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dellinah · 2 years

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I worked at the Bronx Zoo in 1995 and there was an old man volunteering there who in the 1920s saw their live thylacine. Sad conversation with him b/c he'd always known it was a special opportunity to see it, but he couldn't describe it as anything special - what he was saying was what you would say if asked to describe the video clips. The pure experience of it cannot be transmitted. I have loved thylacines my whole life and feel cheated. We were all cheated.

Woah! Lucky you :D There are probably not that many (if any) people alive today who saw a thylacine as kids and were old enough then to remember it still, since the last one died in 1936. Pretty cool that you met someone who did and got the chance to talk to him about it! Even if he didn't find it that special, I'd say that that puts you closer to tassies than most of us will ever be in a way :P Not many people can say they saw an extinct animal alive, so I think that alone is pretty cool too. I'd have asked him to describe so many details he'd probs be annoyed, lol. I can see why some people would think they aren't special, but I do. Yes, a lot of the wonder and mistique around them comes from the fact that they are extinct, but I think they're special on their own.

Possums that looked like wolves. What's not to love?

I love that you sent this ask, actually. It warmed my thylacine-loving heart in a way :'3 have some other pictures I took in the museum as a thank you (the lighting there is terrible for pics, but hopefully you enjoy it still)

But honestly, I get you. There are things that can't be said with words, and I think experiences are one of those things. Even with the most eloquent of descriptions, I think you can never fully understand what someone else went through or felt at a certain situation. I know that if I got to see a living thylacine, I'd never be able to convey what it meant to me. Even if most people found it dumb/didn't get why it was special to me. Heck, people at the museum were probably confused as to why I was crying at a mounted animal oop

It's sad, but in a way, thylacines disappeared twice. Once when the last one passed away, and again when the last people who saw them alive passed away too. First they were gone, and lived on only as memories. Now that the memories are gone as well since those people are (most likely) gone too, we only have the ghosts - the pictures, the drawings, the videos, which shape the ideas we get of them. Like you said, you, and I, and anyone else who wishes to see them, were robbed.

All we have of the thylacine is old. A video I've seen a million times, pictures that will never move or make a sound. We were robbed of so much when it comes to them. We were robbed of their sound, of their colors, their behavior. We have nothing now. We'll never know what they sounded like, or watch them hunt, or learn more about them. Really, all we have is ghosts and other people's memories as we look at the pictures other people took.

And that will have to do.

Little story for yall: when I was at the museum, there was a little girl with her dad there too. She'd jump from one animal to another, asking him to tell her where each animal lived (as the exibitions were labeled by place of origin of the animals). They got to the tassie the same time that I did, and when she asked "where does this one live?" he read the sign and replied "It doesn't live anymore. It doesn't have a home anywhere. They're gone."

And then they walked away, and I didn't see them anymore. But man, that hit hard. I keep hearing that in my head, over and over again.

It doesn't live anymore.

It doesn't have a home anywhere.

They're gone.

That dad and little girl probably didn't think anything of it. But I'll never forget that. How thylacines once lived, once had a home.

And now, there's none.

Been thinking of incorporating those sentences into a drawing of them or smth. I know it's very r/im14andthisisdeep but let me weird about them ok they make me sad

But yeah, that's my thylacine rant for the night. Because there aren't enough of those in my blog :P Thanks again for this, as it allowed me to ramble oops. Hope you doing well!

#Thylacine #Tasmanian tiger #Tasmanian wolf #ask #anon #also if anyone feels the need to comment about how this is probs fake and I fell for it or smth #dont <3 #i know people lie on the internet but let me have this #idec if it isnt real tbh it allowed me to ramble some and also made me happy #also like. some people out there were alive in the 90's and saw thylacines as kids #the bronx zoo had several thylacines until 1919 so. yeah #anon if yoire reading this im not calling you a liar!! i believe you and im really happy you shared this!#i just had to deal with a bunch of people being rude online recently and it left me jaded #thanks again! <3 #Oslo Museum #extinct animals

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h0w4m1h3r3 · 2 years

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can you do 4. Is that a drawing of me?

With nightmare, underswap paps and mafiatale sans please?

(I draw them all the time theyre my favorites!)

Have a great day!

Thank you for the request!

my laptop’s acting up so basically hours of re-writing and then it gets deleted and so on so that’s why it took so long, sorry anon

reader is completely GN

Nightmare:

(small medium swear warning??)

Nightmare was searching around for a book he leant to his human.

They should've known not to leave their sketchbook open.

Nightmare values privacy, however, when you find a drawing of yourself in an open sketchbook, you have the right to at least turn the page.

And so he did.

The drawings creepy or obsessive in anyway, he was actually quite flattered.

What!? Of course he wasn't flattered. He couldn't be flattered by the most detailed of paintings, let alone a few beautiful messy sketches.

He might've flipped through more than a few pages. Eyes tracing small hearts drawn around his head, how the curve of his eyesockets conveyed the subtlest of emotions, the delicate re-enactment of his day-to-day life entrancing him.

So entrancing Infact, that he almost missed the figure in the doorway. Almost.

Nightmare stood up straight and turned, hands clasped behind his back. "Human. Where is the book I leant you?" He asked in that ever-present emotionless monotone of his. Nightmare could feel the embarrassment dripping off of them as if they were covered in goop like himself.

They stammered a bit, trying to regain their composure. It was quite cute pitiful the way they tried to put themselves back together, his serious and stern gaze no doubt making it harder.

"I-It's on the coffee table. I left it there for you." They responded, their small stammering making his goop want to thin out and disappear.

"Good. How did you enjoy it?"

"It was great! The exact kind of story I was looking for, you must have read alot of stories to be able to think of one so spot on!" They praised, making him flush under his goop.

"Of course, nothing less for you."

Oh fuck oh shit

He didn't mean to say that. He meant to say that they shouldn't expect anything less from him.

Nightmare kept his cool, calm and collected manner as he walked briskly by them.

"Lovely drawings, by the way."

His stupid mouth wasn't behaving today. The combined positivity from him and them was enough for his goop to feel lighter. This was a feeling he could get used to.

Stretch (US papy)

"Honey, where are you?" A voice called out. "Honey?"

Stretch strode through the livingroom for the fifth time. He had been invited over to his friend's house, but had arrived a bit early.

He let himself in through the side door that was always unlocked, and after waiting for a minute he began to wonder if they fell in the toilet.

He wasn’t all that worried though, they were most likely playing a prank on him.

Sitting down on the couch, Stretch noticed a sleek black book on the coffee table. He remembered his friend telling him about getting a photo book filled with their childhood pictures. Stretch opened the book on a random page to see himself.

Not a photo, but a drawing. This is their sketchbook, not a photo book.

It was of him taking a nap on the couch, nothing to detailed, but a bit of orange graced his cheekbones.

He closed book, it was none of his business.

Right as he put the sketchbook down, none other than the artist themselves burst through the door.

“oh! Stretch! You’re already here! I was buying snacks and then i saw the time and-”

“It’s no big deal.” he interrupted. “wha’d’ya get?”

“You‘ll see if you help me unpack?” They stated as more of a question.

“...Well played.” He begrudgingly got up.

I actually forgot to mention I don’t write for the mafia boys, sorry! I love getting requests so feel free to ask something else, even something that isn’t in the prompts.

Crit welcome!!

#nightmare x reader #nightmare sans #prompt #request #underswap #us papyrus #us papyrus x reader

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 1 year

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reading tolkien takes me ridiculous amounts of time and I'm trying to work out why exactly is that. his work just rings a bit hollow to me, beautifull story, beautiful world, beautiful words but while I read it, I feel like I'm watching the story and especially the character through glass. LOTR is a story driven story, right? or it is just me not vibing with it as much as I'd like to. cuz I truly want to! the history, the world building makes my heart soar but then I crashland while the characters come into the picture. (Tolkien's allergy towards "human" characters, those that have their own faults and make mistakes does not help at all...) I wonder if it's just me or other people have even a bit similar problems with Tolkien's writing

I think that's an entirely valid opinion to have and not at all an uncommon or unusual experience with Tolkien's works.

My own experience is one of those ones where I love the world, I love the potential, the broad outlines he's given us of characters, but the execution of the story itself? I've a few critiques I'd make if I were in a writing workshop with him. (Stop letting your Catholicism scuttle and undermine how you demonstrate the message of the story. Unless you specifically do want it to be that death is the only form of redemption possible, fuck basic kindness and the power of friendship and love. I somehow don’t think that’s what you’re aiming for.)

It does come down to the fact that Tolkien is doing a specific thing with LOTR, and Middle Earth more broadly. He's got this language he's created, this history he's developed for it, and now he's got a world to make for it and those are ultimately the fundamental details he cared most about. It's where his linguist, academic side really shows through.

