seats in the teams you were going to shoot your shot until every last one was taken. 
“Never let them know your next move,” you joked before sobering up and sighing. “Working mums are normal in every other business. Plus, I’m only talking about sim racing this year and if I can impress someone with the data then we can go from there.”
Max nodded along as his eyes traced over Autumn’s features, finding Charles’ dimples when her lips pursed with a soft whimper in her sleep. Penelope had finished her drink and turned all her attention to your daughter, giggling whenever Autumn sucked on her own lip.
“Can I have a baby sister?” she asked Max with bright, hopeful eyes.
“Maybe one day, P. You would make a great big sister.” She grinned at the compliment and snuggled closer until she was half on Max’s lap and holding Autumn too.
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Monaco GP
“Ma fifille, tellement belle,” Charles gushed as Lando stepped out of the nursery with Autumn in his arms. She smelt sweet from the baby oil that hydrated her skin and fresh since Lando had changed her diaper before finding the prettiest dress in her closet for her first paddock entrance.
“I’m surprised he didn’t try to sneak her into McLaren gear,” you commented as you packed the baby bag with extra supplies for the day. Gone were the days of arriving at the paddock with just your phone, now there were a million things to remember since no one wanted to try to return home with the insane traffic that came with the road closures for the Monaco race.
“I hid them all,” Charles confessed with a sly smile before stealing a kiss from Lando’s pouting lips. “If she can’t wear Ferrari then she definitely isn’t wearing McLaren, mon cher.”
“One day when you are at Maranello…” Lando warned with a wink.
“You can finish this squabble later, we have a whole camera crew waiting outside.” The tone wasn’t quite as light as you hoped and it drew the attention of both of them straight to you. The joking smiles fell and Lando lay Autumn in her stroller and clipped in the buckles with a frown. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”
“You only gave birth four weeks ago, love, it’s okay if you’re not ready to go to the track yet.”
“We wouldn’t be upset if you watched from here,” Charles added.
“It’s Monaco and I am fine, just a little nervous.” Your blasé shrug didn’t fool either of them.
“Of what?”
Charles took over rocking the stroller back and forth so Lando could pull you into his arms. The warmth and security of his embrace was always enough to spill whatever was on your mind.
“The crowd, the cameras, your fans - take your pick.” You looked down at your clothes. They weren’t the designer dresses the other women would wear to the paddock but the maternity jeans and breastfeeding friendly shirt were tidy enough. You couldn’t help noticing the pouch where your belly sagged like a deflated balloon.
“Hey,” Lando murmured, catching your chin with his finger and guiding your head back up to face him. “Do we need to remind you how beautiful we think you are? I don’t mind being late. Charles?”
“I am more than happy to take a penalty.”
You chuckled at the enthusiasm but shook your head. “I would love nothing more than to drag you both back to the bedroom but save it for the six week sign off, you horny devils.”
“We can still show you how sexy we find you without fucking you,” Lando whispered in your ear and Charles’ eyes darkened at the little catch in your breathing.
“Don’t tempt me, but there’s still the problem of the camera crew outside and you’d be on your own explaining to them why we were late.”
“Mon amour, that is the man who asked Stroll if he could wank after breaking his wrists. Would you really trust him with that task?”
“I mean…I would find it funny. Zak might blow a gasket though,” you admitted with a grin. Feeling a bit more at ease after a laugh, you stepped out of Lando’s arms and took a steadying breath. “I’m going to grab a hoodie and we can go.”
Neither commented as you hid your body in an oversized Quadrant hoodie despite the summer heat but you barely made it halfway down the street before you asked Charles if you could push the stroller. There were too many people and too many screams for autographs that your heart started to beat erratically and your breath burned in your lungs.
“Are you okay?” Charles asked, ignoring the people beyond the security team that surrounded your group.
“Let her push, Charles,” Lando urged as he saw a sight he was familiar with in the mirror. It was rare for him in recent years now that he had you and Charles but he could remember the feeling of being out of control and the panic that came with it.
You grabbed the handlebar of the stroller and held on with a death grip in case someone broke through the security guards and knocked into it. Your knuckles changed colour from how tight you handled it and your legs pumped faster with the urge to get to the track and inside the walls of a team hospitality.
From the corner of your eye a shadow slipped through the bodies and your elbow flew out as your mind went straight to the worst case scenario. Was it an overzealous fan wanting a picture or a fanatic wanting to hurt your family?
“Ow, zusje, what the fuck?” Max asked as he rubbed at his ribs.
“Jesus Christ, Max, what are you doing? Don’t jump out at me like that.”
“She’s a little on edge right now,” Charles said quietly, acutely aware of all the cameras pointed their way.
“I can see that. Is it the crowd? Do you want me to call in reinforcements?”
Charles shook his head and walked quicker to catch back up to you. “We would probably be there by the time anyone came.”
Lactic acid burned your calves and reminded you just how hard you were going to have to work to get back to your pre-baby fitness but it felt good too. It brought you back to yourself in a way you had forgotten since becoming a mother and the endorphins from the exercise began to relax your body and mind.
Your pace began to slow and Lando smiled proudly like you had won a world championship. “Now can I hold your hand, love?”
You shifted your hold to the centre of the handlebar so you could still navigate the stroller and placed your hand in his. “Thank you,” you murmured as he kissed your knuckles.
“I would tell you not to worry but I don’t think it will make a difference,” he replied between waving to his fans.
“Aren’t you worried? There’s so many things that could go wrong.”
Lando stopped and turned with a serious look on his face that was only softened by the untamed curl that fell over his brow. “Of course I’m worried too, babe, this is our family and Autumn is the most precious part of it. But, I have to trust that we have done enough to protect her and you and Charles,” he said with a wave towards the security guards. “Do you remember how nervous you were before your first race? You could barely keep your food down and Pierre thought you were actually going to pass out during the Anthem.”
You rolled your eyes but a small smile leaked through. “Don’t remind me.”
“I would have caught you.”
“You were six inches shorter than me.”
Lando stood straighter and looked down at you. “That’s beside the point, I’ve more than made up for it now.”
“Yes, you have,” you said with a wink. “Much more than six inches.”
Charles interrupted the appreciative gaze you dragged over your boyfriend’s body. “Will you two please behave?”
A devilish smirk grew on Lando’s face. “Never, but I will go and sign some autographs before I get in more trouble.”
“Is it me or is he even more cocky?”
“Winning does that to a guy.”
Charles scoffed and curled an arm around your waist. “I will have to remind him what second place feels like, it’s my turn to win Monaco.”
Max laughed, reminding you that he was still there as you approached the paddock gates. “Half the grid thinks the same thing.”
“Well they have a chance with you starting P2,” you teased your brother before grinning at Charles who took pole position. “Take that chequered flag.”
You scanned your ID and the pass for Autumn too as everyone else did and clustered together on the other side again.
“Where are you going to be watching from?” Max asked as you approached his hospitality first.
“Homeboys box, but Toto wants a word so I’ll take bub there first.”
Max looked like he wanted to say something but his name was called out from his team waiting by the dark blue entrance. Instead he stepped forward and kissed your cheek before kissing Autumn’s and tickling her toes. “Tot zeins, mooi meisje.”
“She’s going to speak Dutch before me at this rate,” you complained as he walked away, still not knowing what he said to her.
“Learn quicker then.”
You threw him the middle finger that made him laugh before he disappeared and then it was your turn to say goodbye. Mercedes was the next garage followed by Ferrari then McLaren.
“We will see you before the race,” you promised as you unbuckled Autumn from her stroller and held her to your chest. The garages were tight enough as it was without trying to fit the pram inside too. “Say bye-bye daddy,” you said with a wave of Autumn’s little hand as she woke from her nap. “Love you.”
Charles and Lando both kissed her cheeks and said their goodbye before you received your own chaste kiss on the lips. “Call us if you need anything, I will keep my phone with me,” Charles promised before stepping away.
“Same, and these guys are going with you too,” Lando said with a nod to the security shadowing your sides. Your entourage joined you in Mercedes but thankfully took a wider perimeter since there was a fairly strict policy in who could enter the garages. Toto didn’t seem to mind the additions since you came bearing a pretty great gift.
“You are a beautiful time waster,” he said sweetly as he cradled Autumn to his chest. “I have work to do, little lady, yes, I do, but I’m not ready to hand you over, no, I am not.”
“I get the feeling that Jack will be getting a sibling soon enough,” you said to Lewis who swung back and forth on his chair with his headphones half on his head.
“I don’t think it’s Toto that needs convincing,” he said with a laugh. “It’s not his career that goes on hold, you know that.”
“I never would have said it before, but she’s worth it,” you admitted. “Still not sold on doing it again though, got one more championship to win.”
“I know that feeling,” he said wistfully. “Charles had better bring her to Maranello too.”
“I don’t think much work would get done if she was there,” you pointed out. “And like you said, you have a championship to win.”
Autumn suddenly decided that she was starving and started to cry as she nuzzled into Toto’s shirt and you laughed as you got up to retrieve her. “Sorry, bub, there’s no milk in those titties,” you teased as you picked her up. “Is there somewhere I can feed her?”
Toto looked around and shrugged. “Wherever you’re comfortable. There’s rooms down the hall if you want.”
“I’ve learned it’s not about my own comfort.”
“If anyone’s got a problem they are free to leave,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear and return to their work.
You took your seat again beside Lewis and unzipped the discrete opening on your shirt before unclipping the small window on your bra.
“Come on, man, she’s just trying to feed her baby. Get those cameras out of here,” Lewis said as he blocked the lens and started to herd the Netflix crew back out of the garage.
