#why can i not write the things i'm supposed to

[f1boistrash]

i have a name | l.s

a/n: so this is an idea i had after the miami gp and its been stuck in my head so im finally writing it. there is some slight jos slander and reader is max's sister

summary: y/n verstappen drives for f1 academy. they find comfort in a certain american when the media gets too much

Your whole life you've always been Max's sister. You didn't hate your brother for it because it wasn't his fault. You hated the world for being so small minded. You hated your dad for not caring. His words stuck in your head like a broken record. 'You're overreacting Y/N. It's not a big deal. You need to grow up.'

But it was a big deal because why couldn't they be bothered to learn your name. Your accomplishments throughout your career always amounted to 'Max's sister' it was never 'Y/N Verstappen'. You were sure if they could your trophies would say that too.

Going into the F1 Academy you thought it'd be different. You were excited when you got the call. The first person you told was Max and he was even more excited than you, if that was even possible. You were at the forefront of the series, watching young girls across the world become interested in the sport you loved. Something you wished you had growing up.

The driving was great. The team was great. Everything was great except the media. Its the one thing you dreaded stepping into the spotlight more. You tried to develop a thick skin like your brother but it was difficult when you constantly got picked at.

"So, Y/N, great day today. You qualified third. How was it?" The interviewer asked.

"Yeah it was great. Obviously we'd prefer P1 but we're still happy with the result and looking forward to pushing it even more tomorrow." You replied, grinning at your result. It might not be front of the grid but you were still proud.

"Your brother Max had a phenomenal season last year. Can we expect the same this year?" And there it was. Your first interview of the weekend and it only took one question before they asked you about your brother. Normally you didn't mind talking about Max's accomplishments. You were so unbelievably proud of him. It's when they start talking about him when they should be asking you about your race and your season that you get annoyed.

You plastered on your fake smile, hoping no one saw the disappointment flash across your face. "It's hard to say what this year will bring but what I do know is that Max will give it his everything. Whatever happens though I'm still proud of him."

Before anymore questions about Max could be asked your manager made a sign that time was up. You thanked the interviewer and left the media pen. She gave you a run down of tomorrows schedule as you were now finished for the day. Your manager didn't need to ask if you were okay because she knew you weren't. Working with you for a few years meant she had learnt all your tells.

You thanked her for today before parting ways, leaving you alone. The night air was brisk but welcoming. You shut your eyes and sighed enjoying the silence. You were supposed to be meeting Max tonight yet you couldn't bring yourself to move. Not wanting to face him just yet.

It was late and you weren't expecting many people left at the grid. Especially the F1 drivers which was why you jumped when a voice broke the silence. "Y/N right?" Logan said, your stomach fluttered when you looked at him. You have never really spoken to Logan before, only seeing him in passing but you always thought he was cute. He also called you by your name and not 'Max's sister' which was a welcomed surprise, used to his friends calling you that. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine, just wasn't expecting anyone to be left at the track." You told him. You took in his appearance under the setting sun. He was in his Williams uniform, his hair slightly tousled from wearing his hat all day.

"Yeah, I was just heading out. Had to do a few tweaks before tomorrow. What are you doing here late?" He asked.

"Media." You grimaced. Logan laughed, understanding your reaction.

"That bad huh?"

"Yep." You nodded. "Talked about Max the whole time."

The two of slowly started walking towards the car you have rented this weekend. It was one of the few left in the parking lot. "Seriously? That's so shit." Logan said, shaking his head. It wasn't out of pity though, more like anger.

"You get used to it." You shrugged.

"You shouldn't have to though." He told you, pulling you both to a stop. His eyes, looking at you intensely making you nervous. "You were incredible out there today and I'll definitely be watching tomorrow as you get your first podium of the season."

"Wait, you watched qualifying?" You asked, surprised.

"Don't tell my trainer though." Logan grinned, winking at you making you laugh. It was a sound he could get used to.

"Well thank you Logan. It means a lot." You thanked him, coming to a stop when you reached the drivers seat door.

"You have a name, Y/N. Your not just Max Verstappen's sister and I hope you know that." He said, earnestly.

You don't know what came over you but you found yourself leaning up, pressing a kiss on Logan's cheek. "Thank you."

-x-

"You're late." Was all Max said as you walked through your hotel room door. You kicked off your shoes, walking further into the room seeing your brother lying on your freshly made bed scrolling on his phone.

"Don't you have a sim race or something?" You asked, shoving his feet off your bed trying to change the subject because what else can you say? The reason you were late was the slight breakdown you had about the interview and then you bumped into Logan. You couldn't exactly tell Max that.

He playfully stuck his middle finger up at you, knowing you were making fun of him. "How was your day anyway? Excited for tomorrow?"

"Yeah it was good." You lied. You liked that Max was oblivious sometimes because it meant you didn't have to talk about what people said about you. However, you also hated his obliviousness because sometimes you wanted your brother to comfort you. "Hopefully people won't get sick of the Dutch national anthem." You grinned at Max who laughed loudly.

You asked Max about his day and he told you about how confident he was with this years car, excited to see what he can get out of it. He carried on talking as you got out of your team uniform and into some comfy clothes when he quietened down.

"When were you going to tell me?" Max asked when you exited the bathroom. "About what the interviewer said?"

"It's fine Max." You said, avoiding his gaze on you by putting your clothes away. You were afraid if you looked at him the dam would break.

"It's not fine, Y/N." He huffed, his voice raising out of anger. It wasn't aimed at you though, Max would never raise his voice at you. "It was so unprofessional. Not to mention the commentators today couldn't even be bothered to learn your name. I'm going to do something about it."

Max's reaction reminded you of Logan's. You didn't think anyone would care this much. Especially someone who you never really had a conversation with before. You knew it was pointless to ask Max to leave it alone so you didn't bother. "Just please don't do anything stupid."

"When have I ever done that?" Max asked and you laughed. You would run out of fingers if you counted all the times Max did something stupid.

It was getting late and you and Max said your goodbyes, leaving you alone once again with your thoughts. Instead of the video on repeat in your head it was Logan's words. You reached over for your phone and unlocked it, going straight to instagram to find Logan's profile. You hit follow before going to his dms.

Y/N:

Thank you again for tonight.

His response was quick making your stomach flutter.

Logan:

You don't need to keep thanking me Y/N

Y/N:

I know

I enjoyed talking to you tonight

So thank you for your company 😊

Logan:

I enjoyed talking to you too 😊

I hope we can do it again some time

You were sure you were grinning like an idiot but you didn't care. You had fallen for the American and hard.

Y/N:

I would love to ☺️

Good luck for tomorrow Logan 💙

Logan:

Good luck Y/N 😊

#logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #f1 imagine #f1

[binniebakery]

🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇷​ ​🇫​​🇴​​🇷​ ​🇲​​🇾​ ​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇼​​🇪​​🇷​? ❀🥐

Non Idol AU Soobin x Fem!Reader, Fluff!

♡ Summary: For years, Soobin has had the biggest crush on the daughter of the town's local bakery and flower shop. Just when Soobin decides he's comfortable settling with being acquaintances, a misunderstanding drives him to reveal the feelings he's kept hidden for so long! ♡ Recipe Ingredients: tooth rotting fluff, featuring yeonjun as soobin's unofficial rival, soobin pining, slight cursing!, not proofread ♡ Recipe Notes: guess whos baccck!? woo its FINALLY out! I'm so sorry for the wait everyone! this is probably the only wip that i was continuously motivated to write for.. so i hope this wasn't too cheesy >< enjoy!

It all started the first day he ever laid eyes on you.

That charming smile that captivated his attention the second he walked through the door, your face lighting up at the sound of the bell chiming at his arrival.

“Welcome to Flowers and Flour! How may I help you?”

It was over for him the moment your warm voice hit his ears, the tenderness and soft notes that brought immense joy to his day whenever he walked in.

Soobin was the son of the town’s local catering service. If he wasn’t busy with school, he was helping his mother organize her clients and help deliver and pick up orders for her on that moped his father got him for Christmas years ago.

You were the daughter of the town’s local bakery and flower shop. It was an odd combination really, a bakery downstairs with a flower shop running in the back? It worked well though, Soobin had more than one reason to visit you. His mom needed extra cupcakes for a wedding? He was always the first one to run to your shop. His mom wanted some flower decorations for an event? Once again, Soobin ran through the double doors of your establishment.

For as long as Soobin could remember, he had the biggest crush on you. It was obvious to everyone else in town, except for you.

Though he never really was good at flirting was he? Soobin’s first delivery was almost a disaster, he was 13 when he started helping his mom with her catering. Luck wasn’t on his side that day as he proceeded to fall off his bike and drop the entire box of dozen glazed donuts he was supposed to bring to a child’s birthday party.

Of course, he was a quick thinker. So the first thing Soobin did was bike his way over to the small bakery and flower shop his mother always worked with, rushing in through the doors as he was covered in cuts and bruises. It didn’t matter, no pain could be worse than the scolding he would get from his mother if she found out.

There you were, freshly, first day on the job and your father had just taught you how to use the cash register. You twiddled your thumbs nervously as he worked relentlessly in the back to finish baking that afternoon's set of cupcakes. 

So when you hear the familiar twinkle of bells ringing you feel the color melt off your face as you look up. This was your first day after all, what was the slogan your parents taught you to say to guests? Were you even supposed to take orders? You were only twelve!

“H- hi!.. Um.. welcome to flour and flower— no! Flowers with flour?...” You furrowed your eyebrows and look at the small napkin filled with your scribbled notes. “A- ah sorry! Um welcome to Flowers.. And Flour! H- how can I help you!?” Your voice shook as you sat straight up, giving your best (and awkwardest) smile.

You weren’t expecting there to be a boy with messy hair and cuts on his knees and a half-empty box of donuts standing in the doorway. The way his hoodie fit him slightly too big, something that he would grow into as he got older and taller. 

Slight sweat formed around his forehead and neck from the summer heat. His denim shorts wore a slight tear on the hem from the fall he had from his small bike. His cute button nose scrunched up as the stinging sensation on his knees reminded him of why he was there in the first place.

And Soobin wasn’t expecting such a pretty girl his age to be working the cash register.

“Uh– yes! Um..” Soobin sheepishly scratches the back of his neck as he looks around the bakery to avoid your large innocent eyes staring at him curiously. He’d never been inside actually, the colors were bright, sweet, and pastel– and most of all welcoming, just like your smile.

You’re tilting your head at the way the boy’s worn-out sneakers shifted in his spot. What were you supposed to do when a customer didn’t answer you?

“C- C-an.. um I..” Soobin’s face is flushed red and your eyebrows furrow together even deeper. Just as you are about to turn and call for your father to come help, Soobin immediately reaches over the counter, dropping the crushed donut box, and covers your mouth.

“Shhh!! D- don’t tell anyone! If an adult finds out they’ll tell my mom! And m- my mom cannot know about this” the young boy rambles. Your large eyes flicker between the door behind you leading to the kitchen and back to Soobin. You nod your head in agreement to say silent.

“S- sorry..” Soobin mumbles as he pulls away, wiping his hands on his baggy shorts. He explains everything to you, from the birthday party to his failure to properly ride a bike. You couldn’t help but feel pity for the boy. It was your first day too after all so you would definitely feel the same way if you were in his shoes.

“I think I can.. Maybe give you some donuts?” 

Now, looking back on this now as an adult, you would have charged the young man, or at least given him a discount. But.. as a young innocent pre-teen.. the thought didn’t cross your mind once.

After all, on your first day working you weren't expecting an odd, clumsy, and cute boy would pop up in the shop. So were you really going to be thinking rationally?

So you gave Soobin a fresh box of donuts right from the shelf. Even offered a muffin for his safe journey.  All for free.

Of course, your father notices the missing pastries, one thing leads to another and both you and Soobin end up getting into a lot of trouble.

What you didn’t know is that later that evening Soobin found himself thinking about the cute girl with pigtails that was almost too short to reach over the counter. Even blushing at the thought of seeing you again and vowing to himself he would marry that sweet girl who looked past his awkward exterior and gave him that gentle sunrise of a smile.

Years later, Soobin’s promise to himself is looking less and less possible by the day.

You looked forward to Soobin’s visits. Although you two weren’t close, you’ve always considered him to be a friend. Throughout the years, you managed to form a small bond with him whenever you had the chance to see him. You both went to different schools and were simply too shy to ever ask to hang out outside of the shop, so your relationship stayed the same.

“Hey y/n.” Soobin gives you a shy smile as you finish setting up the display for the morning. Perfect, just like you were. And with the way you turn to him, hair pulled in a messy ponytail, face flushed from the physical work, and apron wrapped perfectly tight around your waist, you couldn’t have gotten any better in Soobin’s eyes.

“Hi Soobie! Here for those muffins?” You chirp as you lean over the counter to greet him. His heart flutters at the nickname. No matter how many times you’ve said it, you always manage to make his heart stop. Nothing was better than your voice calling out his name, especially the nickname you gave specifically to him.

“Mhm, large company party I think? I’m not too sure. Apparently, the guy’s been really pushing my mom’s buttons with his demands.” His laugh is airy and soft and you can’t help but feel your cheeks warm from the way his dimples dig deep into his cheeks. Of course, the boy fails to notice.

“Ah, I see. Give Mrs. Choi my hellos then.” You giggle, handing Soobin several large boxes. Said boxes were indeed quite heavy, your delicate fingers almost dropping them as you handed them over.

