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xveenusx · 7 months

Text

Indifference

Paring(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Two people who are in love, well he used to be

Authors note: you guys like when I make you cry

Rating: angsty

Warnings: it'll hurt :)

__________________

He was late.

Time was a funny thing. Minutes turned to hours which rolled into days then suddenly months began to blur into years. In that time, people tend to go out and experience things, falling in and out of love, enjoying everything life had to offer.

Yet, I somehow found myself motionless, the spark that once ignited my core had been stifled to a small ember. Life continued to pass by while I remained glued in one place, watching as everyone around me attempted to achieve some form of happiness.

I was once like that. Filled with some much hope for a life with someone I loved, who showed up to support me and believed in my capability, because at one time in my life that was exactly what Rafe was.

Like I said, time was a funny thing. The more time passes with your partner, the more comfortable they seem to get. They stop trying. However, at what point does being comfortable become almost negligent?

Dates were canceled, appointments missed, and important accomplishments forgotten the more time went on. Rafe’s priorities shifted and I went from being the center of his world to being a planet merely circling his gravitational pull.

In his mind, we were forever, so a couple of cancellations here and there and bouts of forgetfulness were nothing in the span of things. I would have agreed had the cancellations not doubled with time or our conversations going from intimate and deep to surface level at best.

He was never home. It was always just me in this large house on figure 8. Suddenly, he went from being the moon and the stars to just a bleak, unforgivable starless night. Cold and dark.

We had met when we were 16 and he was every bit a spoiled little rich boy that had extreme daddy issues, but there was more to him than that. I picked at his defenses until finally they shattered, and I was engulfed by all of him.

He was just different around me and that fact alone left me delighted. It made me feel special, almost stupidly so.

Things between Rafe and his father were already tense enough since Rafe bought a motorbike with the money he was supposed to spend on the generator. Then everything began to snowball out of control from there. He threw himself into his father’s work and when he wasn’t doing that, he was with Kells and Topper doing god knows what and snorting anything he could find.

Despite all of this, Rafe always kept me close and always let me in.

Last year, when Ward had gone with Sarah and John B to South America, and didn’t return, something shifted inside him. His defenses were rebuilt, only this time he left me on the outside, and no matter how hard I tried to break him down brick by brick, nothing worked. He became obsessed with running Ward’s real estate empire better than he ever did.

Rafe was a cold and calculated legacy with a large chip on his shoulder that made him lethal against competing firms. He chewed them up and spit them out.

With every major milestone, it was never enough for him, and like a man possessed he continued to ruthlessly target anyone that had done him wrong. We had everything and yet the bitterness seemed to consume him. He was someone I saw once a day if I was lucky. He always left before I woke up and was never home by the time I went to bed and suddenly we were glorified roommates.

Once upon a time, I would stay up waiting for him with my heart in my hand, hoping to connect in any way. Even if I only had a few minutes to spend with him before he went to sleep, it was enough for me. But, 10 pm became 11 pm which turned into 12 am and so I gave up. My sleep schedule was already a mess as thoughts and insecurities pestered my mind of another woman.

“Any word from him yet? Some of the donors are asking for him?” The question pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn to face my assistant, Rai.

Her question is innocent enough, but I can hear the slight concern in her voice and I know she has her doubts which only serves as another humiliating reminder that Rafe has done this to me repeatedly.

But this was different. He knew how important this charity dinner was to the shelter I opened up for women and children who suffered from domestic violence.

As someone who came from the cut, it was everywhere and so many didn’t have the means to flee and so they were forced to stay and in the most severe instances, die.

Rafe gave me the start-up money as a gift and it was a huge success that I opened several more as well as fund for scholarships for both the mothers and kids. Which is what brings me to now, a charity dinner and auction to help fund said scholarships and pay for all the shelter necessities.

He promised he would be here. It’s important for the donors to see him here seeing as though he donated a huge sum once more and could ease the minds of those who are teetering on the edge. It’s also important to me. This project is mine, something I created and shared with the world and I want to share it with him too.

I want him to celebrate this accomplishment with me and he is nowhere to be found.

“He’ll be here. Rafe promised.” I clear my throat, “He knows how important this is to me.”

Rai gave me a doubtful look and I know that I couldn’t convince her anymore than I could convince myself. The engagement ring that bore my finger instantly weighed a ton.

Glancing down at the large diamond that once meant the promise of everything, stared back at me as nothing more than a simple accessory.

Rafe had proposed and foolishly I believed that it would save us so I said yes.

I stayed and time and time again, the disappointment slowly began to etch away at the childish hope I tried to cling onto until only a dull ache remained.

“Don’t you look lovely?” Plastering a fake smile onto my face, I let out a sheepish laugh as I take in Kiara’s parents.

“Thank you guys so much for coming.” The words ring true but I couldn’t help but feel like I was underwater. My focus is shot and I find myself hardly listening with my eyes darting to the front door every minute or so, desperate to see the man I used to think would never stop loving me.

I float around the room, committed to being a gracious host, because I would not let him take this from me too. Not when he’s taken everything else already. This is the only piece left of me.

My cheeks hurt two hours later from all the fake smiles and my throat burns from the feigned laughing. The sound of my own voice makes me wince.

In those two hours, I felt my confidence slowly get chipped piece by piece as everyone questioned where my fiancé was. And for a moment, I hated him. I truly hated him because even this small piece of heaven I made for myself is tied into him.

Honey, I need to run some numbers with Rafe. Where is he hiding?

Where is the biggest investor? Surely, he’s here, right?

I haven't seen Mr. Cameron. Has he stepped out?

With which I responded,” Work emergency, you know how it is. He’s nothing if not committed.” Considering most of these possible donors run their own large companies, they completely understand but it’s their partners reactions that seem to leave me stunned.

Each had a warm look of understanding dancing in their eyes as I’m sure they’ve used the same excuse time and time again.

I can only take so much. So I excuse myself and glance at the small gold heart shaped watch on my delicate wrist and take note of the time.

There was only 30 minutes left and I haven't gotten so much as a text from him.

A pit began to form where my stomach used to be as I realized once more that he wasn’t coming. As I stood in a packed room, filled with a flurry of activity, surrounded by people, I’ve never felt more alone.

Then my eyes connect with Mrs. Dune, the wife of a finance guru that works alongside Rafe. She was much older than I, having been with her husband for 30 years but she looked even older.

It’s almost as though she can read my thoughts, because she sends me a sad smile as she lets her eyes go to where her husband stands talking to other donors. I haven't seen him talk to her the whole night, instead she’s been standing at his side saying nothing.

I take an uneven breath and my eyes widen in realization. Was this what I had to look forward to? A life sentence of loneliness vacant of any warmth and attention?

Swallowing hard, I force my eyes away and stare at the door. Begging whoever will listen to please, this once, let me be wrong. I’m so in my thoughts that I’m startled when a soft hand lands on my arm.

“You get used to it. Eventually, you’ll feel nothing.” Mrs. Dune says quietly, her eyes moving back to her husband, with a look I can only describe as longing.

That’s the thing. I don't want to get used to it. This isn’t how I want to be loved.

“What you’ve accomplished is amazing. Don’t let him take that away from you.” Was her parting words and she left, not sparing her husband another glance.

When I turn to see if he noticed she left, he’s still engaged in conversations and doesn’t spare her a glance.

This is not how I want to be loved.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. This is Amy Park.” Rai looks ecstatic as she introduces me to the stunning tall woman next to her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Park.” The words come out on instinct.

“I wanted to discuss how open you would be to expanding shelters nationwide?”

And for the first time in awhile, a real smile graces my face as I answer her question.

_____________________

The first thing I notice when I pull into our driveway is the plethora of cars that fill it. The second thing I pick up on is familiar vibrations of music with each step I take along our pathway.

My front door is wide open as people come in and out, clearly under the influence of something and my chest constricts.

This is what he’s been doing? This was more important than me?

Clutching my keys tightly, I welcome the familiar biting against my skin. I recognize many of the faces, most of them having gone to school with Rafe.

If it was any other night, I would have joined them. We were only 22 and yet have lived what seems to be a hundred lives. But, this is different. He’s different.

Climbing up the staircase, I head to the balcony where I hear a familiar boast of laughter.

I cleared my throat. “What’s so funny?”

Heads snap in my direction but my eyes are only on one. One that currently has a short black haired girl nearly in his lap. I recognize her as a bartender at one of the local grills/bars we frequent.

“Don’t you look gorgeous-“ Topper attempts to run interference, but it’s too late. I raise my hand to silence him. I’ve already seen everything I needed too.

His body is positioned slightly in front of them as if I was going to body slam them. I might actually.

“Hey, wait! How did the donor dinner go?” Topper's eyes dart to Rafe’s. “That was tonight right?”

I see the moment everything clicks. His eyes rake down from my newly styled hair to the louboutins in my feet. Everything I wore from the jewelry on my body to the shoes on my feet he bought me, and I’ve never felt more sick.

Rafe clenches his eyes shut as he shakes his head. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed.

“Get out of my way, Topper.”

He throws a worried glance to Rafe. “I think maybe-“

“Top, give us a second.” Rafe mutters tensely. He keeps his hard set gaze on me, drilling into me, almost as though he’s daring me to move.

Kelce stands up giving me an apologetic look. “Rafe, man, there’s a bunch of people here.”

I force myself to look away.

“Not right now, Kells.”

He wasn’t wrong. This house was full of people, but the only difference being that none of them matter. Not to me and not to Rafe.

Steady. Keep steady and just breathe.

“So what should I do-“

I look at him. Me or them? It was unsaid but he knew what I was asking him.

“Back the fuck off and give me a fucking second with my girl.” Rafe barks out, running a rough hand through the short cropped strands that brush against his forehead.

Both hold their hands up in mock surrender before shuffling off to the side. The girl doesn’t get up.

Topper coughs. “Sophia.”

Her eyes take me in with clear distaste. Her hand is still dangerously close to Rafe’s waistband. I raise a single eyebrow giving her one last opportunity to move.

She doesn’t. Not when Kelce calls out for her either.

Sophia made her bed. Setting my bag down, I take three big steps before I’m roughly shoving her off the couch sending her sprawling on the floor.