It had taken a week of trial and error before mastering the art of latching but now you had a routine and Autumn quickly fell back to sleep despite trying to keep her awake. Lando had joked he would sleep better if that was his routine too, at least you thought he was joking.
“Can you hold her please?”
Lewis didn’t need to be asked, he had been patiently waiting his turn since you walked in the garage. He even knew to draw soothing circles and pat her back to bring up her wind. “There’s those famous Uncle skills you bragged about.”
“Told you, I’m just down the road if you guys want a babysitter for date night.”
“I might take you up on that in a few weeks.” You looked over to Toto who was speaking to Bono and jutted your chin his way. “Has he mentioned anything about who’s in line for your seat?”
“Nothing set in stone, just lots of talk - or at least that’s what he told me.”
“Fair enough, you’re the enemy now,” you teased.
“Netflix is going to love this season. Did you see Nando re-signed?”
“Mhmm, I sent him a pot plant and instructions to wipe the floor with Lance. I think he’s taken it on board.” Fernando already had nearly four times as many points in the driver championship so far and you expected that to increase after the race.
“There’s rumours Lance is going to WEC next year, maybe there'll be another seat opening.”
“Fuck that,” you scoffed. “If I get a seat it’s going to be with a team that has some sense of loyalty. I’m sick of being dropped like a hot potato the second anything goes wrong. I’m desperate, but not that desperate.”
Lewis was about to be called for the driver parade and you realised just how quickly time had passed. “I should let you finish your rituals, we still have a few stops to make before the race.”
He handed Autumn back and gave you a hug. “Don’t lose that glow stressing about getting a seat, mama, enjoy your time with this little beauty. Che sarà, sarà.”
“Practising Italian already, huh?” you teased as you buckled Autumn into the stroller where she promptly fell asleep after the movement disturbed her. “I will keep your wise words in mind.”
The paddock was quieter as you made your way down the line of garages. Most guests would already be in the viewing spaces above the pit lane to watch the drivers parade so there weren’t many people for security to part.
“Ma’am,” the head guard called as he stood in front of an imposing suited figure. “He wants a word.”
You nodded your head and he moved to let the man through. “I’m kind of running late, Lawrence.”
“I just want to say congratulations,” your old boss said as he looked into the stroller and removed his sunglasses. “She’s very cute, you must be proud.”
“You could have sent a text message.”
Lawrence sighed at the frosty tone. “In hindsight things may have been handled a little callously but you should understand it was for your own good. This isn’t an office job that can be worked while pregnant, it would have been irresponsible as an employer.”
“I understand that, it was the fact you fired me without even talking to me first - I had to find out through the tabloids - and before that the way you let your son get away with treating his team is actually despicable.”
Lawrence pulled a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned his glasses as he stared off into the distance. “You’re not wrong, but we are working on his attitude and behaviour - discreetly.”
You raised an eyebrow but he wasn’t going to share anything further, instead he took one last look at Autumn and put the aviators back on his nose. Maybe there was some weight behind the rumours.
“Hopefully we’ll see you back on the grid at some point. You were one hell of a racer.”
“Am, Mr Stroll,” you corrected as you turned the brake off the pram. “I am one hell of a racer.”
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fiddleleafedfig · 3 days
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@wolfstarmicrofic | April 23:rd Teacher AU | Also inspired by this incredible post | 971 words
“It’s because I’m gay.”
Dora’s words had echoed in his head for the better duration of two years.
Two years.
Jesus Christ.
It sounds more clear now that there isn’t an ever pressing haze of alcohol clouding his brain. But alas, he frankly can’t afford to be an alcoholic anymore. He wasn’t even that good at it. A bottle of wine every evening and Remus just turned into a weepier version of his otherwise quite bleak self and watched old rom-coms on tv until he fell asleep on the couch.
But an English teacher’s salary isn’t hefty enough to really support a proper addiction and Remus hadn’t ever been the type of person to steal a car or break into someone’s house just to fuel his habit. With his luck he’d get caught right away anyway.
“This can’t come as a surprise, Rem, we never even had an active sexlife.”
Sure, fine, maybe they hadn’t. But they had been married for years; university best friends turned adult lovers and confidants turned married at twenty five and divorced at thirty three.
The divorce had at least been simple, easy, just like anything else about their relationship. One second she was there, dying her hair in the tub and staining it all bubblegum pink — the next she was moving out and downloading lesbian dating apps.
Remus munches salad from his little packed lunch. He should be planning his classes whilst having lunch — he refuses to, he’d rather sit here all bent-backed and pretend that the salad actually tastes better, that he isn’t regretting moving across the country to get away from it all. That his new life isn’t sinking his mood just like the old one did.
There’s a knock on his classroom door.
Remus looks up from his sad salad. “Come in?”
The door, covered in prints of Shakespeare plays and old illustrations of Of Mice and Men and other English class classics, opens to reveal the knocker.
Sirius has his hair in a bun today, black strands tied back and into a scrunchy that could rival the cheekiest of cheerleaders’. Other than that he is in his usual all black attire, all except his rainbow colored lanyard which holds his keys and the miniature periodic table keyring.
Sirius smiles. It’s all gray eyes that look like they’re sparkling under the hideous fluorescents and can make even the toughest lunch lady blush.
“Hi Remus, is this a bad time?”
Remus tries to swallow the tightness in his throat.
He can’t really deal with Sirius popping by like this, he’s done it quite frequently since Remus’ first week.
“No, not really,” he says, trying to keep his hands from fiddling and his eyes from darting around the room. “What can I help you with?”
Sirius shrugs, careless and relaxed. “I was just wondering if I could borrow your stapler. Seems like mine’s wandered off.”
Sirius drives a motorbike to school.
Remus saw him get off it in the parking lot not too long ago. It felt like the world stood still or maybe moved in slow motion when Sirius removed his helmet and shook his hair out, kitted out in leather. Then his neck got all hot, for some god forsaken reason, and he had to go splash cold water on his face before facing his students in the first period.
So many of Sirius’ supplies have gone missing in the short time where they have worked together.
“Erhm… Yeah, sure— absolutely,” Remus stumbles through sentences as he stands to go fetch the stapler in the supply closet. He turns the little key and quickly looks over the closet, a bit too aware that Sirius is coming closer; if he isn’t misinterpreting the scuff of boots on the floor.
He grabs the stapler, turns around. “Here.”
Sirius is right behind him, right in front of him now. Looking up at Remus with his easy smile and rows of lovely black lashes and… and… and pink lips.
“Thanks, I’ll give it back as soon as I’m done, okay?”
“Yeah…”
Sirius leaves. Remus has to go sit down, he’s feeling dizzy.
“Are you even attracted to me, Rem? I mean— it’s fine if you aren’t. Maybe I’m not your type or something.”
There was always something hidden in Dora’s words, at least in those words. Remus hadn’t come any closer to figuring them out, not even two years later.
He just sits in his darkening apartment, playing those words over and over whilst watching-but-not-really-watching tv. He should really go over to Sirius’ classroom tomorrow. You know, just to make sure he remembers to give the stapler back. And it has absolutely nothing to do with what Dora said those years ago, nothing at all.
In the following morning, Remus dresses in his good shirt and wrestles with his hair for a touch longer than usual. Why? Don’t worry about it.
He goes into work with a determination and anxiety churning in his belly.
He walks up to Sirius’ classroom, a print of Neil deGrasse Tyson on the door, and knocks.
Deep breath.
Sirius opens the door. Light eyes and smiling lips and an overall undeniably beautiful face.
Stapler, that’s what he’s there for.
“Will you go out with me?”
What?! No!
Remus was supposed to ask about the stapler!
Fuck!
Sirius just looks back up at him, glittering eyes and widening smile. He doesn’t say anything.
Remus tries to backpedal. “The stapler — I really need my stapler, that’s what I meant.”
Sirius just smiles. “So I just missed the point two second window of going out with you?”
There’s cotton in Remus’ ears, ringing in his brain. “No— I mean… Wait— Did you want to go out with me?”
Sirius’ smile looks like it’s almost too big for his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”
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juniperskye · 3 days
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Why are you in my head? Pt. 3
Sneak Peek: Eddie and you are soulmates. The legend of soulmates is that you start to hear one another’s thoughts around age 16 – not all the time, but when you’re feeling a strong emotion. It simply flows out of you and into the other, the legend also states that the closer you are, the more you can hear them. **The events of season 4 did NOT happen** I did also use some of the dialogue
Bold are Eddie’s thoughts; Italics are reader’s thoughts. (mind you, they are essentially hearing both sets of thoughts)
Eddie Munson x Fem Sunshine! Reader (Soulmate AU)
Fluff/Angst - Part 1 Part 2
Word count: 2583
REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!
Warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! My blog is 18+, minors DNI, explicit language, no use of y/n, fem reader, mentions of drugs/sale of drugs/drug use, arguing, mentions of Eddie’s drug addict parents, mention of post-partum depression, mention of child endangerment, mention of child death, mention of murder, mention of suicide, mention of foster care, let me know if I missed any!
That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story
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I miss you so fucking much. How could you think so little of me. I’m sorry. You just don’t understand what it’s like. You don’t even know me. We’re soulmates, of course I know you. Our thoughts weren’t shared until we were both teenagers, you know nothing about how I was brought up. Can I see you? Please.
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Thoughts between soulmates were shared more frequently when experiencing high levels of stress, primarily during long periods of separation after meeting, or fighting.
“Hey bug, Eddie’s on the phone for you.” Your dad knocked lightly on your door.
“Tell him I don’t want to talk to him!” You hollered up to your dad.