“Sure will. Oh, careful–! Gotcha!” Soobin is quick to place his hands under yours, helping you lift the boxes. You look up at him with eyes wide and mouth agape, heart pumping rapidly from the sudden contact. Soobin mirrors your expression and the two of you stay that way in silence for a few seconds.

The young man blinks and immediately flushes once more, face heating up more when he realizes he was touching your hand for too long. “S- sorry! U- um.. I’ll see you later yeah? Have a good rest of your day y/n!” Soobin fumbles as he quickly shuffles out the door to his moped.

You mentally kick yourself for letting the seconds pass without saying anything and Soobin gently plops his forehead on the handle of his vehicle, debating on just slamming his head on a brick wall for settling with the silence.

It was always like this, constant instances where he would get the perfect chance to confess but he always failed to let his feelings reach you. So after years of failed attempts, he settles with what you have. He’s just happy he gets to see you.

⋆｡°♡

It was Friday, the first day of your town's weekend summer festival. Soobin’s mother was as busy as ever, therefore so was he in trying to help her get things done. 

“Soobin! Can you come here please? I need you to run an errand for me!” Mrs. Choi calls and Soobin comes shuffling in from his room, slightly groggy from the nap he just had.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He mumbles as he rubs his eyes, fluffy hair sticking out in all directions.

“Could you run down to the grocery store or the bakery? It doesn’t matter I just need you to buy me flour.” Mrs. Choi mumbles as she digs into multiple containers. “Mr. Phillips is running some baking event but he’s already at the fairgrounds so I’m doing this as a favor. Could you just bring it to him for me?”

Now, Soobin was content with his position in your life. He was just glad he was able to get to see you any chance he got, and that you were still single. He’s (not-so) casually questioned if you’ve had a boyfriend before, and with a strawberry-red face you mumbled about your failed love life.

Don’t get him wrong– Soobin would always support you as long as you were happy, but something inside him feels a sense of relief knowing that there’s somewhat of a chance for him.

So of course instead of going to the closest grocery store, he’s going to stop by your place all the way across town to pick up some flour.

Soobin speeds down the street as quickly as the law would allow him. His anxious fingers tapped the handle of his moped as he waited for the light to turn green.

The festival was on your side of town, so the streets were busy, therefore causing horrible traffic as a result. Soobin groans as he taps his foot impatiently, here’s to another day where he was the cause of his own downfall!

It takes 15 minutes to reach that familiar street he grew to love. The festival around the area begins to grow more lively and both the bakery and flower shop seem to be flooded with visitors.

Soobin feels himself tensing up as he approaches the glass double doors that lead inside the bakery.

The bell rings as he makes his way inside, but the loud buzz of people’s demands and your poor mother running around the floor delivering orders as you ring up the other customers distracts you from noticing the tall boy. Your father bursts through the door right after Soobin, boxes with vases waiting to be decorated and used for arrangements in his arms. Soobin nods a hello. “Hey there Soobin! Nice seeing you!” He shouts above the noise with a grin. “I’m a little busy right now so I’m afraid I can’t help you with anything! Y/n is right over there if you need something!” He nods towards your direction and rushes past the doors leading to the flower shop. Soobin’s face holds a puzzled smile and he glances towards the checkout counter you were currently standing at.

That’s when he sees the bane of his existence. Soobin’s worst nightmare. Choi Yeonjun.

Soobin didn’t speak to Yeonjun often, but he knew two very important things that were all he needed. That Yeonjun was interested in you, and him and Soobin went to the same school. (Soobin cringes at the possibility of Yeonjun ever going to the same school as you. He’s thankful.) Yeonjun would visit your dad’s flower shop often. Even going as far as hinting multiple times if you’d like to go on a date. Luckily for Soobin, you never got the hint– and unfortunately for Soobin, that just made Yeonjun want to try harder.

What made Soobin tick even more was that Yeonjun flirted with everyone he saw. It was just a part of his charm, and as much as Soobin hates to admit it he wishes he had that same ability Yeonjun had. To speak to you freely and smoothly hint towards a date instead of the casual and mundane conversations he settled for every time he saw you. He wanted to be cool and charming, wanted to be outgoing and good at everything he did, just like that Choi Yeonjun.

But Soobin knew he would never get to that point, he considered himself clumsy, unathletic, nerdy, and awkward. All of the things that Yeonjun wasn’t.

So when Soobin spots Yeonjun cracking yet another flirty joke just to see your cheeks flush and you shyly tucking your hair behind your ear he makes it his personal mission to intervene.

“Look at you slacking off. Should get back to work instead of talkin’ to me so much y/n.” Yeonjun teases you and you roll your eyes with a smile. You weren’t exactly close but he was friendly and often offered to help your dad anytime he needed it.

“Well Yeonjun, I’m trying! You keep distracting me..!” You nudge him as you loudly respond over the customers' chatter. “You’re lucky nobody needs me right now. What did you want anyways?” you inquire with a tilt of your head. Soobin sees this from afar and finds it endearing, and much to his dismay so does Yeonjun.

“Nothing today actually–” “What?!” “I said nothing today! I wanted to ask if you wanted to go to check out the festival with me?!” You furrow your eyebrows as your brain attempts to decipher Yeonjun’s words. “Check out what?!” 

Yeonjun lets out a laugh. Soobin bites his lip as his body unconsciously moves closer to the checkout counter. “The festival! You’re about to close soon right? Let's go, you and me!” Yeonjun repeats. This time he’s leaning over the counter, lips dangerously close to your face, and Soobin is about to explode from the sight.

“Well, actually I-” “Y/n! Hi! You’re not busy right?” Soobin blurts out as he shoves himself between Yeonjun and the counter. Yeonjun shoots him a puzzled look.

“Oh! Hi Soobin!” You smile, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck at witnessing the sudden interjection. “Um.. How can I help you?” Soobin’s adrenaline is bursting through his veins, sure he saved you from Yeonjun’s invitation, but now what?

Suddenly, two other customers walk into the store and the place seems to inconveniently become more lively by the second. Soobin feels his anxiety bubbling in his stomach as he stares at your face, how was he supposed to look at you with your hair softly tousled into a ponytail and your pretty lashes blinking against your cheeks? He wonders what you look like outside of uniform.

“Uh, Soobin? I kinda– Yes sir one moment!” You call out to an older gentleman requesting your attention. Soobin blinks and realizes he’s been standing awkwardly for too long, Yeonjun is currently watching the whole situation unfold with a lifted brow and arms crossed.

“Uh– My mom–!.. I want to tell you that I kind of– The festival–! Um..” Soobin grows more flustered by the second, unable to get anything out. He wants to tell you he needs flour, he wants to tell you he traveled all the way across town just to see you, he wants to tell you to ditch Yeonjun and go to the festival with him instead. But words seem to fail him in the moment.

“Soobin?.. Are you alrigh–”

It finally hits Soobin that if he wants to confess, he needs to do it now. He should have realistically done it sooner but the poor boy genuinely felt like your relationship would never get anywhere past “somewhat friends”. Now that Yeonjun is here though, he feels like if he doesn’t say anything now, he’ll be forever doomed to be second to Choi once again.

“Y/n… I um–  L- like you! I need flour.. Too!”

Soobin’s words sound jumbled but it’s enough to get the point across. At least that’s what he thinks.

“What?! Sorry, I can’t hear you!” You shout over the bakery ambiance.

“Flour! Uh.. Flour! I just um.. I need that! Yes! That thing you sell! Ha…” Soobin wants to curl up and rot in a hole. Both of you miss the way Yeonjun’s lips curl up into a small smirk.

“A Flower?!” Your eyebrows furrow deeper. Why would Soobin need a singular flower? You wonder.

“Ah! What? Uh fl- flour! Y- yes!” Soobin stutters once more and you nod confusingly, turning to the shelf behind you. Soobin’s eyes flicker to Yeonjun, mentally high-fiving himself for stepping in at the perfect time. He feels slightly bad but in his defense, he had eyes on you first!

Before Soobin’s guilt settles in for thinking such selfish thoughts, you hand him a sunflower.

His eyes widen and he looks back at you. Did you end up hearing his confession after all?

“Sorry guys I can’t talk! Soobin I’m sorry but this is all I can offer on such short notice! Yeonjun, I’ll speak with you after my shift is done! Just give me 10 minutes!” You flash an apologetic smile and head over to the small line of customers waiting to pay.

Soobin’s mouth hangs open, did you just reject him? Were you so guilty you couldn’t reject him that you just gave him a gift in hopes he wouldn’t take it too harshly? Is that why you said it was all you could offer?

Soobin stands dumbfounded. Yeonjun sighs and grabs him by the arm, pulling him out of the store to allow the other customers to squeeze in their place.

“Hey–! I- I need to talk to y/n wait!” Soobin yanks his arm away from Yeonjun with a huff.

“Can you chill for a second?! God, seeing you stand there looking like a fish out of water is stressing me out, dude.” Yeonjun sighs and rubs his temples in frustration. Soobin swallows and looks down at the floor, twiddling with the sunflower you gave him between his fingers. “Look. I know what’s going on here man, you’ve got a crush on y/n don’t you?”

Soobin’s jaw drops once again and he feels his face grow impossibly red. “H- how do you know?!”

“You literally said it inside the store just a few seconds ago..not to mention your game is the worst I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Right..” Soobin sighs and drops his shoulders in defeat. “Was it that bad?” Yeonjun grimaces, “Want me to tell you the truth?” Soobin groans, he already knows what’s coming. “Just say it already.”

“That was absolutely horrid to watch. Never seen a guy fumble that badly..” Yeonjun pinches the bridge of his nose and Soobin plops down on the bench next to them. He rests his head in his hands, maybe now would be a good time to just move cities. Forget today ever happened. Forget about the festival. Forget about you. Not to mention he’s even more embarrassed at the fact that Yeonjun was there to witness it all. The last person he wanted to see.

“Hey, hey. Look, there’s a bright side to this and I don’t think you realize– I don’t even think y/n realizes what just happened in there.”

Soobin’s head perks up, his face scrunched up in confusion. “What? Besides the fact that I just got horribly rejected– Oh God AND she doesn’t even give me the flour I needed! Y/n probably thought it would be awkward to keep talking to me and just sent me off with this.. pity gift!” Soobin exclaims as he waves the sunflower in his hand around.

Yeonjun slams his palm into his forehead and sighs, “No! Dude she misheard you completely, I’m almost certain y/n thought you wanted a flower from her, not flour.” It takes a few seconds for Soobin to properly register Yeonjun’s words. He replays the situation in his head, the way that none of you could possibly hear each other that well given how busy the bakery was in that moment. 

It would make sense. Yeonjun was standing right next to Soobin so he was the only one that would be able to properly hear him.

“Oh.. shit..” Soobin slumps further into the bench. “Really?”

“Yeah, and frankly can I be honest?” Soobin nods. “I didn’t know you even liked y/n like that. You seem to sort of keep things plain with her when you guys talk.” Soobin pouts at the comment. “Well, I try!.. was kind of playing the long game… I don’t really have the type of charisma you have Mr. Festival Guy!” Soobin retorts and Yeonjun gasps dramatically.

“Hey! Don’t blame me for your incompetence man... Plus, even if I do sort of like her, I know when to back out if it’s just going to end up as a competition. I’m not a douchebag.”

Yeonjun chuckles at Soobin’s shocked face. He notes that Soobin seems to be very expressive despite not speaking about his emotions. It seems to explain a lot about Soobin. “Wait, seriously? You’re willing to give her up that easily?” 

Yeonjun shrugs, “I mean don’t get me wrong she’s a cute girl, but I just wanted to get to know her more as a friend, what’s the harm in that?” Soobin bites his lower lip and looks away from Yeonjun. He feels awful now, assuming Yeonjun was the player type and you were just his next target. They never spoke at school but that was simply because while Soobin was shy and hung out with the nerdy and introverted students– Yeonjun was popular, and had many friends. Not to mention plenty of girls fought for his attention at school.

“Yeah.. guess you’re right.” Soobin mumbles. “Well… now what do I do?” Yeonjun taps his index finger on his chin. “I mean, she said she gets off work in a few minutes right? Why don’t you tell her what you really meant to say.”

Soobin scoffs as if Yeonjun’s idea is completely unrealistic and ridiculous. “Yeah right. You saw the way I get when I speak to her. I can’t even think properly..” Yeonjun sighs. “Well, you have to do it sometime dude.. Unless you want someone like me to scoop her up.” He teases.

Soobin’s eye twitches, he was definitely not going to give Yeonjun another chance to ask you out.

“Hey– okay, okay, fine I’ll talk to her.. I guess..” Soobin runs a hand through his hair. He honestly felt like the entire situation was a lost cause. “So just how am I going to confess to y/n?”

“Dude, I can’t help you with everything! Just speak from your heart.. Or whatever those cheesy romance movies say.” Yeonjun pats Soobin’s shoulder and stands up. “Look, you’ll figure something out. Tell her what comes to mind, that’s the way I roll at least.” Soobin stares at his feet in thought. He had so much to say, and quite frankly his feelings were so strong and complicated he was scared it would ruin the relationship you both currently had. 

“All I’m gonna say is if you don’t do it tonight, I will. Get in there and grab what you originally came there for.” Yeonjun nods towards the sunflower resting in Soobin’s hand. ”And I’m not just talking about the flour either. Be yourself.” Soobin looks at Yeonjun for the last time and stands up.