Not that he didn't care about his characters, he absolutely did (as is abundantly clear in letters, in writings outside the trilogy). But Tolkien was writing, in many ways, a mash-up of Arthurian legend, Anglo-Saxon epic, and classic fairy tale. All these modes of story telling are ones meant to convey things in a more allegorical format. They're not, traditionally, character driven/deep interiority forms of writing/story telling.

To get a great depth of connection to a character requires a lot more work on the side of the reader than in, let's say, something written by Ursula K. Le Guin or NK Jemison. Even things like Lies of Loch Lamora and hell, Discworld (which started its life as a spoof of works like Tolkien's), have more character-driven-ness than LOTR and I think most of us are more used to that than these more traditional, if at times archaic, modes of story telling.

Because, as you said, LOTR is story-driven, not character-driven. The characters exist as vessels for the story, which can - and in the case of Tolkien does - give them a distant feeling. (Obviously, everyone is different and there are plenty of people who would vehemently disagree with me, and that's fine. To each their own/we all get different things out of different books.)

The withdrawal from the intimate portrait of people that LOTR does is what allows Tolkien to world build so successfully. Doing all that development, while being deep inside someone's head, is hard! It's something GRRM has run into (and I suspect one of many reasons why he's never going to finish ASOIF).

So, yeah, I wouldn't say you're alone in finding connecting with the characters hard and finding the books a bit difficult to sink into the way we would with another series. Tolkien does require the reader to work harder than other writers and, at the same time, he's writing a specific kind of series and it's just not character-first.

My very long way to say, I don't think you're alone and you're right in thinking it's a by-product of how Tolkien has structured his narrative (i.e., story driven entirely which leads to less rich and fleshed out characters, because every approach to a novel has its pros and cons).

Thank you for the message/ask! <3 <3

#like I write super deep interior third person POV #which yes you can world build with that but it's completely different to how Tolkien was doing it #and the effect is different - the purpose is different etc.#he was truly a linguist of anglo-saxon english writing a fantasy world and it shows in what he wanted to do with his world and his writing #which was make it as fleshed out as he could manage - so it would be like studying the history of our own world #sacrifices are made when taking this approach #lotr #ask #reply #lord of the rings

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4ummusenthusiast · 1 year

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Endless Manifesto

BLUE BLACK GREEN RED CAR TURTLE SHOWER BROOM!!!

I have chosen the theme Endless Manifesto because when I looked over all my posts I realized that throughout the year I had endless emotions. My artistic side would definitely be shown through feeling and emotion. The message I am trying to convey or promote is the deeper meaning I gave in my post. For example, I would dig deep into the assignment and speak about the message provided. Another thing I was all over the place with these assignments. Hence my very random, all over, the place attention grabber. It came to mind for the simple fact that, I just wrote out a couple of random words that came to mind. Those words were in order in my head and I just typed them. That's kinda how I did my post. I would just type my thoughts. I would not think about them twice. The word" endless " became it is a synonym for deep and my thoughts were also endless. They were all over the place. Although it isn't an artistic thing I noticed in my post, I genuinely saw growth in my post during the semester. In my introduction, I sounded very shy and like a little kid who was new to all of this. I started each sentence with " I am... I am... I am... I also said, " I enjoy spending time with my friends and trying new things. " I feel like that is such a little kid's answer. I didn't express myself in any way with my language, tone, and descriptive words in the introduction. That's where I say I grew a lot throughout the post, depending on the emotion I was feeling I would express it through the assignment. So the first assignment I would say expresses my deep language. The assigned right after the introduction. For this assignment, we had to present a piece of art and express what it meant to s. I had chosen a piece that reminded me of my home country. This small quote from my post expresses the deeper meaning this art had other than just painting on a canvas, ". It has a small piece in my heart, that has impacted who I am and my identity. Every time I go I fall in love with the culture again and get humbled so very quickly. " I used descriptive imagery to showcase my grandma's village and the summer I would spend there. It made me feel nostalgic and I tried to give the reader a taste of what I saw. My second post that shows my manifesto is, the music assignment we did. That assignment was a lot of fun. This assignment shows how my thoughts are " endless." My music taste is endless and the songs I have picked were wild. Fly Me to the Moon- by Frank Sinatra, Tomorrow 2- by Cardi B and Gorilla, In-ha Mood- by Ice Spice, drift away- by Dobbie Grey, scar tissue red chili hot pepper. My music taste is all over the place. With slow old songs to new explicit rap songs. I have an " endless" wide variety of music tastes. Lastly, another assignment that I found very easy just because I take pictures 24/7 is. I can recall feeling lonely during this time, so the theme was being " alone, " I took many walks and captured the moment. One thing about these pictures I took them all while being alone. In the introduction to the assignment I wrote, Having company is good and all, but sometimes you just have to be alone. There are things you notice when you are alone compared to when you are with another person. When You analyze what I said, you can comprehend the feeling. I used to have a fear of being alone until I was accommodated. The pictures I took varied from sunsets, to the car wash, to walking on the fsw campus parking lot alone. So it all varied, but there was always a child aesthetic to them. They were " endless" in detail and emotion. In conclusion, I tried to reach the emotions of the audience with my posts.

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anonthenullifier · 3 years

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Alright, my headcanon/prompt that's been living in my mind rent free is the idea that Vision doesn't buy Wanda flowers, he buys her vases with sprouts on them, new life ready to grow. When he first heard of people gifting each other flowers he didn't fully understand why you would kill something, and make your loved one watch it slowly wilt away, when you could get them something they'd help survive. After watching so many loved ones die, I just think Wanda would be really touched to help something live and grow (just like her love for him blossoming)

I love this head canon so much. So damn much! I’ve written a story before (It’s About Thyme) that has them planting a garden and nurturing it as a way to mirror their relationship so to say I like to think about them with plants is an understatement. And then your gorgeous head canon looks at it in a way I never thought about and it’s perfect. Thank you for sharing it!

Here’s a little fic that came to mind as I was reading your ask. I hope you like it!

—

To say Vision is perplexed would be an understatement. Which is itself surprising because he has come to a tentative theory that to be human is to be irrational, and yet this, this crosses a line of reasoning he cannot begin to fathom. Typically he would have Wanda here to volley his concerns towards and to then explain in however many examples and phrasings that it takes for him to understand. Except he is here covertly, under the expert opinion of Sam, to procure a token of affection for all that Wanda provides him. Which brings him to a standstill of indecision waltzing along with a niggling horror at all the implications.

Luckily for him, he hopes, there is a sales associate close by. “Pardon me?” The man turns towards him, brown apron emblazoned with stitched on daisies and a name tag that reads Samuel, a fitting name since the other Samuel in Vision’s life suggested this course of questionable action. “I was advised that purchasing and gifting flowers is a socially appropriate way to convey affection.”

Samuel’s eyes squint for half a second, a common reaction whenever Vision goes out in public. “Uh, yeah. What does your special um,” this scanning over of Vision’s body is also common, uncomfortable, but he does his best to act unperturbed otherwise it might stoke potential fear into ire from his observer, “individual like? We’ve got roses, carnations, lilies, daisies, asters. Anything float your boat?”

If this decision were a boat it would be taking on waves at the moment. “But all of these have been removed from their roots.”

“Yeah, kinda the whole point of making a bouquet.”

The sass is not appreciated but Vision believes in remaining polite because the attitude of the man could be compounded with mistreatment from other customers or negative life events and not solely due to Vision’s inquiry. “Does that not mean they will wilt and die?”

Samuel does not share the distaste for this thought, a simple shrug and a rather unhelpful piece of advice given, “They all come with flower food, helps them stay fresh a bit longer.”

“I see.” Vision determines this issue may be best cogitated alone, so he sends a polite, tight lipped smile towards the man, “Thank you, Samuel.”

“Yep.”

The man leaves and Vision continues his stare down with the beautifully variegated display case in front of him. The differing colors and petal shapes form a kaleidoscope of awe, one that feels romantic and wispy and desirable. Except they will all wilt, the petals will curl up and fall to the ground, and within a week it will be in the trash. His love is not so brief, so fragile and he is perplexed as to why he would present Wanda with a token that cannot survive. Would it not imply his love will fade? That he will, even if fed her own love and passion and attention, eventually fall away from her? Even if she were to dry them out, like he has seen Laura do at the Barton farmhouse, it would require her to keep them someplace safe and to never touch them, the lifeless remnants too delicate and brittle for anything other than distant observation—a poor metaphor for his intended message.

Wanda has endured so much already, the memories as vivid as the Tiger Lily in front of him, days of listlessness and tears, evenings brimming over with invasive memories of all the deaths and all the pain, the only salves he could offer were strong arms and gentle reassurances. Why would he gift her something that will also die? Provide a further suggestion that her life must always be dictated by loss? Why would anyone, rational or not, believe temporal brevity a better show of love than something lasting?

