#this has been sitting on my wips for so long 😭😭😭

[wibblyparfait]

society if i didnt keep forgetting i finished this BUT I FINALLY FINISHED THIS 🔥🔥🔥🔥

moff girl (who might b familiar from Forbidden Past OCs but either way. this girlie can fit so much 'help i just wanted to be gay n thrive but my geef isnt here n ive been given god power responsibility so my litle sib wont have to worry' in her 😭 SHDJDJF)

#also man i wish those wings were more consistent + How Draw Eye Patterns BUT. either way she is REAL after so long :))) DHFJDNF #this wip has been sitting in my notebook for so long i am too busy 😭 SNFJDJ #OC Art #OC #Original Character #Parf2023

[kumezyzo]

any dad!sapnap headcanons ? i feel like he’d love his little family so much :,)

ofc i do!!! so i was gonna post sweet and cute bf!sapnap headcannons cause ove gotten three anon asks about them 😭😭 but this is quite literally what has been sitting in my wips for so long 😭😭 and it was part of the angst i was talkin about not too long ago. but there is no angst in this!!😁

this is incredibly long cause its mostly pregnant!reader. um yea... sorry its not really what you asked for 😭😭😭

and this fem!afab!reader and even tho ive thought about this as streamer reader, im not gonna do it like that cause this anon didnt ask for that 😌 anyway, this is dad/dilf!sapnap

enjoy! or dont.... :) m.list

when you first have a suspision of being pregnant, you tell bf!sapnap immediately.

"wait, you think youre pregnant?" he asks with a concerned look. you bit your lip and nodded, fidgeting with your hands.

"i know we're really young and if you think we're not ready, im okay with not keeping it. i completely get whatever you feel like doing, i just needed to tell you even before i knew for sure-"

"hey, hey," he cut you off and walked up to you, cupping your face. "relax, okay. we can figure it out when we know for sure."

bf!sapnap who holds your hand when youre waiting the three minutes after peeing on the test. both of your hearts racing but trying to keep it together for eachother.

the tension in the bathroom was cut when the timer on your phone goes off. you both jumped before laughing nervously.

bf!sapnap who immediately hugs you when you flip over the stick and the test comes out positive.

you feel your body go numb at the idea of a life growing inside of you. nick didnt know how to comfort you properly, whether you were completely devastated or happy. so he waited for your reaction.

"are you okay?" he whispered. it was almost as if you would run for the hills if he spoke at any level above something close to silence.

you nod, squeezing him tighter. completely refusing to let go of the only thing grounding you to the moment.

"what-" he takes in a deep breath. "what do you want to do."

bf!sapnap who realizes the nickname 'mama' is suddenly a lot more fitting than before. and he says it with pride.

"come here mamas..." "damn mama..." "can i get a kiss mama?" he literally becomes the 'hey mamas' meme

bf!sapnap who doesnt realize he is/will become a dilf until you're well into your pregnancy. he would just be admiring your beautiful pregnant glow, complimenting you, when you brought it to his attention.

"you look so good, mamas," he says to you dreamily as he gets up to hug you from behind. his hands going to run over your bump. "cant wait to date a milf."

you laugh and lean your head back to rest on his shoulder. "and i cant wait to date a dilf." he proceeds to have a mini existential crisis and epiphany

bf!sapnap who is completely stunned to find out you were having a baby girl. a strange sense of protection filled him as he came to accept the fact that he now had two important women in his life. and he knew if it came to it, he'd protect them with his life.

bf!sapnap who most likely wont run to the store at midnight for your cravings. but he will postmates it for you in the blink of an eye and wait with you until it gets there.

bf!sapnap who lets you have the complete decision of when to reveal your pregnancy to his viewers.

bf!sapnap who has hundreds of videos of you laying in bed, your belly proudly showing and visible baby kicks and punches stretching through your skin.

"holy shit, it looks like an alien," he says, pointing his phones camera at your seven month sized belly. you had both paused the tv in your room to admire the way your child seemed to try to break out of the confines of your body

"this feels so fucking weird," you laugh as you watch your belly with wide eyes. then you register your boyfriends words. "wait, what did you call her-"

soon dad!sapnap who cant stay still when youre going through inactive labour, just laying in the hospital bed.

bsf!dream and george that come to visit your baby and you. they cant help but admire her full head of wavy hair and green eyes.

dad!sapnap who tries to let you sleep when you two get home. when the baby wakes up at midnight, he tries to console her as fast as possible to let you sleep.

nick is standing, trying to rock her to sleep. the little girls crys resonating through the room. his heart breaking at every little gasp she took between wails.

you sat up in the bed tiredly. you looked over at your boyfriend who looked at you sympathetically. you stood up and walked over to him. you stood next to him and leaned your head on his shoulder, watching your little girl scream her little head off.

"lemme hold her," you say with a yawn. he sighs and gently passes her over to you. he set her in your arms and almost immediately she stopped crying. you sughed once you realized her eyes were wide open and looking around. "come on baby, you can go back to sleep," you whisper to her.

nick watched you with a drowsy smile. and as you were able to get your baby to go down, he realized how this was his knew life. and he was comfortable.

it was mostly pregnant reader and thats not really what the anon asked for 😭😭 im sorry i just wanted this posted😭 if you want I'll make a pt.2 with him as an actual dad i guess? and help me come up with a name for this child please. -Nony

#sapnap #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #dteam #sapnap x y/n #dilf sapnap #pregnant reader

[shinjisdone]

Hi!! I just finished reading part 6 of your Thorfinn headcanons. I really liked them and I think you nailed his character perfectly.

Is it okay if I request for headcanons on a Yandere s1 Thorfinn (in a romantic way) with a female reader who's the same age as him? Reader can't really fight well and was mainly recruited by Askeladd for other skills (e.g navigation, cooking, speaking multiple languages). Headcanons on how Yandere Thorfinn falls for reader, how he generally acts, and what if reader becomes uncomfortable with Thorfinn's overprotectiveness and tries to leave the crew / ask Askeladd for help?

Thank you! :DD

OMG its so nice to hear that ppl think I write him in character 😭 the greatest compliment for any writer

*akihiko voice* I've been WAITING for this , I actually have a Yandere Thorfinn WIP that hasn't been touched for a while and I need to get back into it

gonna add this as an extra for the thorfinn series cuz there's more yandere where this came frrom

I will post it someday, dont worry

also @omoxhri and @mitsureigen because I think they might enjoy this a-and maybe @yanderes-galore (*ﾉ▽ﾉ)

Yandere!S1!Thorfinn with a Female!Reader who becomes uncomfortable around him

ooooooh okay

Oh lemme get started with this ohh I am so in the mood for yandere thorfinn

So to fall for someone I think you would need to get close to Thorfinn like in my general Thorfinn headcanons. It's not exactly the closeness but rather the way you enter his life. Taking care of him, doing favors, listening to his story of his father, being this amicable shine of normalcy as he gets more and more comfortable with you and finally realizes you could be a friend. You are a friend.

During that time of bonding he might already develop some feelings for you but they are very, very subtle. Guy barely knows what he is feeling anyway. It might be because of your smile or your care and your kindness, your skills or wits. It could be everything combined.

Well, you are also the only woman he knows and has known the past eleven years...so there are definitely situations where he catches himself feeling flustered.

The real turning point for him to become a Yandere is when Askeladd concludes his 'experiment' and almost killed you (though there is another turning point that happens at the very end of the prologue but we'll go in detail in the upcoming parts ;) ).

He is and definitely will be overprotective of you and your well-being after that like in the general headcanons for sure, but there is a slight disdain and ache growing in his heart at the thought that the murderer of his father almost took you away from Thorfinn as well.

Had he not been there...not been fast enough, not been strong enough - not like he was when he was a six-year-old child - then you would have been gone, too.

Gone. Your body left to rotten in some burning forest where the danish soldiers would stomp on your corpse as if you were nothing.

As if you were a nobody. But you aren't. Oh, if only then knew.

How he generally acts afterwards is quite the shift. Thorfinn is as protective as always but to a point where he grows the most hostile he has ever been with the band.

The men and Askeladd barely can recognize him. Holding your body close to him, you sitting on his lap as he presses you tightly against his chest...one arm to support you while the other is holding his dagger so tightly his knuckles turn white.

He's staring into nothingness with a scowl.

Your wound has long healed but the blonde still cradles you as if the incident just happened. It's gotten a bit ridicilous in the men's eyes.

One of them might say something and will surely be met with Thorfinn's dark glare. If one even took one step closer, blood will be spilled before Askeladd can cease the conflict.

You need to really, really convince him that you are okay. You may not be a fighter, but you are still needed and can't just sit in one spot doing nothing. Thorfinn would need thourough explanations and promises before he lets you go. Only to follow close behind you.

Since you are a woman, he is much more careful and protective. He kinda, unfortunately, sees you as weak and it doesn't help that you aren't a fighter as well so any kind of damage, even a chip of your nail, is immediately met with a flinging dagger at the cause of your injury.

Thorfinn truly changes. He becomes overprotective, paranoid, clingy, longing and quiet after all of this. He is silent as he protects you and will only bark out insults, as well as his true feelings for you, when he is irritated or being mocked. You can imagine that Askeladd out of all people will jab the blonde and since it is, y'know, his father's killer and the one who attempted to murder you too, Thorfinn will not hold back or hesitate to scream his head off to him.

"Don't you dare open your mouth! You bastard tried to take her away from me too!"

'Tried to take her away from me.' - that's something he says a lot, Askeladd noted and so did you. It's startling to see your friend like this.

The paranoia stems from his fear of you being killed while he cannot do anything to protect you. As a child he had to watch his father die and back then he was only a small, defenseless kid. Now, he is a killer but he barely thinks of himself in such a way. In his mind, he is strong and on the way to become a true warrior. He is strong and quiet and skilled and deadly and those are all the things he needs to be to keep you safe.

Therefore, Thorfinn follows you everywhere like a loyal guard dog. To the woods, to the beach, on the road, sitting riiiight next to you on the ship, even following after you when you need to do your business in the bushes.

Sleeping, eating, marching, working, bathing - whatever you do, Thorfinn will be there.

When you tell him that this 'shadowing' makes you uncomfortable and that nothing dangerous is going to happen, Thorfinn will ALWAYS interject. He is doing this to look out for you. You understand when you are camping outside and sleeping or when you are even bathing, but he doesn't need to follow you all the time.