Since your fight with Eddie, one week ago, your parents had noticed your very apparent, sour mood. You really had no choice but to tell them that you had in fact met your soulmate and had been hanging out with him non-stop. Your mom had been thrilled for you; she had wanted to know everything about Eddie. Your dad on the other hand, he was furious. He clocked the tear tracks that ran down your cheeks the second you walked in the door, and he wanted Eddie’s address so he could kick his ass. You had assured him that it wouldn’t be necessary, that no matter how upset you were in the moment, in your heart you knew the two of you would be able to work things out.
“Sweetie, maybe you should take his call.” Your mom suggested.
“Maybe you should butt out!” You shouted back.
You were immediately filled with regret. Quickly making your way up the stairs you threw open your door to come face to face with your parents.
“Mom, I am so sorry.”
She pulled you into a tight hug, her hand gently brushing at the hair on the back of your head. She always did this when you hugged, and it always brought a warm comfort throughout your body.
“It’s okay. I know that you are upset. Maybe you should try talking to him sweetie, it might make you feel better.” She suggested once more.
“Okay, I guess you’re probably right.” You nodded.
“Well, that’s good because he is on his way right now.” Your dad informed you.
“What? Dad! A little warning would be nice! He doesn’t live that far, and I have to get ready!” You started scrambling down the stairs into your room to get ready.
Your parents chuckled, remembering what it was like to be that young and new in love.
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A knock at the door had you sprinting up the stairs and practically shoving your dad out of the way so you could get there first. You weren’t quite ready to have Eddie meet your parents, especially since you aren’t currently on the best of terms.
You opened the door with just enough room to slide out of the house. You took note of Eddie’s disheveled appearance, he had bags under his eyes, his hair looked especially frizzy, and his skin didn’t have its usual glow.
“Hey.” He said sheepishly.
“Hi.” You replied.
“Did you uh, did you want to go sit in the van and talk?” Eddie said gesturing to where it was parked at the end of your driveway.
You nodded and the two of you made your way to the vehicle. He wanted so badly to pull you into his arms and kiss all this pain away, but he knew that it wouldn’t be that simple, he had made some snap judgements and said some hurtful things to you. He knew he needed to apologize and that the two of you still had a lot to learn about one another.
“Baby, I am so sorry. I said some awful shit to you, and I shouldn’t have. I just, I am so used to having people judge me. For how I look, for where I live, who I live with, the people I hang out with, the music I listen to, the field of work I’m in. And I know that you weren’t judging me, that you were just looking out for me because you care, but baby I couldn’t help but let those past feelings eat me alive when you were talking to me.” Eddie explained.
“Eddie, I appreciate you apologizing. I’ve had time to think about things too and I can understand how my reaction could have come across as judgmental. Eddie, my dad is a cop, I have heard what happens to people when they’re caught with a little bit of weed in their possession, but if you were caught selling it, or something worse. Eddie I can’t lose you. Not when I have only just found you.” Tears were running down your face at this point.
Eddie scooted closer to you on the bench of the van, he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, gently brushing away your tears with his thumb. He leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. When you two broke apart, he leaned his forehead against your own, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.
“I am so sorry baby. Please forgive me?”
“Eddie, before I can forgive you, I need to know that you don’t really think of me like that. I may come from a well-off family now, but there is a lot you don’t know about me and I just – I need to know that you don’t see me as some privileged brat.” You begged.
“Sweetheart, no! I don’t think of you that way. I am so sorry! I don’t even know why I said that. It’s like a defense mechanism. I know that there’s so much I don’t know about you, and I hope that you will trust me enough to tell me everything there is to know about you.” He rushed.
You were both startled by a knock on the window. Looking over at the passenger window, you were mortified to see your dad standing there, giving you and Eddie a small wave. He then gestured for you to roll the window down. You visibly cringed as you began cranking the window open, mouthing an embarrassed apology to Eddie.
“Dadddd…what do you want?” You whined.
“Your mother sent me out here to let you know that dinner is ready. She also wanted me to ask if your friend here would be joining us.” He explained.
Your eyes darted over to Eddie. You were trying to decipher his expression, was he as horrified as you were? Was he intrigued by the idea of meeting your parents.? Was he ready to flee and never return?
Would you want me to stay?
You couldn’t help but smile. His thought was timed perfectly, this soulmate thing definitely had its perks.
Of course I want you to stay! I just don’t want them to scare you off.
“If it’s alright with you sir, I’d like to stay for dinner.” Eddie looked at your dad, who replied with a curt nod.
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“I can’t believe you’re a Metallica fan! I just finished learning Master of Puppets on my guitar!” Eddie gushed.
“That’s a tough song, I bet you had to practice for weeks!” Your dad indulged Eddie.
This is so embarrassing! Your dad is so cool!
Your mom laughed at the exchange between the two men and she and you cleared the table. She gave you a knowing look and nodded towards your room.
“Why don’t you two go watch a movie, your dad and I can clear the rest of this up.” She suggested.
“Only if you’re sure.” You asked, gaze shifting from your mom to your dad.
“Door stays open.” Your dad pointed towards you.
With that you grabbed Eddie’s hand and led him down to your room, being sure to leave your door open, per your dad’s request. As you descended the stairs, Eddie’s jaw made its way to the floor. He was amazed by your room, you had records hung on the walls and ceiling, one of your walls had an incredible photo collage, with photos of you, your friends and family throughout the years, and below that were stacks of books next to a small desk. HeHewHH’d have to ask you about who all these people were. You also had a projector screen that you clearly used for movies.
“This is amazing! You read J.R.R. Tolkien and Stephen King? And these records, this is so cool, I would never want to leave if this was my room!” Eddie exclaimed.
God, like you could get any hotter.
“Yeah, my parents are pretty cool about letting me express my creative freedoms or whatever.” You shrugged.
You couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, Eddie had talked about how you got everything you’d ever wanted, and this made that seem true. If only he knew.
Things had continued on pretty well with you and Eddie over the next few months. You guys had grown closer, trusting one another with the heavier secrets of your lives. Eddie had told more in depth about his parents. His mom had gotten hooked on drugs thanks to his dad, who was quick to put hands on Eddie and his mom when he was under the influence – which seemed to be more often than not.
You had wanted to tell Eddie about your past too, but the timing just didn’t seem right. Every time you went to share, something came up, or you were trying to avoid it coming across as you are one-upping him and his trauma.
Things aren’t always what they seem.
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Eddie had dinner at your house once a week, and you’d traded off whose house you’d go to after school each day. Nothing physical had transpired between the two of you other than a few heavy make out sessions. At each other’s houses you had fallen into a routine, at yours you would either watch a movie or read, at his you’d either watch a movie, listen to music, or help him with his campaigns.
Tonight happened to be dinner at your house, your parents had suggested ordering a pizza tonight and playing Monopoly. Eddie had enjoyed nights like this, your parents had been extremely welcoming of him. He had appreciated that they didn’t judge him, not once in all the time he has known them. They had been warm and kind and accepting.
Your dad had bonded with him about his taste in music and had shown an interest in Dungeons and Dragons. Your mom talked to him about his future and his dreams of being in a band, but the reality of him probably becoming a mechanic.  Your mom had told him that he should pursue music as long as he had something he could fall back on should it not work out. She told him that he could achieve his dreams as long as he worked hard at it.
These conversations, these dinners, these nights with your family had been amazing, they had also been painful for Eddie. He couldn’t help but feel hurt that he didn’t get to have a childhood like this, that he had to get his ass beat by his dad while his mom was strung out on the couch. He hadn’t been removed from their custody until he was about 10 years old, that’s when child services pulled him from their care and moved him in with Wayne.
Wayne had grown fond of you immediately; he had seen how Eddie had changed immediately after meeting you. He had been happier, which meant the world to Wayne. All Wayne had ever wanted was for Eddie to have something good in his life and here you were. You and Wayne were buds and it filled Eddie with a sense of pride that his uncle approved of you.
Now if only things could stay simple like that forever.
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Eddie and you had finished dinner and a game of Monopoly at your house. You were planning to go to Eddie’s after to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2. After pulling up in front of the trailer, Eddie made his way to your side of the van and pulled you out of the car. You giggled as he kissed you and the two of you stumbled into the living room.
He made his way to the kitchen to grab drinks for you both and he began popping some popcorn.
“Sorry about my parents tonight. I know they can be super lame.” You huffed out a laugh.
“What do you mean? Your parents are great!” Eddie said.
“No, I know, but they act so goofy. It’s embarrassing.” You shook your head.
At least you have parents.
“Jesus Eddie.”
“What? I didn’t…oh shit. Babe I’m sorry. It’s just, you should be thankful that you have parents who care about you. Not all of us are that lucky.”
“I’m not that lucky Eddie! Fuck! How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t know me! You don’t know anything about me!” You sighed.
“Then tell me! Please, enlighten me as to how your two wonderful parents can be so bad!” Eddie egged you on.
“THEY'RE NOT MY PARENTS!” You shouted at him, then took a deep breath. “Eddie, they’re not my real parents.”
Eddie sat a looked at you, mouth agape, speechless. You could tell that he was waiting for you to continue, but you needed a moment to collect your thoughts. You had to explain everything, this conversation could change everything.
“My parents, Eddie, they did some horrible shit. Neither of them had any other family, my mom she uh, she had post-partum depression, she wasn’t doing well, for a long time after my little sister was born. I guess that had caused my dad to seek comfort elsewhere, I was only six when all this happened. But uh, my mom she uh she left my sister in the bath alone, my sister slid down into the water and drowned, she was only 8 weeks old. When my dad came home and found her, he was furious. Eddie he killed my mom, and then he killed himself. I ended up in foster care and bounced from home to home until I was twelve, until they took me in.”