Vision turns away from the bouquets, prepared to leave the store and find somewhere quiet to reassess his gift. It is this defeated swivel that brings a small display into his view, one tucked away as if it was an afterthought. On it are simple clay pots of various sizes, bags of potting soil heaped on the ground next to it, and a little table top rotating kiosk of seed packets awaiting to be planted and nurtured into a long and beautiful life. Vision’s lips curl up at the new idea in his head.

————

There is a subtle chime to her left, in the general vicinity of her door. It is the closest he ever gets to a knock. Wanda puts her book down and waits for the unmistakable gleam of vibranium and the glow of Vision’s phasing to come through the wall located mere inches from her fully functioning door. “Hey Vizh.”

He pauses, irises twisting rapidly to the left and lips puckered as if he’s been caught doing something wrong. Which would be not using her door and yet he still persists and still always makes this face, and it’s a welcome joy in her day. “Good afternoon, Wanda.” Unlike usual, his hands remain behind his back, pulling the threads of his synthetic sweater into a tension similar to his body. “I, um, brought you something.”

Hoping to ease his nerves, she shuffles to the side a bit and then pats the mattress, inviting him to come over and haltingly lower himself to the bed, body remaining twisted to hide whatever it is. “What is it?”

Slowly he brings his arms into view and in his right hand is a clay pot with a little seed packet inside, all wrapped up in a red bow, and in his left is clenched a small bag of soil. Wanda shares her gratitude with a smile, scarlet twining around the gifts and bringing them to her hands to inspect them closer. “I had been informed by a trusted associate that flowers are considered the socially acceptable gift for conveying affection.”

Gently, soothingly she offers a minor correction, knowing he doesn't like to be embarrassed by misinterpreting social advice. “Usually they mean a bouquet.”

A grave nod accompanies his, “I am aware.” Vision lifts his hand, waving it around to help usher out the full story, “But it seemed incongruous to provide you a fleeting gift for a sentiment that is not so,” he hesitates, maybe because he realizes the implication himself or because he can see it in the growing smile on her face, either way he’s committed to the admission of how long he sees this new relationship going and she’s hoping he won’t back down now. And he doesn’t, even if he stammers through it. “brief. I would rather my affections be shown in an appropriately long lasting form.”

Experiencing the fascinating way his mind works is always a pleasure and, due to listening to him and learning the way he thinks and feels, she understands it perfectly, feels a deep, warming thankfulness at this chance to play a hand in allowing something to live and grow, a chance she’s been denied so much before. Wanda ropes him closer with her powers and firmly plants a kiss to his nervous smile. “Thank you.” She unwraps the bow and studies the picture of a happy sunflower, a little confused. “I didn’t think these were indoor plants.”

“Oh well,” now that an explanation that is not tied to emotions is needed, he loosens up, “they are meant to be started and nurtured indoors and then, once large enough, can be moved outside or to a greenhouse.”

“Do we have a greenhouse here?”

Vision considers this, lips parted as his thoughts tick away. “Well no, but it could be enjoyable to convert one of the older equipment sheds into such a structure so we could have a year round garden.”

This simple gift blossoms into something bigger, something rooted in a hope for a future together. “I think it would be fun.”

“Yes,” Vision slips back into a slight, carefully paced cadence, “I selected this particular flower because it is often symbolic of adoration, loyalty and um,” he acts as if his actions have not already made it clear, as if his words should be a surprise, one he isn’t certain she’ll like, “longevity.”

Wanda offers a sunny smile, hoping to sear away any question as to her appreciation and reciprocal feelings, “I love it.” An equally exuberant curve forms on his lips. “Want to help me plant it?”

His instantaneous and joyful, “Of course,” is all it takes to settle them into a path towards a life and love they’ll nurture together.

#scarlet vision #wandavision #Wanda maximoff #vision #mine #ask anon #I was supposed to be writing something else today

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forehead-enthusiast · 4 years

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Soul/Mate

Pairing: Chenle x Reader

Genre: soulmate au, angst, maybe a little fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Sometimes, it’s not enough to love someone back.

A/N: I actually wrote this a little while ago, but never posted it. I actually like it thooooo. i hope it causes you some pain :)

Chenle was your best friend. He always had been as long as you could remember, and you knew he had been by your side even before that. He was in every photo album, every home video, every memory of your childhood, and hadn't left you for a second since then. Not that you’d want it any other way.

You can still vividly remember the day you were told what the numbers on your wrists meant. How the ticking numbers would lead you to your soulmate, the person you were destined to love more than anyone else. How you just had to wait and then suddenly, your other half would be there and you'd never wish for more.

What utter bullshit.

After all, the numbers on your wrist and the numbers on Chenle's didn't match.

The promise of future love only made your heart shatter a little more every time you thought about it. You'd watched Chenle grow up alongside you, and felt your heart long for him more and more every year. Somehow, over your long friendship, neither of you found the courage to broach the subject of the mismatched timers.

So you didn't. You pretended it didn't crush you, and went on being the best of friends for years. You laughed together and cried together, and got in trouble together when you'd sneak out to get fast food at 3am. His laugh, as shrill as it was, was your favorite sound in the world. His smile was your favorite sight. His hand in yours was your favorite sensation. Late at night watching movies, he'd lay his head on your shoulder, and you'd smell the faint shampoo scent of the hair beside your cheek, and want nothing more than to cry. How could you ever love anyone more than him?

Chenle felt the same, but was never able to admit it to anyone besides his subconscious. When he slept over he'd check your timer against his while you were dreaming, and stare at them for hours into the night, dying to make them the same. He kept looking, kept checking, hoping, wishing he somehow misread them the previous thousand times. But every time, they just stubbornly screamed the same numbers, mocking him for the way he felt. One day he stopped checking.

Today marked one year left before you meet your soulmate.

You were crying into your palms.

The day was creeping towards you, too quickly to be anything less than terrifying, and too slowly to put you out of your misery for good. All you could think about was Chenle's smile, and how it would belong to someone else. You reminded yourself, torturing yourself, that it would never, ever be yours.

A familiar knock at your window startled you, and you hastily scrubbed at your dripping eyes. You hurried to let the boy you can't love in, forcing a smile as he fell onto your carpet. He looked up, his eyes glistening in the dim moonlight.

"...You've been crying, haven't you?"

You should've known better than to try and hide anything from him. Tears returned with a vengeance, and you couldn't even form words as you tried to convey your devastation in broken whimpers. He walked towards you slowly, placing his arms around you and pressing your face into his shoulder.

"You've only got a year left?"

It wasn’t really a question. He'd had your timer memorized for years. That's why he was even here now. He knew what a toll this milestone would take on you, and couldn't let you go through it alone. He knew why you were crying. You knew that he knew. You'd both known that the other reciprocated your feelings for years now. It only made it harder to accept your impending fates. But you endured in silence, never daring to cross the line and see what it tasted like to be more than achingly pining friends.

Tonight, though, the notion that one day, you'd have to pretend you loved anyone more than Chenle broke you. Watching you cry about it broke Chenle. You couldn’t stay apart from each other, but together it was an endless cycle of heartbreak. No one deserved to have the person they loved be such a source of suffering.

"It's… It's gonna be okay," he said, not meaning a word. "You're going to love them, whoever they are. Way more than you… Me."

"But I don't want to." You sniffed against the soft fabric of his shirt. "I don't want to feel this way about anyone but you. And I'm not going to. I can't."

Chenle couldn't think of anything to say. He held you tighter, against his better judgment. You fit in his arms like you belonged there, every angle and curve of your body locking with his like the pieces of a puzzle that made no picture.

"I don't want to ever let you go." He whispered the words into your hair, the yearning in his voice tangling into the tousled strands.

"I don't want anyone but you, Chenle."

You paused, your breath heating his collarbone as you held each other wordlessly.

"I love you."

The three words sent a knife through Chenle's heart. It'd been that kind of unspoken rule. Even though both of you knew it was true, it couldn't be said aloud- an incantation with devastating consequences. His heart was on the floor, furiously beating out the last few drops of blood before it would be forever still. You shouldn't have said those words, Chenle thought. How could you do this?

"I love you too."

Chenle turned his head slightly, his nose brushing yours. You tensed, but didn't move away. The tears still on your cheeks smeared onto his sleeve, dyeing it with all the wishes that never came true.

"There's only a year left." Your voice broke as you reminded him softly, his lips just an inch from yours.

"Then we shouldn't waste any more time."

The gap was closed, the line was crossed. You tasted years of promises he'd never dared to say, and savored their taste on your tongue. He knelt down on your floor, guiding you down with him, never separating his lips from yours. He'd waited far too long to do this, he wasn't going to stop now.