Again, he shakes his head with a scoff. He does need to. He must to, in order to keep you safe.

Besides, it's not like you can fight. You always need someone to protect you in general and that one is always Thorfinn (not like he'll let anyone else be near you) so you cannot really complain. Can you fight off an ambush? Yeah, that's what he thought.

The young man doesn't ruly mean to be harsh, he is just always on edge when you are somewhere out of your literal safe space. He doesn't trust anyone, not even friendly-looking villagers. Young or old, Thorfinn would step in front of you when someone approaches you. He is not the best talker but he will be just to not have this scum or whoever dare to make idle conversation with you. He won't let you answer to any strangers or bandmates, unless necessary.

Yet, as cold and harsh as he is, he is also oddly clingy. It may be the way he always touches you to keep you with him but there forms a weird longing to always be close to you. The hand that clutched your arm now slowly slides down to your hand and his thumb is brushing your skin. When sitting on the ship and he has his arm around you to keep you steady on these wild waves, his head unwittingly leans down to your shoulder, his locks tickling your neck. And when you cuddle to sleep in the winter, he won't let go. He is so still and so quiet, only a few flustered grunts escaping his lips but he does it anyway. He still caresses your hand and he still buries his head in your neck and he still cradles you in his arms. It's strange and out of nowhere.

It is also strange to see him long in such a quiet way. The touches, the worried remarks - they keep on returning again and again, even when they are not asked for. When you ask him to cut your hair, you do not ask him to play with it for what feels like eternity. When you return from a job, you do not ask to be yelled at by Thorfinn on where you were and that you should stay by his side, only to hear a mumbled apology and have him ask you, again and again, if you are fine and in need of anything.

Asking the man who tried to kill you just to see if his little tool would react for help, is a bold move. Crazy and foolish even.

Fine, let's say it's all forgotten and forgiven (no, it's not).

Askeladd is sure to realize the unhealthy behavior of the blonde and unlike the rest of the band, is aware what it means for you and him.

A cruel part of him might keep him that way and see how far he can go again when it comes to his feelings for you.

But...another part of him is understanding. Askeladd is a cunning hypocrite and I believe he has a soft spot for women in general due to his relationship with his mother and how she was treated. He is even softer for you if you remind him of her.

So...both men have a weird relationship so you can bet that he cannot just go and 'have a chat' with Thorfinn. Instead, Askeladd would slowly begin to give orders or put you in places where you and Thorfinn won't interact as much.

(Or he could take this to his advantage and experiment more how much he can actually use Thorfinn as a tool.)

Thorfinn will notice however and demand an explanation on what the hell this is supposed to be. He would never say it but to him it is clear that he and you are to be together. Nothing and nobody can just seperate you two.

Askeladd will let out half-assed excuses but if he feels quite vexed by the lad's constant sour attitude OR if he wants to simply torture you and let out the cat out of the bag, the leader will let Thorfinn know that YOU were the one who asked him to do this.

Thorfinn does not believe him and will not for weeks. A snake like himself cannot be trusted and Thorfinn holds you to such a high regard that he'd never dream of you 'betraying' him.

'Betrayal'. That's what he sees it as so once he starts to realize that his words were the truth, Thorfinn will feel immensily hurt by you. Can't you see that he only wants to keep you safe, that he IS keeping you safe? You mean more than any of these despicable bastards could, more than some crown prince of Denmark could. He isn't stupid, he isn't crazy, he's doing it all for you! So why are you fighting back when he is your protector?!

And you've went behind his back to his father's murderer! How could you?!

You try to explain that he knows no boundaries to the point where he endangers everyone but you - even himself!

But no, Thorfinn doesn't listen. In his mind, he is the right one or rather his actions are correct. All that he has done so far has kept you alive so it cannot be wrong.

And if you try to leave the band? Forget telling Askeladd. The man is selfish enough to keep your around despite your feelings since you are still useful to him.

So there you are, leaving in the dead of the night. The attempt is short-lived for Thorfinn notices quite quickly that you aren't sleeping by his side anymore and will find you just as fast.

He stands there with wide eyes and daggers in hand. What are you doing? Where are you going?

You try to explain as much as you want but it kind of doesn't enter his head. Thorfinn is more shocked at the fact that you are leaving and instead seems to stand idly and menacingly.

He hears your words...and it would be selfish to not let you leave. There's a small ringing in the back of his mind that tells him the truth - that it is selfish to not let you go.

This life is not a safe one. Amongst abhorrent vikigns who kill and raid. And now you were dragged into his life where he keeps on risking it for something as petty as revenge.

It would be selfish. Selfish...

"No..." is all he managed to let out before he pounces on you and holds you so tight on his arms you fear your bones will shatter.

He would never hurt you. But he will never let you go.

For in this messed up life of his full of blood and death, you are the only normalcy that he has.

Besides the vengeance, he has nothing in his life but you.

The blonde tries to justify it that he can keep you safe the most. There is no one else out there who would protect a woman like you like he does. There is no one out there...that loves you like he does.

He tries to justify it while you struggle under him. He tries to not think of any 'selfishness' as he holds you close and never lets you go.

Other things about being female with a Yandere! Thorfinn where I didn't know where to put them in:

I really hate to say it but you being a woman, Thorfinn would see you as weak.

It's less about 'weakness' and more about his belief that nobody is as 'strong' as him. Having survived and killed for so long he is quite confident in his skills and therefore believes himself to be a bit special...or, if anything, closer to a 'true warrior' than anyone else in the band.

So his overprotectivess is off the charts. He won't ever tell you you're weak but might yell it out when you irritate him too much. You aren't as strong as him, not as strong as you think you are! Let him handle this.

The overprotectiveness also stems from his distrust and disgust around the other men when it comes to you. A woman like you isn't seen as a person in the eyes of vikings - of these bastards - so he keeps you close only to him (just the way he likes it).

Well, and if you have more feminine features he, well, will notice them. Of course, he will notice them when he has been surrounded by nothing but men and their features. So yours are different and new...and nice.

But not only that...he notices how different you are. When feeling anything positive, the band smirks and leers...but you smile and grin so naturally, so softly. When they laugh, they guffaw at the suffering over others and you chortle and giggle at a stupid joke. It's different and so much more amicable. You're strange and normal.

However, Thorfinn scoffs and looks away when he catches himself staring at you since he feels he is not being better than any of the other mates. He can't just...stare at your hair and your eyes and your form...he would feel like them even if he silently admits to himself that he likes looking at you.

JEALOUSY JEALOUSY JEALOUSY but only to people he doesn't think are scum :D i.e. people like Canute (anyone but Askeladd). Thorfinn isn't insecure in the slightest - he just doesn't like the fact that someone is looking at you the way he is looking at you. The same softness, the same weakness.

NO >:(

Openly aggressive to them and anyone really.

I feel like he would really like soft women idk

#vinland saga #thorfinn karlsefni #request #thorfinn #yandere #yandere thorfinn karlsefni #yandere thorfinn #yandere vinland saga #female!reader #yandere headcanons #YANDERE THORFINN YANDERE THORFINN #OH NO THE BRAINROT

[tiredmamaissy]

Hey guys!

It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? 😅 I haven’t been very active on here and here’s what’s been going on:

I’ve moved (still in the process) and I’ll be moving again sometime in the near future. It’s a long story but that’s been taking up a lot of my time (also recently went on a lil vacay so that was nice). With that a lot of other aspects of my life has changed and it’s all just been one big adjustment. I feel like my time management skills aren’t enough for me to balance it all and therefore I’ve been slacking on here

Unfortunately my motivation has also taken a hit. I’m finding it hard to sit down and write like I used to and it literally feels like permanent writers block when I do get the chance 😭 I know you guys want to see some more stuff and as of right now I have a list of wips that I’ll complete and publish, but outside of these is to be decided as time passes:

1. The Ralak series

2. Neteyams First Rut Chapter 8

3. Behind the Facade Part 2

4. Little Secret Part 2

These are in no specific order or anything as I feel that I need to work with whatever I’m most motivated to write

I can’t promise that I’ll be as active as I used to, but I will definitely try. I miss you guys, and most of all I miss interacting and talking to you guys. But shit in my life is so different and it seems to be ever-changing. I’m sure there will be a point where it all plateaus and I’ll have more time on my hands and the motivation. I’m never leaving this fandom. Like ever lol just thought I’d say that 💕

Until then, ily!!

~issy

[vacantgodling]

this year was one of the first years in a long time that i TRULY committed myself to writing any and everything that i thought of and it’s been a really good feeling. so starting from this year, i wanna have a little year in review so i can look back and reminisce on how much i actually did cuz sometimes it’s hard to tell lol.

TOTAL WORDS WRITTEN (january — december 2023)

139,345 (as of 11/30 (google docs only))

i’ve written more probably, but my notes app is harder to keep track of word counts in. this total is also across all pieces of prose and poetry, though poetry isn’t a significant number lol

if this was all in one piece i’d probably have a full novel already lmao 💀

LONGEST SINGLE PIECE

paramour chapter 9 — masquerade, clocking in at 5,894 words

WIP THAT HAS MADE THE MOST HEADWAY BY THE NUMBERS

paramour is sitting pretty at 30k-ish words written overall (including me writing chapter 20 twice lol)

WIP THAT HAS MADE THE MOST HEADWAY BY THE HEART

definitely cage. i’ve had this fanfiction and wip for years and the fact that i’d finished the full outline like last year but didnt start writing it until now and how much headway ive made in such little time… i’m really proud of myself. i can’t wait to actually finish this bitch

TOP PIECES WRITTEN THIS YEAR

Worthless War -> the cherry on top, best thing i’ve written this year and probably in general for a long time.

Come To Bed -> when i lost my mind about buddy daddies earlier this year, this fic really encapsulated everything i felt about the show. i love the narration, i love how it’s fun and playful but also deep, and i remember having so much fun writing it.

Paramour Chapter 20 “Careless Whisper” -> the rewrite of chapter 20 i am UNREASONABLY obsessed with and it’s a shame i can’t post it here without giving so so so much away. i love it so much i am willing to share it with those who don’t care about spoilers lol but its smutty and emotionally charged and everything perfect about amon and hya’s fucked up mess

A Fool’s Errand -> this is in the role swap amon and hya au and tbh this au is So Fun to me. getting to be in amon’s head more often is definitely a treat and the description of the make out is PEAK

Good Feeling -> i will never be normal about hue and jihan and i think i captured their relationship esp in the early days perfectly so i’m just gonna cry about it

Ritual -> i really love this piece and giving life again to some old ocs meant a lot to me. + the smut 🤌🏾🤌🏾

Distraction -> no one knows or cares about these ocs but me and that’s okay i’ll just be feral about them on my own 😭

GOALS FOR NEXT YEAR

reach 150k words written overall

finish cage like it’s GOING to happen i will it

finish the first draft of paramour!!!