Rafe let’s out a curse but makes no move to help her. At least he’s not stupid.

“Get out.” The words leave no room for negotiation.

The glare she sends me is filled with ice. “I was invited.”

Kelce lets out a groan before whispering,”Is she serious?”

The fake smile I’ve perfected over the years decorated my face as I bent down to her height on the floor.

Flashing my engagement ring in her face. “Get out of my fucking house.”

That seems to shut her up and I watch with narrowed eyes as she struts away, Topper and Kelce in tow.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears while my chest feels like it’s going to explode. I turn around slowly to face my damnation.

My heels click against the marble floor and with each step I take, the more the ache in my chest grows. Marching up to Rafe, I grab his chin and force him to look at me. Those familiar glacial blue eyes are red. His pupils are blown wide and my chest cracks wide open.

He’s high.

This is not how I want to be loved.

This is what he wanted to do instead of being there for me. Instead of supporting me. Instead of loving me.

Dying would be less painful.

I stare directly into those eyes, searching for an answer, wondering when the love he felt for me slowly became indifference.

I’d almost rather there be a mistress rather than this cold indifference.

“Did you have fun at least?” My words are soft but the intention is anything but.

He says nothing. Instead Rafe studies me like I’m a wounded animal.

Dark. Beautiful. Cruel.

Those are the words I’d use to describe the man in front of me. The gaze that once felt like a soft caress on my skin now felt clinical.

“It seems like you’re having fun.” I quip, flicking the small bag filled with familiar white powder.

I thought I could fix him. I will not make that mistake again.

“I completely forgot-“

“How?” I ask.

His eyes narrow like he’s trying to figure me out. “Work got insanely busy. You know how it is. Even if I own the place, I’m young and the older guys don’t respect me.”

“It was in your work calendar.”

“No, it wasn’t-“

“It was also on your personal calendar and our joint one. I had your assistant send you a reminder email. So my question is how?” My voice wobbled and it was only by a small miracle that I didn’t throw something in his face. “How did you forget the only thing I’ve asked you for?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “It wasn’t intentional. It slipped my mind.”

“Something I worked so hard to accomplish just slipped your mind?” Exhaustion has finally got the better of me and I finally let him see just how much he’s managed to chip away.

“I should have been there for you and I’m so sorry,” His throat flexed a hard swallow. “But there will be other dinners.”

The dull ache in my chest thrummed harder. Rafe was brushing this off, just like he always did. My skin flushed.

At my silence, he braces his elbows on his knees and leans forward, tracking my every move. “I feel like you’re not understanding me.”

“No, I understand you just fine. It just wasn’t important enough for you.”

He stilled. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Of course it wasn’t what he meant but he’s managed to make me feel so insignificant. So small.

“I know that you’ve canceled most of our dates for work. Even an anniversary once. I know that you missed the grand opening of the shelter that I spent a year and half planning.” I force the words out, each breath I take feeling like needles. “I asked for this one thing, Rafe and you couldn’t even give me that.”

“What about everything I have given you? This house, the car you drive in, the clothes on your back, the boat?”

It’s like I’m staring at 16 year old Rafe again. To him, material things were the equivalent to love. He couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I find that I was much happier when I had little to nothing, than I am now, sitting here with everything, in my gown and jewels.

“I didn't ask for any of those things.” By the stubborn gleam in his eyes, I knew he was going to fight me on everything.

Lately, his tactic was always combative and it was easier to give in or to not say anything at all.

“No, but you took them all the same. I fucked up, I get that. I know what this shelter means to you, but that doesn’t change the fact that you wouldn’t even have it if it weren’t for me.”

A familiar buzzing filled my ears. His words were ugly but they weren’t a lie. Even my project was his. I had nothing of my own.

I wonder how many other people came to the same revelation. Maybe that’s why so many of them asked where he was? Because this accomplishment wasn’t mine, no clearly it was his.

There is not enough room in my chest for the ache he caused.

Words can’t seem to make it to my lips. I think my brain has finally broken and realizes that no words I say will get him to change.

Smoothing out my dress, I stand on shaky legs before kicking off my heels. He can keep them. With that, I leave him out on the porch and make a beeline towards our his room.

Opening the closet doors, I reach for the suitcase before setting it on the bed. I wasn’t going to be like Mrs. Dune and waste away beside a man that used to love me, hoping that one day he will once more.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The words are hard and low.

Rafe stands at the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is brewing with several emotions I can't quite place.

It was funny. I haven't seen this much emotion from him in months.

I ignore him and toss some clothes from my dresser into the open suitcase, making sure to grab only the clothes I needed.

I slowly take off each piece of jewelry and set it on my vanity. He can keep everything he so gloriously mentioned he bought.

“You loved me once.” I state, tilting my head to the side. I rake over every detail of his face, knowing I’ll never forget it.

I loved him once too.

His face morphed to one of confusion before disbelief. “I still love you. That’s never changed.”

I shake my head. “Yes, it has.”

Rafe stalks towards me, his hand reaching to burl around my neck while the other pulls me to him by my waist. Familiar cologne fills my lungs and I count to ten mentally. It was the same cologne I bought him when we first started dating.

“I work too much, I know. That’s my fault and I’ll cut back. I’ll be home more and we can spend time together. I’ll do better.” Taking my chin between two fingers, he forces my eyes to his. I see the sincerity in his eyes but I know how this goes.

The same way it’s gone the last two times. He’ll beg me to stay, promise to change, and things will be good for a month before he slowly starts missing dates or canceling trips we’ve planned months before. Then the cycle repeats.

“No.” It was time to love myself. Since he clearly couldn’t do it. I will not allow myself to get lost in him again.

“Baby, just wait. Will you wait-“ He huffs as I try to move around him. No such success as his towering body has me moving back and suddenly I’m caged in by his arms. “Just give me a second, okay?”

“I’ve given you years. I won’t give you another second.”

“Talk to me.” His voice breaks. “Please just talk to me.”

Longing filled my body. Words I’ve been waiting to hear for months come so easily to him, but only when I already have one foot out the door.

“I’m alone.” The words come out strangled. “ I’m alone in this. I have been for a long time.”

“What do you mean? Baby, I’m right here.” Rafe’s gripping onto me tighter, almost like he’s ensuring I don’t leave. “I’m right here.”

“You're never here. That’s exactly my point.”

Rafe’s eyes widen before he shakes his head wildly, staring at me like I’m speaking another language. “That’s not true-“

“What’s today?”

“What?”

“What’s today?” I repeat, my eyes never leaving his. I want to see every emotion that storms in his eyes, just to remind myself that he is capable of emotion after all.

“Friday.”

I smile at him sadly. Exactly my point. “I haven't seen you since Tuesday.”

“No, that can’t be right. I was with you when we had lunch with-“ He breaks off, reaching for his phone in his pocket. I watch as he pulls up his calendar, an action that mortifies me, and confirms our scheduled date.

“Tuesday.” He whispers, shocked even.

I wasn’t. Rafe had to check his calendar to confirm that last time he’s seen his fiancé.

“You used to come bring me lunch. If you were more than a couple hours, you always found your way to me or gave me a call that you’ll be late.” I shrugged, blinking back the tears stinging my eyes. “Now, I don’t think I’d get a call if you were in the hospital.”

The buzzing in my ears intensifies.

“You didn’t tell me any of this. None of how you were feeling and you're ready to walk out the door without so much as an argument.” A spark of my old Rafe appears as frustration dances across his face.

“I should have-“

“You’re giving up.” He states, shaking his head in anger.

Maybe I was. “I’m tired of fighting for us. You gave up a long time ago.”

Large hands curl around my cheeks, pulling me towards his face. Rafe rests his forehead on mine, his piercing blue eyes darting across my face in panic.

“I love you. I love you.” He knows he’s grasping at straws, but we feel like strangers now. The words don’t feel like they used to. “You know I love you.”

“This isn’t how I want to be loved, Rafe. I see you every couple days, the only time we’re ever together is when we have sex.” We lost sight of how we once were. The only thing that remained good between us was sex.

That alone isn’t healthy. He goes to open his mouth but I cut him off.

“We never talk and when we do, you don’t even listen to me. Your brain is always somewhere else.”

“I’m in a relationship with a ghost. I’m not letting you suck the life out of me anymore.” My eyes catch the sparkling ring that once brought me such happiness. Now, it simply feels like a ball and chain.

Before I can convince myself otherwise, I start to tug it off my finger when Rafe truly begins to panic.

“Don’t do that. Please don’t do that.” I try to hand it to him but Rafe jolts back like he’s been burned. The look he gives my empty hand is nothing short of destroyed.

I think I’m going to throw up. His words are laced with raw grief that makes it hard for me to breathe.

“Put it back on.” I hear the slight tremble in his voice.

“No.” My lips wobble.

“Please put it back on because if you don’t that means we’re over. That’s not us. We aren’t supposed to end.”

“Rafe, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“You’re ripping my fucking heart out of my chest. This isn’t anywhere near hard, it’s excruciating.” Rafe’s hand is notably shaking, but he tries to hide it by clenching and unclenching his palms.

“Welcome to the last year of my life.” The words are brutal but he needs to hear them.

“You promised me we’d never end.”

“You promised to change. I guess we both lied.”

Rafe raises his voice, his arms thrown up in the air in clear distress, “How can you just stand there?”

It was a miracle I haven’t collapsed on my shaky legs yet. The adrenaline pumping though my veins was the only thing getting me through this torture. “Rafe, stop it.”

“You talk about indifference?” Rafe lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head up at the ceiling. “Who’s heartless now, baby?”

“You don’t get to put this on me. I’ve given you years of my life, showered you with nothing but love and support. I asked for one night, one fucking night, in your busy schedule and you didn’t bother to show up, or send a simple text.” I intake a sharp breath, pushing the hair out of my face with a shaky hand. “Instead, you threw a party in our home and got high.”

I point a finger at his chest, staring at him with open heartbreak. “I needed you,” The tightness in my chest finally pops as I choke on a loud sob, “I needed you and you weren’t there.”

“I lost sight of what’s important to me. I’m just trying to give you everything-” I cut him off.