Moonlight cast cool shadows across his cheekbones, and you caught glimpses of them when your eyelids fluttered open now and again. He looked like a dream, a fantasy, and you kissed him more fiercely just to make sure he wasn't. His lips were chapped, his kisses haphazard, and you hungered for those details, those little bits of reality that told you this wasn't all in your head. His hands roamed your back, clutching at the cloth of your shirt, as though if he didn't hold on you'd vanish from his arms and never return. He couldn't let that happen. He gripped you tighter. He kissed you too urgently, and pushed you back onto the floor.

You opened your eyes when you felt a drop on your cheek.

Chenle was above you, his clenched jaw not preventing another teardrop from falling onto your skin.

"Why…"

His voice quivered as he left the unfinished question hang in the air. Your lower lip trembled.

"I don't know. I don't know."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your glossy eyes closing as you pulled him in again. Tears slid down to where your lips melted together, and the taste of salt stained your kiss mercilessly.

You had a night.

You had a year.

You had a memory.

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hhjs · 4 years

Text

the grey area.

type. ⤳drabble.

pairing. ⤳lee know x gender neutral reader.

trope. ⤳ exes to lovers???

genre. ⤳angst with a dash of fluff.

word count.⤳773.

In hindsight, when he pictured being independent, all he could envisage was doing whatever he wanted without any hindrances whatsoever - sure that sounds childish - but not even in his wildest dreams could he engineer that moving in with you would turn out like this.

The guest room is smaller than your shared bedroom, the walls are a muted grey but he can tell it used to be some other colour long ago, the heater barely works and the worst of all, he thinks, is that he can never go back to being who he was before you came along; surely a lengthy trip down memory lane would prompt him to recall that he was always an advocate for preferring alone time over having company.

But now solitude feels odd, like something is missing.

There is a huge crack.

Fissuring out in areas of the ceiling where the paint had started to wear off. Minho wonders why he hasn't noticed it before, marvelling at its big blob-like shape.

But then you call out his name again, hip pressed to the door frame and he knows his sight is fixated on the particularly unimportant spot because he wants to avoid looking at you.

"What do you want?" He poses, trying his best to sound like he isn't partially thrilled by your presence.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" a rustling noise follows, the flicking of switches which cause the hallway lights to go off, he already knows the outcome of your demand and maybe you do too.

This has happened so many times over the last few months that Minho supposes it ought be a routine of some sort, he wants to ask you what you really want, not just now, what you want out of the two of you, if you still love him - and yet, his pride prevents him in this regard, no, he reminds himself, you asked for this, this gap between you and him.

His fingers make a fist around the fabric of his blanket, didn't you say you want a break? How ridiculous is it to want something like that when you insist on living together - not that you had a choice, he reasons, broke college students can only manage so much rent all alone.

On one hand, he is grateful that he still gets to teeter around the edges of your life in spite of the 'break' or whatever the hell that is but on another, it meant that Minho would eventually get to witness you getting over him, letting go of him, when he's clearly far behind in both departments.

He feels irrationally angry at that specific thought but regardless of this - because he can never actually say no to you (but also because he too has gotten out of the habit of sleeping alone) - he sighs defeatedly and without tearing his gaze away, patting the vacant space beside him, says - "Come here." Your smile, even in the vague moonlight percolating through the window pane, is unmistakable.

Minho sucks in a breath through his teeth when he feels your fingers trailing up the bumps of his spine, he feels you grin against his shoulder.

"Cut it out." He whines, looking, watching as your fingers are paused mid-air ready to repeat the action.

Minho renders a blank look before forcing himself to look away, even though all he wants to do is trace his fingers along your jaw, the jut of your nose, the shape of your lips, just tracing the milky lighting against your face like he wanted to memorise the design, areas where the shadows thinned out to form ribbons, any excuse to touch you, just once again, like he used to.

To no one's surprise, not even a second passes before he's made to sense digits ghosting against his shoulder blade again, your breath lingering against the back of his neck, in a poor attempt to make sure he doesn't notice.

"You're gonna do it again, aren't you?" He groans, turning on his side for good, watching you grin wider to convey an unsaid but positive response.

What he doesn't expect - at all - is the way you quickly press your mouth to his.

He stiffens at first and then in a sudden bout of sheer madness, realises just how much he missed you, missed this. The familiarity of your fingers scrapping against his scalp, the way that draws a groan out of him. He lets himself go, wraps an indolent leg around your hip to draw you closer.

Maybe it's a test, just to see if you still had him wrapped around your finger.

(Minho hates how the answer is more apparent than he would've liked.)

...

#this was supposed to be a full fic but my minho sized brain was like u gotta.#kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #leeknownet #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #minho imagines #minho x reader #minho angst #kpop fanfiction #lee know imagines #lee know angst #lee know x reader #skz.

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lovethisletters · 3 years

Text

I miss you

Idk how to even start this except for: I'm so SO SO sorry @melyaliz thank u for being so patient with me 😖💕✨ this year has been hard for all of us, online school is much more difficult than I initially expected but I would keep trying my best! Hopefully you will grant me the possibility of keep writing this amazing characters of yours even though your experience with me as a writer hasn't been the greatest :c , then again thank you for your patience, happy holidays! And happy new year! Hopefully this will be a better year for all of us. 💕✨

Faith is @melyaliz OC!

It started a few weeks ago, his obsession. Tim had been trying to get information regarding Black Mask's newest plan.

—I trust you, Tim— were Bruce's last words before leaving to attend urgent matters with the Justice League, this time in space.

And since then, he worked more diligently than ever before: going undercover and placing microphones and trackers at locations in the false-face society, interrogating thugs, hours glued to his computer trying to figure something out.

While this behavior was not unusual for Tim, Faith began to worry ... call it a hunch, perhaps a gut feeling but something told her this would not end well; however, she tried to bury it and pretend that it was simply her usual concern for Tim's habits and that once it was all over, things would calm down.

But the end was only the true beginning of things.

That night Tim was in the Batcave as usual, and the rest of the family were preparing to patrol, when they suddenly heard a scream of anger and frustration.

—No! No! No! Fuck you!—

Silence invaded the mansion and was only interrupted by the sound of Batmobile's tires screeching and running at full speed.

—What's the deal with him? —Damian (already in his Robin suit) asked while trying to look through out the window, but the vehicle was already long gone.

Faith wasted no time and sprinted towards the Batcave.

And there it was, on the screen of the Batcomputer a giant, green, question mark. Riddler.

In the morning the news reported Riddler's arrest at the hands of Red Robin but it wasn't until 4 days later that Tim returned to the mansion; Physically he was fine but his ego and self-confidence was beyond bruised after what had happened and the information he managed to gather from Riddler's lair:

Tim's efforts had been all in vain, Riddler had caught up to Black Mask's suspicious activity recently and also to the fact that Batman seemed to have disappeared, so he devised a plan, surprisingly alongside Cobblepot in a deal (the details of which Tim was unaware) that seemed beneficial to both. Riddler started a little investigation on his own trying to find blackmail material ... until ... he hit the jackpot. One of his undercover henchmen had been interrogated by Tim alerting Riddler of Red Robin conducting an investigation as well, so ... He did a little digging and found out that Red Robin had been longer in this. So why not just take it? That night Tim had unveiled the last piece of the puzzle in Black Mask's plans, when suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the computer started to go crazy, sending every piece of information to (apparently ... but not really ) different directions ending with the screen showing the infamous green question mark.

Out of frustration Tim tracked down Riddler, throwed him on blackgate, recovered most but not all the stolen information and piced it all together.

He felt enraged, stupid, mocked, useless. Why haven't he realized about Riddler spying on him? He was foolish! The safety of the Batfamily could have been in danger have he been even more careless than he already was! His brothers, His mentor, His family ... His beloved Faith ... he had disappointed them all.

Everything went down hill from there.

His bad self-destructive habits went from 60 to 1000, He talked, ate and slept much MUCH less and although various family members had tried to converse with him, they were simply ignored, including Faith.

At least 2 hours had passed, she watched; his fingers danced fleetingly and aggressively on the keyboard, his green eyes glued to the monitor, he hadn't looked at her even once since she entered the room so she wondered if he even knew she was there.

—Tim, you haven't eaten anything ... wanna go whit us at belly burger? Dick said is his treat! —Her tone was slow and gentle trying not to disturb him.

—I'm good, you go — He wasn't ... He was getting thinner, and to be honest he didn't even remember if he had eaten that day or the day before.

—Then ... you want us to bring you something? anything? —She insisted but only got silence as a response.

In other situations, Faith would have been a little bit more aggressive with his approach: nagging him a little, blocking his view of the computer by standing in front of it or even carrying him out of his room making him blush wildly; but this time was different. Faith could tell how much the words Bruce said before leaving meant to him. Normally Bruce would put Dick or Jason in charge of situations like this (because he knew how "diligent" Tim could be with himself), but ... this time he trusted Tim to handle it; I have tried harder than ever before, but by concentrating on one thing he had forgotten to see the big picture. He felt like a failure, unworthy and she knew it.