#writing in review: 2023 #about renjamin #writeblr

[johaerys-writes]

Happy lunar new year! I hope your first few days of the dragon year is going well so far:)

and please can I have a wip wednesday for modern au patroclus?

Happy lunar new year to you too anon!! Not sure if you sent this one on Wednesday but I only just saw it, so you can have a WIP Sunday instead ☺️ I've been super busy and overwhelmed lately so writing has been slow, but yesterday I typed the last words, the VERY last words of the last chapter of you're a walking disaster and yet- and I'm still sort of trying to come to terms with that 😭 It needs a ton of editing still so not sure when it will be up exactly, but in the meantime have a little snippet:

The library of his childhood bedroom is so much more interesting than Patroclus ever gave it credit for. He peruses the many titles he has accumulated over the years, a mix of old classics from Peleus' dusty shelves, comic books and used novels from the old bookstore in Phthia. He pulls out one of his old favourites and sits at the edge of the bed, flipping through its yellowed pages. The familiar musty smell fills him with the same sense of peace he had when he was last reading it at the shed, leaning against the willow tree. 

"Did you even know this one was hiding here?" he says as he hears the door opening. "I swear I had forgotten all about it."

Achilles walks over to the bed; his hair is still damp from his shower and his skin smells of soap and cream. He barely gives the book a glance before he plucks it from Patroclus' hands and sets it down on the bed beside them, then straddles Patroclus' lap. He interlaces his fingers behind Patroclus' neck but doesn’t move closer to kiss him. He only stares down at him, solemn and silent.

Patroclus sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. "I know," he says. "I know I fucked up. Whatever you're about to say you're right. I'm sorry."

Achilles doesn't speak; he doesn’t even seem to accept or refuse his apology. He only keeps staring at him, his brows drawn in a frown. Patroclus shakes his head and looks away. 

"Look, I'm just… not ready for Peleus to hate me yet." 

"What are you talking about?"

"That's what this is about, right? That I didn't let you tell Peleus about us." 

Achilles' expression softens but he still gives him a questioning look. "What are you so afraid of, Pat?" 

"You know what," Patroclus says quietly. 

"Again with this," Achilles sighs. It isn’t the first time they're having this conversation. "So what if my father learns of it? How bad can it be? What could he possibly do?"

"He could get mad at both of us," Patroclus shrugs. "At me more than you, perhaps. He could kick me out and disown you."

"He would never do that!"

"It wouldn’t be unheard of. Other fathers have done worse."

"My father is many things, but he's not that." Achilles cups Patroclus' cheek and tilts his face towards him. There is so much knowing in those eyes when Patroclus meets them. "Pat." 

"I’m just worried about this, okay?" Patroclus mutters. "Peleus is… he's important to me. His opinion of me is still important to me. And I also don’t want what we have to create a rift between you two."

"My father has barely been in my life, our lives, for years, Pat." Achilles rolls his eyes. "Nothing you or I did could ever create a rift like the one he has created."

"He took me in when no one else would," Patroclus continues stubbornly. "He gave me a home. He didn’t ask for anything in return."

A brief silence lingers between them. Achilles gives him a long look; his lips twitch in a small, sad smile. "That’s not quite true," Achilles says quietly. "Right?"

#patrochilles #achilles #the song of achilles #patroclus #tsoa #hades game #homer's iliad #the iliad #modern au #johaerys writes

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader's childhood cat suddenly gets diagnosed with cancer, and she has to make a big decision about what to do. this fanfic includes heavy topics like: pet euthanasia, extreme loss/grief, depression, the problems with pet healthcare, and more. there will be some humor/fluff placed throughout, and also smut somewhere along the way. :))

word count: 10+k (??)

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

a/n: i literally just thought up this idea over this past week, and i've been sitting on it and SITTING ON IT and i was like, damn it- i just need to write something!! 😭 so here we are lol... preview and all~ 💀 i have no idea how long this one will be, but i'm expecting it to be over 10.k words so... that's fun!!! 😍 i plan on trying to write this entire thing tmrw, but we will see if i can actually focus enough to sit down for 5 hrs and do such a thing. 🥸 and before anyone gets on my case about the heavy topics in this, i'd just like to put it on the record that i've gone through a similar experience to this with having to put my acutely sick childhood dog down almost 2 years ago. it's an incredibly difficult decision to make, and i wouldn't wish it upon anyone. but, i've always wanted to write an au with minho as a vet, and i feel like he'd be amazing at handling this type of thing. hope all of that makes sense... let me know what ya'll think of this! 💕

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

You knew the moment that he sat down, that something was wrong. 

 Because usually, when his eyes caught yours as he walked through the examining room’s door, his entire face would light up with one of those brilliant smiles that women gushed over. Usually, he’d be the first one to crack a stupid joke - whether it was something lame about the weather outside, or about the crazy animal that he just had an encounter with before seeing you. 

 But this time? 

 No, this time it was very different. 

 His proud shoulders were slumped low, cheekbones dark with shadows, and plump, red lips pressed together in a firm line. 

 He clenched and unclenched his jaw once, 

 twice, 

 three times. 

 Then, and only then, did his eyes meet yours. 

 And they said all you needed to know. 

 Just by the way that his dark, chestnut-brown pupils danced with a myriad of emotions; apprehension, fear, compassion, but most of all… sadness. 

 “What is it?” 

 The words flowed from your lips before you even knew what you were asking, and almost immediately, you were sitting up a little straighter in your chair. Spine going rigid, fists growing tight at your sides. 

 Something swam, cool and deep, inside of you.

 Chilling you to the bone, with tense unease.  

 In the depths of your mind, you felt the pinprick of ominous heartache prodding at the fleshy part of your soul. 

 The part that was weak and emotional and so very tender all of the time. 

 “I’m so sorry.” 

 Was the first thing Dr. Lee said. 

 You already felt the tears flowing, unbidden and unchecked, warming your suddenly freezing cheeks, at the sound of ‘sorry’ leaving his mouth. Because he had never said such a thing to you before. And you never, ever, wanted to hear it come from him again. 

 “What’s wrong?” You prodded again, limbs growing a little shaky in your anxiety. Breath hitching in your chest agonizingly, you could physically feel your heart pushing against your ribs. 

 Aching, 

 Burning, 

 Already seeping with hurt, even though you didn’t quite know what was wrong just yet. 

 Dr. Lee ran a rough hand up and down his face, sighing into his palm, shaking his head once. Then, his fingers were running through his black locks, pulling at the roots just a tiny bit. 

 Almost like, this crushed him just as much as it was about to pain you. 

 “It’s about Nyx.” 

 Swallowing over the huge lump forming in your throat proved very difficult at that moment, but somehow - by some miracle - you did it. 

 Your tongue felt heavy inside of your mouth- like it was made of hard metal. 

 For a few beats, you couldn’t manage to form the right words, but when you did, you already felt the stability seeping out of you. Like you were a hot air balloon that had been poked with a sharp needle, with the hot air and sanity flooding from you in a single breath. 

 “I’m sorry, Y/N, I-”

 “Just fucking say it, Dr. Lee!” You suddenly exclaimed, voice straining from your quiet sobs. The fat tears rolled down either of your cheeks, leaving angry wet trails in their wake. 

 He was silent after that, gaze running up and down the length of you slowly. Like you were one of his animals that he assessed daily - like he was testing out your strength and resolve. 

 Then, his eyes snapped back up to meet yours, and they melted into two puddles of grief. 

 “It seems as though Nyx is suffering from an acute form of bone cancer.” 

 And just like, your heart completely stopped. 

 Each breath you took felt garbled and all wrong. 

 Your shaky legs and arms wobbled all around you.  

 The floor crumbled underneath your feet, 

 Breaking, cracking, shattering irrevocably. 

 And in that moment, you wished for nothing more but for it to open up completely, and swallow you whole. 

 Please, 

 Oh, fuck, please- 

 Just swallow me already. 

 Because anything, 

Anything, 

 Would be better than this newfound hell. 

To be continued...

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©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

#stray kids #skz #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshot #stray kids scenario #skz scenario #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids longfic #skz longfic #stray kids angst oneshot #skz angst oneshot #lee minho #lee know #skz lee know #skz minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids minho #skz minho angst #skz minho fluff #skz minho smut #skz x reader #skz minho x reader #lee know smut #lee know angst #lee know smut oneshot #lee know angst oneshot #skz lee know smut oneshot #skz minho smut oneshot #skz minho angst oneshot

[createserenity]

A Day for Magic - fanfiction

This is the first story I wrote inspired by @mrghostrat's collage of kisses. It's based on the first kiss in the set, which I don't think was drawn with the intention of it being on a bench, but it happens on a bench in this fic anyway.

Thank you so much Bilvy for making such lovely artwork that did away with my writers block. Maybe I'll actually be able to make some proper progress with my wips now, at least if I'm not distracted by the ficlet idea I have for the fourth kiss (hello ADHD hyperfixation taking over my brain). Like the other fic, which you can find here, this is set post an imaginary season 3 where they've saved the world and are talking again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Day for Magic

Read on AO3 here (preview below)

It’s a beautiful early autumn day, the warm afternoon sun slants through the trees, sending golden motes of light dancing across the lake as Aziraphale sits on the park bench and contemplates the scene around them.

Just up the pathway he can see the little ice cream cart is making good money from the passing foot traffic, the vendor taking advantage of the unseasonably warm autumn day before the winter sets in and nobody wants ice cream anymore.

Over near the lake crowd of ducks harass the Bulgarian culture attaché over the contents of the plastic bag clutched in his hands. Aziraphale can tell even from here that the bag contains frozen peas, or at least previously-frozen-and-hopefully-now-defrosted peas, and he feels his lips twitch up into a smile. Crowley will be pleased.