“Right. I’ll uh.. See you then. Thanks.” Yeonjun pats his shoulder and Soobin almost winces at the pain. “No problem Choi. I’ll leave you to it. See you around.” Yeonjun winks and strolls off. Soobin cringes at how nonchalant the other male is, more so at the fact that he genuinely couldn’t tell if that wink was flirtatious or not.

Regardless, Yeonjun’s words were enough to boost his confidence slightly, and thus Soobin made his way back to the outside of the bakery.

20 minutes had passed and you finally were able to usher the last customer out of the store. Your father had already left to promote business at the festival grounds and your mother had offered to finish cleaning up so you could enjoy some time to yourself after a long day of work.

The summer heat hits your face as you open the heavy double glass doors, pouting as the fresh indoor air slips away. You let your hair down so you can arrange it into a neater ponytail, feeling at least feeling somewhat refreshed after quickly changing out of your work uniform into something more comfortable.

Soobin hears the familiar jingle of the bakery doors and he looks up, if he wasn’t nervous already he definitely was now. His face flushes as his eyes scan your figure, pretty face concentrated as you tie your hair up, thin summer shirt slightly lifting to show the slightest bit of skin as if you wearing those small denim shorts wasn’t enough to have him practically fainting at the sight.

You look up and the expression on your face changes to a warm smile upon seeing Soobin. 

“Soobie, hi!” Oh! The nickname too! Soobin was doomed.

“H- hey, um y/n.. Before you lock up can we go inside? I need to speak with you..” You tilt your head and look around the area. “Sure? Oh but I think Yeonjun was waiting to talk to me too? Did you see him?” Soobin almost lets out a groan in discontent but hides it with a bite to his bottom lip. Why were you asking about Yeonjun? Was it because you were hoping he’d be waiting instead of Soobin?

“He uh.. Decided he had something to do–  It wasn’t important anyways..” Soobin scratches the back of his neck with an awkward smile. “Ah, okay! Let’s go in then.” You smile and open the doors for him. Soobin fumbles to one of the glass doors and holds it for you with ears tinged pink, nodding as you thank him when you walk inside.

Soobin doesn’t even remember ever being this nervous before in his entire life, his first catering delivery, the handful of speeches he’s stuttered through when speaking in front of his classmates, or when he spilled juice on his mother’s most prestigious customer.

You prop yourself on the counter, your eyes now able to meet his without either of you adjusting your height. You swing your legs as you sit, oblivious to Soobin’s inner turmoil. “Sorry, I wasn’t about to talk with you outside in that heat. You must have been sweating so much out there!” You apologize with a light laugh, and the tall boy's heart soars, touched by your consistently kind and caring nature.

Soobin’s brain is currently in overdrive thinking about the way your delicate fingers twiddle in your lap waiting for his response. You notice that his breathing has grown quiet and slow, as he avoids your gaze while in deep thought.

“Is something wrong? Did something happen to Yeonjun or–?” You innocently question. Soobin can’t help but feel his jealousy peak. Why were asking about that guy when it was just you and him? Why couldn’t you ever focus on him instead?

“Soobie.. Tell me what happened, please?” You bring your hand up to rest on his arm, shooting jolts of electricity throughout his entire body from the small touch. It was light, but it was also the first time you’ve ever made an effort to touch Soobin in such a delicate manner. It may have meant nothing to you but to him, it was more than enough to send his mind reeling even further.

Soobin was a patient man. In case you couldn’t tell from the way he’s waited all these years for the perfect moment to confess. Yet, at this moment he feels his emotions bubbling up, his jealousy of Yeonjun, his overwhelming affection towards you that never ceased to stop growing over the years, and the overwhelming anxiety threatening to burst through his stomach.

Your eyes widen as Soobin places both of his arms on the counter, caging you in with his own body.

‘Be yourself Soobin. If she doesn’t like you for you then she’s not the one. If she likes Yeonjun then so be it.’ Soobin is chanting so many affirmations in his head and nothing seems to work. Seconds pass and he notices the heat spread across your face as you stare into his gentle brown orbs.

The bakery is silent, its ambiance a complete contrast to almost 30 minutes ago. Everything had been turned off, with the only source of lightning coming from the sunset peering over the horizon outside. The rays barely peeked through the partially closed blinds and the glass doors leading into the bakery. 

“I- .. look I honestly h- have no idea how to go about this..” Soobin begins, his breathing now ragged and his body so close to yours that his scent begins to fill your senses. You’ve never been this close to Soobin and can’t help but take in the gentle light floral scent. It’s warm even, like a cotton shirt left out in the sun on a summer afternoon.

He presses his forehead against yours, his breath now gently tickling your features. “Y/n.. I’ve liked you f- for a really long time.. And I mean this more than a friend.” His eyes are screwed shut, almost as if he was afraid that if he opened them he’d be met with a look of disappointment from you. “I tried telling you earlier, I saw Yeonjun try to hit on you and I freaked out. Of course, shit hits the fan too because with my luck you didn’t hear me.”

“Soobin..” Your mouth opens before you can fully process what you want to say. “Y- you don’t have to respond y/n. If anything I know you probably have feelings for Yeonjun already– Just p- please.. I-” His voice is shaky, his intense fear of rejection pouring out of his body in a sweat.

Soobin’s eyes flash open when he feels both your hands gently holding both sides of his face. “Can I tell you something?” You smile warmly. Soobin’s heart feels like it's going to jump out of his chest. “I only keep working here so I can see you.”

Soobin’s face turns a bright red, his mouth agape. “Wh- what?”

“My parents tease me about it all the time. About the boy that I fell head over heels for since the day he first walked through those stupid glass doors. I don’t let them hire anyone else because I didn’t want anyone talking to you that wasn’t me!” You chuckle, recalling the slow days when you paced across the white bakery tiles, waiting for him to walk through those doors with a list of items he needed.

“I’ve liked you. I always have.” Your voice comes out in a whisper. Soobin’s ears barely pick up the sound as a group of children run by the shop, loud screeches and giggles as they pass.

“Wh- what?” Soobin stares into your eyes in complete disbelief. “I said I like you too, Choi Soobin.”

He’s silent, a car passes by and you almost jump from the sudden noise. Soobin doesn’t flinch, and for a moment your expression turns into one of fear– afraid that you said the wrong thing until Soobin lets out a series of soft chuckles.

“What is so funny!?” You pout, immediately removing your hands from his face in embarrassment. The audacity of this guy! To just laugh in front of your face after he himself nearly pissed himself from confessing to you.

“Y- you have no idea– no idea!” He begins, his forehead bumping into yours again from laughing. “Y/n, I’ve been going out of my way, doing the stupidest things just to get myself to tell you how I feel.”

You scoff and look down at your lap. “Well.. at least now everything is cleared up.. Right?”

Soobin’s head pulls away, his arms still trapping you in his presence. ‘O-oh um about that..” 

“Earlier.. I was asking you for flour.. Y’know the stuff you bake with? .. You sort of misheard that too.” You cover your mouth with a gap. Soobin senses your guilt and immediately shakes his head.

Soobin finally pulls his arms away and you feel your tense body loosen up. It seems he had no clue of how close he was due to the adrenaline of his confession. “No no! Please don’t worry about it– it was seriously my fault, I couldn’t even get a word out and it was super loud and busy earlier!”

“L- let me get that for you! Gosh, I’m so so sorry!” You exclaim as you jump off the counter to run to the back room to retrieve the said bag. You find Soobin with his hands covering his face in embarrassment as you walk up to him. It seemed you two were more similar than you expected.

“Let's go deliver the flour then, together.” You smile shyly, attempting to lighten the mood. “Before we do though.. Let's make a trade.” You take the forgotten sunflower Soobin had been holding the entire time and hold it to your chest. “You can give me this, and I’ll give you your flour.”

Your voice is warm and oh-so-sweet to Soobin’s ears. He was so used to hearing you speak in your ‘customer service’ voice that being able to have you finally speak to him, and only him, in that gentle tone that made his legs turn to jelly and his heart thump ever so harder.

“Deal.” Soobin smiles and he takes the sunflower from your hand. He gently places the sunflower behind your ear, pushing back a strand of your hair at the same time and your eyes meet once again. His eyes were mesmerizing, almost as if they were pulling you closer. You didn’t even realize how close in proximity you two were now.

Soobin closes the gap between you both, your lips finally connecting for the first time. Your plush lips are soft against his and it’s everything Soobin could have imagined and more. The kiss isn’t perfect– with teeth slightly clashing every few seconds and you giggling in excitement. Both your lips were slightly chapped from the summer heat and the conversation you just had. It didn’t matter to either of you though.

It was summer when Soobin met you for the time, with cheeks flushed and shy lingering gazes. He smiles, dimples on full display at the thought as he stares up into the sinking sun in the distance as you both head towards the festival. 

It’s also summer when the two of you confess and share your first kiss. Soobin comes to realize that summer might just be his favorite season. After all, over the years nothing has ever changed, besides the feelings he’s had all this time now growing ever stronger. And of course, breaking the curse of forever being just the clumsy boy who visited you.

#BakeryTreat♡ #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt fluff #soobin scenarios #soobin imagines #soobin x reader #soobin fluff #soobin x y/n #divider by lovwoung

[purplecoffee13]

Nemesis with Benefits* - Part 3

Summary: “You go to your friend’s birthday party, and run into Harry. Naturally, the encounter doesn’t go very smoothly, and you are at each other’s throats in a matter of minutes. But the proximity transforms the anger into… some type of frustration.”

Wc: 4.7k

Tropes: enemies to lovers

Warnings: cursing, smut, dirty talk, (heavy on the)degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics

A/N: Hey y’all, I’m back with another NWB chapter! This took embarrassingly long to write. To be honest, I was in a bit of a rut, and then I was having too many ideas and thoughts at once, and not enough inner peace to sit down and write. But it’s all good now, I’m back, so enjoy!!!

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

"Isn't it too much?" You ask hesitantly, staring at your dolled up reflection in the mirror of your vanity desk. Rebecca's head shoots your way, a deep frown on her face.

"Hell no! You look absolutely gorgeous, sweetie." She hurries over to you, putting her hands on your shoulder and crouching down to your level. She looks at you through the mirror, giving you a comforting smile, which eases your nerves a little bit.

"Listen, babe, this is your first real party since that troll cheated on you. It's your chance to show everyone that you are strong, and better than ever." Rebecca gives the pep-talk that you have been hearing seven renditions of for the past week. She turns you around so she can look you in the eyes. "Dylan was a deadweight. You are free of that imbecile and we're going to celebrate it by getting you laid."

You roll your eyes, stifling a laugh at Rebecca's mention of her mission for you. "I don't want to get laid."

"Girl... trust me, you need to get laid." Rebecca says as she picks up her purse from your bed. Your mouth falls open at the insult.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" A chuckle escapes your lips as you ask your friend the question. She turns around, a mischievous grin covering her face.

"You have been so incredibly tense the last weeks, especially today. Seriously, did you have a deadline today or something? You have been incredibly tense all afternoon." Rebecca questions, grabbing both of your jackets and handing yours to you.

Your eyes widen for a slight second, but you quickly regain yourself. You shrug your shoulders, which, now that she mentioned it, are feeling quite tense. You hadn't realized how much effect your stress had on your body today.

Ever since that almost... whatever it was with Harry earlier today, you have absolutely been on edge. It's been difficult to brush it off, especially because the harder you try to not think of it, the longer it stays on your mind. Even blasting rock music didn't get your thoughts off him.

There are just a lot of questions that accompany the events that almost occurred earlier today. Besides the typical, 'why did he even initiate such a movement?', there is also the question of 'why did you almost go along with it?'.

Maybe Rebecca is right. Maybe, you do need to get laid. You are not going to say that out loud to your friend, though, because you know you will never hear the end of it. So instead, you lie.

"Yeah, had a deadline today. But I promise, I'm ready to party." You say. Technically, it a half-lie. You did have a deadline for an assignment today, but it was only a matter of getting your reference list right.

"Alright, let's go then!" Rebecca exclaims enthusiastically, walking out of your bedroom and towards the front door of your apartment.

The frat house where Tyler's party is held is quite close to your apartment. You live extremely close to campus, and so you and Rebecca don't have to suffer through the cold breeze that dominates the night. You are glad, because your short, red dress and sheer tights aren't the warmest thing you've ever worn. You thank your lucky stars for the black knee high boots you paired the outfit with, as they manage to block the wind against your legs a little bit.

The change of temperature going from outside to inside the frat house is lethal. It smells of the standard odors that cover a party: sweat and alcohol.

You don't hear much of what Rebecca shouts at you over the loud music, but her pointing at Tyler tells you all you need to know. She grabs your hand and guides the both of you to your mutual friend.

Tyler grins like an idiot at the sight of you two, spreading his arms out before pulling the two of you into a bear hug.

"I'm so glad you guys came!" He exclaims, letting you pull away.

"We even got you a present." Rebecca says, and Tyler quirks up his brow.

"We think you're going to love it." You add.

Tyler's head flicks from Rebecca to you, and a sneaky smirk creeps up his face. In perfect timing, both you and Rebecca slap Tyler's arm before throwing some profanities his way.

"What?! You said it so suggestively." Tyler laughs, and you flick him on his forehead. He yelps out, and Rebecca and you chuckle at his dramatics.