Grabbing the clothes I haphazardly tossed in the suitcase, ”You want this? Take it,” I shove them into his chest, “Take all of it. I don’t want it. I’d give this all away in a heartbeat if it meant I could have you back.”

I meant every word. I wanted my best friend back, the person I confided in and depended on. I wanted our late nights back watching trashy reality TV. We used to sit in the bathtub together basking in each other's company. Went on walks along the beach or took the boat out for hours, fucking on the deck, not caring that anyone could see.

It used to be simple. He loved me and I loved him.

“I’m angry, baby.I’m so damn angry all the time. At my fucking dad for always having these impossible expections. Then he goes and dies, leaving me without a clue on how to manage everything.” Rafe sags against the wall, exhaustion marring his features, his blue eyes pleading for me to understand. “I feel like I’m drowning all the time.”

I had no idea this was how he was feeling. But, he never let me in. “You could have told me, we’re supposed to be partners in this. You asked me to marry you!”

I think deep down I know that he felt me slipping through his fingers at one point. He could see clearly how unhappy I’ve become and that’s why he proposed. And maybe just like him, I thought the proposal could fix us. This proposal was being manipulated on both ends, it was doomed from the start.

You can’t fix what’s already broken.

“My head has basically been a war zone and I’m losing. The only thing keeping me sane is that I know, when I walk through that door,” he points to our bedroom door, “I’m going to find you in our bed. Every. Single. Night.”

“I can’t let the ugly touch you.” My heart splits into two at his words. Words I know feel like acid leaving his mouth. “You’re the only thing I have left.”

“Then you should have taken better care of me. You should have let me take care of you.”

“Fuck,” He screams, bending down and swiping the lamp clean of the nightstand. The lamp goes flying into the wall, shattering into hundreds of pieces and my eyes are drawn to them. I can’t help but think it reminds me of us.

Dragging my eyes back to his, I fight the urge to wrap him in my arms. Seeing him in pain has never brought me joy, but this was brutal. His eyes shined with unmistakable tears, realizing the strength of my resolve.

There was no going back this time. There was no trying again. I didn’t have another try in me.

I grip onto the fabric of my dress moving towards him, my heart pounding out of my chest. He moves instantly, holding out his hand to guide me over the shattered lamp. Why couldn’t he be like this months ago?

Why did he let it get this bad? Why couldn’t he love me?

Now, standing in front of him, I let myself one deep breath, basking in the comforting smell of him. A large hand curls around my neck, his grip strong and firm, demanding my attention. His blue eyes are daunting and so intense, I find myself fighting the urge to look away.

“I’m going to get you back.”

”Take it, Rafe.” I whisper, uncurling his limp hand, “Take it. It doesn’t mean what I want it to.”

Tears blur my vision as I fumble with the ring he refuses to take.

Rafe shakes his head, clenching his jaw tightly. “There’s no point in taking it off if it’s gonna go right back there in a couple weeks. ”

I can’t help but smile at the determination in his voice. He sounds like the old Rafe and for a second I see a glimmer of who he used to be.

He had me. Then he lost me.

This is not how I want to be loved.

“If spending the next few months without you means that I get to spend a lifetime with you, I can manage. I’ll do whatever I have to. But don’t think for a second that there is anyone else on this entire fucking planet meant for you.”

That’s how I want to be loved. Too little too late.

I drop the ring.

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adelheidvonschicksal · 1 month

Note

Hello! I’d love to read your vision of the LoD boys x MC in high school. (High school to adults, just high school, childhood. Anything!) Alllll the cliches appreciated, haha.

Coming-of-Age HC's with the LADS Guys

pairing: fem!reader x Zayne, fem!reader x Xavier, fem!reader x Rafayel

content: fluff, alternate universe (kinda)

Childhood with Zayne is filled with increasingly hot summers and snowy winters. It’s memories of an extroverted young girl dragging along her much more introverted best friend (well, Caleb’s friend first) to make popsicles under the blaze of the June sun and snowmen in the cold of January. In the same way snow melts with the coming of spring, you chip his shell away, making a friendship that’s stronger than any of your lifetimes.

Those years with Zayne are like a pleasant dream, soft and gentle, like his hand when he wipes away the tears from your cheeks whenever you fall or when he places a band-aid on one of the many injuries prone to an adventurous spirit.

Middle School with Zayne is when you first feel fragility in your friendship. You’re realizing you might be growing in different directions.

Zayne is intelligent, often getting attention for his grades and participating in scholars tournaments while you’re busy with your own hobbies and friends that come with them.

There’s hope your friendship will persevere each time you walk home together, each time he lets you share his umbrella on heavy rainy days, and each day he saves to spend with you.

High school with Zayne is confusing. Growing into adulthood is an exciting and nervous situation for anyone but even more-so when everyone but you seem to realize that you have feelings for your childhood friend.

Your grandma is constantly reminding you how smart and handsome Zayne has become. He’s going to study to be a doctor, you know! Maybe you should ask him to prom?

Caleb complains about how Zayne usually takes your side in arguments and does what you want all the time. He frequently teases you every time you sigh over the older boy. Isn’t getting a crush on your older brother’s friend too obvious?

They’re right though, and it’s awkward. What’s more awkward is the stolen kiss with Zayne in the new car his parents got him when he first got his license. You don’t talk about it even after he goes to college.

Meeting Zayne as an adult is nostalgic yet new as you learn about each other again. The trust you had in each other never truly left.

With each trinket, you realize he’s still the same Zayne, quiet and stern on the outside but with a patient and gentle center. However, his smart mouth still rears its head as frequently as it did back in high school.

You watch out for him more as an adult, because you see that he isn’t actually good at caring for himself despite all his intelligence. You make it so he can rely on you to get through the past days and future ones.

You try new things together. You adapt to how your views of the world differ so you can mold those differences together, creating one shared experience in the life you build with one another.

Childhood with Xavier is innocent. Being born on Philos is like being born in a fantasy book. Your world is sword training and ceremony rehearsals, your feet always chasing after the decorated knights and lightseekers before they board their spaceships. In your mind, the world is as limitless as the starry sky promised just beyond its surface.

Xavier is the same way. He says he likes sword training because it’s the only thing he’s good at. Truthfully, he loves that sword, carries it around with him everywhere like a third arm, and you love training with your new fellow student.

As you get older, things start to change for reasons you don’t really understand. The loss of innocence is slow, dragging out like the death of a star. It starts when silly days sword practicing becomes military drills. Then, Xavier’s ceremony rehearsals become real with each trial he has to overcome. It culminates when you find out that he will probably be betrothed one day against his will, which manifests into doubt that you would ever be on the list for a prince to marry.

Military Academy with Xavier offers a surprising amount of freedom as you discover yourself away from the watchful eyes of the royal family. It’s reintroducing him to your favorite snacks and music and sneaking out of the barracks to watch the stars and anything else he couldn’t do under the iron grip of his family.

There’s also many nights helping him study and focus so he can become the best version of himself because he still has rebellious tendencies after all these years.

These tendencies lead you to covering for him and also him talking you into one too many bad ideas. Ideas that leave you carrying one another home on stumbling legs after too many rounds with random wanderers or rounds with liquor way stronger than you know how to deal with.

It’s okay. You have each other to keep the other safe, so attached at the hip that Jeremiah always wonders where the other one is whenever he catches the two of you apart.

His light shines only for you. If you asked, he would give anything to make sure you’re happy: his time, his freedom, his life.

The jealousy and longing to be with you grates against the cage his title keeps around him whenever he sees someone else who has seen your light and fallen in love with you too. It’s written love letters, never signed, but left in your locker, the ones that smell like forget-me-nots and written in a prose that Xavier hopes you won’t recognize as his when he sees you fawning over the little notes.

Your looming graduation reignites the worries about your relationship. You have to come to terms with your respective role as a knight and Xavier as King. Xavier feels the same way.

Yet this part of your life quickly becomes filled with sweet nothings – promises to run away together, carried on his wishes to be with you for the rest of immortality, all wrapped in the little star charm carried on his sword. It makes you realize your feelings were requited all along.

Adulthood with Xavier fills like achieved dreams and nights you never want to end. It’s basking in the company of one another, adorned with kisses and released longing that couldn’t be given years prior.

It’s becoming more than just his guiding starlight but his entire galaxy, and he shows it with each kiss he gives you.

Childhood with Rafayel feels like you’re dreaming. Mermaids aren’t supposed to exist but there’s one right in front of you.

You learn so many things from him. He loves talking about almost anything from his culture to your culture. He loves art, the sunset, and music.

You bring him lots of things from land that you think he would like, spending long days at the beach trading items with him and showing him human toys. It becomes normal to strike out early every weekend to meet the Lemurian boy again and again.

He braids Lemurian ribbons and clips seashell accessories into your hair. He teaches you Lemurian lullabies and sayings. He often gets in trouble for accidentally gifting you family heirlooms without realizing the weight of said items. He just thought it was pretty. Even if he got in trouble, it was worth it to see you smile.

Your time together eventually develops into trying to think of ideas to explore further from the beach. You train to hold your breath a little longer with hopes of making it further into the sea than last time.

Your first kiss is because of the legend that Lemurian kisses can let one breathe underwater. It wasn’t really a big deal back then. However, the memory of it makes your face hot many years later when you think back on it.

The end of summer marks the slowdown of your free time together. It always ends with a pinky promise to spend your next free day with him.

Your 8th grade year with Rafayel is a collage of photos and videos filled with cawing seagulls, the serenade of his harmonica, and the first time your feet were able to touch the surface of the water. Rafayel always seems to want to show off his new powers as the next God of the Sea.

He’s still a child though, which means he is still insistent to sneak to school with you to see what human classes are like. He still talks too smartly to the other students, and you still have to talk him out of a fight with one of the other boys.

It’s an exhausting day but he seemed to have fun running around town with you, saving the day in the strip of pictures printed out from the photo booth and the memory of his first surface world sunset.

Your later teenage years offer even less time together but each time you visit him feels more meaningful than the last even though you can’t go further than the crackle of a bonfire at the edge of the beach. You’re happy with these late nights though because you love the boy from another world.