He glances over at the former demon sprawling out next to him on the bench, skating his eyes briefly over the sharp lines of his form fitting jacket, up the long neck, partly hidden by the red hair that Crowley has grown out again. He’s got half of it pulled back off his face today and Aziraphale thinks the look rather suits him, not to mention it has the advantage of being an exceptionally convenient length for Aziraphale to run his fingers through when the mood takes him.

They’ve sat like this in this park so many times before, but things are different now. Aziraphale sits closer, no longer confined to his side of the bench, and Crowley has one knee pressed against Aziraphale’s thigh, warm and solid. His arm is draped over the back of the bench and Aziraphale can feel the fingers of Crowley’s hand curled up against his back. The touch is nice – comforting without being intrusive.

Crowley isn’t paying attention to him; he’s gazing across the path and when he gives a sudden smirk Aziraphale turns his head to try and work out what he’s looking at. It’s certainly not the ducks.

He’s just in time to see a man in a sharp looking business suit rising to his feet, glancing around in a way that suggests embarrassment. Had he fallen over? It didn’t look as if he had and surely Aziraphale would have noticed if there had been a commotion.

His eyes drift down to the path itself and he sees something round and shiny, glinting in the soft autumn light.

“Really, my dear,” he murmurs, glancing over at Crowley again.

“What?” Crowley shoots him a grin. They both know he’s feigning the ignorance so Aziraphale just shakes his head and lets the corner of his mouth quirk up into a slight smile. He’s aiming for something that says, “I can’t believe you’re doing this, you incorrigible fiend,” but suspects the expression has taken a detour towards fond somewhere along the way.

Continue on AO3 here

#good omens #good omens fanfic #fanart inspired fic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves aziraphale #ineffable fandom #fluff #kissing #silliness #aziraphale loves magic #no beta - mistakes are all my own fault #my writing #I realise this is probably too long for a post #but I did it anyway

[fereldanwench]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @wanderingaldecaldo to share some stuff I'm working on so AU rambling it is!

(Also I just realized that I am once again so behind on keeping up with my mentions and asks. I need more hours in the day. 😭)

So as some of y'all know, I am a long-time Tomb Raider super fan, and facets of OG Lara Croft almost always influence my OCs because she is just goals. Valerie was no exception here--Her canon street style and effortlessly cool and tough yet elegant vibes were very much inspired by the one and only Lady Croft.

When I realized that across these three mods (one, two, three) I could make a Tomb Raider Underworld-inspired outfit for Valerie, that just became my sole reason for living for like six hours.

Initially, I wasn't planning on delving into a story or anything with the shots--I just wanted to play with some Tomb Raider-esque settings to get a little break from the high-tech/low-life urban setting to refresh the muse--But then I realized this could actually be the perfect setting to explore another idea I had been sitting on for a while.

I had wanted to play with a Yakuza!Goro AU for some time now (turning to a life of organized crime if Arasaka hadn't picked him up has always seemed like something that could have been in the realm of possibility based on the little bit he shares about his childhood), and Lara does get tangled up with some Yakuza shenanigans in some storylines so 💡💡💡 Treasure Hunter/Yakuza AU: I Only Play for Sport (based on Lara's iconic one-liner in the intro of the 1996 game) was officially born!

Work has been nuts the past few weeks, and I didn't really feel like trying to figure out how to mod tats on Goro myself, so I asked the wonderful @86maylin if she was up for a private commission. Luckily, she was. 🙏🙏🙏 (Thank you again, May!)

This has also been another journey into building with AMM--I have a few very specific scenes in mind, and I wanted them to be in totally original settings created specifically for this AU instead of defaulting to my usual locations (like Hanako's estate).

To kick that off, I decided I wanted to make a little living space for Goro. I got a lot of good practice building a stage, essentially, when I did the little villainess shoot a little while ago, so I felt pretty confident that I could put together something loosely inspired by the Tokyo penthouse Lara visits in Tomb Raider Legend.

That game is almost 20 years old now, though, so the assets there were obviously very limited, and I wanted to make something a little more complete and cozy for Goro's home base, as it were. I'm still not finished with it (maybe like 75% of the way there), but I'm pretty happy with the progress:

And another huge thank you to @bnbc and @arasakas-ronin for y'all's prop packs because they have done a lot to add some of that cool-artifact-treasure-hunting goodness to the scene. (I've used a lot but I think this toy set and this decor set were most prominently used.)

And as for the story itself?

Well, no one's here for the plot, right? 😅

I am slowly working on a couple of photostories inspired by some scenes in the Tomb Raider movies and games, and I have a general gist of the premise: Valerie is a wealthy heiress with a fondness for adventure and recovering lost artifacts with presumed supernatural abilities, and Goro is the right-hand man of a Yakuza boss who has a similar interest in such artifacts. They end up having their sights set on the same artifact (currently unknown to me, lmao, although I am very aware of the issues with the genre when it comes to, yanno, glorifying white Westerners stealing shit from other cultures so I want to be mindful that I don't fall into that same pitfall) and sexy rival treasure hunter shenanigans ensue.

So this is what I've been working on! It's a total pet project, I'm so excited about it, and I figured the time between now and Phantom Liberty coming out would be the best time to just go ham with photomode and mods and create a totally self-indulgent crossover that combines my great video game loves.

And one last thing before I shut up, because I wanna share how Tomb Raider has always been a part of Valerie's background: her surname, Powell, was inspired by Manfred Powell, the antagonist in the 2001 Tomb Raider movie. Bonus fact: I used the name "Nishimura" in this photo story, which is also the name of two characters in the Tomb Raider universe (Lara's friend Toru Nishimura in Legend and her girlfriend Sam Nishimura in the 2013 reboot.)

Okay, if you read all of this, you're now legally obligated to share something you've been working on, too. 💙

#t: wench.txt #oc: valerie v powell #c: goro takemura #ship: goro x valerie #g: cyberpunk 2077 #kinda #au: i only play for sport

[nat-seal-well]

Wip Wednesday :D

Kicking things off on my lunch break this morning (at 7 AM 😭)

Tagging @pinksparkl @evilbunnyking @serenpedac @ejunkiet @agentnatesewell and anyone else who has something they want to share!

The snippet under the cut is a little long, but it’s from the Halloween fic I’ve been working on :)

They bit their lip. “I’m afraid of dying.”

Nat felt like she had been staked through the heart.

Her reaction must have been obvious, despite the fact that she didn’t make a sound. When they opened their eyes, they offered her a smile of reassurance, when it really should have been the other way around.

“Marin…” she tried to say, but they cut her off.

“I know it’s dumb, because worrying about it doesn’t do any good. It isn’t like I can control it. But I’m still scared. Sometimes it’s easy to forget, but… but with everything lately, all the Agency stuff and the bounty and the trappers… and last week… it’s getting harder to ignore. Eventually it’ll go away again and get easier to deal with, because that’s always what happens. I just gotta get there first.”

Reaching out, Nat took their hand in both of her own and brought it up to her chest, over the heart between her ribs that felt like it was being strangled. “Mari, you know I will not let anything happen to you.”

“That’s the issue, though,” Marin said, sitting up so they could look her in the eye. “You can’t. Not really, I mean. It’ll happen someday, because that’s just how it works. I don’t know if it’ll be during a mission, or because of some sort of freak accident, or a health thing, or maybe I’ll just be really, really old. But it’s still gonna happen.”

Their words turned the blood in her veins to ice. She had thought about it too. Of course she had. Nat couldn’t keep them at her side, lovely and painfully mortal, and not think about it. She knew it slipped through her carefully-woven mask of self-control more times than it should have, no matter how hard she fought to keep it under her thumb. But not even that could be helped sometimes. Nat had been watching them more closely since the last mission, afraid that if she looked away even for a second she’d find them with a hole punched through their gut by a bullet, bleeding out and helpless on the floor.

…She also hadn’t been able to lock away the idea that kept creeping back into her mind.

It isn’t something they discussed yet. Neither of them had even danced around it. In fact, they hadn’t talked about it at all, in any capacity. Nat knew the avoidance couldn’t go on forever, though.

Not when it was her. Not when it was Marin. Not when it was the two of them, together. The conversation had to happen eventually, no matter how much she dreaded it. But ignoring what was right in her face didn’t make it go away. It was still there, no matter how often she kept throwing a sheet over it to keep it hidden. Marin was still aging, every single day, every single hour, every single second. Each breath and heartbeat drew them closer to the end, no matter how slowly it happened. She couldn’t pretend forever.

Sitting there on the blanket, under the cover of the night sky, she still didn’t think it was a discussion she was ready to have. That didn’t change the fact that it had to. Nat would never be ready for it.

So she inhaled to find the right words, and then—after a long, slow deliberation—she said, “Marin… I know we have yet to talk about it, but… we could take measures that would keep that from happening, in most ways. Barring a few limitations, of course. But you could—you would be with us. With me. Forever.”

The thought of it pained her as much as it brought her hope. Pain for what it would mean Marin would have to lose; Nat never mourned the loss of anything like she mourned the loss of her humanity, aside of course from her family. Marin would have to go through that, too, and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all them. But without that, she would risk losing them. No, not that. It wasn’t even a risk. It was an inevitability, something guaranteed to happen. And that hurt far, far worse.

She would have been willing to be the one to do it, if Marin asked. Nat would have volunteered to take care of the job herself when the time was right. All they had to do was ask. All they had to do was say yes.

Please, please, please. You have to say yes.

She wanted them to as much as it hurt her. She needed it.

But all Marin did was smile. They didn’t say anything for a long while, choosing instead to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear as they looked over the details of her face like they wanted to commit them to memory.

“I love you, Nat,” they began at last. And her heart broke even though they hadn’t given her an answer yet, because if that was how it was going to start, there was only one way it was going to end.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc fanfic #twc n sewell #twc nat #twc detective #detective oc #wip wednesday #fic wip

[elvensorceress]

wip Wednesday

my beloveds @rogerzsteven @swiftiediaz @spotsandsocks @monsterrae1 @shortsighted-owl @ajunerose @eddiediazisascorpio @kananjarus @prettyboybuckley​ 💕💕 all tagged me! 

tagging @ashavahishta​ @messyhairdiaz​ @ajunerose​ @dickley-buddie​ @the-likesofus​ @lostinabuddiehaze​ @bekkachaos @spaceprincessem @fatedbuck @swiftiebuckleys 😘💕

Here’s more of my holiday Hallmark Christmas fic (due out mid January - because we’re including New Year’s? Also it’s already over 50K 😭 idek) so have a nice long chunk because I like this scene 🫧

Eddie cups Buck’s cheek and watches the way Buck leans into the touch. “I’m going to make tea, let you get comfortable, and then I’ll come back. Do you want some, too?”