“Sweetheart. I, I am so sorry. I don’t, I’m not sure what to say.” Eddie whispered. “But uh, you said. You had mentioned that your mom told you bedtime stories about how her and your dad met.”
“My mom now, she would tell me how her and my dad met, every night until I finally started sleeping.” You explained.
The nightmares made it impossible. I couldn’t stop seeing the blood.
Eddie crossed the room and pulled you into his arms. He couldn’t believe that he had been so stupid this whole time. You had been silently telling him that your life wasn’t all that perfect, that though now, it seemed good, it hadn’t always been. He needed you to know that he was here for you, no matter what.
I’ve got you. I will always have you baby.
A sob escaped your throat, ripping through the silence. Eddie held you; he laid you with him in his bed, his hand brushing through your hair gently, whispering sweet nothings to you.
I haven’t told anyone that story. Nobody, ever. Not even my parents. Your secret is safe with me. You are safe with me. I love you sweetheart. I love you Eds.
Tag List: @sashaphantomhive
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clairellie · 14 hours
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STREAMER ELLIE ! HEADCANONS
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a/n: i loved writing this so i might actually make a fic on it?!? but not guaranteed.. WE LOVE STREAMER ELLIE!!!
warnings: ellie loves you dearly,
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streamer!ellie who literally makes her streams fucking 4 hours long. she won't stop yapping, she's always asking questions and making polls and this and that.
“chat, should we play this game” “oh shit, ... made a new video, chat, should we watch it?”
the chat starts spaming yes’s and no’s. “i cant read allat. its going too fast— pause.” then she makes a poll
speaking of that... streamer!ellie will NOTTT stop saying pause after every little thing. if she doesn't say pause, shes look at the camera with that little smirk she has.
streamer!ellie who easily gets annoyed when they keep saying she sounds “hot” or whatever. she was too nervous to do a face reveal at first but then chat had to hype her tf up.
gf!streamer!ellie who had to hide your identity at first because she wanted to keep the fans from spamming you in the comments about her— but the hiding didn’t even work like chat found out 3 days later…
the reason why is because she kept forgetting to mute or get out of frame when she was speaking you.
but she also started playing random games that she normally wouldn’t play with this “other girl” she met… hm.
like dress to impress, royale high, bloxburg, and others. but okay pretty pink princess!
gf!streamer!ellie who kept on getting bugged about her promise ring.
she was showing her fit (because she does fit checks on stream) and chat would not shut up about the ring they kept spotting.
the next day she went on twitter and the first post she saw was:
“OMG ELLIE IS MARRIED?!?!!?”
she had to tell chat that, 1. its on her left hand, 2. you and her “weren’t in a relationship for that long yet” but its been fucking 1 year ellie. stop lying!!!!! and 3. she wasn’t “ready” even though she kept saying she was gonna marry you any day now.
streamer!ellie who gets BASHED in chat bro.
“what the helllll, oh my god.”
“uhm ellie, those dont match…”
“please tell me ur gf didnt pick that out..”
or when she keeps shooting at the wrong team… like babe those are ur teammates. (me too els..)
“ELLIE WTF ARE U DOING?!”
“can she read..?”
“she MIGHTT be a bit color blind.. 😬😬”
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Bestie you've made me SO CURIOUS about what the hell happened with Lieke
I thought we liked her?? Didn't we win the 2021 semis because of her?? (Don't @ me, I'm terrible at dates, all I remember is that there was an important game and we win it because of her)
Literally biting my nails rn waiting for the gossip 👀🙏
(no rush!! Take your time!! Find your sources!! I appreciate all your work 🫶)
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you all really enjoy angst, huh? 😂
okay, rule #1 of barça fandom: we love everyone until we don't 💅🏻 (unfortunately, we have earned a reputation as a fandom that is quick to turn on its players. to be fair, justly in some cases!)
and believe me, lieke was certainly beloved. looking back on her time at barça, she was definitely one of our best players, having played 5 seasons/158 matches and scoring 73 goals.
but what turned culers against lieke was her behaviour and the way she handled leaving the club. according to sport, lieke was allegedly offered a new contract early in the 2021-22 season, indicated she would accept, but never signed the renewal. then she kept putting things off for months, ignored calls of barça reps who say they never knew she wanted to leave on a free transfer. even cgh was asked about the rumours that lieke was leaving and said they were "fake news."
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anyway, once the news was announced that lieke would be going to psg, the fandom basically felt like it was a betrayal. even prominent barça journalists called out the way lieke left as "not the right way for the club and her teammates" and that the way she left was a "disappointment."
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some fans lamented that barça should place limits on how long players have to decide on a renovation (because lieke dragged it out!)
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and other fans started calling lieke all types of names like "rat" "snake" and "traitor" when she first posted she was leaving. and then when lieke got injured during euro2022, the abuse continued with some fans even saying it was karma.
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ultimately, there were rumours that the real reason that lieke left was because she wasn't getting the attention that players like alexia was getting from the club and fanbase. remember that lieke joined barça in 2017, which was the same year that she won uefa's player of the year and fifa's the best. was lieke jealous because her star had fallen and alexia's had risen? and because she wasn't spanish/catalan, it would remain that way. she even said as much in an interview with mundo deportivo.
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(the tweet above ponders whether lieke has finally confirmed the rumours that had been around for months that she was jealous of alexia and felt overshadowed)
obviously, lieke has a different version of events and even said in her most recent interview that it was because she wanted to be closer to her fiancé and home. but i always thought the issue of not feeling like the "chosen one" or "star girl" lingered. like in the earlier mundo deportivo interview in 2022, she complained about not being thanked by the club:
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so yeah, tl;dr, it is what it is. probably everyone involved would want to go back in time and do it differently, but here we are. the truth is probably somewhere in the middle.
and fyi, even today, fans still hold a grudge against lieke.
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("the thing about lieke martens… it's a shame… because at PSG she doesn't play at all… she only warms up the bench… here at FCB she would be winning titles and playing🤷🏽‍♀️ i guess bad decisions you make in life…")
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yutaleks · 2 months
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Hi aleks, sometimes I feel like, no one wants to connect on this social media site? Idk. The like to rb ratio is depressing. I mean, I’m grateful that people are liking my posts. But like. I wanna hear what they think too, ya know?
not sure if you are a writer im guessing from the wording of this ask that you are. but I think it's a bit hard these days to get the level of interaction that you may be asking for
depending on what fandom youre in or what character youre posting about or what trope youre writing etc etc the size of the audience will change. like I already know in my mind if im writing something that is more geared towards stereotypical heteronormative relationships that will get much more interaction than something that is subversive. or if im writing a fic for a popular character that will get much more interactions than a not so popular one.
But at the same time, coming from someone who used to write for a very popular character, I have to say that the grass is not always greener? As in, I think there is a difference between quantity and quality of interactions. If im writing something that I know a core base of people who follow me will like, I know I will most likely get at least some sort of interaction from people who typically enjoy that content. I find that interaction to be more meaningful, especially if it's something I enjoy talking about. vs, if I write something with a bigger 'audience', perhaps there will be more reblogs but the back and forth interaction does not happen. that person will read the fic, reblog or leave a comment, and then be on their way. It does not create this relationship where you end up having a back and forth conversation or becoming mutuals or anything like that (at least, in my experience).
Like if I post a fic that EYE enjoy, and I get ten comments from lovely people, that means more to me than a hundred interactions on a fic I didn't put my whole dick into. ya know?
idk where im going with this. I guess I wanna say if you are passionate about something, and you receive even a few bits of feedback, that will feel so much more rewarding than trying to 'chase' the feedback by writing things you think others will enjoy. and I think too that people will be able to tell when you are writing something that you feel passionate about.