No matter how many years pass, he’ll always be the boy who gets shy and makes excuse after excuse to avoid singing for you despite being born a siren. He’s the boy who constantly complains about his classmates being idiots for saying you’re going to steal his blood and make him into oil and how they tease him for being friends with a human. He refuses to tell you that it’s more because of his crush on a human. Despite all that, he has no issue dropping hint after hint about how Lemurians can bond with others by giving one of their scales.

Years later, it still makes a lovely necklace to wear when he finally makes his choice to be on land, with you, his beloved bride.

#love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #lads x reader #xavier fluff #zayne fluff #rafayel fluff

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milaeth · 11 months

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୨୧┊ 𝐈𝐈. 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇. ( lando norris )

ꖛ ─ you’re reading part two ∿ part one

✧.* pairings ─ lando norris x model! piastri! reader

✧.* genre ─ one-shot ⨾ slight angst & fluff

✧.* summary ─ in which Lando has to deal with the consequences of his indirect confession from a few weeks ago, and then finds out that you seem to have a boyfriend. after a crash with your brother and an annoying interaction with your boyfriend, frustration gets ahold of him and he ends up angrily confessing to you…

✧.* warnings ─ mention of crash, jealousy

✧.* mily’s thoughts ─ i got really lazy towards the end lmao but i still hope you guys enjoy <3

it's been weeks since the lie detector challenge where Lando confessed his crush on a mysterious girl, you, and he can't deny that he feels a tinge of regret. the aftermath has been overwhelming. his inbox has been flooded with messages from curious fans asking who his crush is. his friends haven't let him live it down either, teasing him relentlessly. it reached a point where he was even trending on twitter for hours, and the entire formula one community went wild. he’s been avoiding twitter and the comments section of his instagram posts ever since.

he has come across various wild fan theories, some of which are uncomfortably close to the truth. at one point, he stumbled across tweets that suggested you might be his secret crush. they even provided "evidence" in the form of photos capturing moments where he couldn't hide his interest, gazing at you as if you were the stars, no, the center of his entire universe. the sight of those tweets made him feel sick to his stomach. he didn't even realize there were photos of him talking to you, let alone ones that exposed his feelings so blatantly.

he’s incredibly grateful for these two weeks without any races, not having to face you and constantly worrying that you might have seen those tweets. the fear of your potential reaction has been haunting him throughout this entire period. would you feel flattered? no, that’s highly unlikely. you would most likely feel embarrassed. Lando has come across several pictures on Instagram where fans had taken photos of you and some random guy, and it appears that you two are quite close. he has found himself staring at those pictures for minutes on end, his eyes always drawn to the guy's arm, which seems to be permanently wrapped around your waist in those snapshots.

is he jealous? absolutely.

does he have a right to be? absolutely not.

but that doesn't stop him from constantly overthinking. is that blond man in the photos your boyfriend? you've never mentioned him, nor has Lando ever seen him by your side at the paddock before.

Lando lets out a heavy sigh, feeling a mix of anxiety and embarrassment. the last thing he wants to think about is Oscar, his teammate and your brother. the mere thought of Oscar accidentally stumbling upon those fan theories about you being Lando's crush makes him cringe inwardly. it would be beyond embarrassing for Oscar to find out through twitter that his own sister is Lando's crush, especially considering that Oscar had been encouraging him to confess his feelings.

the world of racing can be a whirlwind of emotions and drama, and Lando never expected his personal life to become such a public spectacle. the pressure to live up to fan expectations and media attention can be overwhelming. Lando wishes he could turn back time and undo the confession to save himself and Oscar from this potentially awkward situation.

but for now, all he can do is hope that Oscar hasn't stumbled upon those fan theories or the photos. the embarrassment and tension that would follow such a discovery is the last thing Lando wants to experience. he prays that this situation can somehow be resolved without straining his relationship with Oscar or, more importantly, with you.

but it seems impossible to avoid the strain on their relationship when Lando loses control during the race in austria and accidentally crashes into Oscar's car, causing a double dnf for both of them. fortunately, neither of them is physically injured, but the emotional toll weighs heavily on Lando. as he steps out of his wrecked car, he sees Oscar walking right past him with a tight smile his way. it feels like a punch in the gut, as guilt and anger wash over him like an unstoppable wave.

he can't help but feel ashamed of his stupid mistake, and the weight of it all is magnified when he sees you burst into the room after the interviews and immediately lock Oscar in a worried embrace. the sight of your worried and anxious expression hits Lando hard. it’s a painful reminder that he’s the one who caused this turmoil. he can only watch as you anxiously inquire about Oscar's well-being, and each time Oscar reassures you, telling you that he’s fine.

Lando feels a pang of stupidity as he longs for the day when you will seek comfort in his arms.

a faint smile creeps onto Lando's face as your gaze briefly meets his, and he stands there, seemingly pathetic and alone beside you both. Lando watches you break away from Oscar's embrace, concern painting itself on your features. it's as if you can sense his inner turmoil, even from a distance. he wishes he could find comfort in your arms, but the reality of the situation keeps him trapped in his own self-blame. how could he expect anything else when he is the one who caused this unfortunate turn of events? with a heavy heart, Lando takes a deep breath and tries to regain his composure.

"are you okay?" you ask hesitantly as you try to gauge Lando's well-being. you don't want to seem rude, but you sense that something is wrong. Lando, however, only manages a weak nod and is unable to return your gaze. awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck and replies, "yeah, i'm fine."

but deep down, you both know that's not the truth. the tension in the air is palpable, and Lando's hollow assurances only underscore his underlying turmoil. the weight of guilt, regret, and unspoken emotion weighs heavily on him, and it's obvious he's struggling with it.

as the seconds pass, the unspoken words hang in the air, their presence undeniable. at this vulnerable moment, a part of you longs to reach out to Lando, to be there for him, and to create a space where he can share his problems. the genuine concern in your eyes reflects the care you have for him, and is a silent invitation for him to overcome his defenses and confide in you.

the truth is, however, that the two of you don't know each other well, exchanging only fleeting glances and making small talk from time to time. yet despite the limited interactions, there has always been an inexplicable attraction between you, an invisible thread that seems to bind your hearts.

the moment is abruptly interrupted as the door to the room swings open with a loud bang. Lando's eyes snap to the source of the noise, widening in surprise when he sees the blond guy from the photos entering the room. the guy has a smug grin on his face as he casually walks over to you, trying to lean towards you but you take a step to the side. Lando's stomach churns, and a feeling of nausea washes over him.

his gaze shifts from the already annoying guest to your expression, noticing your discomfort. Before he can even process the situation, the blond guy speaks up again, his tone dripping with arrogance. "that move you pulled back there was really risky, buddy. i thought you were a professional. be careful, or i'll end up taking your seat." the guy's laughter grates on Lando's nerves, and he clenches his teeth, unable to comprehend why you would be with such a jerk. the use of the word "buddy" only intensifies his disdain.

Lando has had enough. all he wants is to escape this unpleasant encounter, forget about this terrible day, and put the image of you with your obnoxious boyfriend out of his mind.

"well, since you seem so confident about replacing me, you should know that taking risks is an inherent part of racing, right?" Lando raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response that doesn’t come. "exactly. there are multiple reasons why i'm the one sitting in the car, not you, buddy."

his voice carries a sharp edge, perfectly matching the forced smile plastered on his face as he brushes past the guy, giving his shoulder a patronizing pat. without saying another word, Lando storms out of the room and, seconds later, out of the McLaren facility. as he steps outside, he curses under his breath. it’s raining and he doesn’t have an umbrella with him. this day can't possibly get any worse, can it?

suddenly, a voice interrupts his frustrated thoughts. "do you need a helping hand?" you're standing there, slightly out of breath, holding an umbrella. it's evident that you must have run after him, but why? Lando stammers, caught off guard by your unexpected appearance and bewildered by the fact that you followed him. "i... no, it's fine." the truth is, it's far from fine, but he's too upset and overwhelmed by everything happening around him to be in your presence right now.

you smile softly, seeing through Lando's attempt to brush off his emotions. "stop lying, i know it's not fine," you assert gently. you find yourself unsure of how to handle an upset Lando since you've never seen him like this before. it feels like he's on the verge of exploding at any moment. "come on, don't be so stubborn. you don't want to get sick, do you? i can walk you to your car with my umbrella protecting the both of us."

Lando scoffs, lightly shaking his head. "i'll pass. your boyfriend is probably waiting for you." he cringes inwardly at the bitterness and extreme jealousy that seeps into his words. there's a brief moment of silence, only the sound of rain filling the air. "why are you jealous?" you ask, genuinely curious. Lando immediately turns red, feeling caught off guard. "tch, i'm not jealous. and now, leave me be. i want to be alone after what happened."

"absolutely not. I'm helping you to your car, and now shut up," you insist firmly, your voice displaying determination. Lando groans, eventually giving in after a few seconds spent in the cold rain. you two walk closely together, somehow managing to fit under your small umbrella. there's silence for a few seconds before you break it again. "why are you jealous?"

Lando rolls his eyes, feeling overwhelmed and increasingly frustrated with the situation, thanks to your lovely boyfriend. "i'm not jealous! i'm just so confused—like, why him!?" he can feel his control slipping away, the frustration and jealousy pouring out along with the rain.

"what do you mean, 'why him'?"

"are you fucking kidding me?!" Lando laughs dryly, shaking his head. "he's an asshole. why would you be with someone like him when you could literally have anyone in the entire world?! i mean, look at you! you deserve so much better than him!"

Lando gets carried away, his voice growing louder and louder as he vents his pent-up frustration and jealousy. as you continue walking towards his car, you remain silent, listening attentively. you realize that he's finally opening up, and it's clear that this is what he needs to do to feel better. so you let him get it all out.

"why do you care so much?" you finally ask, genuinely surprised by the intensity of his emotions, your cheeks reddening. Lando stops in his tracks, searching for the right words as he gazes down at you. "are you serious? why? because... because i like you, i really like you. i've wanted to tell you in a better way, well, that was until i found out that you have this idiot as your boyfriend!"

your mouth hangs open, and you can only stare at him, speechless. "he," you finally manage to say, "he isn't my boyfriend, not anymore." you confess, and now it's Lando's turn to have his mouth hang open.