Buck smiles and nods. “Yeah. You’re going to get me hooked on hot tea every night before bed. I can already feel it starting.”

It’s only fair. Eddie already feels hooked on him. He lets Buck have privacy to undress and goes to fill up and start his kettle heating. When he returns with two steaming mugs, Buck is immersed chin-deep in the hot bath water. It smells faintly of lavender but also has thick, foamy bubbles floating on the surface of the cloudy water, and Buck tells him as he takes his mug, “I may have made my own mix. If you don’t have bubbles with a bath, are you even living?”

Eddie smiles and pulls out a stool that’s tucked under the cabinet so he can sit beside the tub. It’s been a long, long time since he’s used it — since Chris was little enough that he wanted to take baths and “go swimming” in the tub with bubbles and colored foam. Eddie would sit with him and play with rubber ducks and pirate ships and whatever else made him giggle. 

This, however, is entirely different. 

It’s hard not to think about how Buck is naked and not even a foot away from him. It’s even harder not to wonder about shedding everything and joining him. Or kissing him. His lips are so pink and must be raw and chapped from the cold like Eddie’s are. But they don’t look like it. Everything about Buck looks soft and sweet. 

There are little puffs of bubbles decorating the hair on his arms. Streams of steamy bathwater cling to his chest. His hair is wet and sticking up like he dunked himself and fluffed it around. It has clusters of bubbles, too. His cheeks are flushed and he holds the mug Eddie brought him in both hands. When he sips and tastes the tea Eddie chose for him, he closes his eyes first, but then gives Eddie a curious look. “This tastes like berries. Maybe blueberries? Is this a berry tea? I’ve never had berry tea. I love berries.”

Yeah, he definitely enjoys sleepy, adorable Buck.

 “I believe you mentioned that.” He gives him a smile in return and sips his own tea. The hot liquid floods his chest and usually Eddie needs that. Usually, he’s aching and cold without it. It’s still soothing, but he doesn’t quite ache so much tonight. His son is finally home and his Buck is here with him, and all Eddie has to worry about right now is how heavily his heart is beating. “It’s blueberry, lavender, wild berry. A mix of those. I thought you might like it.”

Buck drinks a little more and then sinks back into the steamy water and the bath cushion behind him. “It’s perfect. All of this. I don’t ever want to move. It feels so good. My leg was really hurting. Something about the angle of those plane seats is completely wrong for my stupid legs.”

Eddie starts to reach out for him. He could rub his leg or even hold his hand. Anything to offer him comfort. To be more connected. “You didn’t have to come with me.”  

“I wasn’t going to let you go alone. Plus, my whole job is supposed to be taking care of Chris. So. I’m very dedicated I’ll have you know. My kids are always the number one priority. I had to be there for him.”

Eddie did know. It was why he got attached to the idea of hiring Buck for Chris so quickly. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“And also for you,” Buck adds. “Someone needs to look out for you. Not in a bodyguard Athena way. In an everything way. You take care of everyone else and not yourself, and I worry. I want to take care of you, too. Since you keep looking out for me. No one looks out for me. Wow, I didn’t mean to take that to a pity party sort of way. I just mean. I’ve always been alone. By myself. Lone wolf. You know? Even though that whole term is bogus. Wolves are pack animals. They have families and communities. Maybe that’s where the idiom came from? Because wolves and people aren’t supposed to be all alone? Anyway, it was a long trip and I know planes have to be difficult for you. I had to be with you.”

Eddie chuckles a little and rests his elbow on the side of the tub and his head on his hand. “I have noticed that about you.” He’s also noticed the rambling way he talks when he gets tired. It’s different from the excited-about-everything rants he goes on or all the trivia he can spout when he wants to even when his random facts are mixed into everything. 

“I’m starting to think you’re right. It’s nice having a partner to do things with.” Buck drinks more of his tea and then sets it on the ledge behind him and shifts to his side so he’s stretched out, facing Eddie. “When did you get started on the tea thing? Or have you always liked it? What’s your favorite tea? Do you have one? Do you have it cold in the summer?”

No wonder Buck and Chris get along so well. Chris does this sometimes, too. Legions of semi-related questions but very attentive listening. Eddie sits up so he can brush slipping bubbles off Buck’s forehead. He smoothes a thumb over Buck’s eyebrow that’s gone wild and is sticking up much like his hair. And wonders if anyone’s ever kissed his pretty birthmark. 

“Yes, I drink it cold sometimes. I don’t know that I have a favorite? It depends on what I’m feeling like. But chamomile was one of the first ones I tried, and I love peppermint especially mixed with green tea. Chris gave me a chocolate chai for father’s day one year and a black tea with chilies and cinnamon that has a coffee sort of flavor to it, and I loved both of those. My sister, Adriana, gave me one a long time ago. A lavender rooibos that tasted like floral caramel. In a good way. If I had to pick just one as my favorite, it’d probably be that one.”

Buck catches his hand when Eddie starts to pull away. He weaves their fingers together and holds them under the surface of the hot water. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried anything but regular iced tea. And now this one you gave me.” He rests his head on the side of the tub, looking flushed and soggy and still adorable with the frosting of bubbles all over his exposed skin. “When did you start liking tea? What made you like it?” 

And here he thought Buck might have forgotten he’d asked that. He could make something up. Or talk about something else. But then it stays sad and secret, lost with everything else of his family. Eddie takes a deep breath. “My mother loved tea,” he swallows the lump that rises in his chest. He wants to talk about her. He wants to remember her. He wants to never forget how much he loved her. But there are tears that immediately flood his eyes. No matter what he does, it always happens. 

But Buck squeezes his hand and brings it up out of the water until he can kiss Eddie’s knuckles. 

When he lets go, Eddie cups the side of Buck’s face. His several days worth of stubble is tingly against Eddie’s palm, and Eddie wants to be closer. He wants to crack open and let him in. He doesn’t want to be alone and haunted anymore. “It started when I was discharged and came home from Afghanistan. There’d been a helicopter crash. A bad one. Everyone else… None of them made it. I was sure I wasn’t going to either. I was all sorts of fucked up. Mentally. Physically. I had three bad gunshot wounds and the doctors worried I had some kind of spinal trauma. I had cervical, vertebral fractures. And it meant I had to spend several weeks in bed. Doing nothing but lying there, literally losing my mind. And then there were a lot of months of recovery.” 

Buck doesn’t say anything but he nods and listens intently, still holding on to Eddie’s hand even when it slips from his face. 

“My mom would come see me. She’d visit with me and try to keep me from feeling too… well, I’m sure you can imagine how I felt. But every night, she’d make us tea and she’d sit beside me and it was something we always did together. Even after I was better. It started with the chamomile, to try and help me sleep, and it went on from there. She got me hooked. And then,” Eddie clears his throat and wipes at his face. It’s fine. He’s fine. It just hurts. It always does. “When it happened. When I lost her. I just… I wanted to keep her with me. It makes me think of her. So. That’s why. Tea every night.”

Buck wipes at his face, too, and then motions for Eddie to come closer until their foreheads are touching. His hand gently curves around the back of Eddie’s neck and keeps them tethered together. “I know I can’t replace what you lost. Nothing can make up for that. But you do have me now. Just like I have you. I’m here, I’ll be here as long as you want me to be.”

Eddie wants to believe that. God, does he want to believe that. He pulls away slightly, just enough so he can leave a kiss on Buck’s wet forehead. 

Buck makes a soft sighing noise like a happy, purring radiator. And Eddie can’t help wondering what he might sound like if Eddie kissed him on the mouth. 

Not if. When. What will he sound like when Eddie kisses him for real?

#buddie wip #I love all of you sooooo #fic: once upon a december #buddie #911 #jenwyn wip

[oldsargasso]

YOUR WIP SNIPPET I’M GONNA FALL DOWN!!!

Kenta sitting there and waiting with Kim is so cute to me, Kim’s “are you fucking kidding me” look is HILARIOUS, and oh my god Kenta just tell him you want him to grab you by the collar.

That’s a really good point, especially when it comes to their relationship with Kim. It’s easier to accept someone’s flaws when it’s not you they’ve hurt, and when they didn’t target you specifically. Like how long does it take Kim to process what he went through? Does he have dreams about Winner standing over his body? There’s a level of physical trust that has to be built up from below zero. Winner went out of his way to beat on Kim when he was down (and maybe part of him was bitter that Kim hadn’t embraced him as a teammate, and angry that the person who always turned him into a kicked puppy was so easily reduced to nothing, like “You’re supposed to be better than this. Get up,” kind of complicated, misplaced, nasty feelings). 

Another thing I’ve been thinking about in regards to guilt and penance is Kenta and Dean’s relationship, and the way Kenta pushed Dean down the wrong path? I don’t think Dean would particularly blame him—it was his own choice (unless it turns out that Kenta knew Charlie’s death was gonna be faked and let Dean take the fall for it. In which case there would be a lot of anger, since Dean was already upset about being blamed for something he didn’t do).

But I think Kenta would probably blame himself (when does he not), since Dean would never have done anything if Kenta hadn’t suggested it, if Kenta hadn’t seen him as a set of dominoes ready to topple over. I think it’s something they’d probably fight about and would tie into Dean’s issues with wanting Kenta’s respect.

Oh yes Winner you are such a martyr it is sooo terrible to have to sit there and watch all of that glorious action; whatever would they do without you? 😆

Oh Dean. He’s never not gonna make me hurt. I am NOT ready to talk about him and Alan again ahdjfjfja it is so tragic!!!

How DO they all get together SHFJFJF THAT’S SUCH A GOOD POINT. It’s honestly probably very messy and convoluted, given all of their histories and Winner’s resistance to even caring about anyone. I think things would happen between some of them more easily than others. I will think some thoughts on this. 

I am. Not Optimistic about all four of them surviving. LOL. 😬😬😬 But I am prepared to fully ignore some things that happen and and live in canon divergent land ahdjfkfj. I had the SAME thought about Dean, like oh at least he’s safe behind bars! (The episode may have aired by the time this gets posted so I may already be in “lalala ignoring this” land”)

(WINNERDEAN FIC!!!! 🥺🥺🥺)

WAY HAS A CAR DEALERSHIP AS A SIDE HUSTLE 😭😭😭 Winner at least podiums during the races, so maybe he gets a modest amount of winnings? Idk how racing works BUT I do think he has family money. Like he absolutely has those entitled vibes, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he comes from a racing family as well. 