She knew him better than anyone, better than himself, she could practically feel his pain.

Faith always knew about Tim's self-esteem issues. He always tried to hide them, he didn't like to see himself as vulnerable, especially having the responsibility of a vigilante life, but she learned about them since the beginning of their relationship: He was so nervous to talk to her, make extra efforts on their dates and once she heard him confess to Jason: "How can someone so beautiful actually like me?" Jason had laughed and mocked him by saying "I was wondering the same" in his eyes it was only a joke but this small comment made Tim even more insecure about his blossoming relationship. Faith noticed ... He was a people pleaser, always complying with everyone else's request in fear of being left alone, with her it was no different, several times Tim agreed to Faith's wishes even if he wasn't all that ... excited about them: like that time they went cave-diving ... it was a mess ... So in their next date Faith asked "What do YOU wanna do?" he said "Whatever you want is fine" but she wasn't having it, a relationship is mutual and she wanted him to know that "Nope, this time you pick!"

And it evolved from there: She being patient with him, letting him know that he did not have to comply with all his suggestions as if they were orders and that having limits is fine and him being gentle and understanding with her, letting her know that she could trust him with everything.

And now ... they felt just so far appart ... like he was no longer by her side.

But she wasn't going to give up that easily ... she was stubborn and he had told her millions of times that he adored that about her.

Tim flinched a little when he felt her arms gently circling his waist, his chin resting on her head before he gave a chaste kiss to her tousled curls and let out a small sigh.

—Timothy. Jackson. Drake ... I miss you — People tend to forget how much simple and straight forward words can make you feel, long and tiring speeches can bury the feelings we are so desperately trying to convey, so when Tim heard those words ... He understood, he understood how distant he has been from her, how much she had waited for him, patiently and understanding of his feelings.

—I-I-I'm sorry ... Faith-

He could only return the hug from his chair, allowing himself to cry, taking out all his frustration as she stroked his hair moving him closer to his chest so that he could listen to his heart and regulate his breathing to the rhythm of it, preventing Tim from starting to hyperventilate.

—I'm sorry ... I'm sorry, please forgive me, please ...— He wouldn't stop apologizing profusely, like he had committed the worst of crimes.

—It's okay, love ... I'm always here for you — She said, taking his face in her hands, wiping away his tears gently with her thumb like he had done with her a thousand times before.

—I will always be here for you ...

Me again! As an apology for taking so long and as a gift for the holidays here is this:

#fics #batfam #batfamily #faith o'neal #tim drake x oc #tim drake imagine

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itsakpopalypse · 5 years

Text

Fall Asleep To Wake You Up

Here’s a cute lil fluffy one shot to help myself keep creative.

Leedo/Reader Fluff Friends to lovers,

Leedo falls asleep on a skype call with you, and it leads to an accidental confession.

Warnings : Kissing? Implied Smut but no smut. Mostly fluff and confessions.

You bit your lip while Leedo spoke as you face timed from far away. You were visiting family and he missed you, so here you were, laying in bed on your tummy, feet kicking in the air in your childhood bedroom while he regaled you with tales of daily life without you there, filling you in on the most mundane detail of his day. He found your little wiggle of your toes behind your socks more adorable than he would like to admit, so enamored with your smiles that he could burst.

He was far from ready to let you hang up, but with jet lag and time difference you were fading FAST. He postponed the inevitable for a while, before asking if you’d like to rest. You resisted, insisting you weren’t even that tired and there was much he had left to tell you… There really wasn’t but he would let that slide because he didn’t want to miss a moment of your face.

2 days wasn’t long, but it was long for him. It was only a matter of time before you fell asleep on him, and your heavy eyelids certainly did show it fast approaching.

Leedo laughed when your head bobbed, calling you cute under his breath, cheeks feeling hot from his affection for you. The affection you were strictly NOT to know about…

When he started informing you about how a customer had complained about missing a part… that they themselves lost, your little smile had faded and your chin had rested upon your arm, you slowly slipped into slumber, quiet, peaceful, sweet.

He smiled fondly at the depth of your restful breathing, stared at your eyelashes as they fluttered above your cheeks, truly soaked in the moments he could stare at you without you wondering if he was okay.

He loved to appreciate you for everything you were outside and in, and felt so rarely able to do so without causing you suspicion.

You still didn't know. You didn't know that he saw you laugh and it made his heart happier than it's ever been. You didn't know that when you'd drop by with a pizza and a smile that he wanted to invite you in with kisses and cuddles.

You didn't know the way your tears tore him apart every time you got your heart broken by someone who didn't deserve you. You didn't know, and he didn't want you to.

What you had together was enough, most days. He got to comfort you on sad days and laugh with you on glad ones. He got to hear things that excite you and irritate you. Being your closest friend was enough. It really was… except when it wasn’t, like just now, when the soft mumble of his name passed through your sleepy pout. It made his heart do flips and his mind race.

What were you dreaming of, really?

His yearning for you overwhelmed him at moments like this. Or when you'd show up in work clothes and commandeer his tee shirt to get comfortable. Seeing you wrapped in himself was nearly more than he could handle.

He wished he knew how to ask you if friends was all you'd ever be, but feared his feelings would burden you, take away the freedom you felt to be just so perfectly you in his presence.

Sometimes you'd climb into his lap and say his chest was more comfortable…. You couldn't possibly know how it made his skin light on fire, the way his heart would jump into his throat in elation. He didn't want you to know, so you didn't.

His own tiredness hit, and after glancing around, he set the phone on bed beside him, using the second pillow to prop it up so he could roll onto his side and fall asleep with your face in front of his… so he could pretend just once that the soft sound of your sleeping was you being beside him.

When dreams took him deeper, he didn't hear the click of the door to his bedroom.

-----

Sitting in the airport with his heart in his throat, butterflies overwhelming him, Leedo looked down at his hands to distract himself. Keonhee and Xion had traveled along today, and they were whispering back and forth over a picture on Keonhee’s phone. Leedo squinted, having a feeling the pair must be up to no good. “What?” He finally asked, leveling his gaze to his two friends.

“I’m just showing Xion here how you slept with Y/N.” Keonhee was smiling wickedly, tilting his phone towards Leedo so he could see the picture. It was him, eyes shut, on his side facing the pillow that had his phone propped up against it, and there, eyes shut in peaceful slumber, was you, and his arm was outstretched like he was trying to touch you.

The embarrassment that flooded Leedo’s veins was palpable in air as he tried very hard not to let it turn into anger. He turned to Keonhee and in a too calm voice to say. “We didn’t… it’s not. Don’t make it sound so.. Suggestive.” He tried to convey with his eyes that the subject needed to end there, but something in the exchanged look between the two men made him feel like it must not really be over.

He didn’t have time to be afraid though, because he heard your shout of his name and a smile was already breaking out onto his face.

You ran at him, and he was already opening his arms to catch you. You did a little hop of joy into his hug, giggling as he picked you up into the air and swung you gently in his strong grasp.

When he finally released you, something he was not excited to do, as he was enjoying your warmth and familiarity- you turned to the other two to give out warm hugs and greetings.

All seemed normal as you talked about your family and younger cousins and insisted you had brought little gifts back with you, which kept the flow of conversation going long after baggage check and loading into the car. Somehow, you were all packed in and he was driving you home.

He could feel your eyes on him as he drove though, you were glancing from him, to the road and back again, the edge of the bottom of your lip pulled between your teeth. He knew all your little habits and what they meant, and this one meant you were hiding something, something you were excited about.

“What?” He asked when your gaze flicked to his for the 10th time in as many minutes.

“Nothing. I just missed seeing you up close.” You said, and it made heat rise to his cheeks and ears with renewed fervor. Surely you had to know how it would affect him right? No. Of course not. You couldn't know. You were just being your usual endearing self.

“Stop.” He mumbled. “They’re going to-”

“I TOLD YOU THEY SLEPT TOGETHER.” Keonhee shouted, pointing up to the front of the car just as your hand snaked across the center console to ghost your fingers over the top of his thigh. You pulled back, startled.

“What?” You half turned your body to look back at them. “What are you saying?”

Keonhee proudly produces his phone, the picture of Leedo sleeping with the phone, you on the screen as he was turned towards you. “I didn’t catch it on recording but he was mumbling in his sleep too. You guys want to tell us what’s REALLY going on or not?”

Confused, your brow furrowed and you looked back and forth between Leedo, who’s hands now gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles were fully white, and Keonhee, who was smirking and nudging Xion.

The pair, especially Keonhee were constantly teasing Leedo, and he would normally fight back, so you weren’t sure why this time it seemed to agitate him, jaw working and muscles on the side of his face flexing. This wasn’t normal levels of annoyance…

You didn’t want to upset him more, especially in front of the other two, so you cut a very decisive “Enough.” Glare and went back to chatting with Leedo as though nothing changed. He still responded stiltedly, but he seemed to allow a little of the tension to roll out of his neck and shoulders.

