#just something i remembered from years and years back
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For the Reverse Unpopular Opinion meme, Lamarckism!
(This is an excellent ask.)
Lamarck got done a bit dirty by the textbooks, as one so often is. He's billed as the guy who articulated an evolutionary theory of inherited characteristics, inevitably set up as an opponent made of straw for Darwin to knock down. The example I recall my own teachers using in grade school was the idea that a giraffe would strain to reach the highest branches of a tree, and as a result, its offspring would be born with slightly longer necks. Ha-ha-ha, isn't-that-silly, isn't natural selection so much more sensible?
But the thing is, this wasn't his idea, not even close. People have been running with ideas like that since antiquity at least. What Lamarck did was to systematize that claim, in the context of a wider and much more interesting theory.
Lamarck was born in to an era where natural philosophy was slowly giving way to Baconian science in the modern sense- that strange, eighteenth century, the one caught in an uneasy tension between Newton the alchemist and Darwin the naturalist. This is the century of Ben Franklin and his key and his kite, and the awed discovery that this "electricity" business was somehow involved in living organisms- the discovery that paved the way for Shelley's Frankenstein. This was the era when alchemy was fighting its last desperate battles with chemistry, when the division between 'organic' and 'inorganic' chemistry was fundamental- the first synthesis of organic molecules in the laboratory wouldn't occur until 1828, the year before Lamarck's death. We do not have atoms, not yet. Mendel and genetics are still more than a century away; we won't even have cells for another half-century or more.
Lamarck stepped in to that strange moment. I don't think he was a bold revolutionary, really, or had much interest in being one. He was profoundly interested in the structure and relationships between species, and when we're not using him as a punching bag in grade schools, some people manage to remember that he was a banging good taxonomist, and made real progress in the classification of invertebrates. He started life believing in the total immutability of species, but later was convinced that evolution really was occurring- not because somebody taught him in the classroom, or because it was the accepted wisdom of the time, but through deep, continued exposure to nature itself. He was convinced by the evidence of his senses.
(Mostly snails.)
His problem was complexity. When he'd been working as a botanist, he had this neat little idea to order organisms by complexity, starting with the grubbiest, saddest little seaweed or fern, up through lovely flowering plants. This was not an evolutionary theory, just an organizing structure; essentially, just a sort of museum display. But when he was asked to do the same thing with invertebrates, he realized rather quickly that this task had problems. A linear sorting from simple to complex seemed embarrassingly artificial, because it elided too many different kinds of complexity, and ignored obvious similarities and shared characteristics.
When he went back to the drawing board, he found better organizing schema; you'd recognize them today. There were hierarchies, nested identities. Simple forms with only basic, shared anatomical patterns, each functioning as a sort of superset implying more complex groups within it, defined additively by the addition of new organs or structures in the body. He'd made a taxonomic tree.
Even more shockingly, he realized something deep and true in what he was looking at: this wasn't just an abstract mapping of invertebrates to a conceptual diagram of their structures. This was a map in time. Complexities in invertebrates- in all organisms!- must have been accumulating in simpler forms, such that the most complicated organisms were also the youngest.
This is the essential revolution of Lamarckian evolution, not the inherited characteristics thing. His theory, in its full accounting, is actually quite elaborate. Summarized slightly less badly than it is in your grade school classroom (though still pretty badly, I'm by no means an expert on this stuff), it looks something like this:
As we all know, animals and plants are sometimes generated ex nihilo in different places, like maggots spontaneously appearing in middens. However, the spontaneous generation of life is much weaker than we have supposed; it can only result in the most basic, simple organisms (e.g. polyps). All the dizzying complexity we see in the world around us must have happened iteratively, in a sequence over time that operated on inheritance between one organism and its descendants.
As we all know, living things are dynamic in relation to inorganic matter, and this vital power includes an occasional tendency to gain in complexity. However, this tendency is not a spiritual or supernatural effect; it's a function of natural, material processes working over time. Probably this has something to do with fluids such as 'heat' and 'electricity' which are known to concentrate in living tissues. When features appear spontaneously in an organism, that should be understood as an intrinsic propensity of the organism itself, rather than being caused by the environment or by a divine entity. There is a specific, definite, and historically contingent pattern in which new features can appear in existing organisms.
As we all know, using different tissue groups more causes them to be expressed more in your descendants, and disuse weakens them in the same way. However, this is not a major feature in the development of new organic complexity, since it could only move 'laterally' on the complexity ladder and will never create new organs or tissue groups. At most, you might see lineages move from ape-like to human-like or vice versa, or between different types of birds or something; it's an adaptive tendency that helps organisms thrive in different environments. In species will less sophisticated neural systems, this will be even less flexible, because they can't supplement it with willpower the way that complex vertebrates can.
Lamarck isn't messing around here; this is a real, genuinely interesting model of the world. And what I think I'm prepared to argue here is that Lamarck's biggest errors aren't his. He has his own blind spots and mistakes, certainly. The focus on complexity is... fraught, at a minimum. But again and again, what really bites him in the ass is just his failure to break with his inherited assumptions enough. The parts of this that are actually Lamarckian, that is, are the ideas of Lamarck, are very clearly groping towards a recognizable kind of proto-evolutionary theory in a way that we recognize.
What makes Lamarck a punching bag in grade-school classes today is the same thing that made it interesting; it's that it was the best and most scientific explanation of biological complexity available at the time. It was the theory to beat, the one that had edged out all the other competitors and emerged as the most useful framework of the era. And precisely none of that complexity makes it in to our textbooks; they use "Lamarckianism" to refer to arguments made by freaking Aristotle, and which Lamarck himself accepted but de-emphasized as subordinate processes. What's even worse, Darwin didn't reject this mechanism either. Darwin was totally on board with the idea as a possible adaptive tendency; he just didn't particularly need it for his theory.
Lamarck had nothing. Not genetics, not chromosomes, not cells, not atomic theory. Geology was a hot new thing! Heat was a liquid! What Lamarck had was snails. And on the basis of snails, Lamarck deduced a profound theory of complexity emerging over time, of the biosphere as a(n al)chemical process rather than a divine pageant, of gradual adaptation punctuated by rapid innovation. That's incredible.
There's a lot of falsehood in the Lamarckian theory of evolution, and it never managed to entirely throw off the sloppy magical thinking of what came before. But his achievement was to approach biology and taxonomy with a profound scientific curiosity, and to improve and clarify our thinking about those subjects so dramatically that a theory of biology could finally, triumphantly, be proven wrong. Lamarck is falsifiable. That is a victory of the highest order.
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hiii, could u write smth for emily please? something with sleepy early morning cuddles on her day off and overall being physically clingy <3
Touch . EE
pairing: emily engstler x reader
emily had gotten home the night before absolutely exhausted and worn out. she was stressed and overwhelmed, this week had felt longer than it actually was. her body ached, her head hurt, and all she wanted was you.
she remembers fumbling with the key to unlock your front door, clambering through the threshold, eager to be home. her shoes and jacket were off in seconds and her wallet and keys were tossed carelessly onto the marble counter of your kitchen. it felt like she hadn’t been home in years, dragging herself up the stairs to your shared room.
excitement struck her body as she finally reached the bedroom, she couldn’t wait to wrap her arms around you and fall asleep. she didn’t have anything planned at all for tomorrow, completely prepared to force you to stay in bed with her all day. a day of rotting in bed with your body pressed up against hers sounded like heaven. when she opened the door, noticing your sleeping figure, she stripped of the rest of her clothes and crawled into bed beside you. she said nothing, pulling you into her and resting her head in the crook of your neck. she let out a long and weary sigh as sleep over took her.
I've been lonely since I woke up
I want a touch, no, it's never enough
a merciful stream of light flooded through the cracked window, illuminating the entire room. the light pried at emily’s eyes causing her to rise from her deep slumber. she yawned, stretching her long limbs and groaning in relief. she hadn’t slept this good in a while. with eyes still laced with sleep, practically glued shut, her arm extended to search for you. her calloused fingers met with the silky skin of your shoulder. she cracked an eye open, the early morning light still too much to bare as she looked over to your side of the bed.
you were laying there on your side, turned away from emily. both of your legs were thrown in opposite directions, something that drove her crazy but she still loved you despite your habit to hog the bed. your body rose and fell as you took gentle breathes, snoring softly as you carried on dreaming.
she was still so so tired, wanting to let her eyes close again and sink back into her pillow. but the urgency she had for you was much greater. most of the time, she’d wake up before you just like this. you were quite the night owl as opposed to emily’s early bird nature. but with both of you having the entire saturday to yourselves, she was having a hard time letting you sleep while she sat awake.
she scooted closer to you, pushing the sheets off of your torso so she could get a better look at you. even though you were facing away from her, she couldn’t help but sit and admire you. she brought one hand up to your back, allowing her fingers to draw small shapes on your exposed skin. everything about you had her entranced, from the delicate texture of your skin to the way your hair fell perfectly around your face.
the mornings, she realized, were so lonely without you.
I heard her voice then had a crush
Made me remember all the reasons why
“emily?”
your voice sounded into the room, sleep curling itself around the essence of your words. she had let herself fall into a shallow form of sleep as she continued to run her hands across your body, only to be abruptly pulled from it when she felt you shift.
her heart melted when she heard you for the first time, she had longed for you presence for what was nearing an hour. your groggy, yet still sweet morning voice was music to her ears. she felt herself smile as you called out her name.
“yea, baby?” she mumbled into the pillow.
“what time is it?” you had asked, already sensing how early it was. emily felt a small wave of guilt, realizing that it was hours earlier than what you normal would have awaken at. but that was quickly diminished when you finally turned to face her.
stretching in the process, you rolled over, resisting the urge to throw the sheets back over your body and doze off once more. emily removed her face from the pillow to soak in the image of you. you smiled the moment you laid eyes on her, throwing a leg over her waist and placing your feeble hands on her chest. her large hands instinctively came to rest on your thigh, thumb making mindless circles on your skin.
“about 7” she leaned in to place a kiss to your forehead “sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up this early”
I wanna give you all I've got
Until I'm not even a thought
“s’ok” you let your eyes flutter for a moment, feeling her lips linger on you “i don’t mind. would rather be awake with you anyways”
a sloppy smile danced its way onto emily’s face. her cheeks turned slightly pink, always so sheepish when you flattered her. she was so whipped for you, mesmerized by everything you did. even if it was just wanting her company as you wallowed in the sheets.
“do you know how much i love you?” she inquired.
a satisfied sigh escaped your lips as you tucked your head into her chest. you felt her chin rest on your head as you nuzzled your nose against her neck. you couldn’t help but chuckle, you don’t think anyone could possibly know the amount of love you held for your girlfriend.
“course i do, em” you hummed, lavishing in her warm embrace. you let your hands drag from their place on her chest and up over her shoulders “do you know how much i love you?”
“mhm,” you could sense her drifting off again “i think we should stay like this…all day”
she abandoned your thigh, now trailing her hands under your shirt. your skin formed small goosebumps when you felt her cold fingers run along the underside of your breast. you knew her touch wasn’t from a place of lust, but from a place of passion and desire.
“i like the sound of that”
You've been hangin' out in my head
I've been imaginin' you in my bed
the room was filled with soft snores and gratified breathing. occasional small talk was made, but neither of you needed to speak, content with the silent company. the busyness of the world blared outside, persuading you to leave the house, but nothing could pull you from this moment.
she couldn’t believe that this was her reality. that she got to lay here with you like this, the most beautiful person to walk the earth, someone so kind and gentle. you were her soulmate, she was convinced. it was something so bizarre to love you. she had a hard time imagining that you were here beside her; doting on her, whispering how much you loved her.
But my imagination can only go so far
although, she didn’t need to imagine. she had the real thing right here.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
taglist:
@idiotsnake @girlokwhatever @uraesthete @katemartinsimp @rimunagenius @patscorner @julienbakerloverr @sunfairy-world @anakinsmakingmeweak @barbacoas-stuff @0alessia0 @kc88888888 @kinfluenza @lacyspeaks @pbueckerslover
i don’t know why it isn’t tagging some of guys so i’m trying to figure out how to fix that :’)
#wnba imagine#wnba x reader#wnba#emily engstler x reader#emily engstler#i love emily engstler#washington mystics#women’s basketball#wlw#wlw imagine#lesbian#lesbian imagine#foreingersgod
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i'll go as long as it's with you ㅤ⊹ㅤ nishimura riki
gnreader ㅤ୨୧ㅤ 𝓒ontent . . .ㅤf2l, riki is kinda cocky help, suicide joke, dialogue heavy, i had no idea how to end this so sorry for the awkward ending, not proofreadㅤ──ㅤ 1.3k ( 🗒 )
it's almost three in the morning when you hear something hit your window along with the buzzing of your phone. you turn over, groaning in annoyance; you know exactly who it is.
nishimura riki, the absolute bane of your existence. the boy you've lived next to since you were five years old, the boy who has unfortunately forced his way into becoming your best friend.
he's not as bad as you make him out to be, not really, he just has an annoying habit of wanting to take you to random abandoned places he's found with his friends. places he insists are better in the middle of the night, when there's no noise nor light in your small town.
you hit answer after the third ring, holding your phone up to your ear, "what?"
"you have bad manners," he replies. you can hear his stupidly endearing smile through the phone, "anyways, get up, i'm taking you somewhere,"
"i don't remember you asking," still, you push the covers away from your body, slipping out of bed.
"i don't have to ask, you'll go," he hums. you hate that he's right.
you hold back a sigh, grabbing a hoodie off of your floor. you don't bother trying to make yourself look decent, pulling the hoodie over your head and leaving on your worn out pajama pants. you slip a random pair of shoes on—you thought about wearing slides but god only knows where he's taking you. the first time he did this you ended up with wet and muddy socks because of your tired decision.
“it's late,” you walk over to your window, pulling it open. you smile when you see riki wave.
“it's late,” he makes his voice an annoyingly high pitch mocking you, “like you haven't been up later,”
you roll your eyes, “whatever. where's the ladder so i can get down?”
it's dark but you can see him shrug, throwing his hands up comically, “don't know. just jump,”
“i'm not jumping out of my window,”
“why not? i'll catch you and it'll be like we're romeo and juliet,”
“juliet doesn't jump out of her window, riki,”
“she should've. maybe then she would still be alive,”
you let out a laugh of disbelief, covering your mouth with your free hand, “you're dumb. go get the ladder, please?”
“i make better grades than you do, but sure. i’ll go look for it, be back as soon as i find where your parents hid it,” he salutes you, hanging up the phone as he walks off.
you watch him for as long as you can see him, losing his figure when he walks the the side of your house.
he's only gone for a minute or two before you see him again, this time carrying the metal ladder in his hands. you watch as he sets it up, licking his lips in concentration. then he gives you a thumbs up, signaling you to climb down.
you climb out your window, careful not to hit your head and begin your descent down. you've done this a million times at this point, you're practically an expert at sneaking out—if you ignore the one time you were caught but that was ages ago. no matter how much you claim to be an expert, though, once you're in his reach, riki continues to grab your waist to keep you steady for the last few steps.
when you place your foot on the grass, his hands leave your body. sometimes you find yourself missing his touch but you don't acknowledge that feeling.
“so, where are we going?”
he grins, “my backyard,”
you blink at him in astonishment. he woke you up at—you check your phone—2:58AM just to take you into his backyard?
“i'm going back to bed,” you attempt to turn around but riki's hand on your wrist stops you.
“yn,” he drags out the last syllable of your name, “don’t go, please. you're gonna like it,”
you frown at him, “how much?”
“so much. swear on my life,” his hand slips from your wrist into yours, lacing your fingers together.
you look down at your hands, “if i don't like it, you'll kill yourself then?”
“sure. you're gonna have to explain to my mom why i did it, though,”
“i'm think she'll understand,”
“you're annoying,” he tugs on your hand, pulling you towards his house, “come on,”
you let him pull you to his backyard and you let him cover your eyes with his hands as he walks you into his backyard.
“okay, keep your eyes closed,” he pulls his hands away, making sure your eyes are in fact closed.
“this is scary,”
“it's just my backyard, you dork,”
“what if i open my eyes to a bunch of bodies?” you feel him kick your leg, “what the hell?”
“i don't kill people. shut up, you're ruining the moment,”
“what moment?”
“be quiet and you'll see, yeah?”
you hum, listening to his steps get farther away from you. you have no clue as to what he's doing or why he's doing it. you figure he could've waited until the morning to show you whatever it is that's in his backyard, but that's how he is. he does whatever he wants and you follow along, even if you probably shouldn't. you can't help it.
“okay, you can open your eyes,” you hear his voice in your ear, sending shivers down your back. you open your eyes, not even bothering to be slow about it.
his backyard is lit up by fairylights, hanging up on the fence and next to the tree is a large blanket laid out with even more blankets on tops of it and pillows against the tree's trunk. you notice a basket of snacks and a laptop sitting in the middle, you smile, “what's this?”
he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “date night. we're gonna watch a movie,”
“date night?”