"but... but i saw so many pictures of you two being together," his voice trails off as realization dawns on him. that blond guy must be the annoying ex that Oscar always complains about, the one who wouldn't leave you alone. "those are most likely old pictures," you give him a small smile. "he's my ex."

"but why was he here, then?" Lando asks, perplexed. you shrug. "i don't know. he probably knew i would come and watch the race. he's still not over me and often tries to win me back, which tends to get really awkward." Lando's mouth forms a small 'o'.

there's a brief pause, and then you break the silence. "so, you like me, huh?" you ask, a playful smirk forming on your face. Lando's cheeks flush, and he scratches the back of his head while looking away, a bashful smile on his lips. "well, yeah, i like you."

a mischievous glint sparkles in your eyes as you continue teasing him. "so, i'm the secret crush you talked about in the recent McLaren video?" you ask, accompanied by a playful wink. you already know the answer, but you can't help but revel in the moment. Lando feels himself relaxing, and he lets out a laugh. "yes, you are," he admits with a genuine smile.

as you resume walking, Lando's car now just a few meters away, you can't resist playfully prodding him further. "so, are you gonna ask me out or something?" you inquire, grinning from ear to ear. Lando chuckles in response. "if you want me to." a chuckle escapes you as you confess, "oh, i've wanted that for months now." Lando's eyebrows raise in surprise. "really?" he asks, seeking confirmation, and you nod, your smile growing wider. there's a brief moment of contemplation before he speaks again, "your brother is gonna kill me." both of you exchange grins, knowing the potential repercussions. you laugh heartily and respond, "he's gonna survive."

∿ people who asked for part two ─ @alilstressyandlotdepressy @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @dakotali @ophcelia @be-your-coffee-pot @81astri @readinsilenceplease

don’t forget to like, comment & reblog (it’s very much appreciated <3).

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lgbtlunaverse · 4 months

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It seems the dash has been talking about the Lan Xichen - Nie Huaisang post-canon dynamics and it's gotten me thinking about how discussion around post-canon Lan Xichen's absolutely horrendous mental state often center around the question of "who is Lan Xichen angry at and who does he feel guilty about" which, at its worst, seperates into 2 camps where according to one side he feels guilty about not protecting jgy and hates the Nies and, on the other side he has completely flipped on jgy and despises him now while being filled with regret towards both nmj and nhs.

And I dislike both of these takes not just because it often feels like people projecting their own Blorbo opinions onto Lan Xichen which is never a fun time but also because that central question is flawed to begin with. It treats anger and guilt like opposing emotions that can't coexist or, if they do, have to compete until one wins and cancels the other out.

And that's not how that... works.

To be clear, the reason why Lan Xichen is so supremely fucked up at the end of the story is that he believes on some level he fucked over everyone in this situation. And, even more importantly, that even with hindsight he can't actually think of what he should have done instead. Every attempt to do better by one seems to involve fucking over the others even more because these people were in conflict with each other and choosing one would mean standing against another

And none of this would actually stop him from feeling angry at any of them. It's not "who is he angry at and who does he feel guilty about" it's: "he is angry at everyone and feels an immediate and bone deep guilt for daring to think badly of them."

Speaking from personal experience here, but feeling like you're not allowed to be angry at someone because you wronged them really doesn't stop the feeling, it just maks you feel like shit for feeling it. And this is all worsened by the fact that what he's in seclusion for is, at the end of the day, a moral question of what he, Lan Xichen, did wrong and every single emotion serves as further proof of the ways he's failed them.

Is he angry at Jin Guangyao, for killing his oldest friend, using Lan xichen's trust in him to do it, and then lying to him about it and countless other things for a decade when Lan Xichen thought of him as the person he trusted the most in the entire world? Yeah. That's a thing people get angry about! Except Jin Guangyao also saved his life and protected and helped him more times than he can count and never ever hurt him and can Lan Xichen say the same? No. He had to clean A-Yao's blood off Shouyue, he has to be haunted by the fact that if he just hadn't listened to Huaisang- hadn't been just like everyone else, in the end, and believed a lie about Jin Guangyao just to think the worst of him- then Jin Guangyao might still be alive.

Is he angry at Huaisang? For orchestrating the death of his best friend? For making him do it? For knowing what the real cause behind Nie Mingjue's death was and never telling him until he found out in the absolute worst way? Absolutely. But didn't Huaisang hide it from him for a reason? Wasn't it his clan's techniques and his personal faith in Jin Guangyao that cost Huaisang his brother? How dare he demand that Huaisang let him in on the secret of his brother's murderer when Lan Xichen is here wondering about how he should have protected that murderer better!

And I do even think he's angry at Nie Mingjue, sometimes I think it's pretty normal to be angry at your friend for kicking your other friend down the stairs and threatening to kill him, even when you know his mind is being poisoned. And years later the last thing he ever saw of Nie Mingjue was Nie Mingjue's thoughtless corpse coming to kill him before Jin Guangyao pushed him away and then proceeded to graphocally snap Jin Guangyao's neck in front of him. And if what he wants to do is protect Jin Guangyao, shouldn't he be mad at Mingjue? Didn't this whole mess start because Jin Guangyao was afraid Nie Mingjue was going to kill him?

Except holy shit, can you imagine? Lan Xichen feels like he personally has Nie Mingjue's blood on his hands. Your oldest friend is killed in front of you and you happily believe it's an accident for 11 years and now you think you have the right to be mad at him? You watched him get worse as he was being poisoned and attributed it to his illness and not to the techniques stolen from your library with the token you give his murderer. Does he think Nie Mingjue knew who he was in that moment and wanted to kill him? That he blamed Lan Xichen for his death? (For the record, I don't. I don't agree with most of what Lan Xichen thinks about himself, but I've been in a self-blame spiral and I know how it feels)

But what was he supposed to do then? Choose Mingjue's side and let A-Yao die? That's also unacceptable. But so is letting Jin Guangyao get away with it. Every single outcome is unacceptable. And really, if Jin Guangyao felt like he had to kill Nie Mingjue to save himself, when it was Lan Xichen who was supposed to keep the peace between them, isn't that another mark of his failure? That he couldn't protect Jin Guangyao well enough that he felt he had to do something so horrible?

But that's not an answer! He's supposed to know what he should have done different, and all he can come up with is "what you were already doing, but without failing this time" He can't pick a side because that means betrayal, but he's already tried not picking a side and it ended like this! There is no right answer, which can only leave him with the idea that he was simply doomed to hurt the people he loved from the start. No wonder the guy looks like shit when we see him post-canon. They put him in a real life trolley problem and gave him the lever as a souvenir.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #lan xichen #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #meng yao #nie mingjue #personally i LOVE high stakes ethical dilemma tragedies where there's not a clear right or wrong #and i can enjoy them without picking a side because it's fiction to me and i can admire the complex web of love hurt and betrayal from afar #but this is lan xichen's actual life. he HAS to have an answer to this question in a way I don't #but there isn't one

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jksprincess10 · 5 months

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Playing Santa || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Joel dresses up as Santa for the kids of Jackson. It shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.

A/N: Thank you to Jett @morallyinept who inspired me with her Santa!dieter. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate.

Divider by @saradika

CWs: Inappropriate uses of a Santa costume, some fluff, some references to Sarah's death, established relationship, riding, half-clothed sex, fingering, bj, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected p in v because this is a fantasy world and no one can get pregnant, some usage of "Santa" in a dirty situation, the usual. (1500 words)

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It did take some convincing for Joel to play Santa this year for the Jackson kids. It was truly a group effort – with some coercion and some puppy eyes. Tommy even used his young daughter as the perfect bait – imagine how much it would make her happy to see Santa. Traditions lived on in Jackson, even though nothing made sense anymore, they wanted some kind of normalcy for the children.

You help your boyfriend dress up in his large obnoxious red velvet pants, a matching jacket, a big belt, and shiny black shoes. You tie the fake beard on his face and put the fuzzy Christmas hat on his head.

“How do I look?” he asks as he turns around to let you see all of him. You bite down a smile.

“Like the sexiest Santa I’ve ever seen.”

He rolls his eyes, but you can see redness matching the color of his costume on his face. You pull on his jacket to bring him to your level and kiss him sweetly. Joel’s hands are on your ass, pulling you dangerously close. You put your hands against his chest and push him away slightly.

“Come on Santa, you’ll have this gift later, but you have to do your part first.”

He groans in response, but lets you drag him out of the house you share with him and Ellie.

You help to make sure all the kids get a chance to sit on Santa’s lap and receive a gift – mostly handmade stuff by the community – knitted plushies, wooden trains, etc. You also make sure Ellie doesn’t laugh too much at Joel’s misery, but she mostly spends time with her friend. Joel genuinely looks happy – you catch him smiling and taking his role seriously, with a deep voice and exaggerated laughs. It makes your heart swell up with love for your man, and you hope this experience is somewhat healing for him.

You help Tommy and Maria clean up the community center, and they leave you the key to finish up cleaning so they can put their daughter to sleep. You assure them you’ll take care of it – after of course, taking care of your personal Santa.

The beard and the hat came off a long time ago, and his jacket is open, exposing the tight black t-shirt he wears underneath. Joel is sitting on Santa’s chair to take a break, his big thighs spread wide. You try not to devour him with your eyes as you approach him to sit on his lap. His hand rests against your lower back as he presses a sweet kiss to your warm cheek.

“The kids seemed very happy. You did good, Joel.”

There’s a sadness behind those big brown eyes that you can feel. You know he thinks about Sarah, and every holiday without her doesn’t get easier.

“I know she’s proud of you.” You add as you press a kiss against his nose.

He hums in response and decides to change the subject to something less uncomfortable. “Was promised a gift, earlier, I reckon.” he drawls.

You roll your eyes and grab his chin to kiss him deeply, before sliding off his body slowly, until you’re on your knees in front of him. You work open the comically large belt.

“You don’t have to-”

You shush him and slap his hand away. “I want to.”