THE SAME GYM, THE SAME LOCKER ROOM, AND THE SAME BAR. Like I know the city is not that small, why are they always up each other’s asses hmmm (homo reasons)

I just keep imagining all the ways it would go down. it's so dependant for me on how well Kim and Kenta knew each other BEFORE. did they meet that singular time Tony came to watch a race? or was Kenta doing like, personal assistant type stuff and helping Kim get settled in? I can't get past the look they share as Kim is taken away it's SO charged and speaks to a bit of an established relationship (of any sort). but yes Kim should grab Kenta by the collar. both of his shirt and the one Kim's gonna give him.

oof I feel like we haven't discussed Kim's trauma from being held captive and beaten up at all, how have we missed this!! it's definitely the way Winner went about it, bitter and vindictive exactly as you say. like when we first meet Winner and Kim in the gym they're aligned together but very quickly Kim is like "um no" - we see him very much against Winner employing dirty tricks but he's also aggressively not on team Winner before that even. if only we had gotten a handful more scenes of Red Racing before everything kicked off! the guys in the garage Winner's drinking with seem to support him, so he's not the worst all the time. but yes to everything you said! there is a huge gulf between where they have to come from to where we most often place them all together. I guess that's the more difficult part of their story and not half as fun to discuss as them all navigating an actual relationship lol.

wasn't it Kenta who sabotaged Babe's car the other time? he got caught on the cameras but literally only by Kim, who's locked up at the time Charlie's car gets sabotaged. couldn't he just. do it again?and also HOW did Kenta know to go to Dean for that? (my headcanon is Winner introducing Dean to Tony as a like, here's a guy who could be on our team kinda thing. like someone had to know to exploit Dean.) anyway YES. Kenta would blame himself and him taking all the blame of it is taking away Dean's agency. because he DID make that choice - he didn't think it was going to kill Charlie but it was always a risk, car racing is not the safest sport at the best of times. it would tie in very well with the age-related respect issues; Kenta reducing Dean's role in it all is akin to treating him like a child, like he doesn't know enough to know what he did was bad. so far Dean's the only one who's faced actual consequences for his actions!

honestly I can see it starting with any permutation of the four of them lol. I often default to it happening WinnerDean + KimKenta -> all four (after various mixing of three of them) - probably the only way I can't see it happening first is WinnerKenta lol. although that would be the most toxic way to kick of this toxic polycule.

Winner is the one I'm most nervous about since he's a true villain in the piece but I'm Very Concerned about a Kenta self-sacrifice play. but yeah I will be joining you in canon-divergent land if anything actually happens to these four. BEYOND what already has lmao we gotta get Dean out of jail.

(SOMEONE has to write winnerdean fic we are starving. I gotta stop using all my words and energy on these asks lmao but I'm having so much fun)

we have now discussed rich kid Winner in our third simultaneously occurring pit babe-related conversation on this website lmao. at some point in the near future I am gonna go through and collect all the exchanges we have had and put them all together.

FOR REALLL though, x hunter seems to despise Winner yet at no point was anyone like "should we go somewhere he won't be?" of course not. surely I am not the only one who believes one of the reasons Winner hates Babe is because he got rejected by him.

#asks #pit babe #pit babe polycule #I have chronic fatigue which is why I say it's using my words and energy #PLEASE do not take that as a suggestion to stop blessing me with these asks #anyway I am about to go to bed and when I wake up pit babe will be over 😭😭😭 #I'M NOT READY

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

I GOT BROWNIES FROM MY COLLEAGUE-TURNED-MANAGER😭

Because I work so much and hard. Gods, bless her🥰

But now fancy me this:

Alfie gifting you food to show how much he appreciates you.

TH Masterlist

He’s truly grateful for how much you work and keep going despite the hardships (managing rush hour on your own, colleagues being even worse than unhelpful, injuries due to ovens… or getting your hand stuck between the wall and a tall and heavy tower of crates… absolutely not spiteful still about that). Being a workaholic himself, he respects you for taking on as many shifts as you do and staying for as long as you can manage.

However, he can easily see past your smile and positive go-getter attitude. Alfie will coax you into sitting down whenever he notices your energy is depleting. Regardless of whether it’s busy, he’ll occasionally sit down with you because “he’s due for a break too” and he has your permission.

Now, this will annoy Ollie to no end when it’s like the whole of London has gathered at the bakery. Nevertheless, he knows his boss has a soft spot for you and why he acts the way he does. Funnily enough, though, the Mad Baker hasn’t worked through his feelings enough yet to understand himself. All he knows is that he wants you to be healthy and take a break, enjoy a cuppa and snack he’s made even when you want to sit by yourself for a bit.

Alfie’s also constantly checking on you. Not to make sure you don’t make any mistakes, but because he doesn’t want you to injure yourself (mentally and physically). He’ll stand nearby when you’re dealing with a rude customer, chipping in as soon as he sees an opening into the conversation. He’ll plop you down on a chair and nurse your wound when you cut yourself… or manage to remove a piece of your skin at the hand of a couple of crates with stock and no one helping you manoeuvre it around.

(I promise I’m not salty about my own predicament.)

But recently, he’s been giving you more food. He’ll have a proper breakfast ready when you two open the bakery together, vividly remembering how you told him you only drink a cup of coffee and eat a protein bar before you come in in the morning and heavily disagreeing with this lifestyle choice. Orange juice, a plate of chremslach and a piece of fruit always somehow manage to magically appear on the table by the window when you two are busy setting up. He’ll have the same, trying to get into the habit of eating breakfast himself by eating with you.

After each shift, he’ll have a small basket of bread, bagels, and baked goods ready for you to enjoy at home. Often there’s cinnamon babka (because he knows you’re not a big fan of chocolate), mandel bread (to have with your coffee on your days off and subsequently have a piece of him there), and your new recent favourite: tzimmes bread. All kosher, of course!

One consistent element in the wee package is a loaf of soda bread. Alfie’s told you it’s made according to an old family recipe, one not many people have had the privilege of tasting. And he’s secretly proud it’s the reason you’ve fallen in love with eating bread.

(Although he hopes it’s actually the way he guides your hands when kneading dough. So far you’ve never have made a single loaf without his warm rough palms covering the backs of your hands, his rings cold against your fingers when he entwines them with yours)

Alright, imma stop here before this is going to get out of hand. Nonetheless, I think I’ve given myself some great ideas to incorporate into the story I hope to start writing during Camp NaNo. Also, yes, I’m finally going to attempt to properly write again in July and despite working 40 hours a week. Mostly I hope to finish some WIPs, but most of all I finally want to get started on Dear Edna. Wish me luck!

Tag List: @zablife @potter-solomons @babaohhhriley @rose-like-the-phoenix @buttercupsandboys @liliac-dreamer @hecatemoon87 @vir-tual @wandawiccan60 @dreamlandcreations @solomons-finest-rum

#Alfie Solomons #Alfie Solomons imagine #personal #Jay’s Bakery Adventures

[filthfix]

After Party - 한

Pairing: f.Reader x Jisung

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 733

Tags: Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Handjob, Unsuspecting Audience

Summary: Risky after party activities in the middle of a crowd.. based off that one TikTok…

A/N: Sorry I ghosted you guys after saying I was working on a bunch of series<\3 here’s a lil something to apologize.. I’ll try and pick back up my wips but no promises on them being done anytime soon 😭

:readmore:

Jisung has always been daring. It doesn’t matter if it’s the after party of his year long tour with all his band mates and company staff members surrounding him, he’ll be himself.. Shirtless laying in the middle of the room with you on top of him. He’s played it off as a joke, he’s just tipsy and wants to exercise using you as motivation and everyone around is so use to his behavior they don’t even bat an eye which always works in his favor for stuff like this. With the loud EDM blasting, flashing lights of purple and green and a poorly hung disco ball somewhere on the wall this is the perfect set up for Jisung to entertain his wildest fantasies.

“Kiss” he sits up and puckers. You smirk and playfully swat at him.

“Ah!” He’s as dramatic as ever clutching his chest and falling back.

“Just one set! Just one set!” He waves his index finger at you, squeezes his eyes shut and then clasps his hands together practically begging.

“Fine” you already knew where this was going so there really wasn’t anything else to do but roll your eyes and smirk at him.

He gets comfortable under you, shaking you around in the process and then with a grunt he complete his first rep. The second time he comes up with puckered lips and you give into him, meeting him half way. He does this over and over again until he finishes a set.

He lays back and you look down at him. Trailing your eyes down from his v-line up to the light outline of his abs then to his chest that raises up and down a little quicker than usual because of the sit ups and then finally up at his face. His mouth was slightly opened only enough for the tip of his tongue to poke out and his dirty blonde hair covered most of his eyes the part that you could see was half lidded and staring directly at you.

You both stayed like that, holding eye contact, for what felt like 5 whole minutes before you noticed something stiffening right under you. He breaks contact and scans the room, it’s packed with people chatting it up but no one’s paying attention to you two. So with the corners of his mouth turning up and his tongue pressing against his cheek he looked back up at you and then down at where you’re sitting. Quickly he reaches down and fishes himself out of his pants and exchanges his hand for yours.

You blink at him and he raise his eyebrows as a response. You can’t lie and say this situation doesn’t get you worked up. Feeling the warmth and weight of his dick in your hand in the middle of an unsuspecting crowd was beyond risky and dirty but fuck it. You start off leisurely jerking him off waiting for his tip to leak enough precum to use as a lubricant and partially so no one catches you.

Once you feel comfortable you speed up, focusing on his tip and earning a huff from Jisung under you. He decides to keep up appearances and continue his work out. With each sit up came an excuse to moan and the look on his face each time he comes up to your level was almost sinister, something you’ve only seen on stage as he performs. He gets slightly louder wanting to compete with the music and test his limits. Your heart starts racing over it. Then after two more reps he kisses you again before dropping back down.

“One more” he thinks to himself feeling the tension in his lower abdomen build up.

He clenched his teeth, inhales and pulls himself up. The adrenaline of the situation brings him to a high quick and as he comes up from that rep he pulls you into a hug, cumming directly into your hand. He mutters baby into your ear over and over again as he rides it out. Finishing, he pulls away and kisses you repeatedly on the lips.