"You are an idiot." Rebecca smiles sweetly at him, planting a kiss on his cheek anyway. She steps back and grabs your hand, nodding towards the kitchen. "Wanna get a drink?"

"Oh wait, come with me. I locked the good stuff upstairs." Tyler interrupts, and motions for you to walk with him. You look at Rebecca, and shrug before happily following him upstairs to his room.

You have been in Tyler's room plenty of times, one of which you almost ended up having sex with him. It was late and you were both high as fuck, and ended up falling asleep before anything really happened. You laughed about it afterwards, and besides flirty jokes, there is absolutely nothing between you and Tyler.

"Here we are..." Tyler turns around with three bottles of hard liquor in his hands. You and Rebecca cheer as Tyler pours some tequila into each red solo cup. The three of you make a toast to Tyler before downing the ridiculously large shot. You pull a sour face afterwards because you always seem to forget how nasty tequila is. It does the job of getting you drunk, though, so you don't dwell on it too long.

Tyler then makes you and Rebecca a rum and coke. You chat a bit about everything and nothing, but then Rebecca announces she has to pee, and leaves the room. You quite literally feel the air in the room changing as soon as the door is closed again. Tyler looks at you with sad eyes.

"So, how are you holding up?" He tries to be casual, but you roll your eyes because you know what he is aiming at.

"Stop it, I'm fine. He is a dick, and I am just fine." You say, sitting your self onto the bed. Tyler seats himself besides you.

"You can't blame me for asking, I feel like we haven't talked much since... you know. Just wanted to know if you're okay." He shrugs, and your heart melts ever so slightly. Tyler is a great friend, and he was right: you really hadn't spoke to anyone but Benjamin and Rebecca since the break-up.

And Harry.

"I promise, I'm fine." You say, but Tyler just squints at you. It makes you giggle a bit, getting nervous about idiocy. A short silence falls between the two of you, and you take a sip of your rum and coke.

"Rebecca said I should get laid." You confess, before taking a large gulp of your drink. You look at your friend, expectantly, wondering what his opinion on all this is.

"I mean, my door is always open—"

"Shut up!" You cackle, and Tyler laughs. He loves getting on your nerves. "But seriously, do you think that's a good idea?"

He shrugs. "If you're ready, then sure."

"Well, how do I know if I'm ready?" You ask him, your head tilted ever so slightly.

"You'll know." Tyler answer cryptically, getting up from the bed. You follow suit, knitting your brows at his vague words.

"That might just be the least helpful advice I've ever heard." You deadpan, and Tyler rolls his eyes at you.

"You're thinking about this too much. Just try and see if there is someone you feel attracted to, and just try it. If it's a simple hook-up, it's all about the physical attraction, nothing more. So don't overthink it."

You sigh, kind of bummed with the fact that his advice is actually really good and makes a lot of sense, because now you'll have to apply it.

"Now, let's go downstairs, because Rebecca is probably looking for us." Tyler suggests, and you nod. The two of you fill up your drinks before walking out of Tyler's bedroom. You're still laughing at a joke of his when you are met with none other than Harry standing in the hallway.

He looks surprised to see you, and the same can definitely be said for you. There is about a two second delay in his mood change from surprised to irritated, and the tension in your stomach stings.

"Hey bro." Tyler says, a bit unsure at how enthusiastic he can be towards Harry in front of you. You know they're actually good mates, but I think that lessened a bit since the break-up. Tyler is awfully loyal to you, in the littlest ways.

"Hey man, happy birthday." Harry greets Tyler and they do their little bro hug. You watch the interaction, a bit unsure of how to act in front of Harry now. Pulling out from the embrace, Harry turns to you. He greets you with the sole mutter of your last name.

"Styles." You say back.

You feel Tyler looking between the two of you, and you can tell that he is scared that you'll push Harry down the stairs at any given moment. You refuse to lose eye contact with Harry, however, and he seems to have the same idea. It takes about ten seconds of silently staring into each others' souls before Tyler speaks up.

"Y/N, shall we go downstairs? Find Rebecca?" He puts his hand on the small of your back. You silently cheer for yourself when Harry breaks the eye contact, his gaze shooting down to Tyler's arm, before looking at you again.

"Excellent idea." You agree, turning around and walking down the stairs without looking back at Harry. Your stomach is still upset and your mind is spinning; that was oddly stressful for no reason.

Once you've found Rebecca again, you both take to the dance floor. A typical party song plays and everyone starts to cheer and jump along. You and Rebecca dance with each other, laughing because of the alcohol and the guys who are dancing around you.

You try to scan the room for potential bachelors as much as possible, hoping there is someone who you find attractive. Unfortunately, you are a bit out of luck. You casually look further, but then your eyes fall onto Harry. He is standing against the wall, with a couple of other guys you know, but he is looking at you. You feel like you got caught, even though, technically you caught him looking at you. You don't have much to overthink it, however, because you quickly realize that Benjamin is one of the guys standing with Harry.

You pull Rebecca along and walk towards the guys. Benjamin shrieks when he sees you and pulls you into a hug that nearly chokes the life out of you. After pulling away, he goes and greets Rebecca. Your eyes float past Harry, who is so close to you that you can smell his perfume, but you quickly look away when you realize that, once again, his eyes were already on you.

Your chest feels tight at the knowledge that he is actively watching you, and you have to stop yourself from clenching your jaw out of the sheer stress it is giving you. Benjamin distracts you by asking if you want to go outside for a bit, and you nod, following him to the back yard.

But when you see Harry joins you, you make up an excuse that you have to go to the bathroom, and that they should just go ahead and you'll find them in a bit. The group agrees and begins walking outside, and you take it as your cue to hurry upstairs.

You enter Tyler's room, running over to his desk, where the liquor is still standing, and pour yourself another rum and coke. It is mostly rum with a splash of coke, but you really need it right now. You take a big gulp, sticking your tongue out as the bitter taste trickles down your throat.

"Hiding?"

You jump at the sudden voice sounding from behind you, and turn around to see Harry leaning against the doorframe. You take a deep breath when you realize it's just home, but then the tension settles in because it's him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask, irritated. It is mostly to mask the nerves he gives you, and Harry doesn't seem to buy into your pretending. He shrugs.

"Was trying to find a lighter. Tyler said he had one up here." He answers, looking around the room. His eyebrows raise when he sees one on Tyler's nightstand. He leans forward, holding it up in the air so you can see it, then puts it in his pocket. "What about you?"

Getting away from you, you think.

Instead of saying that, you shrug your shoulders. "Just— getting a drink."

Harry nods slowly, not entirely believing you. You stare at each other for a moment, and the heavy feeling in your stomach is beginning to shout to get out. You swallow, your risen heartbeat telling you what you are trying very, very hard to ignore.

"So..." Harry starts.

"So..."

"You and Tyler, huh?"

Your eyes widen at the words that leave Harry's mouth, and before you know it, a loud snort escapes you. You slap your hand over your mouth, shaking your head profusely.

"C'mon, you don't have to deny it. So, the moving on going easier than you thought after all, hmm?"

There is a slight condescending tone that hides between Harry's words, and it makes your smile fade away. You set down your cup at the table and stride towards him until you are right in front of him. You look up and meet his gaze.

"What? Are you trying to say that it's easier, because I wasn't that in love with Dylan, so in the end it wasn't all bad? That the drama was for nothing?" You growl, blood rising to your cheeks as you speak.

"I didn't even fucking say that—"

"No, but you thought it. If you're being a dick, just be upfront about it. Don't act all sneaky about it." You say, and Harry clenches his jaw at your remark.

"Okay, you need to get off that fucking high horse of yours. Not every fucking thing I say is a hidden insult to you, because the world doesn't fucking revolve around you." He barks at you, getting closer. His height is intimidating, but you keep standing your ground and look up at him.

"Can't blame me for thinking it. It’s not like you’ve got anything else going on your life." Your tipsy mind decides to go in for the kill and just start shooting straight insults at him. Harry laughs coldly.

"Yeah? You think that all I do is think about you?" He takes another step closer, your bodies now partly touching. You don't move an inch, mainly because you don't want to let him win, but also because you just don't want to. "You think I wake up and go to bed wondering where you are, what you're doing, who you're with?"

You don't say anything. Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you clench your fists together. There is too much frustration in your body and too few ways to express it. Tyler's words hang in the back of your head, and they are getting harder and harder to push away. Harry leans forward, so he is on eye to eye level with you. His pupils are dilated and he looks just as irritated as you, if not more.

"Listen, darling. I meant what I said. You don't mean shit to me." Harry says slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You are not sure what brain cell lead you to make the decision, but in a matter of seconds, your lips are on his. There seems to be no surprise on Harry's side, because he leans into it immediately.

His tongue slips into your mouth without hesitation, and with a hand on your throat, he pushes you against the wall. All thoughts leave your mind as you kiss Harry, and 'not overthinking it' suddenly seems like the easiest thing in the world.

A sound leaves your mouth when Harry's grip on your throat tightens, and you find yourself arching into him. One of your hands is holding onto his shirt, and the other one to his hair, as you kiss the guy you hate most in the bedroom of your friend.

You feel the adamant bulge in Harry's jeans as the two of you grind against each other, in a desperate, pathetic need for relief. There should be at least a thousand different alarm bells going off in your brain, but there aren't. Not ones that give you enough strength to step out of this situation, anyway.

Your hand finds itself around Harry's throat as well, slightly catching him off guard. You take it as the perfect moment to push him onto Tyler's bed. By the time he's fallen back, you're already climbing on top of him, your hips moving against his crotch as your tongue re-enters his mouth.

It doesn't last long, though, because Harry has flipped the two of you around in no time. His hand back on your throat, and the other one's restraining both your arms above your head.

"Aw, you thought you were taking the reins? That's cute." Harry smiles patronizingly, tilting his head a bit as he scans your face. You clench your jaw, beyond irritated by the fact that he thinks he can just restrain you like this.

"Actually—"

"I don't think I told you that you could speak, now did I?" He interrupts you, his eyes raking up and down your body.

"I fucking hate you." You spit out the words, truly disgusted with yourself for being so incredibly turned on right now. You'd remind yourself to see a psychologist or something, this was not okay. Harry let out a  bitter laugh at your remark, the hand on his throat squeezing tighter as he leaned forward. It made your head spin and your panties soaking wet.

"You think I don't loathe you? Because I do. But for some reason, I can't get the image of my cock ruining your pussy out of my head." He growls, equally bothered by the tension as you had been since earlier today. "So I suggest, I fuck you right here, right now. Get it out of my system."

Those words shouldn't have made you crave for him the way you are at this very moment, but for some twisted reason it does, so you nod.

"Words, honey."

"You can fuck me," You say, looking him in the eyes. "but I still hate your guts."

"Right back at ya, sweetheart. Now, take off your panties, gotta be quick."

With that said, Harry's hand leaves your throat, and he got up from the bed. You do as he said as he closes and locks the bedroom door. You are bare and ready for him by the time he turns around, and the smirk on his face makes you realize how much he is relishing in the idea of it.

"No foreplay, let's get this over with." You say, glaring at his smug face. Harry looks down at your sopping wet cunt, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"Not that you'd need it. Sole sight of me got you so soaked, huh?" He taunts, crawling up on the bed and climbing over you. He leans back a bit, grinning as you unbuckle his pants and mutter profanities aimed at him under your breath.

When you pull down his briefs, you have to actively stop yourself from widening your eyes. That is going to hurt. It is a prospect you are looking forward to a little too much.

You lean back, watching Harry stroke himself as he observes your wet hole. As if reading his mind, you tell him: "I'm clean, and on birth control." 

"Y'telling me you want it bare?" He asks, and you shrug your shoulders. Harry shakes his head, chuckling at your nonchalance. Then, without a word of warning, he pushes himself into you.

"Dirty fucking girl... just wants to feel it all." He says, pulling about almost all the way before thrusting into you again. You shriek from the heavy mix of pain and pleasure it causes you, so much so that Harry has to cover your mouth with his hand.

"You need to keep quiet if you wanna come." He growls, trying to sound irritated, but you can tell he is enjoying himself too much to really feign annoyance. You watch as he finds a rhythm that drives the both of you crazy, closing his eyes as he takes in the great feeling of it all. Your hands find your clit and automatically begin to rub in circles as you listen to the small sounds of pleasure that leave Harry's mouth while he drives himself into you over and over again.

Opening his eyes, he arrogantly smirks at the sight of you getting worked up because of him. He leans forward, his free hand finding your breasts and groping them harshly. A stifled moan leaves your mouth at the feel of his sensitive yet hard touch.

"Look at you, hmm?" He taunts. "One minute you tell me you hate me, and the next you're begging me to fill you up with my bare cock."

Since you can't respond to his teasing, you decide to do the next best thing, bite on his fingers. Harry's hand shoots away from you, looking shocked for the entirety of one second before he's back on track. Then, he laughs.

"Oh, you are a fucking brat..." His hoarse voice mumbles, pulling his cock out of you.

In a flash of a moment, you are turned around onto your belly. Harry scoots your hips up, lining himself up with you again. You use your arms to try and get on all fours, steadying yourself, but you fall face first back onto the mattress as Harry grabs your arms and puts them behind your back. He holds them restrained, his other hand on your hip as he pushes himself back into you.

A muffled moan leaves your mouth as Harry practically screws you into the mattress. His pace is immediately fast, leaving no time for you to take a breath or even think about what he is doing. Your mind gets a bit fuzzy, and you aren't sure whether it is the sex or the alcohol, but either way you are in a different universe right now.