im of the opinion that you can't force people to reblog and interact with your work. ive seen every excuse under the sun for why people wont reblog. but I think if someone feels as passionate about something as you do, they will overcome whatever shyness they feel to come tell you that they appreciate what you are doing
#idk if what I said makes any sense but#I think coming into Tumblr as a writer its okay to want a better rb to like ratio but don't feel discouraged#there is a lot stacked against you right now#no one that I know uses the tags anymore cause they are full of spam#so sometimes the fics that appear on the dashboard are just mutuals reblogging each other. and as a newbie those circles are hard to get in#so someone with no writer mutuals and no following... their posts wont be seen by anyone with significant pull/reach#I would say that I think 'bigger' writers on here should at least try every once and a while to peek into the tags and boost writers#that are new / starting out and making genuine efforts to write#I wont explain but I think when you've been on here long enough you can tell who is posting in the tags for 'Tumblr clout' and who I postin#fic bc they genuinely are passionate about it#but I know most writers on here only read whatever they see on their dash#if people actually stopped spamming the tags with nonsense and the tags were more useable I think we would all use them more... ironic#anyway. I personally always try to reblog fics with comments and check the tags every once and a while for fics to read#I think that is best practice for writers but I know not everyone does that...#in the same vein#i think if you put effort into being a good reader consistently. writers with larger followings will notice / want to be mutuals and help#boost your writing to the dashboard#writing fic is a community that takes genuine effort to grow#TLDR: be a good reader and reblog fics and interact with writers. write things that come from your heart. interactions will follow with tim#*time#long post#ϟ asking aleksandria
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nomaishuttle · 8 months
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sometimes u put yr playlist on shuffle a song comes up and you have to put another song in the queue immediately as soon as it comes on bc it makes you think of that song
#this is abt aura by ghost and pals Sry everytime i hear it im like a fiddle This is just like devil went down to georgia and then i have to#put devil went down to georgia in the queue#i think its a fiddle innit.. it sounds like a fiddle but im also NOTORIOUSLY bad at telling instruments apart. <- guy who once couldnt tell#if something was a guitar or a piano i actually rly rly rly rly dont wanna get into it okay.#i guess you didnt know it but i am a fiddle player too 😏😏#sry. the other thing this post is abt is kiss me and ladies in their sensibilities sweeney. obviously those r connected#but if ladies in their sensibilities comes on by itself i quite literally couldnt be assed so everytime i have to put kiss me on instead an#add lits to the queue. bc them together is like the best song i ever heard its just that the beginning of lits is just kind of boring It#does get stuck i my head sometimes but the supreme part is the end thats Basically just a reprise of kiss me#but also theyre kind of the same song anyways at least o wowww i was just typing in tempo with the fiddle that was awesome. at least on the#2012 soundtrack aka the best one talk to the hand or dont i dont wanna hear it. well i do want to hear it it being the 2012 london cast#recording of sweeney todd starring michael ball and imelda staunton. ANYWAYS!! in that one the songs lead in to eachother#ive listened to all the other soundtracks but idr if they do that.. well ill tell u the movie doesnt bc it doesnt have kiss me. which is#just so. the johanna anthony romance doesnt rly have much substance in the first place and yr taking away like. their duet together. ok....#AND yr taking away the end part of lits? the best part of that song? whatever its fine its fine.#if anybody is curious my ranking of casts is 2012 > obc > movie > 2006 i fucking hate 2006 or 2005 or whatever i hate it sm it makes my#blood literally boil im sry. i fucking LOATHE it idk what it is well i do but this post is already 5000000 years long. idt the new one is#out fully yet... i was ok with the songs i have heard but idk where id rank it yet. i should prolly check if the full things out yet omg so#me and my lampstie (way of saying my siblings name if theres something deeply wrong with you) can listen :]
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Some recent pressed leaves and stuff to add to the collection :0
#LOV giant nasturtium leaves#and they press weirdly thin like when they dry out it's almost like a super super fragile sheet of tracing paper or something#I also just really enjoy collecting textures and patterns and stuff. like it's not really about them looking pretty but more just#something notable. like the cool dotted pattern or the stripey veiny looking one#I have so much I want to get done by the end of the year but have been so unproductive still lol ToT#I've had new costumes and like Actual Stuff To Post for probably 2 months now but they just sit in a folder and I forget about#them and like walk in circles talking to myself all day instead or something hhh#I think it's the classic cycle of like 'I am too stressed to be productive > the fact that i'm not being productive stresses me out > i am#even more stressed and no more productive > being unproductive stresses me out > so on and so forth forever' lol#or the 'I have so many goals in life and so much motivation and so many things I love and want to do > there are too many things to do#at once and it's overwhelming > do none of them instead'  cycle lol#I think my main focuses in the new year though are to finally finish the worldbuilding slideshow. Do more costumes. And do more sculptures#since I haven't done a lot of those in a while. And still work on my games and short stories and stuff that takes place in my worldbuilding#world but those are more difficult longterm tasks so I think they should be like. not the MAIN main focus or else I'll never feel like I do#anything. I think that was the problem for the past while is that the things I had delegated as my Main Focuses That Go Above All Else#are so long and difficult and tedious that you never feel like you're making progress so it's like you're ignoring all the other stuff you#could be doing in favor of a thing that feels like you're not doing anything thus you get a chronic feeling of never finishing anything ever#Whereas like. I can do a sculpture in a day or two. and I can do costumes in a day or less. Having a steadier flow of Small Things i can fee#l like I'm actually accomplishing will maybe help it not just be like 'okay I spent a whole day doing somehting and have nothing tangible to#show for it because it's just text in a word document that probably nothing will ever even come of because it will take me years to finish'#The biggest insurmountable task at the moment is the worldbuilding slideshow but I am chugging through.. slowly lol.. It takes me about#2 hours to read 25 slides (they're not bullet points it's like little paragraphs on each slide). and I have about 800 to go. so thats..#naur.. i shant even calculate it... plus editing one hour of vidoe usually takes about 2 hours so you double it. if I have that much recordi#ng of me reading slides to edit. then turning them all into a final video should take.... i cannot say. i shall not think of it#And I've just had a very stressful few weeks HOWEVER I just always like tp start the new year with stuff cleared like.. all of my messages I#haven't answered in 3+ weeks responded to. all of my emails to my doctors checked. house cleaned and organized. photos cleared and organized#off of the computer. everyting backed up in some sort of physical storage. clear out drafts. rewrite all of my main todo lists. decide prio#rities and yearly/monthly/weekly goals. consider the trajectory of my life and what I need to do. etc. etc. So I feel like I don't have any#time to waste and can't rest. yet.. alas.. It doesn't help that I feel sick out of nowehre like 50% of the time#I know some poeple can work/focus on tasks with body aches and etc. but my brain is just always like 'No. :)' .. grrrbb
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southislandwren · 2 years
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oh boy school tomorrow! I missed 8 classes. I missed 2 work shifts. I missed 2 exams and a quiz. I have an essay due and I don't know when. I have accounting homework due tomorrow. I have a lab report due tomorrow. I have 2 days of lab to complete in 1 and I work immediately after lab (so can't stay after). I woke up at 10am and my first class tomorrow starts at 9 which means I have to be up at 7:45 and there's no chance I fall asleep before midnight tonight
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fruitgoat · 2 years
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Yesterday at Work
New Boss: *mostly talking to me, but standing where My Boss could see and hear her* I'm going to have to leave at 4:30 for a while so I can pick up my son; sorry.
My Boss: You get to pick him up everyday. It's great!
New Boss: I don't know if- I might not be able to be in much tomorrow.
Me: Well, during the summer, I don't usually work on Fridays, so...
My Boss: Neither do I!
New Boss: *looking back and forth between us* Not working on Fridays? I could probably figure that out. *deep breath* Give me a few weeks. *small laugh* Or months.
Me: *grinning* I also take Wednesdays off most of the time. Even in Tax Season.
New Boss: *grinning back* I think I might really like it here.
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paganinpurple · 1 year
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AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED
Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.
It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:
As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.
If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.
No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).
Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.
There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.
For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.
The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.
Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.
If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.
Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.
Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.
People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.
Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.
Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.
It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.
The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.
I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.
I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.
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basshole-astard · 9 months
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PSA: i keep seeing posts about staying cool in extreme heat that include advice like "gatorade is bad actually!" and "don't drink fruit juice it'll just dehydrate you!" and neither of these are true!
regarding fruit juice: there's apparently a misconception that Any Sugar At All will dehydrate you, and that's simply not true. yes, sugar will make you pee more when consumed in large amounts, but 1) the natural sugar in fruits won't do this to you 2) great news! a lot of fruit juices exist without any added sugar in them! 3) honestly even having a glass of the fruit juice with added sugar won't completely dehydrate you as long as you're also drinking water throughout the day. if its hot you deserve a cold treat of a drink!!! can't go wrong with fruit juice!!!
regarding gatorade: maybe this isn't an every day drink, but guess what: if it's 110F/40C or hotter outside, and you don't have AC, or you're moving around a lot outside of the AC, and you're sweating buckets: that's when you drink a gatorade.
gatorade exists to replenish all the electrolytes (salt) and glucose (sugar) that you sweat out. YES it is meant for athletes to drink during intensive work outs and not necessarily for people who aren't doing that kind of exercise. BUT GUESS WHAT! when you're sweating buckets because you had to walk to the bus in extreme heat, that's intensive exercise. please feel free to drink a gatorade after that! that's its intended use case!!!!
no: neither of these drinks should be a total replacement for water. but drinking a lot of water and then treating yourself to a fruit juice with lunch is a good idea!!! drinking a gatorade becuase you just had to walk for 20 minutes in the heat is a good idea!!!
Please Stop Spreading Misinformation About Drinks!!! It's fine if you drink things that aren't water!!!! Yes you should probably always be drinking water but drinking something else As Well isn't going to hurt you!!!! okay!!!! its fine!!!!!!
honestly so long as you are consistently getting Any (non-alcoholic) fluids in you, you're doing great!!!!!! okay!!!! i love you stay safe <3
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alteredphoenix · 6 months
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Every time I play with the idea of writing a Star Wars fic (and it's not something I'm opposed to, it's what happens when you get an OTP), I have to ask myself how would I maintain its identity if it isn't Jedi-centric or involves the Mandalorian Empire or...pretty much any part of the SW universe that doesn't heavy focus on the Light Side and the Dark Side that's come part and parcel with the Skywalker drama bullshit that Disney will probably never move on from because Nostalgia Means Big Bucks! that's so prevalent in all three trilogies. And for me it feels like: if I were to write a fic that doesn't include any of that, then would the setting still feel like Star Wars and not Another Cookie Cutter Sci-Fi Story?
I know it's kind of possible to not put a big focus on the Force and everything that ties into it (I believe Andor is more down to earth than, say, The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett), but at the same time I feel like the mysticism has so much weight in the series that taking it out of the picture (or at least not making it the big central thing in a story) just makes any story that wants to be more grounded would be like ripping its soul out.
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tojipie · 5 months
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˚ ✧ content: first-time parent toji, doctor reader, fluff, brief mentions of injury
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“oh— hey! found one more for you down the hall.” a dreaded patient chart is thrust into your arms before you can tell the cheery nurse that your shift is already over. 