You moan into his mouth and break the kiss to look him in the eyes. You don’t want to get up for fear of someone seeing a very obvious wet spot on the front of his pants but if you don’t find an empty room right now… then… well..

#personal #skz smut #jisung x reader #jisung smut #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader

[englass]

Cry For Us

Pairing(s): Yandere? Seed Bros x Reader

Warning(s): Low mood, Depressing thoughts, Manipulative behaviour, Yandere/Possessive behaviour, Non-consensual touching (nothing explicit), The Seed Bros being themselves, terrible dialogue. 

Word Count: 4,195

A/N(S): Gonna start this off by apologising to @derelictheretic , @fadedjacket and anyone else that I’ve not responded to a WIP Day tag for over the last couple of weeks; I’m so sorry! 😭 Please take this finished piece as part of my apology and belated WIP Day contribution, even if it Is no longer an actual WIP anymore ❤️

- - -

It’s another one of those nights.

The house is cold and empty and so, so dark. So reminiscent of the home which houses your poor, fragile soul. Lights off with hardly an echo of feeling, thoughts non-existent as you just sit there, curled up tight in the corner of your couch and swamped by your jumper. Too large for your short frame, but comforting. Your only comfort. The closest thing to a hug you can get.

There’s a terrible headache that won’t ease. No tears to accompany it, except a bone deep weariness. Your limbs heavy and your mind painfully void of thought. And every time you try to think of something there’s another pulse behind your eyes, another ache within your head that makes your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

They don’t fall though. They never do. They’ll just make the headache worse.

It’s not like you have anything to cry about anyway. It’s just...

It’s just another one of those nights. Another one of those days. Another one of those weeks.

You should have known, really. Should have known that after months of feeling fine that you’d eventually crash. That your mood would slowly liquidate between your fingers and you’d be left empty handed, lost and made hollow save for a persistent headache and a draining fatigue. Stuck to bone and muscle and soul.

Melancholy.

Pure, soul crushing melancholy.

And as always you’re not sure what's caused it. Too many things maybe; nothing at all perhaps. It’s a gradual descent. A small misstep and then you’re stuck. Like quicksand. And like quicksand the only thing you know to do is to stop moving. To let it run its course and hope that it won’t pull you any deeper. That you’ll get out of it, eventually.

That knowledge offers little comfort though.

Body aching you shift, feel the cold touch the places you’ve kept warm and feel the cold places your warmth hasn’t touched. A small sound of discomfort whining lowly in your throat, briefly stretching out your legs before pulling them close again. Hands staying safely protected within the arms of your comfort jumper, fingers kept warm in the crook of your elbow.

Settling, you place your head gently on the arm of your couch, rubbing your cheek into the hood of your jumper. Thrown over your head not long after deciding on your current resting place.

That must have been hours ago now. It was the early evening when you first sat down, and now the sky is dark and the moon is out.

With a deep sigh you pull your hood further over your head, the cold quick to chill your fingers before they retreat back inside your jumper. The thick fabric obscuring your view save for part of the coffee table in front of you, a half empty cup that has long gone cold.

It’s a waste. You should probably drink it, even if it won't taste great. Or dump it down the sink. But you don’t. You just stare. Blink slow and breathe deep and just stare.

You aren't particularly religious. Don’t know if there is some sort of higher power out there, not convinced you’d be able to comprehend it if there was. But times like this you wondered. Times like this you wondered if that higher power was out there, if it knew of you. Knew of the questions you had: of why you were like this, why it felt like you were losing yourself, why you were slowly spilling out onto the floor and unable to soak up the pieces; why you became like a cracked and empty glass, unable to hold even a millilitre of happiness.

You know no one will hear you, that no one would answer you if you were to ask, let alone some divine entity, but still... you still wanted someone to hear you. Still wanted someone to answer you no matter how unlikely. You just wanted someone to tell you what to do, to give you the answers and teach you how to fix this broken part of yourself. You just wanted someone to be there for you, to acknowledge and accept this broken husk that you become.

You just wanted someone to hold you, to keep you close and safe and to not let go.

You just want someone to love you--

Vision slightly blurred and a wet whimper catching, dying in your throat, your body freezes up as you hear the distinct click of your front door, followed by the creaking of your floorboards. Can just about hear a subtle thunk beneath the measured groaning of your crappy apartment. Heart rate picking up, cold digging deeper, headache throbbing with every continued noise that shouldn’t be. That doesn’t belong.

After all, you live alone.

With a sniffle you slowly turn your head, cautiously eyeing the doorway, burying further into yourself as some distant part of you absently wonders if the ghost you sometimes swear you live with (or maybe that’s your lonely mind playing tricks on you) is about to walk into the room.

You wait with bated breath. Release it with a whine that sounds so terribly loud to your pulsing head as a shape fills the doorway.

No, you realise with widening eyes and a shaky echo trapped in your throat, it’s so much worse than any ghost.

Even with the room bathed in darkness, only split apart by the cracks of moonlight cutting sharp incisions into the shadows, you can’t mistake the man in your home. His tall and bulky frame completely takes up the space of your doorway. Always so intimidating, but even more so now, with you at your most vulnerable, frail and weak, and with the shadows and pale moonlight striking harsh and menacing lines across his scarred features.

Jacob Seed is not a man you ever wanted in your home.

For an agonising moment nothing happens, the both of you just existing in the same room. Staring at him with a different breed of cold settling over you as he carefully takes in your surroundings, too-blue eyes that almost seem to glow with the light of the moon reflected in them, unhurriedly scanning over everything before landing on you.

His sudden sigh startles you, makes you flinch and creates a pitiable sound within your throat. Head hanging for a second before he shakes it gently, looking back up at you with a look you don’t quite have the mental wherewithal to understand.

“‘Seems they were right, after all,” he observes thoughtfully, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling within your head. “You’re close to breakin’,” he takes a meaningful step towards you, “aren’t ya, pup?”

Distantly, buried somewhere beneath the blanket that has smothered all that you truly are, muting everything inside to a far off echo, you feel you should be offended; so boldly being laid bare like that. Flesh torn back to reveal how soft and squishy you are. How fragile; how weak. But you can’t quite reach it. Can’t grasp the shame that should come with being called out like that, feeling like it’s just a hairbreadth away but yet still so far.

Even your fear feels distant; sedated and so unattainable.

The way the imposing man practically prowls towards you, head high as he looks down at you, should scare you. Make you get up and run, attempt to try and put distance between you, but you barely feel a whisper; drowning in complete apathy.

What would be the point anyway? That’s all it will be: an attempt. You know you’d barely make it to your front door before he’d grab you. And you already feel so tired. So drained and just… empty. No energy to really think about it, let alone take your chances.

Nothing has really happened yet you already feel so defeated. So done. So ready to go to sleep and pray that tomorrow will be better. So ready to just lie back and accept whatever fate has in store for you. So ready to just give up… that you already have.

Jacob stops beside you. Watches you as you watch him before you close your eyes, turn your head away to hide within your hood. A hand venturing into the cold to grab and hold it down over you, another wounded sound slipping through closed lips.

Listening, you focus on the sound of your shaky breaths. Can make out the sound of Jacob’s calm breathing and the shifting swish of fabric. Can hear and even feel the slow dip of the space next to you, tensing at the unexpectedly weary sigh from the man now sitting at your side.

“I’m not here to hurt ya,” he smoothly rumbles, “if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re just concerned, is all.”

You huff a breath through your nose before you can stop yourself, but thankfully Jacob doesn’t seem to take any offence. Merely replies with a hum.

“They’ll be here soon. Johnny’s been pitching a fit ‘last few days. Been driving me and Joe crazy with how much he’s been fretting over ya,” he says with a breath of a laugh.

Another sound slips from you, weak and exhausted, as the hand holding your hood down slips beneath it. Warms itself against your forehead and eases the ache within your skull, if only for a second.

Something moves behind you, lays itself across the back of the couch, but you pay it little to no mind. Too busy focusing on the numbness in your toes, the hidden shivers over your body at how cold you feel. Trying to search for some sort of word or emotion to throw out there. Nothing comes though, and instead it just creates another ache in your skull.

“Then again,” he continues, oddly conversational, “me and Joe have hardly been any better. We just have a different way of showing it.”

Apparently whatever has placed itself behind you is not intent on letting you ignore it. Feeling it move and then a small jolt of a tug that has your hood being carefully pulled away from you. “Not this time though,” eyes opening to look at the man next to you, his bright eyes easily catching your dull ones. “For once we’re all in agreement about what we need to do. Question is, ‘you gonna let us?” He asks, eyebrow raising at your blank stare.

With a flutter your eyes close again, unable and unwilling to keep the contact. Maybe he’ll go away if you ignore him. Maybe he’ll put you out of your misery. He has done for many others, if the rumours are to be believed.

A sharp click of a tongue and a mumbled “guess not” is all the warning you get before your hood is unceremoniously dropped back over you. A gasp and startled protest tripping over your lips as a hand suddenly wraps itself around your shoulders, tugs you sideways as another hand hooks itself under your knees and quickly drags you over into your assailant's lap. A clear fizzle of panic getting your stiff body to struggle pathetically against his hold.

“Goddamn-- calm down will ya, pup? Already told you I’m not gonna hurt ya. You don’t have to be so fucking stubborn...” He grouches, hand kept firm around your shoulder to pin you to his chest, his other hand slipping out from under your knees to instead steal beneath your skewed hood and hold your head against him; fingers carding through your hair as he does so.

Your breath stutters at the contact, a mistiness entering your vision. Body tensing, pulling your legs closer, curling up into yourself as well as unintentionally into the man holding you. Faltering as you feel just how warm he is.

“There ya go. See? Nothin’ to worry about. You’re okay, pup. It’s alright. You’re alright…”

You can’t remember the last time someone held you like this; comforted you. Just let you be without asking too many questions, without needing some sort of explanation, without making some sort of comment about how you feel. You can’t control it. You don’t know how to stop it. It’s not your fault that you’re fragile. It’s not your fault something is missing. It’s not your fault that part of you is broken. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault…

Lip trembling you take a shuddery gasp of a breath, squeaking as your throat tightens. Head pounding as you fight to keep the tears at bay. Hands slipping from the arms of your jumper to disappear into your middle pocket, one hand finding its way back into your opposite sleeve as the other bypasses it. Stays hidden within your pocket to sneakily clutch at Jacob’s shirt. Soaking in the warmth of his skin beneath the material as your hood cushions your cheek against his chest.