He helps you pull down his velvet pants and his boxers. You circle his half-hard cock, pumping him slowly until it gets bigger in your grasp. You drag the tip of your tongue on the tip, collecting the salty pre-cum. He hisses at your attention and rests his palm in your hair, not pulling nor pressing. You wrap your lips around his tip, sucking softly, taking him deeper until you stop at your hand holding the base.

“So good fo’ me…” Joel slurs, his head thrown back against the big chair. You moan at his words, letting your voice vibrate around him.

You pump him excruciatingly slowly, hollowing your cheeks to accentuate the sensation of your warm mouth. He groans appreciatively and you take that as a sign to pump him a bit faster in your mouth. He groans, frustrated, as he grabs your hair to pull you off. You sit back on his lap with a sly smile.

“What?”

“Don’t make me come so fast like a goddamn teenager.”

“I’m sorry.” You lie with a smile.

He brings you closer, so you straddle his lap, your arms around his neck. You lean down to kiss him deeply, sucking his tongue between your lips, swallowing his moans.

“Lemme touch ya baby.”

“Will you fuck me too, Santa?” You smirk.

He groans in discouragement. “Dirty girl. Yes, I will.”

Joel’s hand sneaks under your black velvet skirt until he finds your soaked panties. “All this fo’ me, hm?”

Your forehead rests against his shoulder as you feel your cheeks heating up. “Yes.”

“M’so lucky.” His fingers trace your clothed center, before he slips your panties aside. Two of his digits caress your seam, collecting the wetness there, before circling your clit in the way that he learned you loved. You muffle your moans against his coat. Your hands grab him tighter, as if you’re scared of falling with the intensity of your pleasure. “I got ya, baby.” he whispers against your ear, before pressing a kiss below your lobe.

He sneaks one of his free fingers between your walls as he keeps teasing your clit with vigor. It’s ridiculous how fast he can get you where he wants. You feel your body tense, before going limp in his arms. He leads you through your orgasm like one would lead an orchestra, touching you with precision and purpose. You shake in Joel’s grasp and let out a silent moan.

“Good girl.” He rewards you in a soft, honeyed voice.

“Fuck me, please.”

“Please, who?” He teases.

“Please, Santa.” You grimace and you don’t wait for his approval before you grab his cock and lead it between your folds until it notches at your hole. You take him in inch by inch, slowly, until you’re completely sat on his lap. He looks at you with adoration, his hand resting on your cheek as he steals a kiss from your lips.

“You take me so well, baby.” He praises in the shell of your ear, making you shiver. Sometimes, you wonder if you could come undone only with the sound of Joel’s voice. You lay your hands against his broad shoulders for leverage as you start moving up and down his length slowly, each one of your moves letting you feel him completely. His head rests against the chair, his eyes half closed, and mouth slightly opened. He looks so good like this; just letting you take what you want from him.

One of his big hands rest against your lower back to help you move, respecting your rhythm. You feel Joel’s tip hitting the inside of you just right, and you let your moans come out freely of your parted lips. He thrusts up, joining you in the languid thrusts of your hips, making you let out a silent scream, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“God, Joel…” You let out breathlessly.

He thrusts a few times, before grabbing you from your waist and pulling you off him. You watch as he gets up, big figure towering over you.

“Hold on to the chair.” He says as he leaves a playful slap on your butt under your skirt. You do as he says, your hands grabbing on to the chair’s arms, putting your ass up for Joel to take. He grabs on to the skin there, kneading your flesh, as he uses his other hand to guide his cock back in, between your wet and accommodating folds. You grab on to the chair harder, knuckles going white as he fucks you fast and hard. You chew on your lip to keep yourself from screaming, as you’re still in the middle of the community center in a well-visited street of Jackson.

“Will you come on my cock, baby?” His body bent over your back; he bites playfully at your earlobe after whispering those dirty words.

“Y-Yes Joel, please, please don’t stop.”

After a few more harsh thrusts, you feel yourself spasming around his cock as a new wave of slick wets him. You almost go limp as you ride out your orgasm, Joel holding you up with his strong arms as he chases his own high.

“Want me to fill ya up, uh? Want Santa’s little gifts?”

You almost laugh at his words, but you agree with a small “yes”. You feel him burst inside of you and register him putting your underwear back in place, one of his arms still holding you.

“Best Christmas gift.” He chuckles.

“Let’s go home, Santa.” You help him pull his pants up. “We don’t want to ruin Christmas’s magic for any kids.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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ame-perduexx · 9 months

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Astrology Observations🦋

*as always* take what you want, leave what you want

*based only on my personal experiences with people with these placements*

🧚🏻cancer venus: if you've ever felt love from a cancer venus then i hope you know how special it can be. does it feel like love-bombing at times? sure. But i find it beautiful how unabashedly they throw themselves into someone they like. can it be suffocating to someone who isn't fully ready to commit? sure. but its impossible not to root for them.

🧚🏻taurus venus: wonderful, incredible, sensational style sense. thrift shop royalty. impeccable taste. can look good in anything - simply because it looks like a carefully curated outfit when in reality it took them probably 5 mins to throw together.

🧚🏻gemini venus: attracted to people who show them endless fascination. enjoys playing questions games to get to know people. knowing someones favorite color or season may seem pointless but they genuinely find a person's answers interesting.

🧚🏻as a fixed sign .... i have found i clash the most with cardinal signs. they infuriate me to no end. I enjoy the dynamic nature of mutable signs more.

🧚🏻Leo sun/moon: listen....even when you meet one and they tell you: "i'm like the most un-leo, leo ever! I hate being the center of attention!" they are LYING. either to you or themselves or both. i understand why taurus get the bad rep for being stubborn but leo's are stubborn in the way they believe they fully are the best person in the room at all times....which in a way i am almost envious of them? they have a kind of self-love that is unflinching.

🧚🏻virgo suns: make extremely well bosses. are very diplomatic and fair in how each worker is treated and never takes anything personal.

🧚🏻Sagittarius suns: for some reason.... the ones i have met and been around (ones who all identify as women) present themselves as extremely proper and pious in social settings. they love to be seen as the most put together one - especially in work-place. quiet in work environment ... but will talk your ear to death if you're sitting next to them at a dinner party

🧚🏻*trigger warning for SA* 🧚🏻scorpio placements. particularly sun,moon and mars. experience deep sexual trauma. over and over and over again in their life. started at an early age. continues to be taken advantage of throughout their lives. easy for them to associate self-worth with being sexually desired in a negative way. doesn't trust a person if they seem innocent at first, it always turns into some form of a violation.

🧚🏻gemini placements: listen to more lofi style music or instrumental. music without lyrics.

🧚🏻gemini moons: i know i've said this before in a post, and its a common understanding with gemini placements, but they genuinely are extremely talented with foreign languages. learn them quickly. hear them spoken for a while and can pick it up naturally.

🧚🏻moon opposite saturn: i'm so sorry. i know how hard it is. the depression, the anxiety, the constant self-doubt. you are truly your own worst enemy. i'm sending every person with this placement all my love.

🧚🏻libra sun & moon: have i ever truly had a deep convo with these placements? no. do i still love their company? yes. but it tends to feel surface level with them. they are not talented in expressing their thoughts in a spoken or written way without it sounding....childish. maybe its just me .... either way they would still be the first person I invite to my party. they make me laugh. maybe it's their childish naive view of the world i love. maybe I wish i could see it that way.

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books · 4 days

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Writer Spotlight: Rose Sutherland

Rose Sutherland @rosesutherlandwrites is a Toronto-based writer who grew up a voracious reader with an overactive imagination in Nova Scotia (where she once fell off a roof trying to re-enact Anne of Green Gables!). She's been to theatre school in NYC, apprenticed at a pâtisserie in rural France, and currently moonlights as an usher and bartender—in between writing queer folktales, practicing yoga, dancing, singing, searching out amazing coffee and croissants, and making niche jokes about Victor Hugo on the internet. She's mildly obsessed with the idea of one day owning a large dog, several chickens, and maybe a goat. A Sweet Sting of Salt is her debut novel.

Keep reading for more about character arcs in A Sweet Sting of Salt, Rose's favorite fanfic tropes, and some excellent reading recs 👀

Can you tell us about A Sweet Sting of Salt and how you came to write it?

A Sweet Sting of Salt is a queer (f/f) historical reimagining of the classic folktale of the selkie wife, set in 1830’s Nova Scotia. I call it a “reimagining” because while it draws on the folktale, it’s not a retelling of that tale so much as a story playing out in relation to that mythology. I’d wanted to write something centering a love story between two women for a while, but the initial spark came from a Tumblr post! It suggested the idea of selkies testifying before the UN as victims of human trafficking, which reminded me of all the things I disliked about the original folktale and its inherent darkness that is generally glossed over, starting me down the rabbit hole toward finding my own story.

How did you approach research for A Sweet Sting of Salt, and what is a favorite historical fact you learned?

I joke that I did a lot of research by osmosis: I already had a lot of base knowledge about the location, having grown up in Nova Scotia, and then set the story in a period that I’ve been absorbing information about in a low-key way for ages—1832 is also the year of the student rebellion in Les Mis, so I’ve been gleaning tidbits about this era since I first got into the musical and book back in high school. However, I had to do more specific research into things like British divorce law, period midwifery, and animal husbandry. I also visited some small, hyper-local museums on the South Shore that gave me an invaluable glimpse into daily life. I also did some fun practical research into things like “How long does it take to walk from x to y?” and “How cold IS a plunge into this body of water in March?” (Spoiler: Very.)

A fact that fascinated me but didn’t make it into the book was that some early European settlers in the area were granted lands by luck of the draw, pulling from a deck of playing cards: Each card was assigned to a specific 50-acre lot, and whatever you pulled, you were stuck with it.

When we meet them, Jean and Muirin are isolated for different reasons. What do you hope readers still searching for their people take away from A Sweet Sting of Salt?

That there’s always hope. It’s valuable and important to keep reaching out to the world around you, to be open, and not cut yourself off—the biggest reason for Jean’s loneliness at the beginning of this story is the way she has come to keep everyone around her at arm’s length, shutting herself away out of fear, and refusing to let anyone truly get to know her because she thinks that’s the best way to protect herself from being hurt again. Reaching out to others can take a real act of courage, especially if you’ve had bad experiences in the past, but “your people” will reach back to you.