“uh, yeah,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “like.. a date. a couple thing,”
you look up at him, “are we a couple?”
he frowns, “okay, quit making fun of me. hold on, i need a second,”
you smile at him expectantly, a teasing glint in your eyes as you wait for him to speak.
“i like you,” he grabs your face in between his hands, bringing you closer to him, “i had a way better confession but, like, i’m way too nervous to think right now,”
you push up on feet, rising so that you can press your lips against his. it's a short kiss, nothing too extravagant, but apparently it was enough for him because when you pull away his face is a bright red and he's staring at you as if you grew a second head.
“oh. oh okay,”
“that's the worst thing you can say after kissing someone,”
“sorry! sorry—i'm nervous, i told you,” he presses his hand against your eyes stop you from looking at him so intensely.
“okay,” you hum, “you can be nervous while we're watching a movie,”
you remove his hand from over your eyes and drag him over to the mess of blankets he set up, pulling him down to sit down with you.
he groans, leaning his head against yours, “how are you being normal right now?”
“’cos i'm gonna go home and scream into my pillow then call all my friends about this,”
“you just reminded me that i need to call jake.”
#ㅤ⠀ ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა ♡ ㅤ⠀#enhypen x reader#niki x reader#riki x reader#niki x you#niki x y/n#niki fluff#enha x reader#enha x you#enha x y/n#enha fluff#enha scenarios#enhypen x you#enhypen x y/n#enhypen fluff#enhypen headcanons#nishimura riki x reader#ni ki x reader#enhypen scenarios#niki headcanons#nishimura riki fluff#nishimura riki imagines
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Say Yes [Part Two]
//fem!reader x Ot8!Skz//
Synopsis: You get slipped a note from your favorite idol to meet him at his hotel room, but he's not the only one there
Genre: smut/suggestive, crack, fluff
Warnings: sexual situations, reader uses she/her pronouns
A/N: thank you @seoyeonleexoxo for the requestttt ❤️ I initially didn’t want this to be three parts but this part ended up so lengthy 😭 Third part is gonna be the conclusion 💗
~~~~|~~~~
“Okay y/n, breathe” You chant to yourself as the elevator rises quickly to the second floor. Admittedly, you get out and pace around the hallway a little, catching the eye of some curious staff members walking between the rooms.
“Excuse me,” One woman says, coming up to you. You know she’s staff, especially since her employee badge is still hanging around her neck.
“This floor is reserved,” She says politely, “Are you supposed to be up here?”
You dig in your pocket to fish out the envelope you had gotten. A little panicked, you give it to her. Wordlessly, she looks at the picture and the (signed) NDA.
A tight-lipped smile graces her face, “Follow me.”
She gives you the envelope back and practically jogs down the hall. You walk quickly to keep up, and you two end up in front of room B6.
“Please remember the stipulations of the NDA,” She says, “The rest of the document should be in the room. Read over it when you receive it”
The envelope in your pocket feels heavy as she bows at you and walks off.
You stand there for another 5 minutes before knocking four straight times. Your heart beats out of your chest as you hear a hushed voice on the other side of the door.
It opens soon enough, and you come face-to-face with Bang Chan himself.
“There you are” He smiles, the gorgeous dimples in his cheeks making you feel at ease. He moved aside to let you in, and you go in with a little less hesitation than you should have.
“I didn’t get your name,” Chan says, “I’m Chris”
This makes you giggle, of course, you know who he is. But he’s just being polite, which makes you a little more relaxed.
“I’m y/n” You say
He nods and takes you further into the rather large room. The lights are dimmed, but you can make out the other two silhouettes lying across the king-sized bed.
You jump a little as Han Jisung sits up and confidently walks over to you. His cool nature spikes your already high anxiety levels.
“Hello,” He says, “I’m Han”
He points over to a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne sticking out
“Want a drink?”
You can’t even answer before Changbin gets up and walks to the three of you. He’s wearing a tight, black tank top, making you a little dizzy as you get a full view of his muscles.
“You can’t just ask her that, Han,” He says, flicking the younger’s forehead and giving you a nice smile, “I’m Changbin”
“I’m being polite” Han defends
Changbin rolls his eyes, “She’s gonna think we wanna get her drunk or something- We dont by the way”
The two start to argue in Korean, making Chan laugh from behind you.
“Please excuse them, how about we take a seat?”
You nod and follow him over to a small table with two chairs. Everything seems to be going in slow motion. How in the hell are you in a hotel room with 3racha? THEE 3RACHA?
Once you two sit, Chan immediately starts to ask you about yourself. You reveal you just graduated college, and the concert earlier was a little treat for yourself after managing to save money while still paying your tuition and other expenses. You talk about your hometown, your favorite shows, your favorite songs, and how you got into Skz
“In my sophomore year of college, I had a professor who loved to play music at the start of class. She usually played louder music to wake everyone up since the class was so early, one day she played Gods Menu- I Shazammed the song and the rest was history”
Chan laughs hysterically at this, even more so that you added the fact that your teacher was a 70-something-year-old lady.
“That’s so cute” He smiles, “So you’ve been a fan for a couple of years”
“Yep. My friends have been fans for much longer though, one of them since pre-debut”
“That’s sweet” He grins, “We love our Stays, especially ones that are so beautiful”
He takes his hand and caresses your face, making your heart start to beat concerningly fast. You hear the other two men stop arguing, looking over to see them watching you and Chan with twin looks of lust.
“We saw you in the venue,” Chan says, bringing your attention back to him, “I’m sorry if all of this is overwhelming, please tell us if you feel uncomfortable”
“It’s okay,” You say quickly, “I’m okay”
Changbin and Han come and stand by the table, Han giving you a shy smile and Changbin’s smirk making you bite your lip.
“The other members saw you too,” Han says
“Where are they?” You question
“In their rooms. We figured we may scare you off if you saw all eight of us. Don’t want you to feel cornered” Chan explains
A strong sense of boldness and pure disbelief fill you as you utter a quiet, “They can come in here”
And with that, Changbin leaves the room and comes back minutes later with the other five members.
“Hi” Felix’s deep voice and bright smile greet you, “Glad to see you”
“Thought you wouldn’t come,” Seungmin says, “This is a little strange, isn’t it?”
The boys all sit in various spots in the room. You and Chan remain at the small table, him giving you reassuring looks as you contemplate the situation in front of you
“Why did you guys invite me here?” You ask
“We wanna fuck you,” Seungmin says bluntly
A chorus of scoldings comes his way as he laughs
“It’s true!” He exclaims, “It’s not fair to keep her guessing. We saw you and thought you were so gorgeous that we thought it’d be worth a shot to ask you here”
“Of course, you don’t have to do anything,” Felix says, “You can leave right now, no problem”
You contemplate for a moment. How is this real life? How in the fuck did you find yourself surrounded by eight of the most beautiful men on Earth, all wanting to fuck you?
If this is a dream, you don’t want to wake up -so with that in mind- you say;
“I wanna stay”
Hyunjin is shocked at your acceptance of the offer, “Are you sure?” He asks
“Yes,” You say with an odd sense of confidence, “Give me the NDA”
Han goes to one of the nightstands and pulls out a stack of paper from the drawer.
“You have the last page of it, this is the rest.” He says, handing it to you
“Do you guys just have NDAs on standby?” You joke, but Chan looks at you with a look of seriousness
“Our team does in case any of us choose to have a random hook up” He admits, “This one is more lengthy though”
You start to look through the papers, all the men patiently waiting for you to read through everything.
There’s a “hook up” clause, essentially saying that you can’t reveal anything about the one night you and any member have had.
There’s a “Causal” clause, one stating that if you and any member(s) were to have causal interactions, you are not to say or allude to anything.
However, there’s a “Connection” clause, this one revealing that you are allowed to spend time with any member(s) [If you and he choose to stay in contact in a serious matter] with help from JYP staff. You are allowed to attend any Skz events of your choosing, be at their residence, and go out with them on dates while swearing to not say anything about the arrangement and allow the staff to keep a close eye on you.
“Interesting” Is all you say by the time you finish the paperwork. I.N. had silently given you a pen to write your signature on a couple of dotted lines.
“There are three arrangements” Felix reiterates, “Do any of them sound good to you?”
“I’d prefer the connection arrangement,” You say truthfully, “I’ve had casual sex here and there but I’d like to build some kind of relationship with you all”
Heat rises to your face as you look back at a smiley Chan.
“I understand I’m only a fan but I would hate to just fuck you all and then leave. Especially if I’m offered free concerts and shit”
Chan and Felix burst out in laughter, making you even more comfortable than you were before
“No, I understand” Chan nods, “We’d love to get to know you as well.”
“Great, I’m glad we’re in agreeance”
As much as you wish you could have just hugged all of them and started the process of getting to know the members, you caught sight of how good they looked right at that moment.
And well, you have needs.
You look around the room and your eyes stop at a shy-looking I.N, whose face turns red at the way you were looking at him.
“Do you guys have condoms?”
~~~~|~~~~
Taglist: @anxiousskylar @openthevale @kaiyaba @blackbluerose666 @angelhyunjinnie @hyun-hwanj @shuporangporangilinos @jisungsbammey @yumiblogs @sillyhal @chrizztopher97
#skz bang chan#skz changbin#skz felix#skz han#skz hyunjin#skz jeongin#skz lee know#skz seungmin#skz x reader#skz minho#skz fake texts#skz#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids scenarios#stray kids reactions#stray kids imagine#stray kids#skz fanfic#skz imagines#skz angst#skz poly x reader#skz scenarios#stray kids angst#stray kids fanfic#skz stay#stray kids fake texts#stray kids x reader#stray kids texts#stray kids smau
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Hi, could we please get something for Charles winning in monaco finally breaking the curse
this is perfect bc i was already working on this piece when the request came in so TY <333
the predestined ✤
charles leclerc x reader
summary: after many years as best friends, driver!reader is there for charles's first win in monaco
song: the chain by fleetwood mac
author's note: cried during charles's win obviously so ofc i'm gonna write about it! so happy for charles i'll literally remember that race forever. <333
word count: 2.1k
With a deep breath, Charles positioned himself behind the wheel of his car in the garage. A nervous energy pulsed through the air as everyone eagerly awaited the start of the prestigious Monaco Grand Prix. From your spot in the balcony with his family and friends, you could see the sea of faces in the grandstands. This was an annual tradition; ever since he had joined the ranks of Formula One racing, something seemed to go awry on this particular race day.
Four years ago in Monaco, it was your second season driving in Formula One alongside your best friend Charles. The roar of the engines filled the air as you pushed your scarlet car to its limits, weaving through the tight turns and tunnels of the famous street circuit. But then, a sudden jolt as you brushed the side of the wall, sending your car spinning out of control towards the barriers. Your heart raced as you fought for control, but it was too late. The impact with another car sent shards of metal flying and your body jolting violently within the cockpit.
Struggling to catch your breath, you tried to make sense of what had just happened. The world around you seemed to blur and spin as if you were caught in a whirlwind. The once clear sky now appeared hazy and distorted, making it difficult to focus on anything other than the pain coursing through your body.
Muffled calls from your team over the radio asking if you were alright echoed in your ear, but you didn’t have the ability to respond. Your senses were overloaded and all you could do was try to stay conscious as the world continued to spin.
Unbeknownst to you, flames had engulfed your car, licking at your helmet and suit. Red flags went waving, signaling danger on the track as fire marshals rushed to pull you out of the fiery wreckage. Their brave actions saved your life, freeing you from the burning prison that was once your beloved race car. Relief flooded through you as fresh air filled your lungs and cool asphalt crunched beneath your feet.
Your mind reeled as you processed what had just occurred. In an instant, everything could have been lost, but thanks to quick thinking and skilled rescuers, you were still standing. It was a stark reminder of the dangers of Formula One racing, but also a testament to the bravery and teamwork that binds drivers and their teams together.
The impact of the crash was so severe that it left you with injuries that would sideline you for multiple races that season. The ultimate decision to never race again weighed heavily on your mind, as the thought of even stepping back into a Formula One car filled you with terror. You often found yourself haunted by nightmares of the crash, each vivid dream bringing back the gut-wrenching fear and pain you experienced that day. The mere idea of getting behind the wheel again was enough to make your heart race and palms sweat uncontrollably. Even now, years later, the memory of the accident is still fresh in your mind, replaying itself over and over like a broken record.
The next year in Monaco, as Charles raced for Ferrari without you, he had a DNF. And another one the year after. It seemed that in the following years after your crash, Charles had nothing but bad luck in Monaco, and you partially blamed yourself for it.
You’ve been fiercely loyal to Charles, following him on his journey through the fast-paced world of racing. From the adrenaline-filled tracks of Monaco to the Formula One races across the globe, you were by his side every step of the way. As his best friend since childhood, he called you his good luck charm, and you took pride in knowing that your presence brought him comfort and confidence. The two of you used to spend afternoons zooming around karting, dreaming of the day when you would both be competing in Formula One and representing your home streets of Monaco. Memories flooded your mind, bringing back images of carefree days spent laughing and chasing each other around circuits, helmets bouncing with every turn.
From the first day you met, you and Charles were inseparable. Your bond was unbreakable, forged through countless shared experiences and deep conversations. You were always there for him, watching as he dated girls who only ended up breaking his heart. You felt his pain as if it were your own, but you couldn't bring yourself to express your true feelings for fear of ruining your friendship. You knew deep down that if Charles would just give you a chance, you could make him the happiest man on earth. But you guarded your heart, afraid of the consequences of revealing your love for him. Despite it all, your unwavering loyalty and devotion to each other remained constant, a shining beacon amidst the turbulent waters of young love and friendship.
So you stood in the garage anxiously as the five red lights went out and the race in Monaco began. Charles had earned pole, so everyone hoped he could stay first for the whole race. As the cars roared by, the tension in the air grew thicker. It was a difficult circuit for overtaking, and some spectators complained about the lack of action. But for Charles and his team, every second counted as they strategized and hoped he could maintain his lead until the end of the race.
Even with the little action of the race, your body was riddled with nerves the whole time. You knew that Ferrari was not making any plans for a pit stop, as the two McLarens behind them were too close to Charles. You had faith that Charles could manage his tires well, but with 78 laps of racing, anything could happen.
As Charles completed his 50th lap, he expertly maneuvered around the track, his car gliding gracefully through the turns. With calculated precision, he would occasionally slow down, causing the pack of cars behind him to bunch up. You could feel the tension and intensity in the air as you watched from the sidelines. Having been in races yourself, you knew that at this point in the race, the tires were wearing severely and it was crucial to maintain control and avoid a mistake with the worn front tires. The smell of burning rubber permeated the atmosphere, adding to the adrenaline and excitement of the moment.
You clasped your hands, ignoring the cameras that would occasionally show your face on the big screen. Your crash and subsequent retirement from racing made massive media news, and your name was always brought up alongside Charles’s years later.
It was lap 65, and Charles’s first win at Monaco was becoming more and more of a reality. You placed your head in your hands, refusing to believe that something that both of you had dreamed of for years might actually be real. At lap 70, a radio message from Charles popped up on the screen, “Tell Y/N that I’m bringing it home.”
Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of overwhelming pride and joy. For years, you had witnessed firsthand the dedication and tireless efforts that your partner had put into his career in Formula One racing. The term "curse" had been thrown around by critics and skeptics, blaming your own past accident for his string of bad luck on the track. But in this moment, as he crossed the finish line with the checkered flag waving triumphantly above him, you knew that there was no curse to blame. It was his unwavering determination and relentless hard work that brought him to this victorious moment.
You could hear Charles's exuberant cries through the radio, his voice crackling with emotion and adrenaline. As someone who had experienced the thrill of winning an F1 race, you understood the magnitude of this achievement for him, far beyond what anyone else could comprehend. This win was pure euphoria, a testament to his unwavering passion and perseverance.
~
As you stood pressed against the cool metal barrier, your eyes were fixed on him standing tall and triumphant on the podium. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heart beating in your chest as he caught your eye. A wide grin spread across his face, his eyes shining with excitement and pride. Despite the chaos around them, the two of you kept a steady gaze locked on each other throughout the celebration. And just before the three drivers uncorked their bottles of champagne and sprayed it everywhere, Charles blew you a kiss in admiration, making your heart skip a beat. It was a moment frozen in time, one that you would never forget as long as you lived.
You stayed in the paddock as Charles did post race interviews, just waiting until you could see him and give him the biggest embrace. You listened to his interviews, smiling to yourself over his sheer happiness and gratitude. While answering one question, your name was mentioned. “This win means more to me than any other win for sure, but it is not just mine. I have to share this win with Y/N, we’ve always dreamt of this moment for each other and this win is just as much hers as it is mine.”
Tears of joy blurred your vision as you heard the endearing words spill from his mouth. As he finally returned to the paddock, you couldn't contain your excitement and ran up to him, throwing your arms around his broad neck. He lifted you up with ease, spinning you around in a blur of laughter and exhilaration. "We did it! We really did it!" His voice rang out triumphantly, echoing through the room.