"Biting my finger, thinking you can catch me off guard with the pain. Well, guess what, I like the pain." He says, and you yell when his hand forcefully connects with your ass cheek. You still feel the sting of it when he slaps on your other cheek too, you whimper at the pain, ashamed to admit how much closer it has brought you to your orgasm already. "And so do you, apparently."

"Fuck— I'm..." you try to tell him, but it is hard with your face duh into the sheets and your brain all fucked out from his dick hammering into you.

"I know, I can feel you clenching around me." Harry assures you, then fucks into you harder. The sound of skin slapping against each other takes over the room, accompanied by your increasingly loud moans.

"You are so fucking predictable, falling apart around my cock. Knew you wanted it." Harry holds your hips steady with his hands, and your arch your back for him to hit a special spot.

"Just— this. once." You clarify, hoping Harry has caught your words.

"Hmm, we'll see about that. But fine, just this once, come for me then. Put me away wet." You can hear the grin in his voice, and it is precisely what makes you fall apart around him. With a string of curses and repeats of his name, the euphoric release washes over you.

Harry's grip on your wrists tightens, his fingernails digging into your skin. Slowly but surely, his thrusts become sloppier, and soon enough you hear a groan. His hips still as he comes inside you, filling you up with his seed.

You clench around his cock a few times more as he comes, the idea of his sperm inside you making you hornier than it should. It doesn't go unnoticed by Harry, as he curses under his breath at the feeling of your walls tightening around his cock.

After managing to catch your breath, Harry carefully pulls himself out of you. A whimper escapes you, not satisfied with the fact that you now feel empty.

"Don't pout, I filled you up just nice." He says as he turns you around so you are laying on your back. Your eyes meet his, and the reality of what you have done begins to sink in.

Oh my god, you just had sex with Harry.

Your hands fly over your face, shaking your head as you let out a shameful groan. You move your hands down a bit, so it covers everything but your forehead and eyes, and you observe Harry leaning down to grab your panties. You reach your hand out to take them from Harry, but he looks you dead in the eyes and stuffs them into his pocket.

"What are you doing?" You ask in a warning tone. He shrugs, waltzing towards the bedroom door and unlocking it. "Give me back my panties!"

"No, that's okay." Harry denies your request in the most casual way, turning around to look at you. "I'll hold onto them, for safekeeping."

"Harry!" You exclaim in frustration as he walks out the door. You quickly get off the bed, and follow him. He turns around, hand still in his pocket.

"Yeah, that definitely sounded less annoying when you were coming around my—" You intercept his stupid ass before he has the chance to finish his sentence, slapping your hand over his mouth. The sudden proximity makes your stomach tense up, but you keep a stoic face.

"I fucking despise you." You say lowly, glaring him down. You feel him grinning against your hand, but you ignore it as you let him go and walk towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway. When Harry calls out your name, your body automatically stills. When you turn to look at him, that exact devilish grin coats his face just right.

"What?" You ask, a slight furrow between your brows as you stare at him.

"You smudged your mascara a bit." He gestures towards his face, referencing to your own under eyes. You say nothing, merely flipping him off as you enter the bathroom. Upon taking a look in the mirror, your eyes widen.

Your mascara is indeed smudged, and not a little bit. There are lines of multiple mascara filled tears that streamed down the side of your face. The weird thing is, you don't even remember tearing up. But it is there, right in front of you, the proof of what you did. The mascara around your eyes, his cum dripping from your cunt.

You sit down on the toilet, taking a deep sigh. You cover your face with your hands once again, this time letting out a frustrated shriek. And you realize that—out of all of this—the worst thing is maybe not the fact that you had sex with Harry and that the proof of it is on and in your body. No, the icing on the cake is that Harry himself has the other proof in his fucking pocket right now.

Shit.

#harry styles #fanfic #writing #fanfiction #blurb #harry #one direction #smut #one shot #excerpt #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut one shot #harry styles one shot #harryedwardstyles #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry fanfic #harry styles smut #smutty

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

i would've requested something so much earlier but for some reason your ask box wasn't showing on my mobile at all?? very strange

soo since i was helping my mom assemble some garden chairs recently, how about drabbles about M6 dealing with assembling ikea furniture and how good/bad they're at it:3

The Arcana Drabbles: M6 building IKEA furniture

You'd like to say that you've seen the shop in worse condition, but ... you really haven't. The six adults scattered across the the floor and scrabbling through the pile of flat-pack boxes that arrived earlier aren't helping (though you can tell they're really, really trying to -).

"UGH!" Lucio groans, crumpling an ill-fated leaflet in his golden hand, "this makes no SENSE!"

"Of course it wouldn't," Nadia calmly responds from her chair. Did she drag that out of the back room? "it has writing on it, and I've never seen you patient enough to read."

"I CAN READ -"

"I can't, apparently." Julian hangs his head mournfully over the pile of screws he's laid out. You're pretty sure half the pieces don't belong to the kit he's currently crouched over, and they're arranged in a fashion eerily similar to surgical tools. "The first step calls for piece 'a'! I can't find piece 'a'! How am I supposed to build this if I can't find piece 'a'?"

You step cautiously past Nadia's pristine workspace and peer at Julian's leaflet. You're pretty sure you saw piece 'a' a minute ago scattered in the wreckage that is Lucio's general vicinity and you don't know how to break that news to the languishing doctor.

"Hah! I did it!"

Portia pops up from where she's been sitting behind the counter, triumphantly twirling her little metal screwdriver. "Tadaa! I don't know how to pronounce the official name of this, but here are your new cabinets, oh great magician shopkeeper." She gives you a giggling bow and waves her hand at the finished piece. "Where do you want me to put it?"

"You can leave it where it is for now, I still need to decide - Asra? What's that?"

"Hm?"

The magician looks at you over their shoulder, sitting cross-legged on the countertop with their back hiding whatever it is they're working on against the wall. "I'm almost done."

That's cryptic. "Done with what?"

He smirks. "This." The structure they reveal may have started as furniture, but currently resembles a modern art piece. You don't know what it is.

"What is it?"

"Ah ..." His voice trails off, and he flushes sheepishly. "Well, it's going to be shelves when it's done, I just took the less conventional route." They flash you a dimpled grin. "I'll keep working on it."

It's as you're turning away that you notice piece 'a' must have just been plucked from Lucio's floor space and creatively attached to the structure. Thankfully, Julian still doesn't seem to have noticed.

"WHERE ARE MY PIECES GOING?!"

... however, it seems like Lucio did notice. You approach the whirlwind of screws and random wooden pieces, the ex-count sitting at the center of the chaos like a loud, confused island. "Which pieces are you missing?"

"I don't know! I just took apart the thing I was working on -" he waves his crumpled leaflet with a pout, "- and now I have less than I started with! Asraaa -"

"Don't look in my direction." Asra gives Lucio an uncharacteristically cold scowl and makes a show of pulling piece 'a' from the artwork that is, to their credit, starting to look more like a shelving unit. It drops on the floor and rolls into Julian's pile.

"A-ha! I've found it! You've fled from my grasp for long enough, you scoundrel. Finally, I can begin!" The doctor snatches it up in delight and flips excitedly through his leaflet.

"JULES!" You'd think Lucio had gotten sunburned with how red he's turning.

"I'm pretty sure that wasn't one of your pieces, Lucio. Why don't you show me what the first step was, again?"

Lucio grumbles and begins un-crumpling his instruction manual. It's while he's distracted that you see the large hand reaching into the sea of his pieces and snatching a tiny screw. You follow it back to the corner where its owner has been sitting silently the whole time, and your jaw drops.

Three completed furniture pieces are neatly arranged in a row, a fourth one quickly reaching completion in Muriel's lap. You knew he was a good craftsman, but it's almost like the screws dance into place under his precise touch. You watch him glance at his open manual, spot the cross-shaped piece under Lucio's knee, and then silently snap it up as soon as the ex-count's head is turned. A small, smug smile dances across his bent face when another confused shriek follows shortly after.

"ANOTHER ONE DISAPPEARED! IT WAS CROSS-SHAPED, IT WAS HERE AND NOW IT'S NOT -"

"Silence."

Nadia massages her temples, clearly fighting off a migraine.

"Noddy, I -"

"Enough." Nadia leans back and sighs. She's pulled out a set of trays and organized each unused manual with all the screws and small pieces needed, laid out in order of use. She holds out one hand and Muriel silently flicks the piece she's looking for into her palm - right after pulling it from under Lucio's boot. "I've been taking your pieces, in order to better organize our endeavors."

"Noddy, how could you?!"

"How about some tea? Doesn't that sound nice?!"

Portia's aggressive sunshine smile overrides the growing storm, giving Nadia a moment to massage her temples and momentarily cowing Lucio. You smile. "Tea sounds nice right now."

Portia claps her hands, skipping around the counter. "Great! Do you have any snacks?"

You shake your head slowly. "I ran out this morning, but if anyone wants to buy cookies I can give you some -"

"Cookies?!" Lucio stands bolt upright, heading straight for the door. "Don't worry about it! I'll get them!"

The door slams shut behind him and the room is suddenly quiet, his excited shouting fading around an outside street corner. To your surprise, it's Muriel who breaks the silence.

"Cookies? ... that's all it takes?"

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana drabble #the arcana imagine #the arcana fanfic #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[zenitsus-lightning]

- ,, 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

SUMMARY -> satochoso x reader (choso x satoru x reader) where satoru is on a long mission. its just you and choso at home,and its really... quiet without satoru. you miss him - that's obvious, but choso misses him more than he'd like to admit. he acts all tough and acts like he doesn't really miss him, but its pretty obvious that's a lie.

A/N -> wowoowowow my first jjk fic!! i hope this is good and i havent proofread this so there might be mistakes, and i cant even bear to read my own writing anyway cuz wtf its so cringey reading my stuff and i dont like this too much anyway. and i havent written anything in ages so i might be a lil rusty... also i never specified the readers gender (I THINK) so gn!reader!!

Dating the strongest sorcerer obviously came with challenges. He'd be away constantly on missions, which were life or death, meaning you didn't see him as often as you'd like. One good part about it though is that he never came back beaten or bruised. All the curses he fought were nothing compared to him - like ants he'd tread on.

Luckily for you, you were never alone when he was gone. You had some very good company from your boyfriend. Well, your other boyfriend, because you had two. Of course Satoru was one, but the other was Choso. His tough guy exterior always meant he never showed signs of missing Satoru. He usually just went around with his usual schedule and comforted you if you were missing the sorcerer.

So Satoru was on another one of those dreadfully long missions now. You weren't worried about anything happening to him, of course. You just wanted him home soon. It didn't look like the mission would allow that, unfortunately.

The house felt empty and lifeless without him. He would often follow you around everywhere, accompanying you, or Choso, in whatever mundane task you set yourself to. His energetic voice would be the only thing breaking the silence.

It felt odd not having that voice accompany you as you were regularly sitting down in the living room. You could only really sit there in silence, head in your hands. The room's silence was awkward and almost deafening.

Of course Choso was sitting on the opposite side. He could barely take the silence. He looked at you, wondering if he should say anything. You did look like you needed a bit of comfort.

So he clears his throat, leaning toward you.

"You okay?" He mutters. He's not sure how to start a conversation.

"Yeah," You respond, turning your head to look at him. "are you?"

"Yeah," Choso says. Fuck, that was awkward. He curses himself in his head and decides to ask something else. "are you missing him?"

"Of course I am." You sigh, but you smile at him.

Choso always likes to make out that he's a big tough guy that never misses his boyfriend when he's on a long mission. He can handle himself, he can do everything himself, he's fine without him. He's independant. But you don't buy this for a second.

"Are you?"

"I'm fine." He says. He answers a little too fast. "I mean - I'm fine without him. I can function without him."

Yeah right. You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically.

"Yeah right. I see the way you mope around when he's gone." You say.

It's true. He does mope around when Satoru's gone. There's no more voice in his ear narrating everything he does, teasing the life out of him, when Satoru is away. It seems so silent, so lifeless. He can't help hanging his head.

"Fine - but you mope around as well." He doesn't even try to defend himself at this. If you can call him out for moping around, he can too. He crosses his arms.

"Yeah, but I don't pretend I don't miss my boyfriend." You retort.

Maybe he does miss him a lot. He doesn't like to look clingy or needy, which is why he always denies that he misses Satoru. He just decides to change the topic. You've won that one.

"He's supposed to be home today, right?" Choso says. He doesn't like to admit it, but he's been counting down the days.

"Is he?" You say, perking up. It feels like forever since he left.

"Yeah. I checked this morning." He says.

"And when exactly is he home?" You question further.

"... Late. He's going to be home late." Choso says.

It feels like forever since that conversation with Choso. What time is it now? 6 PM? It feels pretty late, but not that late. Time just seems to drag on no matter what. You're just waiting for the sound of the door handle's click and for it to swing open and have Satoru's voice call out.

You're imagining it. You've imagined it - the door swings open, he calls out, and you and Choso run into his arms and-

Your thoughts are interrupted by the click of the door handle. You perk up - Choso does too - and you both get up and head toward the front door. The door swings open, and the familiar tall figure of Satoru strides in.

He's instantly greeted by your arms swinging around his neck. He loudly chuckles. He doesn't even seem fazed by the sudden hug. He wraps his arms around you in return, kissing your cheek.