Found family elements play a strong role throughout the novel, within supernatural and mundane settings and across species. Was this something you intended from the beginning, or did this grow out of writing the relationship between Jean and Muirin?

I always intended for Jean to have a found family of this type, which is something that a lot of queer people identify with, but those bonds also got stronger and more meaningful as I wrote, especially once Jean and Muirin began growing into their own family unit—their new relationship and the real danger that comes along with it put pressures on Jean’s other relationships that I hadn’t originally considered. Disagreements with Anneke and Laurie over Jean’s choices arise from their deep concern and love for her, and her own love and care for them, reflected in her responses, is a big part of what made them feel like a real family, for me. Jean and Laurie always having each other’s backs while also being the first to call one another out on their bullshit ended up being one of my favourite dynamics in the whole book.

The selkie myth carries an inherent element of transformation. What is a character transformation you most enjoyed writing, and why?

On a character level, the change in Jean’s worldview following a conversation with her childhood sweetheart meant a lot to me—it heals an old wound for her. I love how grounded and self-assured she is afterward, in spite of the daunting task still ahead of her. But my favourite transformation to write was the antagonist’s mask-off moment, where they directly threaten Jean for the first time. It’s so sly and coded so that only she will understand the menace behind it, a real dun-duh-dunnn moment, which was a lot of fun for me—I also enjoy the foreshadowing elements in that exchange.

This is your debut novel. Did anything surprise you about getting it from manuscript to published book?

Oh my gosh, how LONG it took! After I finished the original draft and decided it was worth attempting to publish, I spent over a year revising based on my own thoughts, input from beta readers, critique partners, and my mentor, Maureen Marshall (whom I connected with through the now defunct Author Mentor Match program, and whose book, The Paris Affair—about a young gay engineer attempting to help Gustave Eiffel secure the funding to build a certain celebrated Parisian landmark— is coming out in May). After that came a full year of querying agents and getting rejected. A lot. People loved Salty but weren’t quite sure what to do with her or where the book would fit in “the market,” which was hard to deal with at the time but is hilarious in retrospect: Salty was snapped up less than a month after she finally went out on submission! But that was back in 2022, and the book is only coming out now. Publishing can be painfully slow.

You’ve written fanfic in the past—do you have a favorite fanfic trope?

I’m not sure either of these counts as a trope, but I adore a character that’s “pure of heart, dumb of ass”, and love a truly unhinged Fanon Explanation For Canon Object. As a longtime Les Mis stan, I ship Tholomyes/Getting Punched. If you know, you know.

Do you have any favorite queer retellings of folktales you can recommend?

Right here on Tumblr, I’m a huge fan of @laurasimonsdaughter, who writes delightful riffs on classic folktales, truly inventive urban fantasy spins on old lore, and her own original folktales.

I’m currently reading Spear, an amazing queer, gender-bent, Arthurian novella by Nicola Griffiths. Anna Burke’s books Thorn and Nottingham are up next on my TBR. Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of brilliant queer historicals that aren’t retellings (I recently loved Suzette Meyr’s The Sleeping Car Porter and Heather O’Neil’s When We Lost Our Heads) and wonderful historical retellings that aren’t queer (I highly recommend Molly Greeley’s beautiful, heartbreaking Marvelous, about the real-life couple that inspired Beauty and the Beast). Queer, historical retellings aimed at adults seem to be considered quite niche, still, and can take some digging to find! So, throwing this out to Tumblr: Do you have recommendations for me?

Do you have a writing routine? Is there a place/state of being/playlist you find most conducive to your writing practice?

My routine is chaotic at best, but I find I do my best work earlier in the day, so I usually scribble in my journal while I have breakfast, and then progress to working on my current project as I drink my second cup of coffee. I’m lucky—my day job is an evening gig, which mostly allows me to write on my preferred schedule… but I’ve also been known to have a bolt of inspiration strike at 10pm and dash home to write until well past midnight on occasion. Nothing quite like the hyperfocus zone!

What’s next for you? Are you working on anything you can tell us about?

No official news yet, but I’m currently working on a story set in 18th-century provincial France based on a true unsolved mystery of the past. It has me delving into a very specific branch of French folklore, and I hope future readers will pick up on common threads with one popular fairytale in particular. I’m really excited about where this one is headed, but keeping the details close to my chest for now!

Thank you Rose for taking the time to answer our questions! If you love queer fantasy and old folktales, grab yourself a copy of A Sweet Sting of Salt, and be sure to share your queer folktale reading recs with Rose on @rosesutherlandwrites!

#writer spotlight #writers' room #booklr #writers on tumblr #writing community #writeblr #creative writing #debut author #reading #rose sutherland #a sweet sting of salt #selkies #myths #fanfic #Les Mis #queer fiction #f/f fiction #queer folktales

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wanderingtycho · 1 year

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For the longest time in Disco Elysium, I couldn’t figure out why Empathy was the stat chosen to represent Moralism, the other political stats made more sense to me.

Rhetoric is Communism, constantly arguing for you and dismantling the arguments of others, choosing to feel smart and miserable over acknowledging your hopelessness under capital.

Endurance is Fascism, purely physical, purely reactionary. No intellectual angle and not the emotions of your mind, but of your gut. The squirming, uncomfortable feeling of your insides telling you that everything sucks in your life because of *them*.

Libertarianism is Savoir Faire, the slimy show off stat, the ooze and groove and grinding of a real hustler. The kind of mentality that leads a terminally poor cop to walk around the most destitute ghetto in the city bragging about his net worth and his visionary money manifesting, to which normal people rightfully treat you as if you’re insane.

All well and good, all tracks, but then there’s Moralism, the political center, the Kingdom of Conscience. The stat for this would seem plainly obvious, Volition, right? The self control stat, the stat of temperance and rationality and measured action. The boring stat. Hell, Volition is the one who chimes in approvingly when you try on the Moralist pants. It seems like a perfect fit, but no, the stat for Moralism is Empathy.

Empathy, the stat that lets you, even forces you to feel for others. To reach them at their level, cut through to the source of all their feelings, the Superego. What does any of that have to do with Moralism? With slow, incremental progress and La Responsabilité?

At first, I thought it might have been an oversight, one Psyche skill swapped with another. Then I thought maybe it was meant as a subtly pro-moralist statement, that extreme political ideologies make it harder to connect with others, and being more “sensible” politically makes you more relatable. But that doesn’t really gel with the games stance on centrism, which is decidedly not positive, with the Moralist International depicted as a cold and dehumanizing force of oppression.

It didn’t make sense until I completed the Moralist political vision quest, which is by far my favorite out of all four. With Harry on top of the statue of Frissel III, begging and pleading with Coalition Warship Archer, it’s an Empathy check you have to pass to make the faceless drone on the other side of the radio see you. Hear you, acknowledge you as a person who is suffering, acknowledge the suffering of Martinase and Revachol under the unfeeling negligence of the Moralintern.

That’s when it hit me, Empathy is the Moralist stat because it taps into a universal human experience. Most people don’t have consistent political beliefs, even those ascribing themselves to more radical points on the spectrum. Most people have a complicated relationship with faith. But that moment of Harry on the statue, shouting desperately at a dreary sky for someone to please do something about this, that moment is empathetic to us all.

Regardless of political leanings, whether secular or spiritual, that gnawing existential dread is consistent. The world keeps getting worse and worse, and nobody with any power seems to care, every day we’re met with the silence of God and the silence of Capital. That’s why Empathy was chosen to embody Moralism, to recognize that deep down we’ve all felt that anxious longing. To look up at the sky and hope that something, someone. Anything, anyone, would please just listen and hear. Please just do something about this.

#disco elysium

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soular-sisters · 14 days

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Taurus Season: Material Gworl 💅🏼

here’s a fun lil post for taurus season, & all da material gworls. 💗

taurus represents a lot of things from stability, love, sensuality, & loyalty. but one thing a little less talked about but certainly revolves around the beautiful taurus energy is, the material world. here is where you might like to spend a little lavishly based on your taurus house placement. **note: this does not represent everything you spend your money on, just where you like to be a little extra lavish. 😉

💅🏼 Taurus in the 1st House: I love to spend my money on self-care (hair, nails, etc.), beautiful clothing, a makeover, & fitness sessions to enhance your body.

💅🏼 Taurus in the 2nd House: I love to spend my money on fancy dinners, financial advisors, gorgeous jewelry, & luxurious items that will grow in value over time.

💅🏼 Taurus in the 3rd House: I love to spend my money on the latest cellphone, expensive cars, relaxing staycations, & your favorite books or magazines.

💅🏼 Taurus in the 4th House: I love to spend my money on beautiful interior decorations, photo albums filled with nostalgic memories, items that brings comfort (soft blankets, candles, etc.), & your dream home.

💅🏼 Taurus in the 5th House: I love to spend my money on exciting date nights, your favorite creative activity (paint nights, pottery classes, etc.), a day at an amusement park, & your favorite films.

💅🏼 Taurus in the 6th House: I love to spend my money on the latest health kick, organizational items (date planner, desk organizers, etc.) therapy sessions, & a membership to a spa & wellness center.

💅🏼 Taurus in the 7th House: I love to spend my money on beautiful gifts for my partner, a gorgeous wedding venue, items to enhance self-love (beauty enhancements, facials, etc.), & a romantic getaway with your love.

💅🏼 Taurus in the 8th House: I love to spend my money on sexy lingerie, spiritual experiences (tarot readings, psychics, etc.), transformative makeovers, & an intimate weekend with your lover.

💅🏼 Taurus in the 9th House: I love to spend my money on travels around the world, beautiful items from other cultures, classes to learn a new language, & items that expand your mind (philosophy books, metaphysical movies, etc.).

💅🏼 Taurus in the 10th House: I love to spend my money on career seminars to develop your profession, a deep tissue massage, merch from your favorite celebrity, & statement items to enhance your public image (gorgeous accessories, designer bags, etc.).

💅🏼 Taurus in the 11th House: I love to spend my money on lavish gifts for your friends, donations to a cause that matters to you, fun weekend trips with your friend group, & tickets to social events (music festivals, conventions, etc.).