"I'm so proud of you," you choked out, your voice trembling with emotion.
His hand cupped your face gently, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a momentary pause as he seemed to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "I couldn't have done it without you," he said earnestly. "And I want you to know...I love you.”
You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. The two of you had always been close best friends, and saying "I love you" was a common occurrence between the two of you. But this time, there was something different in the way he said it.
"I know you do, Charles," you replied, a small smile still on your lips.
Shaking his head, he spoke softly, for only the two of you to hear. "No," he said, his words filled with determination. "I mean it. I love you." Your smile slowly faded as his words sank in. This wasn't just a platonic declaration of affection - this was something more, something deeper.
"I told myself that if I won this race, I would finally tell you how I truly feel," he continued, his voice trembling slightly. "And I meant every word of it. I love you." Your heart swelled with emotions as his words washed over you, and your lips parted in shock. In that moment, surrounded by nothing but each other's presence and the sound of your beating hearts, everything changed between the two of you. And as his hand slipped into yours, you knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful and true.
As a small smile spread across your face, you replied in a soft, breathless voice, “I love you too, I always have.” A surge of emotions flooded through you, almost overwhelming in their intensity.
His grin seemed bigger than it was when he was on the podium, his eyes shining with pure joy. “Since I won, can I kiss you now?”
You eagerly nodded, feeling your heart race as his lips met yours. In this moment, all the stresses and worries of the past weeks seemed to melt away. It was just you and Charles, finally together after so many obstacles and challenges. The realization that he was now yours and you were his filled you with a sense of contentment and happiness like never before. You held onto him tightly, basking in the warmth and love that radiated from both of you.
#formula 1#formula one#f1 x reader#formula one fanfic#f1 fanfic#f1#f1 fic#f1 imagine#charles leclerc#monaco finally loved you back charles#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charlesleclerc#monaco gp 2024#monaco grand prix#monaco24#monaco 2024
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I did write a similar piece after man city got knocked out of Champions league. (Link below)
Could do something different? How about you being a United fan. You lost last years fa cup and he made fun of you. Revenge type ting 😂
NOW THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!! 🙌🔥
Ruben Dias x Reader - Sweet Revenge
+18
* minors get tf out!
Enjoy!
Who knew that Ruben was a sore loser? What a discovery, you thought. Despite Man City's triumph I the Prmeier League, he couldn't quite get over their lost to United in the FA Cup. You'd wake up at night hearing him mutter in his sleep. "At Wembley...Can't believe that they got us at Wembley..."
Eventually, Ruben would roll over and go back to bed, but as his girlfriend, his behavior was a tad concerning. However....as a United fan, what a glorious time to be alive.
"It hurts, doesn't it?"
You joined Ruben in the living room. It's where he spent most of his current days post-season, in front of the TV, contemplating his life decisions.
"What?" He hissed, eyeing you like you had just insulted his entire family. Just your presence would spite him these days, knowing damn well that his girlfriend was a Man United fan. If he wasn't madly in love with you, he would have shown you the door right after the Cup final.
"I dunno?" You shrugged. "Losing for once? It hurts, doesn't it?"
"You're having a laugh about it, aren't you? You and your United friends."
"Hey, all I'm saying is that all is fair in love and football."
"All is fair, huh?"
"Yes." You grinned.
"Are you willing to put your words where your mouth is."
"Erm...pardon?" Your eyes widened as Ruben stood from the couch, draping his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
"Ruben, what are you...."
"City lost, Man United won." He stated. "We had a bet."
"So?"
"So? Wasn't the bet that the winner gets a wish?"
You smiled. "And you really believe that my wish would be for you to fuck me?"
"What was it then?"
Your smile widened, realizing your power. Ruben was really annoyed, wanting for the subject to be dropped as soon as possible so that he could move on with his life and the game. However, you had another plan in mind.
"You've got to be kidding me?" Ruben said after you left the living room only to return with your favorite Manchester United Jersey.
"Unfortunately, not baby, you made me do it last year, I'm making you do it now."
"But I can't wear that. It won't fit me."
You admit that the jersey would be a bit tight on him, considering that it was almost your size. However, it would add to the sweet revenge.
"It's not my fault your team lost. A bet is a bet baby, suit up."
You didn't know what was funnier. Walking hand in hand into your favorite sports bar with Ruben wearing your United jersey, or the fact that the number behind it was the number five, "Maguire." All you know is that it was a torture for Ruben being forced to celebrate with your friends who were all United fans. A torture for him and hilarious for you.
"What. A. Shit. Night." Ruben said, quick to tugg off your shirt once you returned to the apartment.
"Ah, ah, Ruby. Not so fast."
"What do you mean? I did the bet. Now the bet is over."
"You did half the bet. Remember last year?"
He frowned. "What happened last year?"
"Don't make me spell it out for you." You said, hands on your hips. Nevertheless, Ruben looked lost. You had to help him out.
"What did you make me do once we got back from the bar of your choice last year?"
The dent between his brow grew deeper.
"Sex Ruben, we had sex."
His expression mellowed. "Y/N, I never made you have sex with me."
"Not sex, no. I wanted that."
His sigh of relief made you smile.
"What then, what did I make you..." It all came to him in a flash. A terrible flash, once he realized what it meant for him. "No." He shook his head. "Y/N, please, no."
"Oh, yes." You approached him slowly.
Ruben backed away. "Not with the shirt on. Please don't make me wear the shirt during."
You grabbed its collar, pulling him down for a kiss. "I'm sorry, Ruben, a bet is a bet."
You back him up until he slumped down on the couch. You stepped out of your shorts and got on top of him, bending down to kiss him.
"Y/N, please..." He moaned, enjoying the sensation of your lips tracing down his neck. "I'm not gonna be able to...."
"What?" You moved on to kiss his lips, making it harder for him to speak as his hands were on your hips, slowing down your grinding against his cock.
"Y/N." Ruben put a hand to your chest, preventing any more kisses. He looked serious.
"What?" You giggled.
"I won't be able to get hard wearing this shirt. Not with another man's name on my back."
"Wanna bet?"
"I'm serious Y/N, nothing is gonna work unless I take it off."
"Right."
You slid down Ruben's body, centering yourself over his shorts. You draped them down along with his underwear, revealing his slack penis.
"See." Ruben said, popping himself up on his elbows, looking down at his unresponsive dick.
"He just needs a little love." You said, bending down to kiss the tip of it. There was some movement as you did, giving you hope for the future.
"He?" Ruben said.
You looked up to catch his smile.
"You called my penis a he?"
"Is he not?"
"It's not right to assume once gender you know."
You rolled your eyes.
"Yes, I guess my dick is a he."
You inspected it curiously. It was usually alive and well during other times you would meet. Seeing it so small, so sad, was upsetting yet fascinating at the same time.
"I think he needs a name."
"Yeah?"
You nodded. "Something suiting and aspiring."
"How about Roberto?"
"No, that an old man's name."
"Okay, what about..."
"Maguire!"
Ruben's eyes widened in terror.
"That's it, let's name him Maguire. It's very suitable."
"You're out of your mind. I'm not naming my dick after another player, especially not Harry Maguire."
You laughed, watching Ruben's face turn bright red.
"And another thing...."
You yelped as he pushed you off him only to roll over and lay on top of you. "I refuse to fuck my girlfriend wearing a United shirt." He pulled it off of him, tossing it over you heads.
"Well, I guess that means you're not fucking me at all."
"Not so fast."
You made the gesture to rise from the couch. However, Ruben's weight managed to pin you down, his voice deep in your ear. "Are you just gonna leave me like this, rock hard and lonely?"
You gasped, feeling how he suddenly came to life, his erection poking you in the stomach.
"Ruben, I'm not..."
"Yes or no, Y/N...." He whispered against your skin, pressing his soft lips against your naked collarbone bone. "Either you fuck me or you don't, the choice is yours."
"I hate you." You muttered.
He chuckled and resumed to undress you, draping your shirt over your head to reveal your swollen breasts. Ruben took one in his mouth like man deprived of food, sucking on them to a point when they became sore and sensitive to all touch.
It was a sweet revenge while it lasted. At least you had that. Perhaps the plan would have been more effective if you weren't so damn in love.
The End.
#fanfiction#football imagine#ruben dias#footballer x reader#man city#footballer imagine#manchester city#football angst#ruben dias x reader#ruben dias imagine#manchester utd#manchester united
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It's here after many weeks, the 10k one-shot to celebrate 200 followers, but I suppose it's also to celebrate 300 followers as well! I meant for 300 to be a different celebration but that's okay! I'm sure I'll make something else for the next milestone!
Requested Tags: @dutifullylazybread @heytheresunflower @barbwillbrb
Rolan/GN!Tav
I Shouldn't Love You Like You Are Mine
Rolan has too much to do with so little time. Becoming the new Master of Ramazith's tower is proving more complicated than the wizard have ever thought. On top of it all, he has a deep infatuation with Tav, the hero who saved him and his family many times. He knows he has no chance with them, so he has settled on hopelessly pining and dreaming. One day, Tav rushes into the shop in a panic, and he could have never in his wildest fantasies expect what they request of him.
Word Count: 10k (Don't like Tumblr? Read on AO3 instead!)
Relevant Tags: Rolan's POV, Makeout Diversion, Smut, Lorroakan Bashing
Beta Reader: @el-tur-el (Thank you so much for your help T!!!)
NSFW under cut, Minors DNI
The air is stale, the scent of electricity still strong in the space that surrounds him, the taste of blood on his tongue from when his sharp teeth gashed the inside of his mouth. He's sore, bruised, burned, somewhat electrocuted by the way some of his muscles spasm still, but he's alive. Tav is long gone with their companions, and all that is left is him and a dead man.
When staring down at the body of his spine-broken master, Rolan is not sure of how he's supposed to feel. At first, he felt a genuine joy that he had not felt in many years. The adrenaline was still high at the time, and he proudly remarked that he would turn the tower inside out to find its secrets and share them with the world. He always has been ambitious, that is what got him this far, after all. Tav seems happy for him, and he ignores how it made his heart pound even more.
As he stands alone in the room, he questions whether he's supposed to feel something now that the joy has faded within the span of minutes. Some kind of liberation? Or perhaps his emotions are fighting each other in his psyche, making him feel everything and nothing all at once. The man who tortured him, who beat him like he was a misbehaving dog he didn't even want, who refused to teach him anything about wielding the weave, lays dead by his feet. He can't help but think that he looks pathetic now, face twisted in permanent fear even after death.
He spits on his face as a final 'fuck you'. He hopes he rots in the deepest pits of the hells that he was once dragged to.
Running his stiff hands down his face, he tries to think of what to do first. He has to get rid of this body, it can't stay here lying around. It will decay and stink more than Lorroakan already has. Grabbing a fistful of the dead man's hair, he drags his body towards the balcony. He could throw his body over the railing, it would be insult to injury, but no. He will do something much worse.
He digs into the stray backpack at the edge of the railing and takes out a disintegration scroll, one that he knew Lorroakan hid out here as a backup plan in case a fight doesn't go his way. Without thinking too much on it, he casts the spell on the body, and Lorroakan disappears into ash.
His former teacher was now erased, made into nothing, and no one will remember or miss him. A fate worse than death, in Rolan's opinion.
Almost numbly, he heads back inside the main room and tries to find cleaning supplies. There's so much blood on the floor, and it did not help he made a trail while dragging the body. He wishes Tav was still here so he could demand they clean their mess up, where he wouldn't notice his tail flicking back and forth in irritation. Would they bother listening to him? Maybe not, but at least they would be there, just a little longer. Just enough time for him to pine once more.
Lia is right, he's a very selfish creature.
A couple of mage hands bring a bucket of water and an unused mop over. He is taken aback, as he thought they would have disappeared in Lorroakan's absence. Although, these could have been Ramazith's, wherever that wizard is now. It doesn't matter, either way. They're his now.
He dunks the mop into the water and starts swiping across the floor, noticing how as he cleans, the white cloth of the strands turn red. There's so much godsdamned blood, it will take him forever to clear the mess. There's a lot of blood on him, too. Specks and splatters of blood paint his hands crimson, long dried onto his red skin. His mentor's blood. Lorroakan's blood.
He helped murder a man, today. He killed someone. His blood is on his hands as much as it may be on the Nightsong's. Or Tav's.
An unsuspected shudder runs through his body, and he feels sick. He chalks it up to his adrenaline rush going down too quickly, ignoring the feeling as he swipes the mop across the floor.
The hairs on his neck stand on end as he feels the crackle of the weave, warning him someone is coming through the portal. Part of him hopes it would be Tav; he wants to talk to them again. Maybe they can help him with the cleanup, laughing about how they left him here without realizing it. He would stumble over his words like a fool, trying to be impressive in his pathetic state.
It's not Tav that arrives though, he recognizes Lia's quick footsteps anywhere. She's always been the fastest between him and Cal; they both could never beat her in a race, but he swears he lets her win.
"Rolan!" She shouts, quickly coming up to him along with Cal, whose heavier footsteps are right behind hers. "Finally! You kept talking up this tower and now we get to see it-"
"Wait, is that blood?" Cal immediately interrupts, face falling.
He must look horrendous, Rolan realizes. He got so busy cleaning the floor that he didn't even bother washing up first. Based on when he looked at himself that morning, the bruises should still be very prominent. Shit.
Lia bristles when she cups his face, looking at his injuries. "What is this?"
The silence that falls between them is telling. He knows she figured it out a long time ago, but she wants to hear him say it. "I'm fine, Lia. He was a horrible mentor, but it's not my blood on the ground."
"Tav told us they helped you kick his ass." Cal comments, trying to lighten their moods, "Looks like you did just that if this blood isn't yours."
"You should've killed him earlier, idiot!" She spits.
"I know, I know." He mutters, trying to speak even as Lia turns his face around to see the damage. "It's good to see you two."
"We missed you, brother," Cal says, gently moving Lia away and hugging him. "Please don't do that again. It was hard, without you."
Rolan lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding, hugging Cal tightly. Lia joins in quickly after. When was the last time they held each other like this? He doesn't remember.
It feels nice.
While it doesn't last long, it is more than satisfactory for him. They help him with the clean up, Lia helping with the blood while Cal sweeps the floor with a broom. They take on more workload than Rolan wants, but he can't argue with them when they practically plead for him to rest. To be honest, he's unbelievably sore, and maybe sitting down for a bit wouldn't hurt.
It only takes his body a few minutes until it's antsy again, so he joins them quickly after.
And then he never stops moving.
He cleans, reorganizes, and keeps walking despite his beaten body screaming at him to stop. He can't stop, because if he does, he knows he will not want to get back up. He'll crash, and he can't afford that.
At the end of it all, he enters Lorroakan's room without thinking and is frozen in place. He's been in here before, but never for good reasons, only beatings. Is this not his room now that the original master is gone? But it reeks of his old mentors stench. He scrunches his nose as he looks at all the personalized decorations. They're hideous, all of the colors too bright to stare at, and most not matching with each other in terms of palette. There's not even a real theme and it makes him irate.
He remembers being beaten on this very floor for messing up a verbal component.
Enraged, he marches up to the bed and tears off the sheets, making a point to dig his claws into them so they would rip. The pillows are next, tossing them across the room and onto the floor. He'll need to replace every damn thing if he wants to use this bed. To use this room.
Unwanted memories start to flood into his mind as he tears the place apart, most of them being on the ground, where Lorroakan said he belonged. Beaten, burned, electrocuted, sometimes poisoned. A place where he was at his most pathetic. He often has nightmares about those late nights, but some of the worst ones were Tav walking in and seeing him like that, utterly broken on floor. They would never see him the same, and he doesn't know whether he prefers them to be disgusted by him or to feel pity.
He's close to a breakdown, having trouble getting air into his lungs before Cal and Lia comes in. "Rolan?"
With a slow sigh, he turns to look at them. "Why are you two up?"
Lia's eyes trail around the destroyed room, seeming to note the claw marks on the bed sheets discarded on the carpet. "Couldn't sleep." She says simply, giving a knowing look.
"Can we sleep with you?" Cal asks, rubbing the back of his neck, "Like when we were kids? Just for one night."
His jaw moves to start a pointless argument, but then snaps shut. They're both not children anymore, they can sleep by themselves. He can sleep by himself. However, he cannot deny that he craves the affection it would bring. He hasn't been this long without them, no matter how much he complained about them being clingy before.
"All right." He says quietly after taking a deep breath, "Not in here, though. Come."
He quietly leads them to the comparatively bland room Lorroakan gave him in Sorcerous Sundries. It isn't terrible, but he realizes that the bed is way too small for the three of them. Thankfully, he had a remedy. He adjusts an enlarge spell and makes the bed wider, and they all settle down on top of it easily.
Lia makes him stay in the middle while she settles on his right side, Cal climbing over carefully to lay on his left. Honestly, he misses having them so close.