You can't see him, but you know he looks up for Choso. He eyes him under his blindfold with a smirk.

"C'mon." Satoru says, lifting his arm out while his other arm still hold you.

"No." Choso says, crossing his arms. Satoru pouts.

"Pleasseeee? I can't have a hug with my favourite partners without my favourite boy."

Choso mutters something under his breath. Despite this, he approaches with his arms outstretched. Satoru's face lights up. He literally grabs Choso's wrist and tugs him into the hug. He looks delighted.

The hug lasts a while. That's because nobody wants to pull away. Nobody wants out of the hug. It's amazingly quiet. Choso isn't complaining and Satoru isn't going on about how much he missed both of you. It's just dead silent. You're just enjoying each other's company.

But you have to let go eventually. Satoru eases his arms off you and Choso.

"Now, what have you been up to while I was gone?" Satoru questions. But he sees the looks on your faces and his smile grows even wider. "So you missed me so much you didn't even go out?"

Choso crosses his arms.

"Aw," Satoru grins. He looks so proud of himself. "But I think I'm gonna go unwind. You'll be fine without me for a little, right?" He says, looking between you two.

"Yeah," Choso responds.

"Great. I'll be back in a few minutes." He says, grinning.

As he walks off, he pauses just after walking past both of you. He turns on his heel and goes back to the both of you, kissing your cheek and then Choso's. After this, he turns back around and leaves to go unwind.

#RAAAAGH #its finally done. woaow #hope u guys liked that.... it was pretty rushed so i dont even like it much myself unfortunately....... 💔 #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #choso kamo #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #jjk x reader #jjk x you #choso x you #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso #satoru #gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satochoso #satochoso x reader #satoru x choso x reader #gojo x choso x reader #anime

[gilbirda]

The king's dead (long live the king) - Masterpost

In this post I'll be updating everything I have on this AU. The tag will be "Eldritch Ghost King!Danny" if you want to search my blog!

It was a big project I wanted to challenge myself with, with crazy lore and worldbuilding, with a lot of exploration of eldritchness and angst. But I just got absorbed by DPxDC crossover, saw my niche in writing romance, got obsessed with Jason and Jazz and the rest is history.

I feel it's a crime none of this will probably see the light of day, so. Here. Chaotic mode it is. Fish my posts boy. I will post sporadically about this AU. You have been warned.

If someone wants to take anything from the lore or ideas, you are welcome to! Tag me so I can check it out!

Also I'm down for discussing AU with people 👀✨

What is this fic about?

This was supposed to be my magnum opus. It's the "main" fic in my AO3 series You and me and our best friends make three. So far the series has side stories or one shots located in different moments of the story. The main fic was supposed to tell the full story on how it happened, how we ended up here.

Back in 2021, when I went down the rabbit hole with Danny Phantom, I envisioned a neat AU where Danny was this eldritch ghost king... with a twist.

I love eldritch Danny (those who know me can confirm) but I wanted to explore something I haven't seen a lot even in the angst torture-vivisection saturated market of this 20 year old fandom:

What if the Ghost King is not power, but a sacrifice?

What if it is not known that the Ghost King is actually the host of a powerful entity (I called it The Whisper, because it talks in your mind in whispers) who is always hungry. Always. Hungry. And if it doesn't have a host will eat all the Infinite Realms then the Living World.

The Ghost King makes a pact with the Whisper. The King can tap into the ectoplasm, the energy, of every creature, object, city, etc. in the Realms and convert that energy into food for the Whisper.

But nobody knows this. Is a secret shared from King to King, and you only find out after accepting the crown.

Why would you refuse? Is the King, it's an honor, is power, is greatness. Who would deny the Whisper its food?

Only one managed to sever the connection.

His name was Pariah Dark.

He went insane.

What is The Whisper?

Basically this ⬆

Is a cosmic entity that was stranded on Earth a loooong time ago. It created the Infinite Realms with its flesh and blood (ectoplasm) and all ectoplasmic creatures come from it.

But its hungry.

-----

Posted chunks of story so far and their order in the timeline:

Act I:

Desired - Danny meets the Core for the first time

Ceremony - Danny is crowned King

Party like you are dead - the Ghost King invites all of Amity Park to his castle. Reveals all around.

Act II:

Never judge a book by its cover (dpxdc crossover)(my very first dpxdc work!) - Justice League summons the Ghost King to help deal with an eldritch creature. What they get may be a worse monster

Hidden identities? Never heard of them (dpxdc crossover) - direct sequel to the previous part. Batman and some of the colony go to Amity to investigate. They catch glimpses of horrors that they can't help but wonder

Remedy (+18!!!)(my very first DP fanfic!) - self indulgent Porn Without Plot in this universe. Placed in a distant future where everything is fine

Race ya! - funny haha thing set a bit after Remedy

#Eldritch Ghost King!Danny #danny phantom #The king's dead (long live the king)

[iceformer]

It's 1:40 am but let me cook real quick

Ally Beardsley, the Person, Fundimentally Changed the Fantasy High Universe (an essay)

Fantasty High Freshman Year was supposed to be "dnd meets 80s high school" with the cliques and general vibe. The Interepid Heros grew up in the 80s but now live in the 20th century, so some anachronism were expected.

In later seasons we see the charecters using more crystal tech and making more modern references , the biggest ones I can think of being social media and Sandra Lynn having Life 360 for the Mordred girls

It would be like if they were playing a normal game of High Fantasy DnD where "we haven't invented plumbing yet so there's no toilets" but instead it's payphones and phonebooks

Again, the Intrepid Heores are all at least 90s kids so they would have grown up while technology was still in dial up and computer rooms, but they're also actors/comedians. The brief was "imagine you are all in Magic Breakfast Club Land" and we see them all playing up their tropes (or stereotypes) in Freshman Year (edgy Fig, loner Gorgug, snooty Fabian)

My point this morning is that the concept was Magic Breakfast Club but it evolved into modern Fantasy. Not saying that's a bad thing, I was just thinking about how has the vibe changed so much from the original idea?

And then I remember that in episode 3 of the first season, Ally Beardsley invented PrayerChain. Which could have been some instant messaging system but Emily and Brennan immediately follow it up with making GIFs Canon in this universe.

As a table full of comedians making a show, they cannot help following a bit. That's why the funniest moments of the show come from Ally's anachronistic references.

But I think the big one that changed the concept from 80s movie to modern Fantasy is during "Family in Flames" when everyone's separated, their homes and loved ones in danger, Adaine and Kristen stay behind for one last break in the case,

And Kristen straight up calls and Uber.

That moment was what sent me on this train because in what 80s world are the high school kids calling an Uber or taxi? It's always "the one with the car" or "everyone has a bike" to travel around town. I think from here and with all the anachronistic references that Ally made all season really cemented Solace as Modern Fantasy and not 80s Nostalgia.

I saw some posts on here about how Riz was the Main Charecter of the show because every Villain of the season had some Personal Beef with him.

I think Ally Beardsley, the person, not Kristen Applebees or K2, is the main charecter of the Fantasy High Universe

What's even better about this is that THEY WERENT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE THERE. I can't look it up right now cos I'm locked in, but everyone jokes about how Ally had never played DND before the show, I think they were a last minute edition to the cast.

And literally from that one change the show is completely different from what it would have been. Well, it would have been different if any of the Intrepid Heroes were switched out, but I think with Ally in the cast the world of Spyre was turned on its head.

If the Intrepid Heros had pokemon types, Ally was the more Comedian/Actor type at College Humor while everyone else and Brennan were Comedian/Writer/Geek type. Most of Ally's content outside of D20 was Total Forgiveness and that show where they smoked weed (loved it, can't look it up rn)

Compare that to Brennan, who started as an Um Actually writer, Lou and Siobahn, who are Geeks/have been playing DND for a long time, Zac, who i cannot find much Geek content for, and Emily and Murph, who need no introduction (i dunno if NADDPOD started before D20)

The addition of Ally Beardsley to the cast not only drove the show so far away from the concept that most people forget what it was supposed to be, but it did so in a way that made the show so much better than they had even planned for.

This Pride month, I salute Ally Beardsley

🫡

(It took me an hour to write this, good night ya'lll)

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #d20 #ally beardsley

[ravelqueen]

One thing that is actually super interesting - character wise is how stark the difference between Angel and Angelus is when compared to Spike and be-souled Spike.

Angelus and Angel might as well be two completely different people - the way they act, react and conceptualise the world around them is honestly completely opposite.

Meanwhile, besouled Spike is a lot more aware of his past actions and isn't interested in killing humans for sport etc, but in the way he interacts with the world around him, he's actually still very similar - he's snarky and sarcastic, romantic yet cynical etc.

It's extra funny when you consider that probably this was never supposed to be a Deep Philosophical Ponderance Of The Nature Of A Soul

In my opinion this came out of happenstance: a writing choice forced on the Buffy team, based on when in the narrative it happened.

Angelus was always set up to be this enormous threat, this absolute monster tormenting Buffy, while Angel was supposed to be this fairytale first romance of a wonderful older boyfriend - the dichotomy was probably decided upon before /in season 1.

Spike on the other hand was never planned to get a soul - he wasn't even supposed to stick around longer than the 2nd season! However, the ensoulment made sense with the progression of the story/character if the writers wanted to adhere to the rules of the universe they set up namely:

Vampires are Evil Demons, inhabiting the body of the human before them, and most importantly they are irredeemable and incapable of true human affection. This is extremely important lore in that universe, because Buffy kills a lot of vampires - in the later seasons they aren't even really a major threat and more background ash. If you suddenly introduce the idea that Actually vampires can be fully redeemed, your main characters has been just murdering Possibly Good People willy-nilly for several seasons

Unfortunately, at this point in the narrative, Spike might as well have been ensouled already - he was acting altruistically, out of love (self-reported) and was mostly just helping our heroes, with motivations unrelated to villainous impulses

So really the writers had to give him a motivation to go and get his soul (the writing choices on how he gets there Being Bad notwithstanding).

HOWEVER, they really really couldn't pull the same move with Spike that they did with Angel re: his 180 degree personality switch simply because the audience liked non-soul Spike. They enjoyed the personality and character that had been crafted for the last 5 seasons, so changing him too much would have with almost complete certainty been met with negative reactions .

Which is why I assume they decided to simply soften parts of his personality, make him stop wanting to kill humans and called it a day on his other less-than-cuddly personality traits.

Which leads us to question on why two people in the same circumstances turned out so wildly different ESPECIALLY since William seemed Basically Alright when he's human.

Does that mean that Angel is fundamentally a worse person, only held back by the morality of his soul? Or that he was fundamentally a much more virtuous man and therefore the loss of his goodness had a larger impact, as removing those parts took away more of what he used to be?

That William was a lot more acerbic and mean deep down and therefore not too different? Or that actually William lost way less of his morality/capacity for empathy when he turned because Something and that led him to doing less awful things that would lead to a personality change??

Those are such interesting questions that somehow the show never addresses (as far as I know? comics people?) aside from Angel Being Mad that Spike got over his angst so quickly and it's just hilarious to me that if I'm right this basically was never meant to be that deep and simply just a byproduct of What The Fuck To Do With Spike

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #angel btvs #spike #angelus #if I want to be screamed at I'll write another way too long post on why I hate That S6 Ending writing wise #and no it's not because I ship Spuffy and don't like Spike Being Evil - it's because that was fucking weak as shit writing #but what do you expect from whedon #he fully lucked out on getting a character like Spike to happen but instead of thanking his lucky stars he resented it ever since

[writing-whump]

Hola👋🏻 I was wondering that can you write a fic that Hex calls Isiah in the middle of the night to say "can u come get me?"

I knoooow that Hex would rather die to say that such a thing at first hand but well, Arnie was quite shaken since the accident and Hex wouldn't want him to worry him again🤷🏻‍♀️ i'm sure you find a better reason for this but maybe he was hurt pretty bad over a pack fight, or saving someone from his pack or sth. Hex would normally handle this quite well, but what about the other group is outnumbered and Hex's shadow is a bit weaker than normal when it comes to healing since he overused it recently?

Idk if this idea making any sense but I'm excited with the idea that Hector has to call Isiah for help, especially for himself awww🤭🤭

This is an absolutely excellent idea and I had been obsessed with it since I saw it! Thank you so much!!

Big brother for help

Hector forced his eyes open. He couldn't remember when he closed them.

Everything was blurry and spinning, the ground coming in and out of focus...the ground? Why was he on the ground?

He lifted himself up on shaky hands. Did he pass out? It couldn't have been long, because nobody found him. There were shouts coming up a few streets down, the Stark wolves following him, but if he had really really passed out, they would have found him already.

And finish what they started.

There was blood running down his arms and neck all over his shirt. The smell should have been enough - would have been enough for older wolf too - but the Stark wolves were just pups. Teenagers.

It was enough to go upwind and hide behind the buildings to block the smell and their tracking.

He tugged the jacket tighter around himself. Throwing it over the wounds haphazardly helped keep him off radar, but the bite wounds under him that marred his arms and torso were bleeding all over. The sticky feeling of blood clogging up on his skin made him shudder.

Another bad thing was that his sense of smell was shot, the iron scent of his own blood too strong in his nose. Or maybe his nose was bleeding too or it had blood on it from him swiping his bleeding hands over his face. Who knew.

This was starting to be a bit of a problem though.