“great,” you mutter, tiredly scanning the stack of paperwork as you make your way down the hall. it was way too late for this. 
2-year-old male, already triaged and x-rayed. drove in by his dad about 2 hours ago. nothing too extensive, wouldn’t take more than an hour to get him sent home. 
soft cries greet you at the door to the examination room, a hushed voice— his father— attempting to console the child.
“megs, c'mon. you’re gonna be okay! these are good people.” the older man whispers, sighing as the toddler’s sobs only grow louder.
your knock silences them both, the little boy trying to put on a strong face for you despite the little sniffles wracking his chest. 
the kid is a carbon copy of his dad, donning the same shaggy black hair and big green eyes. the toddler looks up at you hesitantly, long lashes slick with tears.
“see? doctor’s here,” his dad coos, feigning fake excitement as you shut the door behind you. you can hear the quiver in his voice as he says it, anxiety eating away at his composure.
first-time parent you think, cute. always more terrified than the child. always.
“how’s our little trooper doing?” you smile, sympathetic to both their states. the younger boy says nothing, wiping the wetness from his face with his good arm. poor baby.
“fell off his trike in the driveway,” the father explains, shaking his head. he was charming, soft-spoken yet commanding respect. gnarled edges of a scar gracing the side of his mouth.
“can i see? just want to have a better look at the injury site,” you say calmly, snapping on a pair of blue gloves.
“show her where it hurts kiddo,” he asks tenderly, wincing as you take the ice pack off to expose the child’s swollen wrist.  
megumi looks up at you curiously as you examine the injury, exhausted from a mix of pain and sleep deprivation.
 “mama?” he mumbles, idly kicking his feet in his father’s lap.
“no bud not mama.” the older man laughs, clearly embarrassed. you feel your heart twinge just a bit at the adorable show of confusion.  
“no broken skin, the joint is still aligned too.” you say confidently, placing the ice pack back. “likely not a break or a dislocation but i’ll look at the x-rays just so we’re positive, sound good?”
the father nods quietly, hugging his son to his chest.
“his mom was never in the picture, s’ hard handling him alone,” the older man doesn’t follow up on his comment, leaving it at that.
you nod. “i’m sorry.”
“toji,” he mumbles.
“i’m sorry, toji.”
it doesn’t take long for you to go over the blue images. an intact bone stands out against the illuminated wall, not a break thankfully. the stranger catches on soon enough, tension leaving his body at the good news. 
“looks like it’s just a sprain,” you say, pointing to the image. 
“see that kiddo?” he whispers, turning the little boy’s head toward you. “s’ nothing.”
“nofing?” megumi mumbles, clearly too tired to pay attention anymore. shy as a bunny.
“you’re gonna want to ice and elevate for at least the next two days, you should see a full recovery by then but if not i want you to come right back, okay?” you explain.
the father nods, propping his little boy down on the floor as you type out your post-visit instructions.
“say thank you to the pretty doctor megs,” he encourages, chuckling as the little boy waddles over to hug your leg with his good arm. so incredibly tiny. 
pretty huh? you could get used to that.
“fank you.” his sweet voice latches onto your tired heart and melts you from the inside. megumi slumps down against your shoe as sleep takes over, caught under the arms and swept into his dad’s arms in an instant. 
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tanaor · 2 months
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Want simple tips to heavily improve your skills with character voice??
(📝Note: character voice is the way you convey your character's personality though their pov or dialogue when you write. No two characters speak the same📝)
I speak from experience when I say character voice is hard to get right. Characters, like people, have lots of layers that affect the way they see the world around them and how they interact with other characters. That's why character voice is so important in stories, and why if you write it in a compelling and effective way it will hook people into your story. I hope you learn something new in this post!!
When writing character voice, there's a list of things that you should take into account:
Where are they from? Their past and what they've lived plays a huge part in character voice. Maybe your character grew by the ocean, and so they compare things from the present to the beach, the rocks or the sea itself. You will rarely read about a sailor that is an expert in pants and compares scents to flowers. They might, instead, talk about how a house smells like the wet wood of a ship.
Think about how their personality shapes their language. If they are insecure, they might end most of their sentences with "isn't it?" or "right?" and ask a lot of questions, whereas if you have a confident character, you might find them saying things like "we should do this" or "that will be fun" instead.
What their "lense" is. This is more of an ethic aspect of the character. What have they learn it's okay, and what do they find uncomfortable? Would they find it gross if their friend left laundry on the floor?
Give them special traits (both for dialogue and narration). Maybe character A quotes a lot when they narrate and uses long paragraphs, or maybe B speaks about their past a lot and uses popular sayings. Personally, one character of mine has the tendency to repeat himself when he speaks, as in "yeah, yeah, I'll do it" or "no, no, no. Never" because he is really enthusiastic, and it fits really well with his character.
Pay attention to how they would talk about themselves. Maybe your character doesn't like people to know they're sad because it makes them feel vulnerable, so they will just say they feel annoyed or don't want to talk in that moment. This also means that they will not tell the reader something they are not comfortable saying in the first place.
How is their education? Education is also very important in this context. Did they went to university and have a rich vocabulary and structured sentences, or where they rised in a little farm far from town? You can also play with both a bit: maybe your character did go to university, but maybe they also came from a low income family, and characteristic of both things merge when they talk. Example: long, structured, sentences but a simple and sight forward vocabulary.
That's all for now and happy writing!!
Other tips for writers: previous | next
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highvern · 2 months
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Work Me Out
Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
Genre: Smut, 18+
Warnings: working out, flirting, touching, almost car sex, making out, breast play, fingering, oral, face sitting, multiple sex positions, big dick mingyu, protected sex (gasp!), strength kink, dirty talk, choking, spanking :) lover boy gyu as always. let me know if i missed anything!
Length: ~5k
Note: y'all thought cheol rot was bad but the OG bias wrecker is back. dont come at me for gym terminology i go by vibes. replaced my gym crush with mingyu and this is what happened <3 i have a bonus/pt 2 in the drafts too but I'll wait to post it bc too much muscle pig mingyu is bad for the soul... and the [redacted]
to the anon that sent me a seok ask forever ago about his arms, im sorry i used it in this fic. but know i have a seok fic with exactly what you asked for in the works rn. everyone say thank you anon.
@bbychocolat do not hit my line about mingyu for at least 24 business hours i need to recover
Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)
read part II
read more here
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!
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Figuring out the ins and outs of a new gym isn’t easy but it isn’t impossible. Go too early and you’re surrounded by creepy men old enough to be your grandfather. Right after work is a sure way to experience hoards of gym bros crowding around machines like they own them. 
So you go as late as possible. 
Only a handful of people are dispersed through the large space. A few run on the treadmills lined on the catwalk of the second floor, several switch through different weights in front of the mirrors. You make your way through the maze of equipment towards the leg press; your final sets before you can go home and wash away the grime of the day.
Or you would if someone wasn’t occupying the one machine you need.
Peeping your head around, you notice a black backpack and matching water bottle on the ground. You glance around, unable to find a clear owner since the next closest person is halfway across the gym doing a different exercise.
Would it be that rude to take the machine out from under someone if they’re not even using it? You could probably get in all your sets before the person even came back if you moved quickly.
You wait a few minutes. How embarrassing would it be to have the mystery person walk back up the second you sat down? But after five minutes pass and no one emerges to claim the spot, you set about changing the weights out.
And just when you slip into the seat, you look up and find someone approaching.
He’s tall, he’s handsome, and he’s barely ten feet away. Your saving grace is that he hasn’t spotted you yet thanks to his phone. 
But that doesn’t last long.
“Oh! Sorry! Were you using this machine?” You ask, trying to sound cordial. 
“It’s okay!” He smiles at you. “Do you need it?”
Yes.
“No, I can find something else to do.” 
You rise to do just that when he stops you with a shrug.
“I don’t mind sharing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I take long breaks between my sets anyway so it’s no big deal.”
So that’s where he went.
“Okay, thanks.”
“No problem.”
He moves to lean against the wall, face buried in his phone once again as you work through your set. Honestly you think he forgot you were even there until you start standing up and he pushes off his perch. 
Exchanging polite smiles, you skirt around him and snag your water bottle before occupying the same spot against the painted bricks. You try not to be a creep but watching the way the muscles in his legs bulge and coil with each rep is impossible to look away from. Especially when there’s just so much to look at.
He racks up twelve reps with ease and switches back off with you before wandering out of sight.
You work through two of your sets before he comes teetering back. 
“I tried putting it back to your weight.” You laugh, sipping from your water bottle.
“Three forty? Ouch.”
“What? Should I have made it lighter?”
“Try heavier. Like four hundred.”
“My sincerest apologies.” You mock, placing your hand over your heart. “I’ll remember that next time.”
He laughs again before slipping back into the seat and working through the motions.
This time you don’t bother hiding the way you watch him over your phone. He looks good, it’d be a waste not to watch the swell of his chest or the stretch of his thighs. The gym shorts and snug black t-shirt only exacerbate how cut his physique is. 
And if he makes a comment you can always twist your not so subtle gawking into a compliment about his form.
When he finishes his set again, he snags his bag and water bottle off the ground before turning to you. “All yours. Have a good night.”
“Yeah, you too.”
And he’s gone.
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Over the next few weeks, you learn mystery man works out at the same time you. He’s there when you arrive and remains when you leave after an hour and a half of sweating and gasping like a dying fish, only absent on Wednesdays when you manage the most last luster workouts of your life. The disappointment the first time you realized you were looking for the backwards cap sticking out amongst the free weights would have been embarrassing but what's wrong with a little eye candy while breaking a sweat? 