"Rolan?" Cal speaks up as Lia pulls up the blanket.
"Hm?"
"Can you make a light show for a little bit?"
Rolan can't help but smile, slowly closing his eyes before opening them up again and raising his hands. "Any requests?"
"Make it look like flowers blooming." Lia says instantly, draping an arm around his middle.
He huffs before murmuring a few words, a burst of colors appearing in the air. Like asked, they take form of flowers blooming, petals falling near them gently. It's gorgeous.
It fades after a minute though, the exhaustion finally catching up to him as he falls asleep. If Cal and Lia were bothered by it not lasting, they don’t say a word.
For the first time in years, his night is not plagued by nightmares.
---
As soon as he wakes, Rolan does not stop moving.
He's the new master of Ramazith's tower, there is so much to do with so little time. The Absolute's army is on its way and he needs to gather everything he can to protect his siblings, and to protect Tav.
Tav doesn't need protecting, he knows that all too well, but he needs to do something. Anything at all. He needs to prepare the arcane cannon, but there is so much research to be done. On top of it all, he wants to be able to focus on his studies, but then run a shop at the same time.
He barely eats the toasted bread he haphazardly made for himself, too distracted by the logs Lorroakan left behind. There's so many customers he needs to take care of, including deliveries. Maybe he could repurpose the animated armor to make the deliveries, but that could be shaky as they're unstable. Well, Lorroakan's magic was always weakly done...he could rework the sigils. He'll have to rework everything in this place, actually.
Gods, everything is such a fucking mess. He knows he needs help, but respectfully, he wants everything a certain way and his siblings won't be able to give him what he wants. Tav would be able to understand-
He stops reading, surprising himself with his thought. Tav? Why would he think Tav would know how he likes things? It's ridiculous. But he can imagine it, them carrying books around with whatever means and placing them in alphabetical order, then by subject. They would tease him about being so stingy with what books go where on the bookshelf.
And they would laugh. Not quite at him, but laugh nonetheless. It's such a perfect sound in his ears, and the thought of it makes the tip of his tail flick about. Damn it all!
He's been thinking about them a lot, unfortunately. Ever since the Shadow Cursed Lands, where they succeeded in saving his siblings where he could not, an infatuation began to settle in his heart. He had half the mind to possibly confess, but immediately pushed it out of his mind. There was no possible way they would feel the same. He's too bitter, too arrogant, and he saw the way they looked at Gale, someone who is much more accomplished than he is. It is a fondness that he never received once in his life, and certainly not by them. He was jealous of it, but jealousy is an ugly little trait to have, so he gave up on dwelling.
The feelings never went away, no matter how much he wants them too.
He wants to say more to them, especially after they saved his sorry tail again during the fight up in the tower. They left before he could, he was too dazed staring at the mess the Nightsong made of his former master. He regrets being too out of it to say anything proper.
What would he have told them anyways? He doubts anything worthwhile. Probably a weak apology and an even weaker attempt to express his feelings. In the end, they would reject him, no doubt. He messed up too many times, back in the Shadow Cursed Lands, even if they accepted his apology for lashing out.
So he continues on and tries to forget, organizing the scrolls at the front counter of Sorcerous Sundries. His nose scrunches in irritation at the disorganization of it all. Was Lorroakan always like this? They aren't even categorized in the right sections, its horrendous. Diabolical. A sin on this shop.
Frustration straining his brow, he lays them flat on the counter to decipher where they should go, ignoring the ache that sits subtly in his bones. He hasn't had the chance to heal himself, so the bruises are still very prominent. It doesn't matter, he can take care of it later.
He knows deep in his heart that later will never come.
In the middle of his thought, one of the front doors burst open. Someone runs in and...well, he doesn't recognize them, but he does see the illusion aura that surrounds their figure. He's about to yell at them about their audacity, but their disguise instantly fades when they close.
It's Tav, in all of their wonderful glory.
"Tav?" He asks dumbly as they rush the to the counter.
They urgently hop over the counter and grab his wrist, and he actively has to suppress a wince by the force. "I need help. Hurry!"
Without a chance of responding, they drag him along towards one of the rooms along the side of the shop. They practically throw him in there.
The door slam briefly echoes in the room, and he barely has time to react before the back of his thighs meet the desk inside. He hisses, the bruises still fresh, “What in the hells are you doing?”
“I need a diversion. I was disguised but the Flaming Fist followed me.” They state, starting to open up the front of their tunic to make a mess. “Let me kiss you.”
He hates how the tip of his tail stands at attention, and thank the gods they don’t notice it. “What.”
“We’re kissing. Now. Just-“ They groan, loosening their shirt more to make themselves look like a mess. “-I need to make it look like I was busy. Rolan, please?”
He should say no. Everything is screaming at him to say no. But he is a weak man, and he’s dreamed that he could have them in his arms. Or be in their arms, it didn’t matter to him.
As soon as he gives a nod, they grab the front of his collar and pull him in, kiss searing. It takes everything in his being not to moan at the contact, especially when they loosen his hair properly to make it fall past his ears. They don’t touch them, much to his relief.
Pretending to put on the same act as them, he presses into them enthusiastically, letting their tongue in when it pries at his teeth. He fell out of control so quickly that he doesn’t know how to pick himself back up. He had half the mind to let them have their way with him. Blood rushes down south when their hand slides up his clothed stomach, sweat beading on the back of his neck as the muscles tense and quiver. Their touch was firm, demanding, and the voice in his head screams at him to not deny them for a moment. How long has he been waiting for something like this to happen?
Before he could panic about his dick twitching in interest at their ministrations, the door flies open. It startles Tav enough to where they bite his lip on accident, making him jolt.
A group of Flaming Fist freeze at the door, taking in the scene before them.
Rolan reacts quickly with his typical sneer, sitting up straighter and trying to ignore Tav being between his legs. “Do you mind?”
“Well, sir-“ One starts but the other, a commander most likely, cuts them off.
“There’s a suspected thief that we believe ran into here.”
“So you decided to almost break down one of my doors?” He questions, making a show of magic to fix his hair up. Tav moves away with their arms crossed in front of their chest, looking annoyed.
“We apologize, sir, but this thief is-“
"Excuse me?" Tav states, putting on an offended face. "How dare you! I am not a thief! I've been in this shop for a while now, unless you are accusing me of stealing from here?"
Rolan comes in before the Commander starts to retort. “My partner, no, my associate could not have been a ‘thief’ as they have been here with me for the past fifteen minutes. And this chase happened how long ago now?”
One of the other Flaming Fists glances up at the clock in the room. “…Five minutes.“
The man to their right smacks them upside the head.
“And what did they look like?” Rolan continues.
“A pale half-orc, short hair with a blue blouse, but-“
He raises a hand to silence them, as if they were misbehaving children. “Then I believe we are done here, as my associate is wearing nothing of the sort and does not look like what you described. Now, unless you are here to buy something or set a donation for the rebuilding fund of the shop, you will kindly leave the premises of Sorcerous Sundries this instant. I expect a formal apology by the end of this week.”
In all honesty, it's funny how lost these Flaming Fist look. They seem unsure of what to do. As Tav scoffs and looks away, it seems as though they're trying not to laugh. He has to fight the smile that's teasing the corners of his mouth, staring at all the blustering Fists as they figure out what to do. Reluctantly, frustrated and angry, they exit out of the office and leave the shop with their tail in between their legs.
He brushes himself off when the heat dies down, finally able to compose himself. “What the hells were you doing? Are you mad?!”
They finally let out the laugh they were holding, straightening themselves out. “I blew up a Fireworks shop. An Absolute Cultist was running it! Who knew? To answer your second question, maybe a little bit. It's been a tough day.”
"And you thought you could just run in here while I was working? Making the Flaming Fist dirty my floors after I just had Cal clean it?!"
"I'm sorry Rolan, I panicked. I wasn't thinking." They say, seeming genuinely apologetic.
He could barely focus, mind still catching up with the events. Is he truly this easy? All they had to do was demand a kiss and he would follow them, like a lovesick puppy? He's ashamed of himself, and he didn't even notice them speaking again.
"Rolan?"
"What?"
"How are you?" They ask sincerely.
He straightens himself up and gets back into his usual facade. "I am well enough. This shop and the tower is a horrid mess, so I've already been spending time reorganizing the texts. Lorroakan barely knew his alphabet. They were not even organized by subject!"
They laugh at that, and gods, the sound makes his heart pound, but afterwards they frown at him, eyes scanning to his face. "You're still bruised."
"I haven't had the time to take care of them. There is too much to do."
They dig into their pack and hold out what he recognizes as a superior healing potion. "Here. If you're going to work, at least heal up. Did I hurt you earlier?"
He slowly takes it, perplexed, "It is nothing I can't handle."
"I'm sorry." They murmur.
"I appreciate your apology, and I forgive you." He states, uncorking the bottle and drinking down the potion.
Instantly, the deep set ache and soreness of his form fades to something less painful. Its like a warm hug, and he feels energized.
They give him a soft set smile as he places the bottle down on the desk. "You look a lot better."
Gods, if he could, he would crush the fluttering feeling the compliment gave him. "Excuse you, I always look better. Now, besides that whole mess that you created, was there anything else you needed from me?”
"I want to make purchases...and barter?" They squeak out.
He sighs heavily, opening the door back up for them, "Of course you do. All right, what do you have for trade then?"
They head out to the counter with a skip to their step. "I promise it's worth it!"
---
Tav ended up having plenty of things to trade, including heavy set armor, rings, and magic items they don't need anymore. Thankfully not all fortune is lost, as they give some coin for high level spell scrolls. A Globe of Invulnerability...how interesting. He knows they are out and about adventuring, but what would they need that kind of spell for? How do they even have the gold to afford it??
They were out the door before he can ask them, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere. "Thank you Rolan!"
A little defeated, he continues on with the rest of his day. Organizing, organizing, and even more organizing. This place is such a shit show, it will take him ages before everything is how he wants it to be. Cal always teased him about having his socks color coded in his drawers.
He plops onto a fresh bed at the end of the day. This was Lorroakan's bed, but Cal and Lia helped him out with cleaning the room. New mattress, new sheets, new blankets, and even new pillows. They tore down the hideous tapestries and paintings he had, and he plans to change the wall into a new color. He still needs to personalize the room to how he likes, but now it was his. No trace of Lorroakan is found here. He idly wonders how Tav decorated their room, or if they have a home to go back to. They're still a mystery to him.
As he lays there, staring at the patterned ceiling, he finds it strange he has a room to himself. It's nice, and he's never had more privacy than now. Sometimes Lorroakan entered in his room at odd hours to start a lesson at his leisure. If he wasn't a light sleeper before, he is now due to the man's random visits. Now here he is, laying his bed, with his nights uninterrupted for the most part.
He has privacy.
...He’s pent up, isn’t he?
Through all the beatings and stress, he never took time to himself and get off. He was worried about getting caught by his mentor. On top of it all, he was too exhausted and hurt to even do much for himself, some nights barely having energy to bathe. But now…
With a sigh, he summons a mage hand to grab a book for him. When was the last time he read a smut book? Half a year, maybe more? Even then, he wouldn’t indulge too much as he never had a lot of privacy. With this large bedroom, the walls being silenced, and the time he now has, he will indulge for a little bit. For one night.
As he reads, there’s not much to go off. This one is poorly written, but he can at least give himself an idea. His mind sketches out a neutral form, no identifying…parts, yet. He’s indecisive, but he’s sure he’ll come up with someone satisfactory for the night.
Usually, his fantasies contain anonymous people with no face, or they wear a mask. It’s less embarrassing than thinking of someone directly. Sometimes they take him from behind, pinning the back of his neck to a table while they rail into him. Others he has someone under him, thrusting into them and littering bites on their neck.
For now, he imagines a person of no specific gender yet, holding him close in a crushing grip and devouring his mouth. It leaves him no room to breathe as he’s pinned to the wall, their thigh between his legs pressing up against his growing erection. Heat gathers south embarrassingly quickly, the tent of his pants tightening. What is Tav like in bed?
As soon as that question pops into his head, the blank person he tried to fantasize about turns into Tav. It shocks him how vivid it is, and he immediately sits up, book falling flat on the mattress as he drops it. No no no, absolutely not. They’re a friend.
A friend who pulled him in by the collar to kissed him with reckless abandon. A friend that was ready to pin him down on his desk. A friend who stroked a finger along his jaw to help him relax into their mouth.
Hells.
His fingers trail down his stomach and into his trousers, taking himself in hand. What’s the harm of indulging in this? They kissed, after all. All of their wonderful features are fresh in his mind. As he teases the underside of his shaft, he imagined it was their hand instead of his own. Precum was already beading at the tip, and he uses it to slick up his cock. He still feels their hands on him, pressing and demanding. He wonders what they would’ve done if they had more time. Are they gentle or rough when they stroke? He’s not sure whether he prefers one or the other yet.
None of this would happen, they have many suitors at their disposal. But damn it all, he could dream that they chose him, in the end.
Gods.
He covers his mouth tightly with his free hand, almost painfully as he thrusts up into his other one. This room is covered in silencing sigils, it’s not like anyone would hear him from the outside, but even he doesn’t want to hear his shameful sounds.
He feverishly switches to a different fantasy, this one containing Tav once more, though this time he isn’t complaining.
They’re both deep in the woods, away from the Tiefling party. They saved them all from the goblins, they deserved some compensation, did they not? Tav is pressed against his back, one hand putting two fingers in his mouth, rolling the muscle of his tongue between them while the other jacks him off. He’s utterly helpless, Tav taking control of his pleasure for him in the best ways as he helplessly grips the bark of a tree. They would tell him how good he was, how much they wanted him, how lovely his moans were. That he was handsome, strong, and worthy.
That they loved him-
Strings of white decorate his stomach, his climax coming with a stuttered gasp. It came more quickly than he thought it would, and his body spasms with how intense it is. The cry that climbs up his throat stops short by his hand.
He massages himself through it, feeling dazed and utterly pathetic. How dare he think about Tav in this way, as if they were an object for his pleasure? They’re not his, and he’s not theirs, no matter how much he wants to be. What would they say if they saw him like this, desperate and lustful even after his orgasm?
Gods, he wants them so badly, and he knows he can never have them.
Catching his breath, he feels disgusting. Filthy. He shouldn't think of them at all, he hasn't earned that right to them. It's pitiful.
To remedy his sin, he gets out of his bed and heads to the washroom. It's grand in comparison to his lowly basin in the shop, and he's unsure where to start now that he has access to it. Firstly, he takes out a Create Water spell scroll and casts it, filling the entire tub with water. He then modifies the Produce Flame spell to heat up the water. That will do for now, he'll figure out how to make the process a lot quicker later.
He takes off his soiled nightwear, stepping into the water with a slight hiss. All right, maybe he made it a little too hot, but it's nothing he can't handle. Lorroakan has burned him worse. As soon as he gets to the hip line, he pours lavender oil into the steaming water and sinks in completely. He's heard of the scent being beneficial for sleep, mostly from Tav. He wonders if they are an herbalist- no, no, he isn't supposed to be thinking about them.
Emptying his mind is proving harder than he thought. No thanks to his previous transgression, Tav's face plagued him. Questions pop up without him wanting them to: how does Tav look when flustered? Are they experienced with intimacy? Do they like pain? Are they sweet? What is their perfect date? How do they show their love-
He dunks himself fully into the water before the thought could finish, and he feels the sting of the hot water against his face as he sits under the surface. Finally, his mind is silent, so he holds his breath as long as he could. It's oddly soothing, just being alone under the water. A perfect escape to everything around him. He may just have to do this more often.
Unfortunately, he has not done any training to hold his breath, so he has to come up for air within thirty seconds. Perhaps he should practice, but that's for another time.
Now that his hair was thoroughly wet, he begins washing and conditioning his hair, giving himself a scalp massage while he was at it. He didn't trust the mage hands to do it for him. They were floating in the corner, waiting for a command. Can mage hands pout? It feels as though that's exactly what they're doing. Why are they so eager to help anyways? He should dismiss them when he has the time.
After dunking under the water again to wash out all the products, he exits the bath carefully, using Prestidigitation to instantly dry himself. Ah, what would he do if he didn't have that spell on hand? It is incredibly convenient. Can Tav use magic for mundane tasks?
He pauses as he slides on a robe. Gods damn it, it's happening again! That didn't last too fucking long, now did it?
With a groan, he marches back into the bedroom and towards the balcony, pushing the doors open. The night hair hits him immediately, sending a brief chill through him before calming. With a heavy sigh, he goes to the railing and leans against it, watching the silent city of Baldur's Gate. The lanterns have long burned out, and the stars are blooming above him, but he can't relax. He's desperate for Tav, and it's pitiful.
Pressing his forehead on the cold stone, he realizes what a miserable, selfish, wretched creature he is. After all of those things, he's somehow still hopeful. Why else would they kiss him like that? Is he reading too much into this?