Hector tried to stand and found that his legs were too shaky - there were bite marks under his pants too, but not strong enough to pierce the cloth, just to claw up the skin underneath.

His vision blurred out again and he spat onto the sidewalk. Yep, his spit was bloody too. Just his luck.

Maybe he was bleeding internally too, because when he pulled at his shadow, it was his stomach it focused on instead of the giant open wounds seeping blood all over him. His middle felt heavy too, like it was bloating up, growing in proportions. There were sloshing sounds now when he tried to move, like his belly was filled with liquid.

Not the kind of liquid it could digest.

But who was he supposed to call? There was a problem with the Stark wolves, he was the strongest wolf in his branch. If he couldn't handle it, there was hardly anyone else who could. Who should.

He crawled down the sidewalk, shivering. There was a wet red trail behind him. It felt like he was leaving parts of him behind as he moved.

There was one person he could call. Someone strong enough to help, someone who could handle this and who would actually be willing to do so. Only one.

Hector didn't want to call him.

It was lame and stupid, to call someone from another pack to get involved with his business. And it was terrible specifically for Hector as the branch leader that he couldn't keep order in his own territory.

He also didn't want him in particular anywhere near, when he was losing.

Hector was not going to be the kind of person who called his big brother anytime he couldn't handle something.

The noises came closer again as Hector shuffled on his hands and knees behind a corner, breathing hard. He felt sick, tasting iron on his tongue and he felt weaker by the minute.

Maybe this really wasn't the right hill to die on.

He leaned back against wall and pulled out his phone out of his pocket. With shaky fingers dripping blood, he found Isaiah's number.

Couldn't he just message him?

Then again, it was two in the morning. If Isaiah wasn't awake, he would see this way too late.

Hector swallowed back the blood and saliva gathering in his throat and hit the call icon.

...

Isaiah came to his location quickly and quietly as a shadow, long black coat flying behind him dramatically.

At the sight of Hector he didn't yell. It was all very professional. He just narrowed his eyes and let his shadow cover the street.

He wasn't hiding his location or power. No, he was announcing himself.

No, even more, Hector realized, he was chasing them out from the streets onto the main square. Gathering up all the wolves that attacked Hector.

They ran rather quickly, trying not to look behind them at the large shadow filling the streets like a flood of pitch.

"Stark pack. How wonderful," Isaiah murmured, passing Hector without a glance, like he wasn't seriously injured. "If I may, boys, what exactly are you doing on the Wolfson territory in the middle of the night?"

Hector didn't reveal himself to them, but he had a good angle to watch from across the square.

The wolves in question were young, barely out of teenagehood. Which meant strong shadows and powerful energetic bodies with very little sense or experience. They posed a threat, capable of going against untrained elders.

One of the older wolves who might have fancied himself the position of the leader of the group said boldly: "We were taking a claim on a piece of the territory. We have a right to make ours bigger by taking from others...sir."

Isaiah looked around like he was considering it. His voice was entirely smooth and unmoved, like this wasn't something that upset or surprised him, but there was a stern edge of power to it. "Yes, that is a valid reason. It just makes me wonder why you think this should be done secretly at night. Without the patrols standing guard, because they trust the alliance with the Stark pack."

The oldest boy had the decency to look down while the others visibly cringed.

"I'm also assuming you don't know who you were facing either."

Hector supposed that was good for him though. His reputation might have helped, but this loss would hurt it a lot.

"You want to lead an assault? Take a bite from the quarter? Go ahead. Use strategy. Attack your peers. Fight one-on-one to see who will win. This kind of group attack against one, how far you were willing to go...what exactly do you think would happen tomorrow? No information who you are fighting is sheer irresponsibility. If this was one of the higher ups of the Wolfsons, you would have the rest of the pack on your case tomorrow. You could have started a war if the injuries were lethal."

Hector scoffed under his breath. He wouldn't die because of a bunch of barely grown pups attacked him. Okay, maybe they weren't that much younger from him and there was more than six of them and he underestimated the numbers a little...

"It's entirely natural and understanble for pups your age to lead attacks and missions," Isaiah continued, purposefully insulting the young men by calling them pups. "But what exactly do you think it proves to gang up on a wolf like that? It certainly doesn't prove your strength. Or any sense of honour or good will. Or manners. Or skill or knowledge of etiquette."

That had all the boys bowing their heads in shame.

"Anyone can be defeated by numbers. That doesn't make you strong as individuals. And it doesn't make for a very good image for your pack, when its pups think they don't need to respect rules or order, when it can overwhelm with numbers alone. You know why we don't do it that way?"

There was a beat of silence, as none of the boys dared to speak up anymore.

"Because someone will always have more people than you. It would turn into chaos. No skill, no purpose, no morals. Like a bunch of animals." Isaiah curled his lip in disdain. "Actually, real wolves act with more sense than you."

Another heavy silence followed while Isaiah's shadow pulled closer around him like a giant black lake in the middle of the square. It was a frightening sight.

The boys kept their heads down, their shadows pulled back like tails between their legs. The first one might really had the most brains, cause he went down on one knee, bowing in apology. The others followed suit a heartbeat later.

"You will go back home and tell your elders what happened," Isaiah commanded, "and you will accept any punishment they give you or you can be sure I'll hand it to you myself."

It took a bit more of Isaiah's shadow threateningly waving from one side to the next until the kids got the clue they were dismissed.

Hector slumped more against the wall, closing his eyes until he felt Isaiah coming closer to him.

Isaiah didn't crouch down and didn't offer any sympathy. His face was stone cold, and his eyes burned with criticism that would have Hector recoiling from him, if he had the energy. "And you."

"Me what?"

"What exactly were you thinking? Alone, without backup plans, with a compromised shadow?" Isaiah's shadow didn't go down yet either, curling around angrily. It sort of surrounded them both like enormous bat wings hauled over the ground.

"They were just kids. I simply didn't expect them to be so many." The report talked about a trio. And Hector went alone because he had been MIA for the last week since the accident and wanted to make up for the lost hours. As much good as that did.

"Or you were simply arrogant. Going out so soon after the incident, when your shadow isn't ready to heal you so fast yet. This is why you take at least two wolves with you, out of sight if needed. And you certainly don't go around risking yourself as the branch leader. Do you even realize the responsibility you have for the whole pack? What would happen to them if they found you dead in the Danube in the morning?!"

Hector head ached. "Geez, chill out. I wouldn't die."

"Oh yeah, you look so okay to me. I told you, you are pushing yourself too much with too little help-"

"Christ, fine," Hector growled. "I don't need a lecture. Sorry I disturbed your fucking sleep. Thanks for the help. Night."

Did Isaiah really have to make such a big deal out of a little bit of bite injuries and blood? Hector was counting on him being calm and helpful in that kind, subdued manner he had been with him lately. If he expected half of this coldness, he wouldn't have dared to call.

Except maybe this wasn't coldness. This wasn't distance. It was something else Hector wasn't used to.

"Yeah, sure, you dumbass. I'm just gonna leave you to bleed out on the fucking street. That's what I'm here for." Isaiah finally bend down, throwing Hector's arm around his neck unceremoniously and lifting them both up.

Hector bit back a groan, head spinning immediately at the movement. He felt something slimy climb up his throat, but managed to swallow it back down.

Isaiah was uncharacteristically rough as he dragged him over the empty night street to his car. He also stayed silent, glaring in front of himself while his shadow swirled around them like a protective orb.

Isaiah opened the door on the backseat, tossing Hector inside with a little growl.

Hector should have been very curious and maybe alarmed by the display of anger. The last time Isaiah acted like this, they were still back home. Isaiah as Executioner getting coldly angry and disdainful...usually in reaction to various troubles, provocations and insults that Hector threw at his way to get his attention.

Except his head was buzzing too much and he was making quite the heroic effort in swallowing down hot vomit tasting a lot like blood. He pressed his lips tightly together as another wave of nausea rolled through him.

His arms twitched a little to the direction of his bloated stomach, but the pain that sparked at various places on his arms had him abounding the effort quickly.

Isaiah glared at him, before tugging at the sleeves of his jacket and pulling it off without warning.

"Oww. Be careful, would you?" Hector hissed in pain as the cloth pressed into his wounds, curling into himself. The sticky blood coming down with the fabric felt like it was tearing at his skin.

He had three bite wounds on his right arm and two on his left. They came from shadows when they assumed very wolf like forms during assault moves. They were deep, ragged and open, all the way in his flesh. Not bleeding as strongly anymore, the blood clotting obediently after the first sweep of his shadow. The wounds refused to close though.

Isaiah scowled as he inspected them without touching. "I'll bind them to stop the bleeding. Concentrate on them with your shadow as much as you can. They will get infected if you leave these open for long."

Then he looked down at Hector's pants, seeping a bit of wetness at the places of the bites.

"'eve them," Hector waved him off. "Not that deep." Certainly hurt a lot less.

"Anything else?"

Hector wondered how he should explain the pooling heaviness in his stomach. Was he making it up or was that some kind of real problem? Like internal bleeding?

The blond reached for his shadow, letting it decide where to concentrate, what to heal. It did indeed choose his torso as its focus, needling around at something deep inside that has his skin crawling. He let out a pained gasp, squeezing his eyes shut as the pain lessened, though the heavy feeling did not.

His shadow receded at that, like an elastic cord snapping shut. He couldn't hold it stretched for longer.

He slumped back in the seat, panting from the exhaustion and from the shameful prickles left in the wake of Isaiah's disapproving green eyes.

Hector must have dozed off. Only the sharp sting of pain had his eyes shooting open.

Isaiah was wrapping his left arm in bandages. Quite tightly. "Hold still," he commanded in the same voice he used on the enemy wolves.

Hector squirmed, the pain worsening the hot sticky feeling at the back of his tongue. "Isaiah-"

"Shut up and keep still for once. I need to finish this last one-"

"Isaiah- for real-" Hector leaned forward, his own body feeling like a weight that dragged him down. "Get- o-out of the way-"

It was all he managed before the burning liquid went up his throat and shot out his mouth.

Isaiah jumped away on instinct, in time for Hector to vomit blood into the gap between the open car door and the sidewalk. Hector lurched forward painfully, almost involuntary movement as another wave went up.

Dark red droplets sprayed over the sidewalk and on the road beneath it. The smell and taste had Hector retching again, almost falling forward and out, wasn't it for Isaiah gripping his shoulder.

Hector burped up another mouthful of the bloody puke, coughing to clear his throat. He sagged forward, caught by Isaiah's hands as his older brother propped him back up against the seat.

Hector's body have a whole-bodied shudder. But his stomach felt lighter, better somehow. The nausea went down considerably, though now he could feel the burning on his arms more strongly.

He balled his hands into fists at his sides, moaning.

Isaiah sighed into his ear, carding a hand through Hector's sweaty hair. It was the kindest touch he gave him all evening.

Hector felt something unraveling inside him at the sensation, sniffling. He was drowning in various kinds of liquids today.

"Hey, you are going to be okay. Your shadow will come back in a few hours and the injuries will get better quickly. It's all over now," Isaiah said quietly, regaining some of his usual softness.

Hector felt stress tears from the pain slipping down his cheek, wondering if he was dirty and bloody enough for it not to be noticeable. "That's not how it usually looks like. I can handle a fucking handful-"

"I know." Isaiah sat down on the edge of the seat beside Hector, wrapping an arm around his back. "It's not because you are weak. It's the strong ones that get hurt the most. You stand at the front, you bear all the risk, you face all the odds."

Hector sniffled again, but he couldn’t help leaning into Isaiah's side.

"I'm sorry," Isaiah said, shifting so Hector could lie against his shoulder more comfortably. "I get frustrated when I see how- when I see you get hurt for something that could have been prevented."

Hector shut his eyes, his tired mind figuring why Isaiah didn't feel distant. The older wolf was very much present.

"I wouldn't have called if I could help it just a little," Hector said in a small voice.

Isaiah ran his hands through Hector's hair again, scratching against his scalp. "No. I meant, you should call me sooner than this happens. Take me with you. I deal with packs all the time, why couldn't I help you? Before you get all torn up and bloody, preferably."

Hector snorted. "You wanna come have some fun next time? I won't leave you much to do though."

Isaiah's voice had a sparkle in it as he said: "We'll see who will get them first."

#sickfic #whump #bleeding #hurt/comfort #emeto #whump writing #werewolf wip #Hector

[stardust-vi]

Dumb ramble but I hate that you can't critique The Thing you love within a fandom space without some dude breathing down your neck like "Well actually that means you hate The Author and The Thing! And what about all the times The Author did this Good Thing? Checkmate, liberal." as if you can't be critical of something because you love it and want it to be better.

#just. i'm in a rush rn so i'm probably not articulating myself well and i could go more in-depth with my thoughts #at the risk of someone spinning my words into “cringe blue hair pronoun wants to cancel araki!” which... will happen inevitably #even though i don't know how many times i can repeat “i do not hate araki #this is specifcally about jjba btw because like. #look i love it and araki has done some good things (or at least had good intentions in most cases) #but i'm so over the fact he constantly has to reach for some form of traumatizing women in his writing #and I already hear “well it shows they're a villain!” #but does he HAVE to use assault? why does he have to use that instead of demonstrating their villainy in other ways #that don't need to use it as a crutch #i'm not even saying you can't ever write about assault #that's not my argument either. #I'm not even accusing him of being a bad writer or person but just. Can we please retire the overusage of assault for shock value? #i obviously don't hate people who enjoy the series regardless #i'd be a massive fucking hypocrite #i mean i've literally been in this damn fandom for 6 years and just now decided to post my art. #but i'm tired of any time someone brings up legit criticisms of the misogyny in his writing #it's met with “but araki did this-” like it changes anything. #i'm glad he did somewhat improve writing women over time compared to the earlier parts #that said. that doesn't cancel out the blunders he did make or will make in the future #even if he has good intent. #or really any criticism of the writing being hit with “but its not supposed to make sense #anyways rant over. probably going to delete later bc im tired. #tw assault #assault tw

[hajihiko]

Seeing as ghost are canon in danganronpa, how do you feel about Junko ghost AUs where she haunts the remnants or first game survivors?