“Don’t hold back, honey. It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re so strong, d’you know that?” he hushes, “So brave to keep on fighting, even when you want nothing more than to stop. You’re so exhausted, aren’t ya pup? Well, you don’t have to carry that burden alone anymore. It’s okay to rely on others. It’s okay to let go. It’s okay to cry every once in a while…”

You shake your head, breaths getting deeper and quicker as Jacob continues to stroke your hair, words of praise and comfort murmured above you, vibrating from him into you as you try to focus on the pain in your head instead of him. Focusing on all the reasons why he’s wrong, why you can’t trust him, all while desperately trying not to cry. You don’t want to cry. You don’t want to. You can’t, you shouldn’t.

The opening of the front door startles you slightly, makes you try and hide yourself deeper in Jacob’s bulk, pulling your hood over your face and trapping his hand against your head as you hear the quick footfalls of your latest intruders.

“Well, you two took your time,” is Jacob’s gruff greeting.

There’s an answering scoff, quickly overshadowed by a patient, “We had a few urgent matters come up that needed our attention. How are they?”

Joseph, you realise anxiously, fingers tightening in your hold over your hood and Jacob’s shirt.

The oldest brother grunts with a noncommittal shrug, “Could be better. They barely put up a fight when I grabbed ‘em. Haven't moved since.”

“Jacob,” is Joseph’s gentle admonishment.

“What? You expect me to see ‘em all curled up like this and not do something? Don’t be a fool, Joe.”

“You shouldn’t have forced them though, brother. We all know how skittish they are about being touched.”

“Funny, I don’t remember you havin’ a problem with that when you suggested this little intervention. What was it you said again? Something about exposure…”

There’s a strained sigh, exasperated.

The conversation between the brothers fades into the background as an echo of suspicion takes up your periphery; unsure why Joseph is trying to take some sort of high ground when you know that he’s the touchiest of them all. The fact that he -- they are aware of your dislike of being touched and would still do it anyway doesn't help your currently subdued distrust towards the men, either.

Swallowing thickly you carefully readjust yourself, legs stretching out a few inches before yanking them back as something brushes against them. A choppy whine becoming lodged in your throat as you feel something -- a hand? -- place itself on your knee, taking a steady hold of it.

“Ah ah, easy there! My, you really are jumpy, aren’t you? It’s okay though. You don’t have to be so scared anymore, my dear. We’re here now,” John, you tremble. “Can I see you? Will you let me? I just want to see your pretty face…” The couch dips at the added weight, thumb rubbing indiscernible patterns into your knee as soft fingers ghost over the back of your hand. Easing around and into your palm, applying a coaxing pressure as he pries your hand and hood away from your face.

With a low noise you hesitantly open your eyes, blinking against the honeyed glow of the lamp John must have turned on behind him. Defiantly keeping your eyes down as you notice and feel him start to invade your space, leaning in until he’s almost over your lap as he desperately tries to meet your eyes.

The barest hint of betrayal colours you as Jacob stops stroking your hair, grazing over your cheek with a soothing touch before loosely slotting his fingers around your neck, thumb and pointer finger resting uncomfortably on the angle of your jaw. Raising your head to look at his brother as you whimper plaintively, unable to break away the moment John’s ocean deep eyes catch your own.

A boyish smile lights up his face. Eyes twinkling with an adoration you’ve never seen before as they drink in your weary expression. Softening and turning sympathetic the longer he looks at you, the more he takes in. Colours layered with a gleam of understanding that makes your chest tighten.

“Oh, sweetheart,” lip wobbling you sniffle, trying to ignore his tone as he releases your knee. Hand cradling your cheek as the other manages to wiggle your hood free from your grip, pushing it away from your face and then taking your hand in his, drawing it close until he can press his own cheek into your palm. Beard scratching at the sensitive skin.

“Look at you,” he coos sweetly, “You’re so perfect for us. Why don't you cry? I can see that you want to. I bet you look even prettier when you cry too. You know there’s no shame in it, right? We won’t judge you for it, we’ll never judge you for anything. We just want to help you, darling. To look after you. Don’t you want that? Won’t you let us? Won’t you let us love you?”

Your lips twist, eyes stinging as your vision starts to blur again. Only just seeing the sudden feverish hunger that flickers to life in his eyes at your reaction, a predatory shade churning their colour darker as he slinks closer. A whimper shared in the space between.

“Oh. Oh. Yes, yes that’s it darling! Just like that. You’re being so good for me, so good. It’s okay to cry, sweetheart. It’s okay. You know we’ll look after you, right? We’ll protect you, I promise we will. We always will. You’ll never have to pretend again. We’ll keep you safe. We’ll take you home and you can have whatever you want, whatever your heart desires. I’m more than happy to spoil you, just tell me what you want. Anything you want and it’s yours, you just need to tell me. You just need to rely on me, only me. I’ll take such good care of you if you let me love--”

“John. That’s enough.”

He freezes. Takes a shuddery breath as he realises how close he has gotten to you, his mania driving him deeper into your (and Jacob’s) space until his nose is almost bumping yours. Shades of colour shifting like tempestuous waves as he turns to his brother with wide and glossy eyes, his rapturous tone switching to a high and petulant whine.

“But Joseph--”

Joseph shakes his head, lamp light casting a glare across his glasses as he takes a step forward. “I know you want to help them, John. We all do. But you must have patience. You shouldn’t pressure them so.”

John furrows his brow, mouth opening with a retort before he’s beaten to it. A harsh scoff sounding out above you.

“Yeah, you only say that cos you wanna be the one to say the words to ‘em,” finally letting go of your jaw Jacob’s arm drops to your lap, fingertips brushing absently over your hip. Throwing a challenging look, “ain’t that right, Joe?”

Joseph levels his brother with a flat stare.

“All I am saying, Jacob,” he enunciates purposefully, smoothly navigating around the coffee table until he stands before you all, eyes shielded by yellow lenses as he gazes neutrally down at his older brother, “is that we don’t want to cause them unnecessary stress by being impatient and rushing into things. They’re dealing with enough as it is. We do not want to add to that.” Blue eyes made green shift to you. That unnerving calm of his, so self assured and righteous, mellows; his scrutinising gaze turning deceptively gentle as he smiles serenely at you. Hand placed atop your head, “Not more than we already have.”

His touch is heavy, domineering in how you can feel the intentional press of him. The smallest application of pressure threatening to bow your head. It makes you feel all the more hopeless. That yawning absence of thought and those swaddled remnants of emotion growing all the more noticeable. The lack of despair that you know you should be feeling, being so cruelly cornered like the wounded animal you are, drives the wedge in deeper. The involuntary acceptance weighted down by your vacancy of care, the captivity of self.

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? Thoughts and feelings, all that you are, locked away in a place that you can’t quite reach. On the other side of a door that you don’t have the key to. Lost in a building so dark and vast that you see no end in sight; a compass without directions that does nothing but spin; straining to listen to the faded grinding of gears somewhere further beyond. But the room never changes, the compass never stops, the sound never gets louder no matter how much you try. Just stuck. Just still. Just a void that shouldn’t be.

It should make you sad. There’s an echo of that sadness, trying to breach the disconnect, but once again you can’t find the source. Can’t take hold or fully embrace it. Just aware that it’s there, like background noise you don’t pay a thought to. And even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to find it.

The only thing you do feel (other than a persistent headache) is tired; in every capacity.

Too physically weak to battle your way out of Jacob’s hold. Too mentally drained to analyse John’s every word and intonation. Too emotionally defeated to dread whatever intentions or warped plans Joseph has in mind for you.

This was planned, you know that much. And as Joseph steals your face away from his brother – John’s hands migrating to rest at the nape of your neck and splaying across your collarbone with his thumb to your throat, Jacob’s hands constricting in they’re hold as the one at your shoulder falls to join the other snaked around your waist – that tell-tale sting pricks your eyes again.

The world begins to blur around the edges as Joseph bends over you, angles your face heavenward to look directly up at him. Teary eyes forced to meet the blue turned green of your self-imposed saviour. His warm breath fanning over you, intently watching the fluttering of your lashes with every half blink you make; trying so hard to keep the tears at bay, so hard not to cry in front of him. In front of any of them.

You know they'll take advantage. Watch as you fall apart at the seams and the stuffing comes loose, act as if they didn’t brandish the scissors that tore your stitching out as they sew you back together. You know they will. Your vulnerability is prime meat for vultures like them.

Silently displeased by your show of restraint, Joseph’s stare sharpens. Turns razor-edged as he tilts his head with an unreadable expression. Grip constricting as he keeps you still, dissuades the need to fidget before you can act on it, observing every twitch with a critical eye. As if you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out how to conquer.

You can’t say you’d be surprised.

Something must show on your face because his gaze eases, takes on an edge so tender and warm that you feel as though you're being embraced by eye contact alone. It’s so raw that you feel yourself quake, fault lines threatening to come apart; stitching fraying and soft fuzz peaking out just as you feared they would.

And Joseph smiles.

He brushes your skin. Thumbs caressing your upper cheeks, further still until he’s so close to one of your eyes that you can’t help the instinctive reaction to protect it. Feeling the resistance of your lashes brushing his skin as you attempt to guard such a vulnerable part yourself from him.

But as his thumbs ease away, settling with cupping your face instead of ghosting over your eyelids, your breath stutters as you glimpse Joseph's smile grow into a grin, a gentle coo on his lips as you realise your mistake far too late; skin warm then shockingly cold as the air touches the tear line now running down your cheek.

A flash of emotion, poignant and real, lances through you:

Fear.

#honestly i forgot to give this piece a title in my drafts so hopefully this one i threw onto it encapsulates the fic well enough #and that the guys come across okay #was totally going for comfort over character accuracy admittedly #but i still feel bad for doing them dirty with the dialogue lol #and i'm rusty too! #been a hot minute since i wrote anything proper #so please forgive me 🥺 #also #anyone catch that opening reference to another depressing fic of mine? #i was going through another low phase at the time #so decided to reference the first one i did #they're not related though #just come from the same low place #fc5 #far cry 5 #jacob seed #john seed #joseph seed #poly seed #seed bros x reader #reader insert #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fc5 fanfic #fc5 fanfiction #comfort fic #kind of?