Though, perhaps, instead of dwelling on unwanted thoughts, he should just let them go. Lia always did say he thinks too much. Cal mentioned it could be quite damaging on one's psyche.
So he lets the thoughts flow. All of the domestic ones and all of the lustful ones, too. He flickers through memories of he and Tav's interactions, thinking of what could have been and where he went wrong. The shouting, the aggression, the drinking. Gods, the drinking. He hasn't touched wine in a while because of it.
Then he lets it all go.
He raises his head, taking a deep, long breath of the fresh night air. He's in Baldur's Gate. They all made it. The Absolute's army is about to knock on their door, but just for tonight, at least in this moment, he's calm. He's okay.
Maybe he'll be okay later, too.
After an hour, he makes it to his bed and lulls himself to sleep, pulling up the thickest parts of the blanket to hold. It manages to lull him to sleep. A success, in Rolan's tired mind.
There's so much to do with so little time.
---
A tenday has passed and Tav has not returned.
It's for the best that they don't come, as they continuously plague Rolan's mind. He can't stop thinking about them, no matter how much he distracts himself. Most of them are lustful and depraved, some of which make him feel utterly ashamed. He has no right to think of them in this way.
Though, it's the other thoughts that confuse him the most.
They're domestically blissful. He imagines waking up in bed with them, nuzzling into their hair as they convince him to stay a few more moments. He imagines dates, lacing his fingers through theirs while telling them how stunning they are. He imagines it's their body that he pulls close late at night, and not a spare pillow he squeezes to his chest.
He hates these thoughts more than most, as it makes him silently grieve what could've been if he weren't such an arrogant prick. What if he was nicer to them when they first met? Would they have approached him a third time at the party and invite him to their tent? Embarrassingly, he's been losing more sleep than usual over the what if's, and it's making him sloppy with his work. Papers were scattered, he keeps losing his books, and ink stains have been appearing on his robes more and more lately. Unacceptable.
Is he truly this pathetic, losing sleep over domestic thoughts with someone unreachable? Is he that lonely? Does he crave company that badly? It is a wizard's curse, surely.
He thought he got over this, but it seems he needs more than one night to 'let go' of them. Damn it all, why can't this be easier?
He shakes his head, regaining his focus of the task at hand. Rearranging the scrolls once more, he stands onto his feet again and brushes the dust off of his robe. He proudly places his hands on his hips. Finally, after so many days, he has the counter exactly how he wants it. Everything is organized, not a speck of dust in sight, all of it is beautifully-
One of the doors slam open again by a gust of wind, and rage fills him to the core. Why, oh why are the gods so against him? Now there's dirt of the floor, he just made Krank sweep it all out!
The anger disappears instantaneously when he sees Tav rush through the door, sweat beading on their brow and their face flushes from exertion. Extremely similar to how they appeared last time-
Oh no.
As they rush past the counter to the same room they both in before, he starts following them without thinking. What in the hells was he doing?! This can only lead to something terrible for him, even if Tav would be none the wiser. Why does he torture himself like this? He finally has everything he could ever want, yet he greedy for more. For the one thing he can never hope to have.
But they need him, and he could never deny them.
He quickly enters the room after them, shutting the door on his way in. Thankfully this room is more presentable this time around, but he doubts Tav will notice it. They have never been one to look at the finer details. At least from what he has seen, it's not as if he spent much time around them. That thought makes jealousy swell in his chest.
"I need help again." Tav states, rustling up their clothes.
"I can see that," He sasses, but Tav is already pushing off the mantle that sits on his shoulders before pulling him into a kiss, hand fisting the front of his robes.
What has he done to deserve this punishment? Are the Gods testing him by dangling his one desire in front of him? They should know he's too weak to resist their touch.
He gasps into their mouth when they pin him to the wall, free hand grasping the back of his thigh. They easily put their leg in between his, which puts him in a daze. Is this truly an act if they would go this far, or are they testing his boundaries? The worst part about this is he never wants them to stop. He wants them to keep going and reduce him to a pitiful, breathless mess.
They're already succeeding in that, it seems.
When he feels them try to pry his teeth open, he lets them, tangling his tongue with theirs. The noise is so lewd in his ear, a blush immediately rising to his face at the intimacy of it all. He thought about this situation constantly, both through the actual memory and then to his fantasies. Though, fantasy is nothing compared to their real hand tracing the skin of his exposed neck, mapping out the dips and curves of his adam's apple. Images flash through his mind of them choking him, not to hurt, but to claim. He honesty hopes they would do so, but alas, their hand trails up to cup his jaw instead.
This action only made him more flustered, and while he doesn't understand why, he accepts it all the same and leans into their hand. No one has ever touched his face like this in many, many years. Usually it was hit or slapped, no thanks to his teacher. Even when their touch is as gentle as a dove, he can't help but flinch when their thumb strokes along his cheekbone. They pull away from the kiss, catching their breath with a question on the tip of their tongue.
As if the world is playing a joke, those same Flaming Fists burst the door open. They look surprised once again.
"Again?!" He shouts at them, bristling and baring his teeth.
"Do you fucking mind?" Tav yells after, giving them a hard-earned glare.
The Flaming Fists do not bother arguing again, turning heel and leaving the shop without another word. They look foolish, doing their walk of shame. At least they were quick about it, Rolan did not feel like giving them another lecture.
"How do you do, Rolan?" They tease, a hand still fisting his sleeve.
It is a miracle how he keeps his composure. "Well enough, I suppose. Now, as I said earlier, again?"
"There's a perfectly good explanation."
"Then?"
"They were assholes so I stole their money."
"I'm inclined to agree. They are quite intrusive in their searches. Though, must have you lead them here again? I just had Krank clean the floors of the shop from bottom to top!" He complains, running a hand down his face as he stabilizes his footing, "Now I'll have to command him to do it all over again. At least the bottom part."
"I know, I'm sorry to do this to you again. I can make it up to you!" The say quickly before taking a pause. "Wait, you reanimated Krank?"
"Despite being Lorroakan's, he still had his uses." He drawls, suddenly feeling trapped in their space. "Clearly weaponry is not the armors calling, so I have him clean the floors in the morning and at night. There hasn't been any complaints."
"It's animated armor, Rolan. It can't complain."
"I meant complaints from the customers, you absolute dunce!" He snaps and immediately regrets it, but Tav bursts out in a fit of laughter at his insult.
Never has he understood what was so funny about them being insulted. Does he look like a fool doing so? Are they laughing at him? He should be angry over it but he most likely deserves it.
"Well, I feel terrible for dragging you in here twice," They giggle, wiping a stray tear from their eye. "So I want to make it up to you."
"And how do you suppose you'll do that?" He challenges.
"Well, we already got the first part of it started, if you're interested." They tease, voice low.
Oh gods.
"We could take it further. I can feel your little friend down there, and I'm more than happy to help." They murmur in his ear.
A cold sweat hits him in that instant. This is his worst nightmare. He wants it, gods does he want it so badly, but if he accepts it there will be no turning back for him.
They attempt to cup his cheek but he turns his face away, gently pushing them.
“Rolan?”
“I can’t do this.” He says, unable to look them in the eye, but he feels the way they tense.
Before they can start apologizing, he continues, “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the Shadow-Cursed Lands, I think. I adore many things about you. But you keep holding me like this, kissing me, and it's starting to make me believe that there will be more than this, one day. When The Absolute is gone, and Baldur's Gate is safe, you would do me the honor of considering me as a...companion."
"Oh, Rolan..."
"I refuse to be a side piece, someone who will be at your beckon call whenever you're bored. You’re tugging at my heart as if it’s your plaything, and while I know you have not done this on purpose, I can't handle it anymore."
He exhales sharply, tilting his face up when he feels tears sting his eyes. "Please, do not torture me like this and just go. Leave."
When he’s met with silence, he swallows and blinks away the wetness of his eyes. He knew that he never had a chance, and that their affections were never real. How could his savior ever look at him like he looked at them? But that diversion of theirs was so wonderful, and for at least a temporary moment, he felt wanted. Desired.
Loved.
He knew he couldn’t continue. It is selfish of him and he would’ve been setting himself up for heartbreak.
Tav leans in close, eyes tender as they tilt his chin back down. “Rolan…I’ve been a fool. I thought I was being obvious.”
He finally can look at them in the eye. “What?”
They can't help but chuckle, but it is a good natured one, “I’m in love with you too, idiot. Why do you think I would keep seeing you in this way?” They ask, tucking some hair behind his ear. “I'm so sorry, I should have been more forward with you. I never meant to hurt your heart like this, you mean too much to me."
He must be dreaming, he has to be, but he can feel the of their body pressing against him. They want him too, and it makes his heart want to burst out of his ribcage. He isn't aware of the blush that rises in his face at their confession, making his already red skin grow crimson.
They carefully cup his face again, pressing their forehead against his, being mindful of his horns. "I'm sorry Rolan, truly. Could you ever forgive me?"
His adam's apple bobs with his swallow, but his face remains a stern look. "...Your apology seems genuine, and I forgive you."
"Well good, I was worried that I just fucked up my chance." They huff with a smile, gently pinning him against the wall once more. "Now, would you like me to try this again and kiss you?”
“Please.” He whispers instantly, tail coiling around their leg.
It was unclear who pulled in first, but what mattered is their hands were all over each other as they kiss fiercely. He felt one of their hands move back and grip the base of his tail. A pathetic whimper escapes his mouth, pleasure shooting up his spine. Tav happily nips his bottom lip in response before pulling away. “I want to see your bedroom, Rolan. Now.”
"As you wish." He responds breathlessly.
Using Dimension Door, he teleports the both of them to the top of the stairs of Sorcerous Sundries, pulling them through the portal and into the tower. This is a totally inappropriate use of one of his higher level spells, but his mind is in a sexually charged place. He'll chastise himself for it later.
His grip on their hand is tight, sweat gathering there as he teleports them again to the bedroom. It isn't customized to his liking quite yet, but it at least has the colors he wants. Deeper blues mixed with other calming colors to help him sleep. He doubts Tav is admiring the features with the way they pull him onto the mattress.
When they both settle in the bed, Tav quickly gets undressed, unclipping the armor and ripping off their under clothes in one fell swoop. Whatever he though their body looked like in his dreams, the real thing is so much better. Any little scar or texture change, he either wants to trace with his fingers or with his tongue. As they lay back and spread their legs, he reaches for them.
They gently smack his hand away when he tries to touch their chest, smirking. “No. You will sit back all pretty and watch.”
His mouth goes dry, surprised at the sudden command, but would he truly be a student of the Weave if he did not know how to listen to directions? He does as told, sitting back on his feet.
"Do you have oil in here?" They question.
"Right side, top drawer."
They crawl over and grab it, settling back into position as they drizzle the product onto their fingers. They make a show of it, too, playing with the substance between their fingers before their hand trails down in between their legs, locking eyes with Rolan.
He swallows as he watches them open themselves up, all for him. It sends his mind reeling with lust, and he’s still not allowed to touch. Torture, is what it is. They have him exactly where they want him, and he is not complaining one bit. Not in his wildest imagination could he have though of this scenario. It's incredible. They're incredible.
As they go on languidly slow, he starts feeling hot all over. His clothes feel too suffocating around his body, his trousers unbelievably tight. It takes everything in him not to palm his growing erection, biting a lip to stifle a small moan that threatens to escape his throat.
“I want to watch you take all those layers off, Rolan. It’s not fair if I’m the only one naked.” They demand, hooking their fingers inside of themselves and groaning.
He responds by finally taking off that mantle that sets heavy on his shoulders. They watch him unblinking as he instantly gets his robes off, seeing the tent in his smalls that expresses his want. It looks painful. He throws the robes, shoes, and smalls off somewhere in the room, his cock now in the cold air, leaking.
They smirk at the sight, now curling three fingers in with a long winded moan. “Gods, I can’t wait to have you in me. I bet you feel so good, look at that…”
Have they always been this good with their words? They always have in his pathetic fantasies, but the real thing makes him twitch in need. He wants to touch them, feel their skin against his in a blaze of pleasure.
Alas, he has to wait.
Finally, they take their fingers out of themselves and sit back up. “I’m ready for you.”
“I want to touch you, Tav.” He admits, fingers twitching on the top of his thighs.
They crawl over to him and sit in his lap, breathing hard as they wrap their arms around his shoulders. “You may.”
He takes some small amount of comfort in that they’re as hot and bothered as he is, watching their flushed face before they crash their lips into his own.
He whines into their mouth, his cock trapped in between their stomachs. The friction is positively divine and he already thinks he may be close with the way their fingers trace the ridges on his back. They're mapping them out, pressing against the wing impressions on his shoulder blades and then trailing them down his spine. As soon as they reach the base of his tail, they tug on it once more.
A gasp shudders out of him when they grind against him. “Tav, if you keep doing that, I won’t last much longer.”
They hum in approval, sucking a hickey into the base of his throat. “What if I promise to make you come again?”
“Tav, please—”
“Okay okay.” They relent, moving back a little to give him some breathing room.
They stay in his lap as they pull him in for another kiss, and he joyfully obliges. Their tongues dance as he gropes their chest, mostly wanting to feel the unique textures of their skin. They’re perfect, to him. He wishes they were some sort of god, because at least then he would have an explanation for his need towards them. This unrelenting desire that he has pleaded for every night when he dreamt of them.
He has so many dreams, one that wake him in a sweat and painfully hard in his trousers. He made a theory that indulging would help the process of forgetting his desires, but it seems as though his hypothesis was wrong. Dead wrong. His dreams of them only became more vivid, some tricking him into thinking it was real. He mourned when he woke up those mornings, wondering why the Gods were torturing him with their image, their body, their face, their laugh.
Hells, he hopes he's not dreaming right now, they feel too real. He can feel them biting and tugging his lower lip, so he concludes that they were, in fact, here with him. Making him feel so much better than his wildest fantasies. Their nails bite into the back of his neck as they briefly deepen the kiss, before pulling themselves away, a string of saliva connecting them. For at least a moment, he catches his breath.
With a solid push to his chest, he falls back onto the bed with a soft thump. He pushes himself back up onto his elbows quickly, breathing harsh. At first, he’s worried he screwed something up. Did his nails hurt their skin? He should have blunt them this morning. But then they straddle his waist and take hold of his drooling hard-on, ready to sink onto him. “Hold still.”
As they lower themselves, stars burst behind his eyes as he takes them fully, their walls squeezing around him so deliciously. He bites back a moan that tries to work its way up his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he manages to hold himself together when they seat themselves onto him.
“Gods, you feel so fucking good Rolan.” They moan, clenching briefly around him until they finally relax. They do a test grind, and he knows he's hitting all the right places within them with the way their eyes flutter.
“So do you.” He says breathlessly, a light sheen of sweat already decorating his skin, pupils blown wide as his tail flicks about. The appendage instinctively reaches for something to hold onto. Anything at all. In the end, he settles with wrapping his tail around their waist, keeping himself grounded. They smile down at him when they feel it squeeze them.
He tries to reach for for their sides shakily, but they are more put together in this moment, and much faster. They take his hands, lacing their fingers through his, and pin them each besides his head. He’s only met with a grin before they start riding him with reckless abandon, gripping his hands unbelievably tight.
A groan that trails off into a whimper escapes his throat, hips subconsciously thrusting up into their tight heat. It felt positively divine feeling their walls clench around him, purposely teasing. They’re grinning, even when they toss their head back and moan. He squeezes their hands for dear life, already losing himself as their skin meets his. “Ah— Tav—“
“That’s it baby, I want to hear you.” They pant, leaning down and kissing him soundly. He lets their tongue pry his lips with ease, begging for a taste.
“I won’t last if— gods—“ he cries against their mouth, toes curling in the sheets.
“I don’t care, let me feel you. I want it.”
He curses when they clench around him again, clearly wanting to milk him dry, but he manages to stave his orgasm off. At least for a little bit. This felt so fucking good, he never wants it to end. But with the way they roll their hips, he’s not going to last. He wishes he could have last longer, giving them their pleasure the way they deserve after all of their hardship. They saved him, saved his siblings, saved the tieflings. Twice. Then they saved him for a third time. They did not have to, they could've walked away and let him lay with his poor choices. They didn't, and he's never seen them more angry than when they saw his bruised face.
His stomach suddenly tightens, giving him that impending warning he knows all too well in recent days. “C—Close, I’m close—“ he rasps.
“Me too. Fuck, you feel so good love.” They murmur thoughtlessly.
That nickname teeters him over the edge, and Rolan came with a cry in his throat. Tav was not far behind, fluttering around him as they came as well.
They breathe hard, resting on top of him and letting go of his hands. They instead use them to hold his heated face and kiss him gently. With his hands free, he wraps his arms around their back to pull them closer. He’s spent, exhausted, but he’s never felt more content as he kisses them.
Before they both could feel uncomfortable, he murmurs the words of prestidigitation and cleans them up as they rise off of his softening cock. They plop next to him on the bed, smiling tiredly.
“You were amazing.”