Satisfied that you could appease him later, you changed the subject

----

He dropped the other two off on the way to your place, insisting it was faster- it definitely wasn't but you weren’t going to question him, he probably just wanted alone time.

The journey from their place to yours tacked an extra 25 minutes onto the drive, but you filled it with comfortable conversation. It never seemed like it was hard to find something to discuss together. The air was still tight, like the anxiety he carried physically floated between you. You wanted him to feel better.. Anything for him to feel better.

While he carried your bags up the stairs your hands brushed and you could have sworn he swallowed hard when it happened, before rushing off. That was unusual, normally your touches were so common and more affectionate, why would he behave like he’d been burned?

You watched as he set your bag in your room for you, asking if you wanted it beside the dresser. You replied that it was fine. He stared with his back to you, at the several frames on your dresser of the two of you together, and the one of just him laughing you’d snuck at the park a couple of months back, he was turning over his shoulder to smile at you and when he realized you were taking his picture he’d begun giggling.

“That’s my favorite picture of you.” You say, smiling softly. He still didn’t turn around.

“Mine is that one.” He points to the one where he is holding you bridal style and you are laughing so hard your eyes crinkle. He’s smiling too, and gazing down at you. One of the boys had taken it while he was squatting you in some silly dare.

It was a good day. A bright one. And it had been one of the ones that had dragged you into emotional turmoil regarding your very close friend. This visit home though, had put the last nail in your coffin. You were fully in love with him. So in love that you could barely stand it. You weren’t sure if you SHOULD say anything, especially with how uncomfortable he seemed to be right now… maybe you should just wait? You’d planned on telling him when you got back but this tension was so visceral.

You tried to move in front of him to catch his eye, leaning your butt against the dresser as you tilted your head to get him to look at you.

“Hey. Leedo. It’s okay, what they said in the car, you know? It was just a joke and it doesn’t mean anything.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, briefly, sorrow washed across his face, his nostrils flared before he looked at the ground and shook his head. “What if… what if I want it to mean something?”

His voice was so small, so very quiet that you had to lean in to hear him. After realizing what he said you felt a bit of shock, before a soft smile pulled at your lips…

“It could, if you want it to.” You say back just as quietly, just as gently, trying not to spook him.

This startled him, his eyes shot to yours, hardened and piercing. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” He began, stepping towards you with intent.

His face, the expression, it was very different from usual, and it lit tingles of excitement under your skin, biting your lip to conceal your grin, you shook your head innocently.

“When have I ever said things I don’t mean, in all the time you have known me? Especially something like this?”

He paused just as he reached you, backing you up until your butt hit the dresser hard, hands locked on either side of your body as he leaned, his mouth centimeters from your own as he spoke in that low voice that stirred warmth within your belly. “If you mean it, then you know what’s coming next?” His voice somehow commanding and gentle at once. You swallowed, his hot breath was ghosting over your lips and his eye contact burned.

“I know.” Was all you had to say for his lips to crash into yours. Gentle at first, feeling you out, he softly pulled your bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled before releasing. He didn’t press in too far, just held you there, breathing against you with his eyes shut so tightly. His heart was hammering, you could feel it pressed against you.

You were hungry for more, cupping his chin as you dragged his mouth against yours with more force, introducing your tongue to entice him.

Oh, and it worked. He let out a rumble, gripping your hip on one side as the other hand gripped the hair at the base of your neck, tangling into it as he pulled you in like he’d consume you. The passion of his mouth was so electric. How long had you two wasted time?

After a frenzied kiss, he pulled back enough to catch his breath, foreheads touching.

“I love you. Y/N I love you, I have loved you and I can’t stop. Please tell me that this is something more than a kiss to you?” His voice fervent and thick with emotion.

You forced him to look at you and smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“I love you, while I was away I was struck because I missed you so much… enough to realize that this wasn’t just friends.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Okay.” was all he said before latching his lips to yours again with renewed passion, gripping under your butt as he deposited you onto the dresser top. His hands worked their way up your body and just under the base of your shirt, skimming his thumbs over the bottom of your bra before groaning into your mouth.

When you cupped him through his jeans he made a sound that you had never heard before, so guttural and animalistic that a shiver ran down your spine. He pulled away from your mouth, looked down at your hand on him and then back up at your face, chest heaving.

His eyes held the question and you smiled back and nodded. “Yes Leedo, we waited long enough, don’t you think?”

He looked at you as though you were an angel, mouth falling open before he nodded, scooped you up and deposited you on the bed, pushing you down with a devilish little smirk.

“Too long. We were silly, and I have a lot of orgasms to catch up on for you.” He winked before sliding between your legs down the bed until he was eye level with your pelvis, gripping your waistband. “Guess it’s best for you to just relax, we’re going to be here a while.”

You gulped and gasped right before his hands pulled. You knew he’d make it worth the wait.

----

Soft light of the sun rise made your skin glow and Leedo smiled down at you tucked into the crook of his arm against his bare chest. You were a disheveled, absolute mess, but you were radiant, and so perfectly HIS now, finally. You stirred lightly, snuggling deeper into his embrace before he realized that you had now slept together twice, and waking up to you was the best thing he had done, but that he had plenty more mornings like this ahead.

The smile that broke out on his face was so large it hurt, but here you were finally together.

It had taken falling asleep to wake you both up.

It had been worth the wait.

#oneus leedo #leedo scenario #leedo x reader #leedo fanfic #oneus leedo fanfic #oneus fanfic #leedo smut

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shawnpetermuffins · 5 years

Text

In Case You Didn't Know

(Based off In Case You Didn't Know by Brett Young)

Summary: Shawn's so in love with you, but he doesn't know how to say it.

A/n: this is all over the place, theres time jumps and flashbacks and no real distinction between them, so yeah. I actually really like this song and I might end up writing some more stories based off songs, so let me know if you want that.

Requested: no

Warnings: just fluff

***

I can't count the times / I almost said what's on my mind / but I didn't

She's sleeping soundly on the couch, head laying on the arm rest, blanket up to her shoulders. She's absolutely beautiful, I think to myself. Her hair falls messily in her face, lips parted with a soft snore, and even though she's covered, I know her arms are wrapped around her middle in an attempt to keep warm in this arctic apartment of mine. I make a mental note to turn on the heater after I take her up to bed. She couldn’t even make it through half of the movie before her eyes became heavy, and if I was interested in watching the movie, I wouldn’t have even noticed, but I was watching her the whole time. It’s the first time I’ve been able to see her this way, completely exhausted from studying for her exams, hair a mess, face bare and slightly red and blotchy from stress crying.

I want so badly to wake her sleeping figure and tell her to just quit, come on the road with me for the second leg of tour. I’ll take care of everything; I’ll take care of her. Anything she wants, it’s hers, no questions asked. But I can’t tell her that. Because no matter how stressed she is now, I know it doesn’t change how incandescently happy she is when she talks about her favorite class, her favorite professor. The way she talks about all the things she’s going to change when she finishes school.

Just the other day / wrote down all the things I’d say / but I couldn’t / I just couldn’t

Being with her only a few months, eight to be exact, I keep finding myself refraining from telling her how I feel. And I know that being on tour for six out of the eight months we’ve been together is definitely taking a toll on her, and me too. I’m never here when she needs me, and to see her the way she is right now, I know that I can’t keep these feelings from her much longer.

Because if she’s crying over a test that she’s about to take when I am here, I’m scared to know what she cries about when I’m not. Does she cry about me? About me not being here? When I left before, she held in the tears - so did I - but we’d only been together a month. Maybe she didn’t want to seem too attached. I know I didn’t, but Brian knows how much leaving her put me in this week long funk. I called and texted her constantly until I realized that doing that only made it even harder to be away from her. So I calmed a bit, not by choice, but by necessity.

Seeing her sleeping so peacefully, now curled in my sheets, hugging my pillow, I can’t help but smile. I could write a million songs just about this moments alone, and that’s exactly what I go back to the living room to do. To write yet another song about the girl in my bed, hoping and praying that she’ll still be there come daybreak.

Baby I know that you’ve been wondering / mmm, so here goes nothing / in case you didn’t know / baby I’m crazy ‘bout you

Sheets of paper litter the top of the piano, the coffee table, literally any surface that was once clear isn't now. I'm scribbling out a new lyric, and start strumming the melody that's been stuck in my head since she fell asleep next to me.

My mind is a jumbled mess. She has me feeling every possible emotion and I can't convey it in just one song. So every new idea gets written down and I hope I'll find a place for it in another song later. I'm going crazy, my mind working faster than my hand can write, and the song doesn't sound right with the guitar riff, but then it doesn't sound right with the piano. It's all wrong. None of it is good enough for her and I need it to be good enough.