And what a great view he makes. Your brief peeks into the mirrored walls are full of nothing straining muscles and glowing skin. The first day he did arms in a cutoff tee will go down in history as the worst day of your life. Only rivaled by all the other days he works his legs in shorts accentuating just how nice his ass is with every squat.
Your friends all ask when you’re going to talk to him again. As if you’ll just walk right up and interrupt the best part of your day. No, you’d rather watch him move across the gym floor from the corner of your eye, throw him a friendly nod, and go about your business than run the risk of making things awkward.
Unfortunately, doesn’t possess the same desire to remain a friendly nameless face like you do.
His name is Mingyu. Or that’s what the employee with glasses calls him while they joke around one night. You don’t mean to eavesdrop but they’re loud and the only exit takes you right past the U-shaped desk. Mingyu throws a grin as you pass by on your way out and the flash of teeth spikes your heart rate higher than any exercise you’ve done that night.
When he officially introduces himself at the water fountain the next night, you have to bite the urge to tell him ‘I know.’ Instead you snort at his extended hand, providing your own name over the firm shake like you won’t be haunted by the feeling of the calluses on his fingers or the heat of his palm for the next week. 
What’s worse is how he says your name back, rolling the sound across his tongue and past his quirked lips. 
And the final nail in the coffin is when you leave and you see the way he turns in the glass doors to watch, bidding you a goodnight with your name signed at the end.
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Mingyu might be the worst gym crush in the world. Mostly because your thoughts of him extend beyond the brick walls he should only exist in. And partially because he’s caught you staring more times than you care to admit. 
Not as many times as you’ve caught him, but the point stands.
No, the worst part, you find out, is Mingyu is an incorrigible flirt. And he knows it.
Tonight you’re off schedule, runny nearly half an hour later than usual.; work clothes sticking to your skin as you make your way towards the off shooting hall housing the entrance to the locker rooms. In a rush, you step around another body only to end up in front of one much more familiar.
“There's my girl.” Mingyu smiles. “Thought you were skipping out on me.”
My girl. My girl. My girl, my girl, my girl….
There isn’t a thought in your head beyond the bold casualness he drops that bomb on you with so you nod awkwardly and force yourself not to sprint the next twenty feet to hide.
Half an hour later, when you catch him watching you in the mirror over his own weights, the bastard smiles like the cat who caught the canary. 
But you end up on top when Mingyu offers to spot you while doing weighted squats. He’s at your back, an appropriate amount of space between your bodies you wish he’d close. You don’t need his help. Your form is better than his (you would know, his ass and thighs give you tunnel vision when its his leg day). And the weight on the bar isn’t even enough to make you strain but why pass up on the offer? Especially with how Mingyu meets your eyes over your shoulder in the mirror with each dip.
And then he cheers ‘that’s my girl’ again when you re-rack the equipment with ease and it's over.
“Shit,” you grunt. 
Mingyu pops up from his perch between your breasts under your shirt, hair a mess and eyes glazed. “Good?”
“No, your steering wheel is in my back.” You wince, attempting to wiggle away and ending up further up his lap.
“Sorry, let me just…”
The seat flies back under your combined weight, throwing your forehead right into Mingyu’s chin.
“Fuck!” 
“Oh my god!” You gasp. “Are you okay?”
Mingyu’s head falls back as he releases a massive sigh. Each second that ticks by has you both coming to the same conclusion.
“Yeah,” you breath, sitting up. “I think this was a bad idea.”
“Oh…”
“I just mean like your car is small and you’re too big and I—“
The guffaw Mingyu tries to hide slips free too easily. “That’s what she said.”
“God, you’re gross.” 
Your nose crinkles as you rise up, using his chest for leverage. It feels as nice as it looks and its the worst knowledge you’ve gained in you life.
“Sticks and stones,” he hums.
“Well this was fun. I’ll ugh… see you around?”
When you try to shift back into the passenger seat to exit, Mingyu’s hands flex over your thighs to keep you in his lap. His sweats do nothing to hide his semi. Something he doesn’t even seem to consider as a concern given the way he unconsciously curls into you.
“Or we can go back to mine.”
He’s trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Like he won’t go home and fuck his fist in the shower with the echoes of your sighs filling his ears if you turn him down. You can see it in his eyes. What hinges on his offer and how much you’ll both regret it if the tension fizzles and dies in his SUV.
From where you’re sitting, it’s incredibly difficult to think with your head and not your hormones. Mingyu is hot, he’s nice, he seems decent enough. His behavior doesn’t hint at him being a creep. If he’s normal enough to fuck in his car, is he not normal enough to fuck in the comfort of a bed?
The thumb stroking your thighs and the hopeful eyes staring you down make the decision for you.
“Yeah, okay.” 
With his address in your phone’s GPS, you trail after his SUV in your own car. The roads are familiar because they’re the same roads you drive when you return to your apartment that turns out to be only three blocks closer to the gym than Mingyu’s. 
All this time he’d been so close and you never even realized. Did he think about you the same way you thought about him when he drove home? If he did, you’re in for a night.
Rolling into a space only a few down from where he parks, you pause to hype yourself up. 
People have sex all the time. It’s no big deal. I can do this. 
A knock at the window interrupts your spiral, finding Mingyu smiling sheepishly through the glass. The muscles in your chest squeeze when he opens the door and holds it for you to exit; and threaten to explode when his hand finds the small of your back and guides you towards the stairwell.
Footsteps echo down to the hall, Mingyu only a fraction ahead to lead the way to a non-descript door with a seasonal doormat that's seen better days.
“Ugh, this is it.” 
His apartment is shockingly clean for a guy your age. Not clean in the ‘I don’t own enough shit to even be dirty’ way. No, Mingyu’s apartment is cozy. There’s throw pillows and blankets on the couch. He has a lamp and bookshelf in the corner and the walls are adorned with a collage of artwork thoughtfully pieced together. Several personal photos are littered throughout, some with an obviously younger Mingyu propped next to what must be a sister or a cousin, a few of him with friends. One of him and a familiar man with glasses, their faces blurry but the glee clear as they’re frozen in time. Your lips lift with a soft smile at the personal touches bleeding into every corner of his space.
Turning over your shoulder you ask, “You and the guy at the gym are friends?” 
Mingyu’s watching you with something unidentifiable in his eyes, stepping forward to figure out which frame you're looking at until he’s only a foot behind you.
“Yeah, we went to the same middle school.”
“And this one?” You say, fingers tracing the edge of the wooden frame.
“My little sister.” Mingyu follows, still only a step behind.
“And I’m assuming these are your parents?”
“Actually those are Wonwoo’s parents.” He chuckles. “These are my parents.”
Mingyu’s arm reaches around to point at the correct photo, his chest brushing against your back.
“Wanna give me the tour?”
Mingyu manages to show you everything in five minutes. The living room and connected kitchen you’re already standing in, the door of the hall bathroom, and finally his bedroom. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, discovering the new smattering of details that uncover more about the man waiting with baited breath in the threshold. 
“Why are you over there?” You ask.
With arms crossed and shoulders up to his ears, Mingyu resembles a kid waiting to be scolded rather than a man who tried to hook up with you in his car less than thirty minutes ago.
“I’m nervous.”
You can’t stop the satisfaction from spreading to your face. “I make you nervous?”
Mingyu pushes off the door jam, shuffling forward until he’s standing a foot in front of you. “Yeah. I don’t really do stuff like this.”
“Stuff like what? Try and fuck girls in your car?”
“Haha.” Mingyu mocks, face descending until he rubs his nose with yours.
Your eyes slip closed when his do, breathing each other's air. “Stuff like what, Gyu?”
Your hands find the material of his shirt stretched across his shoulder. Each brush of his lips across your cheek, down your jaw, until he finds your ear.
“I don’t sleep around with girls I’m not dating.”
Oh.
“We don’t hav—”
“Which is not the best way to ask you out.”
You press him out of your space, far enough that you can look him in the eyes and see if he’s serious. The tips of Mingyu’s ears burn red but he’s looking right at you despite how embarrassed he clearly feels.
“You’re asking me on a date?”
“Ugh, yeah. I think it’d be fun. But you don’t have to! If you just wanna do this that's fine t—”
Whatever words Mingyu was trying to say fizzle on the tip of his tongue as you pull him into a kiss. He curls over you, pressing you further into his bed with every fervent pass. Wedging one hand under the small of your back, Mingyu lifts you up and carries you while he crawls to the center.
Your mind wanders to all the other ways he can manhandle you into the mattress.
He settles flat against you, hips cradled between your own while delving into your mouth. You fill your hands with his ass, dragging Mingyu’s covered cock against your core. A groan backs apart your lips as Mingyu falls into the curve of your neck. 
“This is a yes to the date by the way.” You pant now that he’s taken over, hands scratching up his back in an effort to get rid of his shirt. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
Mingyu’s clothes disappear over his head and across the room, yours following shortly after. The heat of bare skin on bare skin is better than anything until he takes one of your breasts in his palm and the other in his mouth. 
Every curse you know flies through your lips as he sucks and pinches until you're sore between the legs.
He takes the squeeze of your thighs and the rock of your hips as a greenlight, hands leading where his lips follow until it’s nothing but your panty clad core an inch from his face.
“This okay?” Mingyu asks in the fat of your thigh, tongue trailing fire across the skin.
You nod with a sigh, “Mingyu, please.”
He doesn’t need much more than that, the fabric barrier gone in a blink and his nose traces your folds until he’s dying for a taste.