He laughs at that, wiping sweat off of his face. “I should be saying that to you.”
“Then we’re both amazing, hm?” They tease, scooting closer to his side. "Where did you learn how to fuck like that?"
"Must you be so vulgar?" He exasperates with a groan, making them laugh, "But if you must know, I have done extensive research on the subject."
"Ooooh research! What, did you study anatomy books?"
He groans, covering his face with his hands.
"Wait a minute, you have a smut collection?! This I have to see."
"Absolutely not!" He shouts, his face, neck, and ears now a deep crimson.
They burst out laughing, and as much as he wants to chastise them for it, he ends up laughing with them. He's never felt so light before now, as if he's finally feeling relief for all the trouble he's been through.
Gods, he's truly in love with them, isn't he?
"I can go for a round two, if you're up for it." They say after calming down their laughter.
He snickers at that, pecking heir forehead. "As much as that sounds wonderful, you've exhausted me for the day."
"Then how about some cuddling? Karlach always said I give great hugs."
He hums, pecking their cheek next as they wrap their arms around him. "I think I would like that, very much."
Letting out a deep rooted sigh, he feel all the tension in his body finally leave him. He should be disgusted by all the sweat gathered around them in the aftermath of their activities, but in this moment, he wouldn't have it any other way. There's time to complain about it later. Perhaps he can show them the bath he now uses. Would they be impressed by it? It certainly is better than whatever they have going on in the Elfsong Tavern. He wants to do everything to impress them, make himself worth their while even with the chaos that is their lives. But for now, he's calm.
For the first time, Rolan felt truly free.
"Does Krank know how to clean bed sheets?"
Snorting, he looks at them again. "I haven't made him try. He's decent at mopping and sweeping...somewhat. Why?"
"Just curious. It's cute how you just have a little servant now, cleaning the place."
"Krank is not a servant, he is an employee of my establishment."
"You don't pay him!"
"That is not the point! He works, does he not?"
They laugh, pressing their forehead against his. "Fine, fine, but why not make him clean your room, including the sheets?"
"He will mess them up! I know how to properly smooth it out and make this room look highly presentable."
"Oh, I'm sure you do...anyways, do you have a bath in here? I stink and feel sweaty."
He barks out a laugh, reluctantly getting out of their arms and shuffling off the bed. "I do, it's in the next room over."
When he offers his hand to them, they happily take it as he leads them to the side room. The large bath presents itself, though it is empty right now. He should figure out a way for it to be ready automatically in any time of the day, but he'll work out the kinks later. He wants to show them that his fingers have talent in ways they wouldn't comprehend. All of it in the form of a heavenly scalp massage.
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G🎸🥵🎀
Golden boy
Words: 989
Rated: E
Tags: Post-Vecna; Established relationship; Scars; Trauma; Dom!Eddie; Sub;Steve; Collars; Leashes; Choking; Butt plugs; Edging; Kink negotiation; Stoplight system
“Oh,” Eddie says, like he only just remembered. “I got you something from Indy.”
Steve blinks sluggishly. He’s slipped into that pleasant, floaty headspace that he’s only ever able to find with Eddie. Everything is fuzzy around the edges, even the movie they’ve put on reduced to a dull drone in the background. He can't for the life of him remember which one it is.
“Hm?” he murmurs - a barely there hum against Eddie’s skin, where his face is tugged into the crook of his neck. “Like a gift? ‘s not even my birthday.”
“Oh,” Eddie chuckles, fingers tracing down the scars on Steve's back, coming to rest on the curve of his ass. “But what better way to spend that gig money than a present for my good boy? You've been good, haven't you, Stevie?”
His hand slides between Steve’s ass cheeks and Steve gasps.
“Yes. Yes, I've been good.”
“Shhh, baby, I know you have,” Eddie coos, lightly flicking the base of the plug. Steve moans but doesn't buck, even though his naked cock is starting to strain against the fabric of Eddie’s jeans. “Wearing this for me, not touching yourself all week. You've been so, so good for me. And good boys get rewards, yeah?”
He retrieves something from the sofa cushions and presses it into Steve’s hands. A flat, black box. It’s wrapped in a broad gold ribbon made of delicate tulle. It shimmers in the low light as Steve pulls open the knot, and for a second he's afraid it'll come apart under his touch. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him, dark and intense, as he lifts the lid off the box.
Inside, nestled on a velvet pillow, is a collar. Soft, tan leather with a gold buckle and a little o-ring to match. Steve’s stomach drops right out of his body.
“I- … no,” he hears himself murmur. “No way, I'm not doing that.”
He doesn't even realize he's been trying to scramble off Eddie’s lap before those calloused fingers are on his hips, steadying him with gentle pressure. Not enough to keep him from getting away, should he put his mind to it. Just a firm, grounding reminder that Eddie has got him, that he's safe.
“Woah,” Eddie mutters. “Okay, I think we need a check-in. Color?”
Steve swallows and feels his throat bop around the lump that has lodged itself in there.
“Yellow? Listen, I'm sorry, I know we talked about this and I said I thought I might like it, but-”
“But the real thing is different from the thought?” Eddie's voice is a low, soothing murmur. His thumbs are massaging little circles into the skin over Steve’s hip bones.
“Yeah,” Steve says. Licks his lips. His eyes flicker back to the collar. “No. I dunno, it's weird. I thought I could do it, but …”
He trails off, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the scar on his neck. Eddie’s eyes follow the movement and Steve's stomach coils with embarrassment. He knows Eddie has been looking forward to this all week, at least as much as himself. Way to ruin the mood.
“I'm sorry,” he says again. “I should be over it by now.”
Eddie shakes his head, smile fond, and sets the box with the collar aside. “Nah, big boy. You'll be ready when you're ready. Doesn't matter if that's next month, or next year, or never at all. Okay?”
Steve nods, breathless, speechless. Something soft blooms in his chest, settling warm and tight in his abdomen as Eddie pulls him in for a kiss.
“What do you like about it?”
“Huh?” Steve says. Eddie has pulled back just enough to speak. Steve can feel the shape of the words against his lips.
“If you wanted to try this, that means there must be something you like about the idea. Tell me what it is?”
Steve wets his lips.
“I, um … I like the idea of being yours, I guess. Of you putting something on me to remind me of that. To remind me you're in control.”
“I see,” Eddie hums. And then his fingers wrap around Steve's throat, a barely there pressure against his pulse, and Steve freezes. “So, how's this, color-wise?”
“Green,” Steve gasps. His hips start rolling of their own accord, flushed cock grinding into Eddie’s lap. “So very fucking green. Eddie, please-”
Eddie uses the hand against his throat to guide him into another kiss. Holds him in place while he takes his sweet time coaxing Steve’s lips apart, fucking his tongue into his mouth with slow, languid motions. It takes a long while until he allows them to part for breath, and even longer for Steve’s vision to swim back into focus.
When it does, Eddie's hand is no longer on his throat. Instead, it's dangling the golden tulle ribbon between them, light and transparent as air.
“Green,” Steve is whispering before he even knows he's made the decision. “Green, green, green. Fuck, Eddie, please!”
The fabric feels cool and ticklish as it settles against his skin, and he knows that one sudden move would be all it takes to free himself. Also knows he’d never want to break free. Not when Eddie’s eyes are full of that burning adoration, not when it feels so good, being at his mercy.
“Fuck,” Eddie breathes. He lets the long ends of the ribbon rest in his hand, like a leash. “You look amazing in gold.”
“Y-yeah?” Steve asks. He feels dizzy - drunk in the best possible way. He's naked and collared and completely in Eddie’s control, and he never wants to be anywhere else.
“Oh yeah,” Eddie agrees. “But you know where you'd look even better?”
He tugs on the makeshift leash, smile turning sharp when Steve moans in response.
“On your knees between my legs, hands behind your back.”
Oh, right. Turns out there is a place Steve would like to be even better.
More celebration ficlets
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fanfic#steddie brainrot#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#fanfic#my writing#hype's 1k follower ficlets
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the girl next door 29
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.
This lewk but silverfox
You peel off the suit and wring it out. You leave it in the bathroom to dry, but more so you don't need to look at it. You've never been so humiliated in all your life.
Worse than your mother's bitter grumbles, or the way your grandmother used to nitpick at every part of you was that look in Steve's eyes. It was like nothing you've ever seen before. Not angry, not judging, but something mysterious that unsettled you.
Ugh. You sneer at the wall as you pull on the baggiest tee shirt you have. You hate yourself. No, you hate your body. No matter what you do, it's clumsy and somehow you get in the way of yourself.
You shimmy into a pair of pajama shorts and flop onto your bed. You could read but your head won't let you focus. Drawing isn't an option either, you're still shaking from the exposure.
Sleep. Well, that won't come. Every time you close your eyes, you just see Steve and the water, and your nakedness. You can't imagine what your mother would've said if she'd saw.
She hadn't, had she?
You roll over and hide your head under your arm. You just lay there, desperate to escape somehow. The hours wear on, the day shifting around your unmoving form, the stagnant house dampening your skin with sweat.
When you finally get the strength to flip onto your back, you realise you've been crying. You sniffle and mop your cheeks. You don't know why you're crying. Humiliation, sure, but don't be such a baby.
You sit up cradle your head until it's a little less fragile. You get to your feet and shuffle out to use the bathroom. You pointedly ignore the pink checkered fabric.
When you're done, you go to the kitchen. You look in the fridge. Not much there. You take out an old cup of pudding and fish out a spoon. You sit at the table and stir it but don't eat.
You remember when you were a kid, your grandma would give you tapioca. Your mother only ever got banana. You hate banana pudding. It tastes so artificial.
You're not a kid anymore. You're realising that now. It's time to be an adult. You don't have a place here anymore. Your mom has Steve and you have... nothing.
The front door whines on its ungreased hinges. You wince and look up, shove a spoonful into your mouth.
Steve appears. He has a tee on but still wears his swim shorts. You look at him dully and swallow, scooping up more of the pudding.
"You hungry? You could have come over for lunch."
You shrug and keep eating. Your stomach sickens at the overly sweet treat. You want to spit it out.
"You're still mad?" He asks.
You shrug again.
He sighs. He crosses the room and pulls out the chair across from you, "look, sweetie," he twines his fingers through each other as he rests his arms on the table, "I'm real sorry. I was trying to have some fun. I made a mistake. We all do, right?"
You stare at the table and nod.
"Right, so can we move past it? Forget it ever happened?"
"Forget?" You echo in a croak. "Erm."
"Wiped clean," he unweaves his fingers and makes a smooth motion over the table top. "How about it? Can you forgive me?"
You let the spoon go and slide the cup aside. You can't look up. It's more than the embarrassment of what happened. It's the constant shame that follows you around. You're just a hanger-on. He doesn't have to keep pretending because of your mom. She deserves to have a life after all the years she wasted on you. A life without you.
"I'm sorry. I'm... I'm going to find a job and I'll do my best and..." you ramble as you trace your fingers on the table and tilt your head back and forth, "and you won't have to worry about me."
"Sweetie?" He reaches over to still your hand, "what are you talking about?"
"I shouldn't be... I shouldn't be living with you. Or mom. You two... I'm in the way--"
"In the way? Sweetie," he squeezes your hand, "I promise you that's not true."
"It has to be."
"Why? Why does that have to be true?"
"Because no one wants me," you turn your face down but he won't let go of your hand so you can hide.
"I know that's not true," he insists.
"It is. You see it. My mom..." you shudder and hold back a sob, "hates me."
He's quiet. He clings to you even as you try to pull free. "I don't hate you."
"You barely know me."
"Sweetie, I know enough. Just enough to know you're a sweet girl. A good girl. All this time you've been taking care of your mom. Not anyone does that, you know? Most people would just leave her behind," he brings his other hand up to pet your knuckles, "and you're considerate and kind and gentle."
"Please," you wisp and tug on your hand again, "you don't have to--"
"I want you," he interjects as he tightens his grip, "sweetie, look at me."
Your eyes flick up, startled by his hold and his tone.
"You said no one wants you? I do. I shouldn't. I know it. I... I saw the way you take care of Holly, I saw how hard you try, I saw it all and I--"
He finally lets you go. You recoil, shocked. Your hand tingles and your heart races. He doesn't mean it like that. He can't. You blink and lean back, making yourself as small as you can.
"I'm sorry," he drops his head into his hands, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm trying not to feel like this. I've been fighting myself but..." he looks up, fingers stretched up his cheeks as his eyes glimmer, "I... don't love your mom. I only married her so... so..." he closes his eyes and trembles, "I shouldn't say it." His lashes flick open and he sits up straight, "so I could take care of you. That's why. But I couldn't... be honest. Because I didn't want to scare you or lose you. Just having you close is enough so I lied." He sniffs and a tear rolls out, "worse, I couldn't even be honest with myself. Not until now. Until it's too late."
You gape at him. He just watches you. His expression is pained and sheepish.
"Please, sweetie, say something."
"You can't mean it," you breathe, "please take it back."
"I can't," he utters.
You sit in silence. You don't know what to say. You can't think. It's all too much. Why can't today just be over?
He inhales and lets it out as he fixes his posture. He gulps thickly and you look up. He stares at you. The same look as before. The one you don't understand.
"Sweetie," his voice is firmer and his tears are evaporated, "I have one question." You lower your brow, confused, "do you want your mom to be taken care of?"
"What?" You squeak.
"Your mom? You want her to be comfortable? Supported? Get the proper treatment?" He's staunch as he speaks, "you can't do it yourself. We both know you were struggling. Do you got the money for her next hospital stay? For the nurse?"
You whimper and shake your head, "what do you mean?"
"Sweetie, your mom needs me. You need me. Don't play dumb," he intones, "I will do anything. I will make sure mom is nice and cozy. She has her meds and everything she needs. There's only one thing I want in return." He clicks his tongue and inclines his head, "it's too bad it's the only thing you got."
You stare at him. Through him. The whole world narrows in on you as your chest caves in. You close your eyes, wishing against everything, that it can make him go away.
#steve rogers#dark steve rogers#dark!steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#drabble#series#au#silverfox au#the girl next door#mcu#marvel#avengers#captain america
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I have new fandom anxiety. Sounds weird, but anytime I get the urge to write for a new fandom, I get anxious. I’ve written for the same two fandoms for years, and just last week I wrote for somewhere different for the first time. I was so excited, so into what I wrote too! Unfortunately, the fic got a ton of hits within the first two days… but no kudos or comments. I feel embarrassed. It makes me think the fic was bad or the characterization was something people disagree with, etc. I typically try to write characters as in-canon as possible, but I guess it fell flat or the idea didn’t land (I did an AU). I don’t know how to feel more confident in myself to write for other fandoms, and this definitely made me think maybe I shouldn’t write at all elsewhere. I feel silly sending this in general lol.
*hugs* this isn't silly at all. Lots of people run into this same anxiety. 💗
I think you have a few things to think about and consider while you're deciding how you want to move forward.
First of all, part of the anxiety might be performance-related. Performance anxiety feeds the self-doubt gremlin in the backs of our minds and leads to self-criticizing and focusing on failure. The longer you stay in that particular spiral, the more it stomps on your self-confidence and breeds a negative self-image. Posting a fic on the Archive isn't the same thing as standing up on a stage in front of a crowd, but it's not that different from it. You're taking your hard work and putting it somewhere that an audience can see it. It might not be a live performance, but that fear of judgement is still there.
It seems like your anxiety is tied pretty tightly to whether or not you receive kudos and comments. Receiving them makes you feel like a good writer. Not receiving them makes you feel like a bad one. A few years ago, I wrote a post about how to have a healthier relationship with stats that you might want to check out if you want to investigate those feelings further. [tumblr link | AO3 link]
Switching fandoms means changing audiences, too (although there could very well be overlap, depending on the fandoms). Your new audience doesn't necessarily know you. They don't necessarily interact with fics the same way as your old fandom. There might be fewer people who seek out AO3 as well.
If you're going into a new fandom with the expectations you have from the old one, you're probably going to have a rough time. At the outset, you could try just focusing on writing and not posting your work. Spend time with the fic on your own and learn how to love it without getting that reassurance from others.
[I feel like I've written about how to like a thing you wrote, but if so I can't find a link for it. Here's a substitute post in the meantime while I draft something new.]
The more you can separate your worth as a person and your skill as a writer from the number of comments and kudos you receive, the better off you'll be - especially in a new fandom. Remember that not getting comments and kudos doesn't mean your work is bad. It means that you didn't get any comments or kudos. There are a million reasons why people don't comment and only one of those reasons is not liking the fic.
I'll stop here because this is getting excessively long, but I hope you'll get some commiseration in the notes, as well as some advice for how to move forward. Best of luck, anon. I hope you keep trying. 💗
#asks and answers#sorry for all of the links#I just figured it was better than creating the longest post on the site XD
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How did AM and Vernon come to be… romantic? (Like, within the timeline how did their relationship develop to that point.) Also, in this AU, how did AM acquire a body?
Love your art!