And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you / even though / I don't tell you all the time / You had my heart a long, long time ago / in case you didn't know

I know it hasn't even been a year and I sound like a love sick puppy. And that if you ask anyone that doesn't know me personally, they'd say that this relationship is all for show. That I'm doing it for the publicity. That she's getting paid. None of it's true.

She's everything I have ever wanted. Ever needed. And its so hard for me to think back to even just nine months ago. I wonder how I did anything before her. How did I cope with my anxiety when she wasn't there coaxing me through it, lulling me back to reality and not the fucked up place my mind always wandered to?

If I can't think back to nine months ago, before she became my everything, how am I supposed to look forward and not see her in every possible situation that I could be put it?

The way you look tonight / that second glass of wine / that did it, mmm

Dinner at her apartment is everything. Except she won't let me actually cook. She's scared I'll burn the building down. Which, to be fair, could very well happen. So I'm only allowed to cut things, and of course pour her wine. She's stirring the rice while I sit at the little bar area, head resting in my hand while I stare lovingly at her. Her cheeks are slightly pink from both the heat from the stove and from the glass of red she's sipping from.

"You're staring," she says softly, and looks over at me.

I clear my throat and look down at my half empty glass, "Sorry. Can't help it. You're just so pretty."

She looked down at her outfit, and squinted skeptically at me. "Jeans and a two-sizes-too-big flannel? Oh yeah, I'm sure I look real cute," she replies sarcastically, with a disbelieving eye roll.

"You do," I say, matter-of-factly. "With you hair pulled up like that," I gesture to pony tail that was currently falling because she didn't wrap the rubber band around enough. "And your eyes just being as beautiful and bright as ever. How could I not stare at you forever?"

This causes her to become even more red, if that's possible, and I pull out my phone, swiftly snapping a picture of her because she is just so pretty and I want to see her like this forever.

"Stop it!" She whines, turning away from me.

"But you look so cute," I say, turning my phone around so she can see the vibrant blush on her cheeks.

She just shakes her head and takes another sip. I can't help but watch the way her lips curve around the lip of the glass, and my whole body tingles at the promise of those lips touching mine later.

There was something 'bout that kiss/ girl it did me in / got me thinking / I've been thinking

I pull her body close to mine when she puts the dishes in the sink. "Thank you for tonight," I mumble into her shoulder.

She hums and her hands cover mine on her stomach. "You're welcome bub. So glad you could make some time for a meal this week. I was starting to think you didn't eat," she says teasingly.

I manage a small apology, pressing my lips to the soft skin of her collar bone. I know I've been literally everywhere but with her this week and it's been killing me. But even just a night like this was enough to make me forget about all my stress up to this point.

She turns her head to face me and plays with my currently overfluffy curls. "I adore you, my little rockstar," she whispered into my hair.

I look up at her with a sleepy smile and hooded eyes. I only have a second to react before her lips press to mine in a soft, passionate kiss. And all I can think is that I could stay this way for the rest of my life and never get tired of the feel of her lips.

One of those things that I've been feeling / mmm, it's time you hear 'em

I'm still watching her as we wash the dishes together. She's washing, I'm drying. It's the simplest of systems, but it's also so domesticated and it makes me sad knowing that I can't give her that domestic life one day. Husband a d kids, nice suburban home to come to every night. I'm traveling too often to give her that simple life that she so desperately deserves, even though she's told me before that she doesn't care about that.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asks after washing the last plate, handing it to me. I smile sheepishly at the way she's leaning against the counter, one leg crossed in front of the other, hands playing with the neck of her shirt.

I finish drying the plate before I speak. I place the towel I was holding on the counter and reach for her hands. "Can I tell you something, pumpkin?"

You've got all of me / I belong to you / yeah you're my everything / in case you didn't know

"Anything," she squeezes my hands reassuringly.

I can't look into her eyes, so I stare at our linked hands and sigh contently at the feel of her small, soft, cold hands in my large, calloused, hot hands. I don't know why telling her this is so hard for me, it shouldn't be. I write about love all the time.

But I've never felt it. Not like this. Not when my heart feels like it's literally about to burst out of my chest when she smiles at me. Not when I can't help but stumble on my way to her because I'm staring so hard that I trip over my own feet. Not when an interviewer asks me what my favorite thing about going home is and my immediate thought is her. She's my home. Whether we live together or not. She's it. She's my everything and that's fucking terrifying. I never thought I would become this dependent on someone else.

"Bub, what's going on inside that beautiful head of yours?" She asks, breaking me from my own thoughts, trying to catch my eye.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and finally meet her intense gaze. If I had to decipher what that look meant, I'd say she was looking at me the same way I look at her. With that endless amount of love, lust, compassion, and adoration that my expression hopefully conveys. Why she chose me of all the people to be with, I'll never know. But she did. So I say it.

"I love you," I finally manage to say, but it's so low I don't even know if she heard me.

She doesn't respond for a while and I'm searching her face for any sign that it'll give me, saying that I crossed a line, that we weren't ready. But just as I'm opening my mouth to apologize, her lips cover mine, tongue slipping effortlessly into my mouth. And I hold her body tight against me, so tight I don't think she can breathe properly, but she makes no move to leave my arms and I have no intention of letting her go. So I hold her while we kiss under the harsh light of her kitchen and I let out a low whimper when she goes to ultimately pull away.

"Say it again," she begs.

And I do, kissing her cheek. "I love you." Her nose, "I love you." Her forehead, "I love you." And finally, once again. Her lips. "I love you."

She sighs, eyes fluttering shut while her fingers trace my jaw and then the curves of my mouth, my nose. "I love you, too." She kisses both of my eyelids before she says it again. "I love you so much."

***

Tags: @curlyshawny @shawns-badreputation @anamariel2301 @bbellbagel @turtoix @tomshufflepuff @ivegotparticulartaste

I've literally been writing this since February and it's not even the way I wanted it 🤷‍♀️ but I hope you guys enjoyed reading it. A little fluff to counteract with the angst I gave y'all on Wednesday.

Like, reblog, and leave feedback!! 💙

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn peter raul #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #smfsource

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xxkellsvixen19xx · 5 years

Text

Punishment Or Pleasure Dark!Jim x Reader

A/N: took a shot at a @dark-jim fic so hope I did it justice, let me know what you guys think feedback is appreciated!

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Degredation, Bondage, Overstimulation, Hair Pulling, Use Of A Riding Crop, Orgasm Delay/Hedging, Boot Humping, Oral Male Receives, Dirty Smut, Praise, Dark Jim Being Soft Towards The End

“You’re a nasty, little slut,” Jim Mason tsked. “Repeat after me.”

“I’m a nasty, little slut,” Y/N reiterated.

“You’re a filthy, nasty, little slut that lies to her Daddy.” He barked. “Say it.”

“I’m a f-filthy, nasty, little slut-t that lies to her Daddy,” She sobbed, pulling against the restraints in hopes of gaining relief from the vibrations that seemed to wrack her entire frame.

They’d been at this for what felt like days, but Y/N knew it’d only been hours with the wand.

“You thought that was strong? Listen close, slut.”

The buzzing in the room increased, bringing her perspective to a lurching halt. She felt as if she were ready to choke on the sound alone, that is if the pleasure didn’t kill her first. Her skin was slick with a mixture of sweat, snot, and tears which he used to taunt her, rubbing the wetness across her peaked nipples. It was degrading and intoxicating. She deserved it; she had lied straight to Jim’s face and humiliated him as well.

She’d long lost the ability to moan. Low grunts left her mouth instead.

“Are you ready to explain the picture?” His hands traveled the expanse of her taut, sweat-soaked stomach, teasing the underside of her breasts with light pinches that made her back sharply arch.

“Yes, Daddy.” Y/N swallowed heavily, “I-I went to a party and d-didn’t tell you. I got drunk with my friends and Jessa kissed me, her boyfriend had his phone out and took the picture. I swear I didn't want it, though.”

“And you thought that was acceptable,” His eyebrow rose, “to hide that from me? How do you think that makes me feel? You not only lied about where you were Saturday night, but I had to find out through Facebook? Lying, little whore. I bet you liked kissing her?"

"No, Daddy." She pleaded. "I didn't."

“If you cum you won’t be able to sit for a week.” He threatened, completely ignoring her. While he spoke, he’d relented the vibrations on her clit, pressing the wand to her opening instead and teasing the slit of her sex. She jumped and moaned, trying to escape.

“Yes, Daddy. Yes, I understand.” Y/N pleaded. She knew what was coming, a punishment fuck. And oh, if she didn’t crave it like she craved air. “Oh, fuck me. Please?”

“You crave my cock? Suck it.” Jim positioned himself near her head, carelessly leaning on her hair to stuff his weeping cock into her mouth. Still, he held the wand to her pussy until her clit became numb and tears began to leak from her eyes. He fucked her mouth without care, choking her and sinking his shaft further down her throat.