Mingyu eats pussy like he doesn’t need oxygen. The path of his pointed tongue around your clit is nothing short of precise, meticulously tracing every ridge and curve until the sheets stretch under your fingers. When he flattens it to pay broader attention, your legs squeeze and Mingyu’s hands force them wide around his shoulders.
Your feet flatten on the bed and thrust up his mouth, wet and crude with fingers in his hair and your whines in his ears. Every suck of Mingyu’s mouth forces the muscles in your neck to lerch until they hurt and your head falls back. He takes pride in the way you drip for him, making the best mess he’s ever had the privilege to clean up.
You reward him with an lavishing praise at the next twitch of your insides, “Fuck, just like that.” 
Taking advantage of the slight arch in your spine, Mingyu’s hand sneaks under your back, fingers unforgiving as they dig into your ass. He curls your hips up and buries a finger in your core with mortifying ease.
Between your legs, Mingyu catches your eyes. Pupils blown wide, mouths bruised around stuttered breath. A matching set of debauched expressions. He’s more familiar like this; skin glowing with sweat, and hair matted to his forehead. Next time you see him at the gym you know it's all you’ll think about. Next time you're alone in your room, or the shower, or the grocery store. Or anywhere you’ve day dreamed about him before.
He leans back to watch the digit disappear, only to reappear soaking. “Feels good?”
“Give me another and it will.”
You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you for what you felt under his shorts. His tongue is hard and wet at your clit, fingers stretching and spreading until your stomach dips and you nearly buck him off as your clit swells from abuse.  
Your fingers pluck at your nipples and Mingyu apparently likes to watch because he manages more enthusiasm, forces his finger to crook just the right way, and continues to suck even after you start screaming.
“Oh fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant, voice cracked.
Something sounding suspiciously like a ‘thank you’ drops into the mix but Mingyu’s the only one to hear it. In his opinion, he should be the one doing the thanking; you just gave him enough spank bank material for the next six months.
You don’t dislike the taste of yourself on his tongue, his lips, his chin, his cheeks, and even his chest when you flip Mingyu over and aim to return the favor. He blushes when you lap against the hollow of his throat; embarrassed from the way he goes boneless with such simple affection.
He sinks into the plush of the mattress, propped up by the mountain of pillows at the headboard. Mingyu’s stomach stiffens under your tongue and the twitch blooms a smile on your face. Predictable.
“Sensitive?”
Your nails raking up the shape of his thighs turn the denial falling from his lips into a whine, and it makes you wonder what other sounds Mingyu will make with his cock in your mouth.
The vein bulging along the underside of his length gives your tongue something to trace along as you lap from base to flared tip, sucking down until it shines from spit and pre-cum. You take all you can until the curve of your throat protests.
Mingyu’s big and he’s loud.
“Oh God, shit.” He babbles with abandon, hands fisted at his sides until his knuckles turn pale.
You focus on the cock in your mouth rather than how pretty Mingyu’s chest would look covered in bite marks. How a bruise on his hip would be just visible when he reaches over his head to do pull ups, and red streaks from your nails on his bicep would make a great accessory.
A hand lands on the base of your skull, gentle until it's not. His thumb dips to stroke the bulge of his dick through your throat as you take him deeper. And like some ridiculous porno theres still an inch you’ll never be able to take even if you do nothing but let him fucking your mouth until the only thing you taste is cum.
“Fuuuuck,” Mingyu groans from a harsh suck on the upstroke.
He distracts you with his tongue on yours, keeping you from diving back down and destroying his ego from how quick you almost made him cum. Your one solace is the lazy grip you have on the base of Mingyu’s length, fingers tightening around the head while he cants into the squeeze.
You think Mingyu is going to plant you on his cock and make you ride it until one of you is crying. But he keeps pushing and pulling until you’re kneeling over his face, knees cushioned in the pillows and hands against the wall to steady you while he dives in again.
His head shakes back and forth, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit as you grind into his face. The last grip of sanity you have gives you the mind to reach back, jerking Mingyu off while he eats it, a cycle of moans moving through you; him into your folds when you squeeze from a grating pass off his tongue that has you whining to the ceiling fan.
“Shit, need you to fuck me.” You whine but don’t stop curling against the latch of his lips, legs stiff with ache.
It’s Mingyu who brings things to a halt, raising you away from his mouth until you're left on your knees while he stands to rummage in the drawer for a condom. You listen while the paint of the wall cools your forehead.
The hand at the dip of your spine makes you melt when he checks in, “Still okay?”
Nodding, you find him over your shoulder with a thick swallow. Mingyu’s nose follows the slope of your muscles, lips untying all the knots he’s worked into them over the past few weeks.
“Want it like this?”
“Yeah.”
You drop until your chest meets the bed and arch until it hurts just to put on a good show. Mingyu shuffles behind you, knocking your knees wider with his own, palms molding to your ass and spreading it apart to take a good look like he wasn’t tongue deep inside your pussy already. The room is nothing more than the sounds of grounding breaths; Mingyu watching the way your torso moves around the air, releasing a long exhale before moving closer.
The feel of his chest against yours was great, but the hard muscle of it along your back, his chain caught between and leaving a definitive mark, is life ruining. It shreds the last bit of humanity you’ve been clinging to since you dragged Mingyu to the parking lot and tried to stick your hands down his pants while leant against the passenger door.
No matter how well Mingyu stretched you for his cock it was never going to be enough. Taking the first inch nearly splits you in half. But you're soaked and needy; nothing short of the end of the world is going to keep you from getting the satisfaction of feeling him in your guts. You take it with measured breaths and affirmations to relax. Slow arches of his hips work him in until he’s flat with your ass and whispering absolute depravity into your ears.
“Fuck, you’re tight.”
Arching your ass higher, you whimper, “You’re huge.”
Your ass stings under his punishing hand, thrown forward by an involuntary buck of his hips.
“Don’t say that.”
You turn until you can look over your shoulder again, meeting wild eyes. “You feels so good.” You moan, eyelids low and wrecked.
“Didn’t—shit, think you’d have such a dirty mouth.” He bites into the side of your neck, sucking a bruise like a depraved teenager. 
“I knew you’d have a fat cock.”
You get what you want so easily it's almost insulting; Mingyu’s hand forcing your face into the sheets and his hips rushing into you with pure need. Every prod into your cunt has you wailing. It’d destroy your self respect if you could think of anything beyond how he’s ruining you for anyone else.
Pillows topple off the edge of the bed as you scramble for a hold. Anything to ground you against the burn in your veins with every tight squeeze around Mingyu’s cock. His balls slap against your clit teasingly, more degrading than the way he has you bent in half. 
“Harder,” you beg.
Mingyu falls back on his haunches, pulling you with him until you're sitting up right. His arm comes into view, curling around neck until your throat sits in the crux of his elbow and his hand latches on your shoulder; a crude headlock he uses as leverage to keep fucking into you. You’ve been choked but this is infinitely better. Whatever Mingyu wants to take from you, he’s in a position to do so.
“Gonna cum?” He nips into your earlobe.
His hand shoves its way between your legs, swipe roughly against your clit before you can even hope to answer.
A pathetic nod is all you manage thanks to the muscles gathered under your chin limiting your mobility.
Mingyu let's go then and your hands prevent a crash into the headboard, putting you back in the same position as before but you have to work for it now; ass bouncing in his laps as you ride him. Finding your balance, you drop one hand to your clit as Mingyu’s pinch your nipples.
“Let me have it, let me make you come." Mingyu pants into your spine. "Fuck you look so good like this, shit.”
He keeps rambling, flying with you towards the edge hand in hand; both breathless from the slap of your thighs against his.
“Mingyu, feel so good. Oh my god, oh my g—”
The softness of the pillows greets you once again while everything flashes white. Mingyu scrambles behind, fucking you into the mattress while you soak his cock. Muscles twitching, teeth ground till they crack, you come and come and come while begging him to do the same.
Mingyu gives in without hesitation, all his weight behind his hips as he fills the condom; dragging you back with an arm around your waist. Every jerk of his cock against your walls from the force makes you vibrate until he’s slipping out, soiled and used against the back of your thigh.
The last thing you register is his lips finding your shoulder again, rubbing back and forth as he comes down.
You fall asleep under the heat of his body for who knows how long, content in the mind shattering numbness of what just happened. Mingyu seems to feel the same, dead weight hanging half off you so you can at least manage to breath.
When you wake, whether it's twenty minutes or two hours later, Mingyu is snoring into the pillow, still naked. His lips pout in his sleep and you swallow the urge to shower them with kisses thanks to the drool at the corner of his mouth.
Even without the covers, you're warm. The kind of heat that slips over your skin, sinks into your bones and keens for you to fall asleep and stay. But Mingyu asked you on a date, not to spend the night. And you’d hate to assume and ruin whatever this is before it as a chance to start.
“Where are you going?” He pouts.
You don't make it two inches out of his arms before he’s pulling you back, tangling them around you so there's no chance of unnoticed escape. Mingyu digs his nose into your cheek and waits for an answer like he has all the time in the world.
Something tells you if he knew you were attempting to head home, Mingyu would throw a fit. And what use is that when you want to see what a night sleep with a giant human furnace is like?
“Bathroom.”
Adding to the list of information you’ve learned, Mingyu is a stage five clinger. He latches on to your back, guiding you into the shower stall for a quick spray down that leaves half your face, part of your thigh, and almost none of him clean.
He falls asleep against the base of your skull while brushing your teeth, because of course he has a stash of extra toothbrushes under the sink just in case. 
And when you crawl under the fresh sheets, he pulls you into his chest, leaves a kiss against your forehead, and tells you he can’t wait for your breakfast date tomorrow.
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