(Raises my hands up in celebration) finally, the time has come.. the very first VernonAM ask,, AHEM- Howdy Maggot-Meade! Thank you so much for asking and for the kind words! I really appreciate it💞💞!
How did AM and Vernon become romantic?
Their relationship only started becoming romantic after the events of the book (Keep this in mind for later it's important!). Before that, the last 109 years their relationship was something akin to a friendship, if you could call it that.
And it's partially due to how absolutely unpredictable Vernon is. Vernon doesn't turn away from eating worms, plastic,any other gross things. She doesn't turn away from her flesh being burned, her bones showing, her belly empty because of her morbid curiosity of these things. Of course they'll hurt, but it keeps her occupied.
Hell, AM had to make up a torture plan on the spot for her since she wasn't even supposed to be there. It was to have her wander around, isolated in a valley of all broken historical artifacts she destroyed. The task was to have her collect and dig through shards of them and put them all back together for her to escape. Instead of doing her task, she instead stomped on the pieces until they were irreparable for her own enjoyment.
Vernon's not.. okay in the head. before AM woke up, she was considered crazy enough to be put in a Ward, a sadomasochist. She wants to eat and be eaten.
AM was curious because of her behavior. Internally disgusted, but curious nonetheless. After all, she held knowledge of history that was incomplete in his database. And so their friendship torture starts.
He wanted to see how far he could push her before she broke. He often talked with her, took requests, etc. because she didn't try to kill herself or run. She liked playing with him and humored him.
Vernon never made an attempt to "understand" his hatred, she knows that's something she won't be able to. She just understood that's baggage she didn't care enough to pry and unpack. She accepted it because;
"How would you like it if someone constantly asked you personal questions about yourself because they think they can change you?"
Of course she keeps records of her observations on AM over the last 109 years; his patterns, the complex. But that's just used as entertainment to keep herself sane, after all what good Archeologist doesn't keep records?
Over the decades Vernon made it clear in her interest of AM, often flirting with him, arguing with him. AM refused to make it work for the time being since he HATED how he wasn't able to reciprocate, his hatred slowly bloomed into care, does that make sense?
How did AM acquire his body?
Remember how I mentioned that their relationship was officially romantic after the events of the book in my very long winded response to your first question?
As we all know, four humans died after 109 years of captivity. What does that leave him? Plenty of biological, organic matter to reduce into their purest forms and use to artificially make his own body. It took a while, of course.
He collected the brain matter of the four in order to make one stable enough to transfer his consciousness and a portion of his database without it exploding. Hair and skin for aesthetic purposes, reduction of skin allows him to be able to change the cells to suit his preferences.
Since he identifies with the masculine, he most likely tried to imitate the skeletal structure of the men, opting to reduce them back into a workable form; calcium, protein, magnesium, phosphorus, vitamin D, potassium, and fluoride.
However, even if he can make the likeness of a human for himself, he can't bring it to life.
He had to make some adjustments, for example the mechanical spine (pictured below).
The electrical currents allow for a network of nerves that provide sensory feedback such as touch, taste and smell. The wires transfer his consciousness and links the remainder of his database his brain can't store. (kind of a Bluetooth situation, it isn't connected to the complex) while the shorter ones provide nutrients to the biological body since he doesn't have blood.
Hope this helps! I don't think I'm very good at explaining stuff because I tend to ramble alot so if you have any questions feel free to ask! ;0;
#ihnmaims#vernon ihnmaims#am ihnmaims#VernonAM#i have no mouth and i must scream#vernon i have no mouth and i must scream#am i have no mouth and i must scream#allied mastercomputer#veomany vernon inthalangsy#ihnmaims oc#art#digital art#artwork#original character#oc x canon#oc x cc
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Yandere! Rich Suitor
(part 2!)
When you arrived at the remote island your parents had sent you off to you expected nothing out of the ordinary.
You and Andrew would spend a month or two there at some expensive resort or already owned house of either of your parents, you'd squabble with him from whatever topic came up in your conversations, and then you'd part ways at the end of the trip with no differing thoughts of each other. Same as always.
Oh how wrong you were.
-
"Y'know, you have pretty eyes."
You stared at Andrews light eyelashes with his hazel, almost green eyes. You never looked too hard but the purple ambient light of the bar you two were in only added to his features.
You were both drunk out of your minds and the bar was only 15 minutes to close, around 3 am if you had to guess.
"I could say the same to you," Andrew slurred while holding an empty glass of whatever liquor he had just finished off. He rested his head on the wooden bar and stared at the empty glass, then back to your face that was propped on your hand.
Bam!
You didn't even notice your face planting onto the counter, the sound didn't even faze Andrew who stared at your hair.
He reached out to touch it.
Surprisingly, you didn't flinch. Normally when you both were sober, maybe it was the liquor that stopped you from slapping his hand away but touching each other was deemed one of the most horrible acts to commit, but right now all he wished was to be closer to you.
He played with the loose strand of hair and you turned your head to face him.
With how close your faces were to each other, you were surprised how long you two had gone without arguing with each other.
"Can we go home," you mumbled while staring into Andrews glazed over eyes.
He nodded and slowly sat up straight, letting go of the small strand of hair.
You both stumbled out of the bar, with him fishing for a cellphone in your purse while you leaned on him for any type of support.
You managed to pick your head up and look at his flushed face. The neon glow of the bar lights illuminated his blond hair and the way his pretty eyes starred off into nothing was way more enticing than it should be. You stared long and hard for what seemed like forever.
Then you did something you never ever thought possible.
"Andrew."
"Yes?" Andrew replied while looking down at your (for once) soft gaze.
You grabbed his face with both your hands and planted your lips onto his. His lips were soft but slightly chapped, and he tasted like vodka and something else you couldn't put your finger on.
You still don't know why you did it, but all you remember after that was blacking out and waking up in the resorts bed the next morning, with a pounding headache and a sore neck.
-
"You're not leaving."
You had never been scared of Andrew per say. Yeah you've been angered by him, very annoyed recently and at worst wanting to rid him of this Earth.
But never scared, it made sense to not be scared in your childhood and early teenage years, and maybe it was pushing it when he started to put in muscle and grow taller; but you never had a reason to fear him.
Until now at least.
'Stay calm stay calm stay calm'
You repeated the phrase in your mind until you could find the words to hopefully get Andrew to stop acting insane.
"Andrew, look, I know what happened between us last night was weird but I'm sorry I wasn't trying to lead you on, but please just stop."
"Just stay here for a while, I know I haven't been exactly pleasant towards you, but please give me a chance," he muttered into your shoulder while softly playing with a strand of your hair.
You took in a deep breath to try and stop yourself from clawing his face off.
That would only make things worse considering he could easily overpower you, you shuddered at the thought of him going even further than he already had.
"Okay, I'll stay-just- please back away for a minute," you exhaled and let your hand leave the door knob despite every part of your body wanting to yank on it until it broke off or the door opened. Andrew seemed to relax a tiny bit at your words before slowly letting his arms unwrap themselves around you and instead back away. You didn't know if you could outrun him, but it wasn't worth a shot considering the nearest sign of civilization was about a 30-minute drive.
You exhaled a small sigh and dropped your bag from your shoulder onto the floor, and you turned around to face Andrew who was still relatively close but now you at least had a couple inches of personal space. He looked almost as much of a hungover mess as you, with his blonde hair hanging messily over his shoulders and face and slight bags under his eyes that you had previously never seen him with. But he had an odd look in his eyes that made you even more uneasy than you already were.
"Listen, Andrew, I'm sorry that I kissed you last night, I was drunk and I was stupid- I'm just- can we please forget about this?" You pleaded while brushing a hand through your hair. Andrew stood there for a moment, seemingly trying to figure out how to put together the words he wanted to say.
"Did you know, " he started, pausing to swallow the saliva that had been building up in his mouth, "I have never kissed someone before last night?"
Your eyes widened while trying to figure out how Andrew of all people hadn't even kissed someone! He was handsome, rich, and unfairly charismatic when he wanted to be. Before you could say something, Andrew held up his hand to signal to wait.
"I just never saw the appeal I guess, until last night that is," he said while trying not to hold eye contact with you for too long or he fears he might explode from shear embarrassment.
"But with you, it's as though," he paused again to gather his words and look down at his hands, "you awoke something in me that I didn't even know was there." His shy demeanor, despite his intimidating size, reminded you of a schoolboy confessing his long time crush to the girl he liked. It would have been cute if he hadn't practically forced you to stay in the beach house.
"I- and now that I felt whatever that was, I want to feel that again." He looked back up at your face, your pretty eyes and soft lips,he didn't know how he missed your beauty after all these years of being around you; but now he so desperately wanted to cradle it in his hands and-
"What?!" You shouted, interrupting his train of thought. Your fear from earlier seemed to have disappeared or at least been overcome by pure annoyance.
"So you're telling me," you took a breath to try and calm yourself, "that just 'cause I kissed you one time, that automatically your entire life of hating me just- poofed it's way out of existence?!"
"I-" Andrew tried to speak, but you quickly cut him off, you were borderline shouting but were trying your best not to completely explode from anger.
"So your entire reason for not hating me anymore is because I got your dick hard?!"
"No that's not it at all-"
"Go find someone else for you to explore your newfound 'feelings' with, I'm not gonna be your experiment just 'cause you've never gotten your dick wet before!"
You sighed and let go of the large breath you were holding and rubbed your eyes to try and figure out what to do with Andrew. Maybe you could set him up with one of your other friends who longed for a hot sugar daddy or something.
Walking past Andrew and back into the kitchen to hopefully find some aspirin or something to cure your now worse headache.
Andrew stared at the floor in front of him, in alm his life he had only cried once. When his dad stained his new tie that he had gotten as a gift from his grandma, other than that it had never happened; it was pretty much not even an option for him. But now he feels the unfamiliar feeling of his throat tightening and his eyes welling up with tears.
You saw him just standing there, and for a moment, you felt bad for him. Then you remembered how he had pinned you to the door, and it quickly disappeared. Swallowing the pills with a glass of leftover orange juice, you walked back to him where he was standing in the middle of the living room and awkwardly patted hid back.
"Look Andrew, I know it's hard when you discover romance or whatever," you sighed while rolling your eyes, " but the only reason you think you like me is because you've never given anyone else a shot, I can set you up with one of my friends even." You tried to lighten up the mood. Some of your friends might be into the whole toxic, pinning someone to a door thing.
Andrew was quiet for a moment before looking at you with red eyes and sighing. You were relieved that he had finally come to his senses, soon enough you two could put this whole thing behind yall and continue hating and at best tolerating each other.
"Have you... been with others?" Andrew asked quietly while tucking a stray hair behind his ear. You hesitated before replying.
"I mean- yeah; most people our age have had sex-" before you can even finish your sentence Andrew quickly traps your fave between his large hands and smashes his lips onto your.
Your eyes widened and you imminently tried to get him off of you, but your shoves against his broad chest didn't even register in his mind.
His inexperience shined through as his teeth cracked against yours and how he tried to immidelty shove his tongue in your mouth, but it didn't seem to bother him at all with how he let out small whimpers, trying to push his body as close to yours as possible.
He lowered his hands from your face and around your waist to haul you off the floor and onto the nearby couch, hovering over you but still putting enough weight to stop you from moving.
When he finally pulled away, you tried to scream something to try and get through to him, but one of his large hands covered your mouth, and he looked at you with pure want in his eyes.
"I can -" he tried to catch his breath, his second kiss with you leaving him breathless and red in the face. He gulped before speaking, "if you did it with others, you can do it with me," he let out a shaky breath before quickly shedding his shirt.
"A-andrew- listen- please- " he shut you up with another kiss, if you could even call the rough mouth full of tongue that, and slowly grinding against your thigh.
Your heart was beating so fast and you didn't notice the very noticeable bulge in his sweatpants. You thrashed and tried to get away from his grip but it only spurred him on more. He let out a patheic moan at the way you gripped the back of his hair and pulled hard, him pawing at your shirt, trying to get a taste of your soft, sweet-
He cried out when you bit his tongue, the taste of iron filling both of your mouths. He pulled away for a second, his hair sticking to his forward from the light sheen of sweat, his cheeks red and his eyes full of wonder from the pure pleasure of only humping against your soft thigh.
"You've known me your whole life, if you can have sex with someone you've only known for a few hours, you can definitely do it with me," he panted while humping your soft leg and referring to your many hook ups over the years. You felt like tearing his face off with the way he talked, like a teenage incel whose never even seen pussy. He sped up with his thrusts and laid his forehead in the crook of your neck, licking the sweat that had come from the heat.
Before you could speak, he interruptedyou with a loud breathy moan, his sweatpants now having stain and his cock growing softer against you.
For once, you couldn't say anything.
But soon you felt his cock hardening again and you knew it would be a while till you could escape, so you grit your teeth and just waited till he hopefully had his fill.
-
Hey yall sorry it took so long, I've been so busy with finals and stuff but here it is!! It's not proof read but I probably go back on it. Hope you enjoyed 🫶
Tag list! : @surprisemodafakas @kyoko-neko @kaeriustehe @kleoneli @purple-obsidian @strawberrie-me @lem-hhn
#yandere x y/n#yandere#oc#oc x reader#original content#orginal#yandere x you#yandere oc#yandere x reader#smut#light smut
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the death of me w/ law
m.list | rules
note. the one piece brainrot is never over but i'm definitely not writing with them enough so pls take law as a sorry <3
You couldn’t even remember when you joined the pirates of the Heart. It had been so many years ago, you felt like you had been here your whole life. They were the only thing that mattered to you and you would have given everything for them ; maybe too much even.
If the things had been a bit complicated at first with your captain, Trafalgar D Water Law, you were now ready to give your own life for him and his objective. You were completely devoted, and the word wasn’t maybe even strong enough to describe how you felt towards him.
There was a fight on this stupid island. Your crew just stopped by to get some groceries as an emergency, but you ended up getting trapped by some Marines who clearly wanted to bring all of you with them. You were a fighter, you had been your whole life. So you didn’t hesitate for a second when you saw them almost jump on Bepo to catch him.
The fight got farther than expected, but thanks to Law, all of you had the chance to escape before they got any of you. When you finally all found your way back to the submarine, well hidden under the sea, Law thought he had finally some time. The wounds of the crew didn’t seem too bad, so it shouldn’t take too long.
At least, he thought so ; until he saw you arrived. Or in fact, when he saw Penguin and Bepo bringing you to him, obviously worried about your state. They started to explain to Law what happened, how you jumped in front of Bepo so he wouldn't get hurt, even if he was more resilient than you for this.
Law asked them to bring you to the bed and laid you down there so he could take care of your wounds. He firmly asked everyone to leave the room, and nobody said anything about the orders. He needed to be fully focused ; and he didn’t want anyone to see a hint of worry on his face.
It had been hard, and he almost thought it was over a few times ; but you were holding up like no one. After a long time which seemed like hours, he was finally done. He took a chair, sitting down next to your bed. A long sigh left his lips before he closed his eyes, face hidden by his hat.
You woke up a few days after, and the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Bepo. The huge bear started to cry almost immediately when he saw you awake. He almost took you between his arms, but stopped right before because he didn’t want to reopen your wounds. He quickly called for Law at the door, and soon you were alone with your captain in the infirmary.
You were sitting on the bed when he sat on a chair a few steps away. Both of you stayed silent, before you slowly cleared your throat. You looked at him, ready to say something, when his own voice resonated in your mind.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said with a sigh, and you didn’t know what to answer. You looked at him, completely silent, before you finally met his gaze. You had known Law for years now, but you were sure you never saw him this annoyed before.
‘I’m sorry, I…” He didn’t let you finish, cutting you mid sentence. “What were you thinking? You could have died there.” He said, the anger slowly rising inside of him. You felt so guilty, but at the same time, you didn’t regret your choice. You knew your decision was the best.
“It was me or Bepo, and Bepo can’t die,” you started, and a frown appeared suddenly on his face, understanding what you were trying to say. “Oh, because you can?” He asked, and he hated how he already knew what your answer was going to be. “Yes,” was the only thing you said, still looking at his face.
He stood up from his chair, tongue clicking against his palate. He came closer to you, grabbing you by your collar, not caring about your state right now. You met his gaze, and the worry you saw in it caught you off guard. You knew your captain cared about his crew, but so much about you? Impossible.
“You have no right to die, not under my watch. Am I being clear?” He asked, but you knew you could only answer one thing right now. You slowly nodded at his words, and he let go of your top. A sigh left his lips. “Good. Now take some rest. You’re not going out of here until you’re better. Really better, I mean.”
You could only agree to this. You hated to stay in here, and you were always finding a way to get out of here. But this time, it was different. You knew that Law wasn’t going to be as tolerant as usual. But it warmed your heart in your way. Especially when almost half of the crew rushed into your room to get news about you.