It is almost literally my favourite narrative take (tight behind found family / they love each other) I am SO about it you have no idea. It's the tastiest I go nuts

#I yell and think loudly about Junko physically haunting the ppl who took her body parts so much and often #Fuyuhiko sees someone right out of the corner of his eye that's supposed to be blind #Even after Nagito gets a cool robot hand sometimes it acts against his will for a second and it feels like .... #Mikan is such a whoof idk if I can even go there. But she might have it worst of all #Like while everyone is haunted they get it the worst #Maybe it's because of them that the entire island is haunted. Bc they kept her alive in a way that cant be undone #If they took in even a little bit of her cells or blood or DNA. Its irreversible and shes just There Now. #Can u imagine??? Ur on an abandoned island or a ship and you dont have the option of leaving. And there is a ghost #Everyone knows it but talking about these things gives them power you know #Maybe that's partially why even the antisocial or private people start sleeping with others in the room #You'd rather wake up to your loudly snoring friend than to a vague silhouette that *might* be someone sitting on the corner of your bed #Sorry I lose it when ppl start to talk horror I dont know what I'm writing #I have an entire fanfic in my head that I might get out sometimes about The Haunting Of Jabberwock Island

[r-adio]

stressing over writing a multi para reply versus accidentally writing an enormous reply to something that was supposed to not be that long

#𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 / out of character. #why can i write long things when i'm not supposed to #but then when i need to write long replies i'm like #brain static noises

[non-un-topo]

Little Light - tog ficlet

Something I felt like writing but didn’t know what to do with. A little scene inspired by an old fic of mine, Dahlia. A bonus scene, if you will.

--

Somewhere outside these old wood walls, an owl calls the morning forth. A gentle if not calming sound to Andromache, but to tiny brand new ears it is unknown and frightening.

The babe emits a discontented little squeal, and as Andromache leans away from the wall to see into the makeshift bassinet — an armoire drawer, placed on the floor between a bedroll and Andromache’s watchful place at the wall — the tiny thing grunts and attempts to kick her swaddled legs. A little lip pouts, trembles, then her gummy mouth opens with grumpy staccato cries.

There’s a shift in the darkness on the bedroll just beside the drawer. There is enough pre-dawn light pouring in from a half-boarded window for Andromache to see Yusuf poke his head up from behind Nicolò’s shoulder, then quickly lift himself on an elbow as he comes out of sleep to register the baby’s distress.

Andromache’s hand is on the swaddled baby’s stomach, just rubbing very gently as Yusuf carefully crawls over Nicolò and comes forward. The child’s newborn cries sound almost like little angry coughs, increasing in volume as Andromache’s attempts to calm her do virtually nothing. She’s so small, so new. In her mind, Andromache is going through the list of remedies to calm her down: Is she hungry? Is she cold? Does she need a change? Was she simply startled by the owl? There are no easy answers, just a crying baby wiggling in tattered fabrics, all they have for her.

Yusuf is on it, though. Has been since that first horrific day that brought the tiny thing to them. He squats in front of the drawer, and Andromache removes her hand as Yusuf very carefully slides a hand behind the baby’s head and neck and begins to free her from her swaddle.

The moment her arms are free, they shoot up next to her head — some reflex Andromache has noticed, and Yusuf coos at the sight of it. Andromache watches the soft look in his eyes with unease, but she’s then drawn to the shift of Nicolò as the baby’s cries wake him too.

Yusuf shushes the babe, and there’s a moment of uncertainty on his face like he’s having similar thoughts to Andromache, similar anxieties, before he gets both hands below her tiny arms, fingers stretched out behind her neck and head to support her, and lifts her from the drawer. As he does so she scrunches up into a little ball, hand-stitched nappy crumpling up as her knees bend, and her pink fists bracket her face as she grunts.

Andromache watches in silence as Yusuf settles the baby against his shoulder, fingers feather-light and safe on the back of her head where her wispy hair gathers at the base of her skull. She adjusts a little, rubbing her nose into Yusuf’s shirt, as Yusuf pulls open the back of her nappy to check her.

Nicolò is there next to them then, more alert and awake than Yusuf whose eyelids are drooping. Andromache can see all the thoughts in Nicolò’s head play out just by the slight crease in his brow as he watches the baby’s face. He raises a hand, sets is back to the floor, and although Andromache had warned them both about the dangers of becoming attached to the child, she does not want the poor thing to suffer while three capable adults can comfort her. She blinks permissively at Nicolò but he doesn’t need the permission from her, only from himself.

Yusuf is bouncing the baby slightly against his shoulder as he shushes her little noises. He turns his head to see the longing on Nicolò’s face and nods sleepily at him. As Nicolò reaches out to stroke a thin curl on the top of the baby’s head, she begins to squeal again and soon unravels into hiccuping little cries. With mild alarm, Yusuf adjusts her so her face is not pressed into his clothes.

“Let me?” whispers Nicolò, hands out and ready. Yusuf nods, stifling a yawn, and very carefully passes the little grumpy ball over to Nicolò, who lays her over his forearm, cupping her bottom and scrunched up feet in his large hand. Yusuf releases her head last in the crook of Nicolò’s elbow, and her fists fly up again as she settles back with another round of staccato cries. With that done, Yusuf immediately stands to rifle through their packs, likely in search of some goat’s milk they’ve saved.

Finding sustenance for the child has been exhausting and certainly a battle, but Andromache has seen too many children starve to let this one go hungry. She will be fed every chance they get, and she will be warm, and when they are able they will pass her into loving hands who will be able to house her and love her and help her grow tall and strong.

But for now, Andromache only sits and watches as Nicolò rubs the pad of his thumb up the space between the child’s peach-fuzz brows, a little trick she’d taught him that may calm her down and put her to sleep but does not seem to be working at the moment. The baby’s mouth is still wide open and trembling as she cries and so, supporting her with both arms, Nicolò stands with an exaggerated groan and begins to bob her just slightly.

“Alright, piccola,” he says, turning away as he begins to pace around a little, humming some low made-up tune on the spot.

Yusuf stands at his side then, with the jar of milk and the cloth they use to soak it in so the baby can suckle, and Andromache lets herself relax, lets her back touch the wall again as she just watches them together, the pink-faced baby emitting little punched-out cries between them. She’s quieting down, though, as Nicolò bobs her like the sea. Yusuf stands by with the cloth, peering curiously at her little face.

Nicolò makes a brave move then. With one shared look with Yusuf, he blinks down at the child and leans down to ever-so-gently press his lips to her head. He stays there even after the little kiss, and Andromache can hear him hushing her softly as he continues to bounce her.

She’s stopped crying. As Nicolò draws back, Andromache can see that her eyes are wide open, gazing up at Yusuf and Nicolò in wonder. They smile down at her, and something lodges itself in Andromache’s throat. Almost subconsciously, her hand closes around the pendant against her chest.

Yusuf senses her unease, of course he does, because he looks over at her and beckons her over with a jerk of his head and an outstretched hand. She goes willingly, if a little stiffly, and although she swears in her mind that they will not be keeping this child it is nice to see the men smiling in victory and adoration at her little face.

“Looks like she just wanted to be held,” Yusuf whispers.

Andromache might think something about the fact that the first hands to ever touch this baby were Nicolò’s. She might think about the fact that Yusuf’s soft voice had been the one to calm her cries on that first night. She might remember the way her tiny body felt so warm in her arms the morning the child’s mother left this earth, when the ground still trembled with aftershocks and somewhere in the distance the ocean watched Andromache’s back.

She says none of this. Instead, she joins them in the middle of the room as it slowly fills with early morning light. The broken three of them, and the fragile brand new fourth.

They have not named her yet. Andromache does not dare. But she will be called Dahlia, after the flowers her mother sold in a little shop north of the hills of Campania, where the winds smell of oleander and the olive trees face the sunrise.

#i'm shy about this so i'm barely gonna tag. i just wanted to put this somewhere #tog #sage writes #i'm sorry in advance!!!!! dahlia is alive and well in this ficlet!!!! #i think this is about as much as i can write of her though. like literally idk why i must always write sad things sdfghfds #just thinking about her actually devastates me #but this was supposed to be cute damn it!!! #to people who have not read/heard of dahlia please heed my warning lol. it is a very rough one. and old! my writing was different. #but if you like intense angst uhhhh. enjoy! this ficlet can just exist in a soft and sweet moment in time. #i am working on a fic that has kids in it that ends happily. as an apology.

[crimeronan]

it's wild to me that some aphantasiacs identify so strongly with Being An Aphantasiac that they build their entire online brand around Aphantasiac Awareness and Having No Visual Mind but it's even wilder to me how some OTHER people talk about aphantasiacs. ended up on an informative yt short where the guy was like "some people can't picture their own apartment, their wardrobe.... or even their mother's face :(" and i legit got kinda offended. like. literally why do i need to be able to picture my mom's face. i can recognize her when i see her and i can tell you exactly how she feels and what she means to me and the reason i can do that is..... Because i can't picture her face. because my internal processing sounds exactly like my external storytelling, it's All Words, there's no visuals to quantify or translate. finding out that most people Don't have aphantasia has explained a lot about 1) why tricks like a "mind palace" have literally never worked for me even though i can remember ANYTHING by setting it to music, and 2) why my written visual descriptions improve when i'm drawing from setting or picrew or photo refs. other than that i'm like. i'm doing just fine dude. you are the one being extremely weird about this.....

#aphantasia has 100% shaped who i am as a writer and why i gravitate so much more toward writing than visual art #but it's not like.... a thing in and of itself for me you know #like i'm fascinated by hearing other people describe what THEIR ability to visualize is like #since i really can't picture it. everyone has been super willing to explain whenever i go 'what.' #but i'm not constantly thinking about What I Lack or anything. how am i supposed to get upset about not picturing my mom's face when i #don't need to. u know. #started thinking about this bc i'm in a car watching a lovely sunset and jotting down key words about it to remember it by #GREAT for writing refs. but most people can apparently just remember strong imagery without doing that!

[thenotsolittlelady]

How do I get things done?

How do I not get stressed about one thing I have to do and have it keep me from accomplishing anything else? How do I manage to buy groceries and take my cat to the vet and still sit down to draw? How do other artists do studies, finish personal work and other projects, cramp in appointments, chores, handle social media and keep in touch with friends without feeling absolutely stressed out...? I can't figure it out. I can only do one of these things in a day and... I don't get it. What is your secret

#wondering what is wrong with me #I've tried making lists #making a schedule #it's not helping #I'll have breakfast and suddenly it's 11 am and I have take a walk and also shower at some point and of course my livestream starts at 9pm #and don't forget to eat and text your friends and there's a letter you gotta send and this email needs a response #oh you wanted to draw or write? sorry day's over get some sleep we'll try again tomorrow #only that it'll be the exact same thing tomorrow #and if I'm real lucky I'll be in a bad mood and manage to accomplish even less than usual #and did I mention I'm not even working? #other people can do it so why. am. I. so. bad. at. this?? #something to bring up with my therapist I suppose

[kyouka-supremacy]

---

#Woha... Alright read the chapter 🫡 #It's just. I get where Fukuchi is coming from and I feel like after rereading it the whole thing was a little more clear but... #Did it *really* have to be so complicated. Like dude did it **really** have to be so complicated. #Maybe it had to idk. After all I'm always the first to say that a complex reality can't be reduced to simple axioms– #and that semplifications never bring anything good. #But at the same time was there REALLY no other way #Couldn't you promote your ideas diplomatically instead. Couldn't you become a democratic activist or politician. #Couldn't you write a book‚ person named OUCHI FUKUCHI #Also couldn't you? Talk about it with someone before executing your crazy plan so that anyone else might have pointed to you how crazy it i #But I suppose the whole central theme of this arc ultimately was “people who try to do everything by their own are destined to fall” #And to an extent it does still feel kinda self-contradictory of a plan. Like ahah my plan included not to make anyone suffer!!! #[turns half world population into a vampire] #Like c'mon? Violations of human rights can happen even without killing people dude #(Also Akutagawa) #(Like I get it he's only one (1) person. But he's also the only (only) person for me so I can't bring myself to ignore him y'know) #Mmmmmhhhhhh that's of the main things ig. I YELLED when they brought up Max Weber and the what-is-a-state question #That's like. One of the main questions my whole life studies centers on. #The adrenaline that gave me to see it mentioned in my current hyperfixation ahfjvafjhcvlawsvfblwhkv #This chapter was just so so political theories packed I felt like I was just still studying lol. #I feel like this was a true “get why bsd is labelled as seinen”. #You just can't do this kind of in-depth political theory discussion in shonen manga ig #What else. Still patiently waiting for ss/kk 😔 #random rambles