In the act of begging, Y/N ran her tongue along the underside of his member, hoping he’d take mercy on her.

“My little cock sucker.” Softly, he stroked her cheek, feeling the head of his protruding cock. He tapped it twice. “Is that how badly you want my cock?”

Y/N moaned, hoping to convey the overwhelming need to have him inside her.

"Remember what I said," He warned.

He undid her leg restraints, quickly flipping her onto her stomach so that her hands remained tied and crossed at the wrists. Complying with his order, Y/N lifted her hips so that he could stuff a pillow beneath her tummy, bringing her slick entrance leveled with his cock.

He paused behind her. The air seemed to still, and it was enough to bring her to the brink of tears. Jim was cruel for teasing her, turning her to a sopping mess between her legs but she deserved it.

The sharpness of his penetration took the air straight from her gut; she could hardly exhale—hardly think as he rutted her. There isn’t any other way to describe it. He used her body solely for the ache he felt deep in his groin, it almost angered him to be so consumed by this raw need, and he gave it back to her in a vicious cycle.

Y/N could hardly think, only grasp that her body was no longer hers. She was merely a vessel for Jim’s cum. A throaty whimper left her mouth, and he was there by her ear, releasing soft threats before shoving her face into the bedspread.

Nothing would ever compare to being at the mercy of a man, not like this. Y/N could care less about social conventions or the 'right way' women were meant to be treated in the bedroom. Was it her fault that she craved to be used by Jim like this? Only he could understand and keep the balance, maintain the adultery that she needed to break up the monotony of her life.

“You may cum.” It’s more of a command—a demand, then anything else.

Y/N’s inner walls contracted once, clenching around his pulsating cock as she cried out into the silk of his sheets, voicing each delicious contraction as they came. It hurt so good, and still, he fucked her through the entirety of it, pressing her screams into the mattress as he filled her with his release.

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

He stroked her hair tenderly, pushing the wet tendrils away from her face.

"I know, Y/N." He sighed softly. "Now stay here and think about what you did."

Jim left the room, leaving Y/N to wallow in her tears.

Hours later Y/N hears the click of the lock as the door is opened. “I take it you have had time to think… no?” Jim states.

From where Y/N was knelt in the floor with hands restrained behind her back she was mere inches from his cock. She was desperate for it, she needed it.

Y/N’s knees chafe against the floor as she desperately mouths the bulge in Jim’s jeans.

Strong fingers carde through strands of h/c hair. Y/N looks beautiful like this. On her knees, naked, ass and thighs red from the riding crop, hands tied behind her back, and begging to suck his cock.

Jim leans back in his chair and smirks as Y/N lets out a pleading whine.

“Fucking slut, on your knees and begging to suck my cock. You want it? Use your words, whore.”

Y/N looks up at Jim, panting. A large wet stain covers the front of his jeans from Y/N’s spit. She lets her eyes roam Jim’s clothed body, god, he looks so good no matter what he wears. Arousal shivers down her spine as leather-covered hands tighten around the riding crop.

The crop swishes through the air and lands on Y/N’s blushing ass. She jerks and yelps, cunt throbbing in delight as the pain melts into tingling pleasure.

“Lazy bitch, I told you to use your words so use them. “

“Ah! I’m sorry Jim! Please Daddy! Please, let me suck you, let me suck your cock. Please Daddy, let me make you feel good.”

Jim huffs, “That’s better.” and drags the crop over Y/N’s quivering thighs and in between her legs. She whines when the tip of the crop comes into contact with her dripping cunt and rubs across her swollen clit.

Jim brings the crop out from under Y/N and sees that it’s shiny with her juices.

“You made it dirty.”

“I-I’m sorry Jim, I couldn’t help it.”

“Why.”

Y/N shudders.

“Ahh, you...you touched my.....my cunt with it and.... I’m wet, Jim.”

“Oh?” He says. Tone mocking. “How come?”

“I...I’m aroused, Daddy.”

“And what have we done to make you aroused? I haven’t even touched you.”

“You..oh Daddy, y-you hit me, you hit me with the crop and-“

“I punished you,” Jim interrupts ”and that made you aroused?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, there’s a steel hand in her hair, pulling Y/N’s head up.

“And what does that make you?”

The hand in her hair tightens and pulls until Y/N yelps.

“It makes me a horny bitch!”

”What makes you a horny bitch?”

“Getting wet when you punish me makes me a horny bitch!”

Jim purrs. “Good girl.”

Finally, Jim loosens his hold on Y/N’s hair and his hands go to unzip his fly.

“If you’re going to be a bitch then at least be a useful one.”

Y/N’s mouth waters as Jim pulls his cock out, but she knows better than to be greedy. She looks up at Jim with desperate eyes, asking for permission.

“You look like a puppy waiting for a treat, go on then, Y/N.”

Y/N moans in delight as she leans forward. She lovingly kisses up the shaft until she reaches the leaking tip. She licks away the precum dribbling from the slit before lavishing it all with wet, messy strokes of her tongue, savoring his treat.

All of a sudden, the tip is being shoved into her mouth and Jim is growling.

“Get on with it, fucking lazy whore.”

Y/N gladly complies, relaxing her jaw so that Jim can slide in deeper. She closes her eyes in bliss as Jim’s hand returns to her hair. She starts moving her tongue along the shaft and Jim moans, slowly drawing her head back only to shove it back onto his cock.

Y/N whines and shifts as Jim uses her mouth. Her cunt is drooling, she can feel how wet she is as it drips down her thighs,and her clit hard and throbbing. She humps against the air and moans, high and desperate.

Jim sees this and pulls his cock out of Y/N’s mouth, letting her catch her breath. He runs a hands along Y/N’s chin, collecting some of the drool that covers it before slowly caressing her body.

Her breath hitches as Jim pinches her nipples with wet fingers. They’re tugged on for a moment longer before that hand feels in between Y/N’s legs, gently rubbing her clit, making her buck and mewl.

“Aww poor baby,” he coos, “your clit is so hard, I can feel it pulsing. You want me to make you feel good, don’t you?”

Y/N nods enthusiastically.

“You know how to ask for things.”

“Yes Jim, please Daddy, please make me feel good, please please, oh, oohhh my god.”

The rest of Y/N’s sentence dissolves into shrieks of pleasure as Jim starts to roughly rub her clit in fast, circular motions.

Jim leans further out of his chair to get a better angle of her clit. His ears are graced with the sound of melodic sighs and mewls of pleasure as he moves his hand faster.

Y/N’s hips move on their own against Jim’s fingers. She’s close, she’s so close and oh yes, right there, right there!

And then Jim takes his hand away.

He can’t help but smirk as Y/N groans and sobs.

“Hush now, you said it yourself, or have you already forgotten? You’re a horny bitch, look, you’re even howling and drooling like one. So,”

He presses his leather boot against Y/N’s dripping cunt, enjoying her strangled gasp of surprise and pleasure that follows.

“if you insist on acting like a dog then rut like one.”

Y/N bucks her hips, the contrast between the smooth leather and the roughness of the laces making her whine. Soon, she’s humping the boot with wanton abandon, her wetness making the leather shiny and slick.

Jim presses his cock back to Y/N’s lips and groans as it’s engulfed without hesitation. They quickly build up a rhythm, him thrusting into that welcoming mouth and Y/N rutting against his boot.

“Ngh, looks like you’re good for something after all, Y/N,” she falters, nearing the edge, “Don’t you dare cum before me, you’ll wait until I say you can.”

Y/N whimpers at the command, desperately grinding her clit against the smooth leather, unable to slow down. She hollows her cheeks to make it tighter for Jim, coaxing him to orgasm.

He grits his teeth and buries his cock down Y/N’s throat as he cums.

“Aahh, fuck. Swallow it, good girl.”

Y/N purred happily as she tastes Jim on her tongue, suckling until he pulls out.

“Mhhm, what a talented little whore I have.”

Y/N keens as the praise goes straight to her clit.

“P-please Jim.”

“Please what?”

“Please, let me cum Jim.” She begs, voice feathery with arousal.

“I suppose you’ve earned it, go ahead, cum.”

Y/N howls as she cums all over Jim’s boot, eyes rolling back and drooling as she arches her back.

“Thank you, ohh thank you Daddy.”

Jim gently cups Y/N’s face, tracing over her swollen lips with his thumb.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Y/N feels her stomach flutter happily at the praise, kissing Jim’s thumb as it passes by her mouth again.

Then Jim’s pushing his head down to face the boot that she just came on.

“Look at what your messy cunt did to my boots. Disgraceful.”

“I’m sorry Jim.”

“Lick it up.”

Y/N moans, gladly licking at the tip, the taste of herself mingling with well cared for leather is intoxicating.

“Yes Daddy.”

Credit to owner for gif

#dark jim #jim mason #tribes of palos verdes #fem reader #fan fiction

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