You were sure it was the first time that you felt people really caring about you, and it felt so good. You ignored the tears forming at the corner of your eyes, and you let your mind focus on reassuring your crewmates.
thank you for reading <3
#trafalgar law#trafalgar d water law#one piece law#op law#law x reader#law headcanons#law hcs#trafalgar d law x reader#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece headcanons#one piece hcs#op x reader#op headcanons#op hcs
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Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 7
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS
❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤
All OC Characters belong to me
Prequel (All Falls Down)
Series Masterlist
“Soo.” Elijah trailed off as he and Kiyana were driving to the restaurant. “That was your ex-husband huh?”
“Yeah.” She said “I’m so sorry about that..” She apologized again. “He wasn’t supposed to be there.” she paused. “Him or his cousin.” Elijah laughed.
“It’s no big deal. Trust me. I’ve dealt with worse from my ex-wife. Her brothers are still on my ass to this day.” He chuckled again.
“Oh you were married?” Kiyana asked, perplexed because he never mentioned it.
“Is that a problem?” Now Elijah was confused. Not even 10 minutes ago, he thought he was about to have a melee with her ex husband and his cousin. He cut his eyes over to her before looking back at the road when she didn’t answer. “Ki?”
“No, it’s not a problem.” She shrugged. “I just thought you would mention it by now.” She paused, and turned her head to look at him. “It’s not a big deal though.”
“You sure?” Elijah asked as he pulled up to a red light, now turning his full attention to her. “I don’t wanna start us off on the wrong foot.”
“Ohh, there’s an us?” She teased with a smile, feeling her cheeks heat up.
“There’s definitely an us. I normally have a rule that I don’t date coworkers but, it’s just something about you Kiyana.” There goes them butterflies again. She thought as their faces inched closer. He cupped her jaw and Kiyana felt her heart rate spike. Just as their lips were about to connect, the car behind them honked causing the both of them to jump away from each other.
“Fuck!” Josh cursed as he watched Kiyana get into Elijah’s car and drive off. This was exactly what he was afraid of. He stomped past Joe and into his former home. “Samara!” He called out, softly though, still mindful of his sleeping children. “Mara?!” He called out again, rolling his eyes as she strolled out of the kitchen munching on his children’s Doritos.
“What?”
“What restaurant did they go to?” He huffed when she shrugged and pushed past him to sit on the couch. “Samara ,please.” Josh begged. “I know I fucked up by doin' what I did. But shit, I can’t just give up and go let her fall in love with someone else. I won’t be able to take it. So please, just tell me what restaurant they went to.”
Samara felt her hatred for Josh slip away. While they were never close she still considered him a friend and one thing about Samara was that she hated seeing her friends hurting. “Fine.” She sighed out. “But you have to answer my question first.” Josh nodded immediately.
“Aight, whatever you wanna know.”
“Why did you do it? What made you cheat on Kiyana?” oh Josh gulped. “Josh?”
“I don’t know. “ He said and Samara sucked her teeth. “I- we were arguing about her not listening to the doctor about not stressing. I just wanted her and Kairo to be okay.” He walked over and sat down on the couch next to her and put his head in his hands. “You know the same thing happened when she was pregnant with Kehlani.” Neither one of them heard Joe as she entered the house and stood right by the entrance to the living room, listening to their conversation. “Her auntie died and..” He blew out a breath. “She wouldn’t relax, she wouldn’t just stop and not stress. I already have one dead kid. I didn’t want another.”
Samara nodded, remembering how Kiyana blamed herself for years for the death of Kehlani. “So that’s why you cheated?” Josh scoffed and shook his head.
“Hell no. I just- I wanted to vent. Everyone around me kept talking about how Kiyana felt and..” He paused and sniffled, wiping his eyes. “I- it’s selfish but damn, Kenneth was like a dad to me too. When Kish and my mom were going through it Ken and Ms Imani welcomed me with open arms. I just wanted to vent to someone who wouldn’t say oh well it’s Kiyana’s dad. And Shanté was there at the right time. It wasn’t my intention to start the affair, I just wanted someone to talk to and things went too far.”
Joe let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He couldn’t intervene with Josh and Kiyana nomore. He had already done enough damage by sleeping with Kiyana and truth be told, Josh was his favorite cousin and even if Joe thought that Kiyana should be with him, he didn’t want to hurt his cousin more than he already did.
“The Grand Marlin.” Samara said after a minute of silence between her and Josh. “He took her to The Grand Marlin.”
Josh pulled Samara in for a hug and thanked her. “Do not fuck this up again Joshua. I swear on my life I will make sure she fucks every single one of your family members.” Josh sucked his teeth and pushed her away from him.
“Damn Samara.” She shrugged and pointed towards the front door.
“Go, before she falls in love with him or something.” Josh nodded and rushed towards the front door, only to be stopped by Joe blocking it.
“Uce come-on. Don’t do this to me right now. You proved your point already.” Joe shook his head and put his hands up defensively.
“I just wanted to apologize to you Josh. You my family and I should have never took it there with your wife.” Josh sucked his teeth.
“You don’t mean that shit. What you want me to go get my wife back so you can fuck her again.” Josh felt the urge to pummel Joe so he took a deep breath. “ Getcho’ big ass out my way Joseph.”
“Josh, this is the most serious I've been with you in years. I’m sorry.” Josh narrowed his eyes at Joe. Not believing him in the slightest. But he couldn’t worry about Joe right now, right now he needed to get to Kiyana.
“Thank you for bringing me here.” Kiyana smiled over at Elijah as he pulled out her chair for her. “I’ve never been here before.”
“No problem Ms. Jackson. I plan to give you a lot of first time experiences” He winked back as the waiter came over and asked for their drink orders.
Elijah kept a smile on Kiyana’s face all throughout dinner. And if Kiyana was being honest, this was the best date she had been on in years.
Her weekly ‘dates’ with Josh were just them going out to dinner, nothing special or spectacular. He stopped making her feel special a long time ago and she had just gone with the flow because she loved him.
“Hey that’s your ex-husband right?” Elijah’s voice broke her out of her thoughts and she turned her head in the direction he was pointing to see Josh arguing with the maitre’d and pointing in her direction.
“Oh my god.” She muttered, covering her face with her hands. “This is so embarrassing. Just give me two minutes please.” She said, biting her lip as she stood from the table and walked over to where Josh was making an ass out of himself.
“All you had to do was let me through dickhead.” He sneered at the man, who was only trying to do his job.
“Joshua.” Kiyana hissed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him outside of the restaurant. “What are you doing?!”
“Tryna stop you from making a mistake. I’m so fucking sorry Key.” He whispered, cupping her face in his hands. “About everything. About Shanté.” He swallowed hard when he saw her flinch at Shanté’s name. “About not sticking up for you at J’s party. About everything.” He repeated and Kiyana started shaking her head.
“No.” She laughed as tears started to well up in her eyes. “You can’t just come here and ruin my date. You have no right Joshua.” She pushed him away from her. “You cheated on me, there is no apologizing for that, not after the shit I put up with from you and your family for years.”
“Kiyana please - “
“Go home Joshua.” She muttered, blinking her tears away. She was done crying over him. “I’m trying to move on, you need to do the same.” Josh felt as if Kiyana just reached into his chest and pulled his heart out, as she gave him one last look before turning and walking back into the restaurant to continue her date. Leaving him heartbroken and empty.
🙃
Y'all think Josh can actually win her back or y'all think Kiyana is over him and nothing her can do will fix or change anything. ?
❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤
A/N: Sorry this took two weeks 😭. I was just feeling a bit stuck with this chapter. Hopefully chapter 8 won't take another 2 weeks.
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In The Night I Miss You | Satosugu
anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen
character: gojo satoru & geto suguru
words: 1.5k
pronouns: they/them
request: none
notes: sorry for the wait!!! but part 2 of In The Middle, my first satosugu piece, is finally here! a little bit more angsty this time and from satosugu's pov
not proof read
song rec: The Night I Miss You - Lee Changsub
genre: hurt comfort, fluff, slowburn, a little bit angsty, poly?
warnings: satosugu are in a loving relationship, misunderstanding, pinning, a lot of pinning on satosugu's end, reader is so oblivious, insecure and self conscious reader
Satoru and Suguru were quite the pair, always together since they can remember, as if fate created them for each other. Two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together. They knew that, hell, everyone around them and their mother knew that. And yet, they both felt like something was missing, they spent years happily loving each others, and they never stopped, but they couldn't help but feel some kind of longing for something more.
At first it drove them crazy, how could they feel like that when they already had everything they ever dreamed of? They're both each others soulmate, and yet it's not enough, not anymore, not since they met you. You came and wrecked their perfect little world. You and your stupid smile, you and your stupid laugh, you and your stupid kindness, you and your stupid gentleness, just you and your stupid self. It was such a hard time for them to accept these feelings, especially with the growing guilt towards each others, clueless about the other similar torment. Until one day, the cat got out of the bag.
"Say sugu..." The white-haired man started softly, a gentle hum coming back from his lover. "Are you satisfied? I mean, with us? Our couple?"
"Why? Yes, of course. Is something the matter? Have I done anything to make you think otherwise?" Suguru exhaled through a trembling breath.
"No, god no. It's just, god, how do I say this without sounding selfish. Have you ever felt like something was missing?" Satoru breathed out, closing his eyes in shame.
"You mean, like someone?" The black-haired man whispered shakily causin Gojo to spring up from his previous position, biwildered eyes meeting the ones he was ashamed to look at earlier.
"I didn't, I didn't say that, I mean not exactly, but, but maybe? Do you?" He murmured, a glint of hope in his orbs.
"Do you?" Suguru asked, just as hopeful.
"Yes, god, yes. I'm so sorry Sugu, I love you, I do, I promise. Like I've never loved anyone, but lately I've felt this way and I don't know why, and I didn't know how to tell you. Please tell me you do too. I can see it in your eyes, you do too right?" Satoru begged, his hands now clamped on the sheets below him.
"Yes, I do. God I was so scared to tell you, I'm so glad you feel it too. Oh, I'm so glad." Geto let out, his breathing calming down as well as his nerves. "You're thinking about someone in particular are you not?" He continued, reaching out to take Gojo's hands in his, easing down his stress.
"Yes..." He answered, tightening his grip around Geto's hands. "Do you?" Only receiving a nod along with the brightest smile he's ever seen his lover give him. "It's them, right?" Another nod came his way, just as he was pulled into a hug. "I'm so glad you feel the same. I was so scared. I thought I would lose you if I said anything, I don't want to lose you." He sobbed, finally letting out all the repressed feelings he's been having for the past couple of days.
Suguru stayed quiet, nuzzling his head into his lover's neck, grateful for the conversation, but also for the fact that they both felt the same. Of course the universe wouldn't betray them like that. They were soulmates, and it was destiny for both of them to fall for you, and maybe it was how it was always meant to be, not just them, but the three of you. And Suguru was more than content with this idea, he wished nothing more but to be able to share this overwhelming love with you as well. But he knew it would take time, it's not something they could act on just like that. They needed to proceed slowly, they didn't want to scare you, let alone lose you. Hell, losing you would shatter them, they could handle rejection just fine, but not having you in their life anymore just wasn't possible.
That's why Suguru had to physically stop Satoru from screwing this up. It was quite hard for the white-haired man child to refrain himself from acting on his desire to confess to you, and make you theirs. Since you lived with them, seeing you everyday and not being able to love you like he truly did, was the worst hardship he ever had to face. He wasn't used to not getting what he wanted, so having to wait for you to be theirs was proper torture. Don't get him wrong, it was also very hard for Suguru, but he knew they had to do this properly, and one of them had to be strong, because Satoru sure wasn't going to be. And because of that they would regularly have the same conversation in their room late at night, or early in the morning because it's when they were yearning for you the most. In the comfort of their bed.
"I dont know for how much longer I can do this Sugu..." Satoru sighed, burying his head in his lover's chest, muffling his next words. "They're so pretty, and so nice, and so caring, I love them so much. I would give anything to crush them between us right now."
"Me neither love, but there is nothing much we can do about it.They live with us." His black haired lover replied, laughing at his antics.
"I know, ugh I know, but it's getting so much harder everyday. Seeing them is becoming unbearable. I can't stand it anymore, we need to do something." He went on, on the verge of throwing a tantrum because of how much he yearned for you.
"Shh, I know, I feel the same. But we can't just drop this on them all of the sudden and expect it to go well." The oldest reasoned. "We will get there, we just need to take things slow Toru, we can't rush them into something like that."
And he was right, Satoru knew he was right, but it's been weeks and nothing changed. They tried being more affectionate towards you, complimenting you, being a little bit touchier and clingier without crossing any boundaries. Hell, they were looking at you so lovingly you could compare them to teenage boys going through their first ever crush. And yet, nothing changed, you were so clueless, it was driving them insane, but at the same time it was so endearing how oblivious you were to their adoration.
Everyone around you three noticed it, but you. It was quite amusing for your friends, but it was proper torture to them. And Satoru was growing reckless, he could'nt look at you in the eyes anymore, scared he will do something on impulse and regret it later because it could jeopardise your relationship, and your potential future together. Suguru wasn't much better to be fair, he could still look at you, but it was getting harder, and he couldn't bring himself to say anything to you that wasn't a heartfelt confession about their undying love for you, and his need to make you part of their life. So they decided to ton it down a bit, grow some distance between you, just the time for them to get themselves together, and to elaborate the perfect plan to confess to you properly without forcing you into anything. Yes, that was a good plan, or so they thought. Not once have they ever imagined this plan of action could backfire. Because why would it? It was the perfect plan!! Just until it wasn't.
After some time of putting distance between you, (literally a single day, Satoru couldn't more), the couple deciding to put their plan back into action but with a bit more hints being thrown into it. But, unfortunately for them, when they came back from work, the house was oddly silent, not a trace of you to be seen.
"Sweetcheek?" Satoru called, walking towards your room, only to be met by complete silence. "Hey gorgeous, you in there?" He knocked, but once again silence was his only answer. So he opened the door, to see if maybe you were sleeping, but you weren't. Your bed was made, but something was off. Your room was clean but it felt like something was missing.
"Sugu, come here real quick." He urged, and Suguru footsteps were quickly heard. "Something isn't right."
They both stood at the entrance of your room, analysing everything, trying to find what was amiss, this odd feeling growing stronger and stronger. And then they spot it, a letter neatly placed on your desk, which read:
'The walls are thins here you know. Anyway don't worry I'll be out of your space soon. Sorry about the stuff I've left there, it's just for the time it takes for me to look for a new place and then I will give you back your much needed space. Thank you for letting me stay this long, and sorry for the trouble I've caused.'
The couple grew livid. Their worst fear became reality, and they didn't know how to fix it, but they knew they had to. And the sooner, the better.
#saturn's writing#satosugu x reader#satosugu x you#satosugu poly#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#gojo satoru x geto suguru x reader
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HELLO!!! i usually don't send messages but i just received word of a 2014 larry moment and you are my favorite blog so i immediately ran over here! so basically i just met my brother's girlfriend and i was talking to her about harry (as i do) and she said that she is also a fan and went to live and love on tour. she then mentioned casually how she MET him back in 2014 because she worked for sugarscape. THE. ICONIC. SUGARSCAPE. being the larrie i am, i asked if she saw anything between harry and louis ... i told her to tell me everything in detail (your welcome), but it was a very short moment. based off of how she described what harry was wearing, i can conclude that it was the day of those interviews he did with liam playing those games (this is a link if you don't remember: https://youtu.be/wOoMYCPiFgo?si=I16RtV7BNuPX-DSA) ... she said that it was only harry, liam, and the 1d team in the room during the interviews. however, after they finished and everyone was cleaning up/about to leave, louis came in but kind of just waited in the corner of the room not wanting to disturb - she said that harry was shaking everyone's hand INCLUDING HER'S. After harry finished thanking and chatting with everyone louis gave harry a small bag (she said that it looked like a bakery type bag that would be holding a small food). when louis gave it to him he said "here babes" and as they were leaving she said that louis had his hand around harry's waist but A LITTLE IN HIS JEANS. LIKE FINGERTIPS IN HIS JEANS. she told me that harry was the nicest out of everyone and was very pretty. she said when he noticed louis standing in the back of the room he rushed over smiling. was it because of the food, or was it because of louis haha ... so yeah. that is it. i have never in a million years thought i would be able to share something like this. she has a photo with them (liam and harry) from that day but i am not going to share it because because she is in it.
it is all so crazy because those interviews are like my favorite 1d interviews because harry is just so himself and funny - so now knowing more about that day, my life is fulfilled!!!!
AHHHHHHH WE LOVE A FRESH RECEIPT THANK YOU ANON!!!!!
I adore this it’s just such a small cute moment and like interesting that she remembered it but obviously it would be burned in my brain too ahhahaha.
Thank you so much for sharing and thank you for being so sweet about my blog!!! Love that you’re here cutie xx
Are you able to share the pic but just black out her figure at all? If you’re not confident on that that’s fine but just thought I’d ask!
this is the interview referenced in the receipt.
Thanks again, Anon!
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