💅🏼 Taurus in the 12th House: I love to spend my money on self-healing sessions (reiki, chakra cleansing, etc.), a beautiful journal to write your deepest thoughts, spiritual books, & a private beach getaway.

thank you so much for all the love & support as usual! we love you all so much. please check out my creative instagram & show your support 🥰 xoxo -A.A.

IG: @dredivinecreates 💗

#astrology #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #taurus season #taurus in the houses #astro

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sommerregenjuniluft · 2 months

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@croptopjames submission for mr james fleamont potter's birthday<3

2598 words - NSFW - cw: spanking, squirting, dirty talk, lil bit of degradation theyre being nasty idk it escalated

aka feral fucking your husband after seeing him in a shirt that doesn't quite fit like it used to~

“Baby, I’m home,” Regulus shouts after entering the front door, kicking it closed behind him with his foot as he balances the huge ice cream cake precariously on both his hands.

They’ve invited the whole family as per usual, what with their first year with Harry out of the house coming back from uni for his dad’s special day, Sirius and Remus driving down and picking up Effie and Monty on the way. All their friends will come later this week for brunch.

Today it’s just the few of them though and Regulus finds himself with a spring in his step at the thought of all of them together today.

James has taken the day off and Regulus was able to weasel his way into only half a shift today which he nearly missed entirely after the way James had sat down in his lap first thing in the morning and ridden him until he was shaking, cursing and babbling incoherently, all the while his husband was seated on his throne, smiling brightly, happiest man in the world, practically taking the matter of his birthday gift into his own hands.

“Hi love!” comes from somewhere on the higher level of the house.

Regulus brings the cake into the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket and quickly dispensing the celebratory sweet in the freezer before James sees it.

Not a moment after Regulus closes the drawer to grab a bowl of blueberries from the fridge James comes into the kitchen, huffing and cheeks flushed, a presumably heavy box of just…stuff in his arms that he must have gotten from the attic.

“James,” Regulus starts, blinking, “You were supposed to take the day off.”

His husband smacks a content kiss onto his cheek, grinning brightly. His glasses are smudged and sitting crookedly over his nose and Regulus is pretty sure he spotted a bit of spiderwebs in the mess of his hair.

“Ehh,” James makes dismissively, “I still felt restless after I hit the gym this morning once you left.”

He places the box down with a heavy thunk, petting its side like a horse—he’s such a dad, “And we’ve been wanting to get started on these babies after spring cleaning anyway, remember?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, fondness betraying him when the corners of his mouth tug upwards, “Mm, that might be true. Still it’s your birthd—”

Regulus halts.

“Love?” James looks at him inquiringly, hands propped on his hips.

On his very much naked hips. A palm length sliver of skin exposed between the indecently thin and short gym shorts and the—

“James, baby, what are you wearing?”

Oh, Regulus’ mouth is so, so dry.

“Huh?” James looks down at himself, shuffling in place before his head snaps back up to Regulus, “Oh! Yeah I found one of my old shirts from uni.” His husband snickers, giving a little twirl and shaking his hips from side to side like he isn’t currently taking five years off Regulus’ life expectancy.

“You–” Regulus stops again, eyes glued to the small swell of his stomach over the band of the white shorts, the dark hair splattered all over and coiling at the center, carving a path up and downwards. It’s downright indecent. His arms fill out the shirt just how they used to back in uni but with the difference that it’s more fat than muscle now—though Regulus knows well enough from personal experience how strong his husband still is. His pecs are visibly straining the material, the washed out, maroon letters spelling HOGWARTS cracking from the stretch.

Even more so when James leans back on his palms against the dining table, draping himself all prettily against the edge and smiling coyly, blinking doe brown eyes from under long lashes at Regulus as if he didn’t already have him warpped around his finger hook, line and sinker.

“Baby,” Regulus rasps and he barely recognises his own voice.

“Yeah, Reg?” James purrs, tilting his head and exposing the expanse of his neck.

“How long until Harry arrives?”

“An hour or two, depending on traffic,” James responds, voice all husky. Regulus is going to wreck him. Reduce him to a stuttering, squirting mess in the matter of half an hour, take his fucking word for it.

“Good enough,” Regulus grits out and then he crosses the distance in two long strides, already yanking at his tie.

They meet in a mess of parted lips, clicking teeth and tongues nudging, eager as ever, trying to lick into each other’s mouths and taste. Greedy for it, happily swallowing moans and tugging their bodies close. They slot into each other easily, practiced after all these years, decades and Regulus reckons that’s how they somewhat safely find their way onto the couch.

Regulus’ back hits the cushions with a soft oompf, barely time to gasp another breath and reach for his husband before James is straddling his lap, clasping Regulus’ stubbly jaw in warm, calloused palms and pulling him right back into their kiss. They don’t stay there for long with the way James is restlessly shifting on top of him, grinding his crotch right against the bulge in Regulus’ slacks, making them both groan.

At some point Regulus abandons James’ mouth in favor of kissing over the stubble of his cheek and jaw and latch onto his throat while simultaneously trying to get his stupid shirt buttons open. When the takes too long however James seems to grow impatient, batting his hands away and fumbling with them himself while they pant and grunt into each other’s mouths.

Regulus is nipping at James’ lower lip, already swollen and an obscene kiss bitten red and his husband makes a sound. Downright needy and he’s sitting there on top of Regulus, flushed and with that dazed look in his eyes, moaning like a little slut, so Regulus can’t quite help himself when he pulls one hand around and smacks James’ firmly on the bum.

It elicits a gasp, high pitched and followed by a long, drawn out moan and James sinking deeper into his lap, recapturing his mouth and desperately rutting down against where Regulus is hard and already throbbing. It’s a medical miracle, truly, that no matter how many times they’ve had sex, Regulus’ erection is always at its best form for James.

“Mnh,” James makes, their lips parting with a wet smacking noise, “Need you, baby.”

Regulus grunts, fingers digging harshly into the meat of James’ arse, “Slut.”

Just like expected, James whimpers, and so prettily at that. Eyebrows scrunching pitifully and he grinds once more, helplessly, “Please, please.”

“But of course, sweety,” Regulus relents easily, licking a hot stripe up his neck, along his jawbone and then right across his slack mouth, “Anything for the birthday boy.”

James moans in response, nodding his head frantically.

Regulus nods his head towards the end of the couch where the pillows are piled, “Scoot up.”

His husband does so dutifully and it doesn’t take longer than a second for Regulus to make James lift his hips and rip the sheer piece of nylon off and throw it over his shoulder, not quite surprised yet still horribly taken off guard by the lack of boxer briefs underneath.

Regulus is left with nothing to do but stare at the mess of wet, thick curls and pink fold glistening with James’ slick, spit pooling under his tongue in an instant. He grabs James’ ankles, settling them over his shoulders, trainers still on and letting his hands drive over white tennis socks, hairy shins and strong calves. Digging his thumb in there and relishing in the gasp he elicits from his husband that way, hips twitching with the suspense. Regulus strokes up his boney knees, massages the big muscle of his thighs, the hair tickling his palms softly, all the while letting himself pitch forward, making sure to spill warm breath over where James wants him most right now.

He goes further, letting his hands rake up and over his stomach, rucking the shirt up as he goes and tucking it over the swell of his pecks, exposing him for Regulus to play with.

James is panting, short little puffs of breath, brimming with excitement and barely refraining from whimpering on the way out each time.

Predictably, he breaks once Regulus lazily swirls a tongue around his exposed nipple, holding the eye contact and watching with satisfaction as James’ eyelids flutter. He can’t help but grin, nipping at the hardened nub before he retreats, settling himself comfortably between James’ thighs and without warning diving right in.

James positively screams the moment Regulus closes his lips around his cock, sucking him into his mouth and rolling him around between his lips until the bucking of his hips throws him off. Regulus hoists an arm over James’ hips, belting him down, and wastes no time inserting one finger into James’ searing wetness, sinfully hot inside.

“Ahh yesyes, please more, love, please m-hah—” James babbles, throwing his head back when Regulus drives into him with another finger, crooking them upwards and watching shamelessly as his husband’s precum pools all over his digits before diving back in to lick at his little cock.

He works them steadily up to each finger until he is four in deep, repeatedly hitting that spot inside of James and sucking and mouthing at the bundle of nerves until James’ noises grow an edge.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Regulus asks, muffled between licks, jaw aching slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, gonna– hnng,” James breaks off, screwing his eyes shut when Regulus gives a particularly harsh suck, noises obscenely loud.

He’s fisting the cushions like his life depends on it, white knuckling them in his grip, and it only takes a handful more thrusts and licks before James is shuddering through his first orgasm. Breaths coming quicker until he eventually breaks off into a keen, thighs quivering around Regulus’ head, squeezing at his skull and riding it out, grinding his cunt uncoordinatedly forward into Regulus’ face all the while convulsing around his fingers.

He squeezes in waves of pleasure and it makes Regulus so delirious that he blinks and the next thing he knows is him kneeling against James’ ass, belt undone, slacks shoved down just enough and prodding at his slick, puffy entrance with the head of his cock.

James is staring unblinkingly at the ceiling, mouth agape and pupils so dilated they’ve swallowed most of the beautiful, dark chocolate brown.

“Baby,” Regulus prompts, bending James’ knees towards his ears with a grunt, “Jamie, be a good boy and hold these there for me.” His husband slowly blinks him back into focus, silently obliging and hooking his fingers into the bend of his knees—thank the higher powers James still does yoga once a week.

Regulus leans in, one hand holding him up off the couch, the other fisting around the length of him and smearing it through James’ wetness, “Now are you going to be able to be good and keep yourself wide open for me or are you already fucked too stupid, huh? An old man? Maybe we should postpone it for next year, ay papi, what do you say?”

James whines pathetically, rubbing his head into one of the throw pillows, knotting his black hair up even more before he swallows frantically, “No, Reg, pleaseplease, I can take it. Please, love, I’m gonna be good for you, I prom–Aah—”

Regulus bottoms out in one smooth thrust, vision dotting with black spots at the mind bending heat and vice grip James has on him, already pulsing around him shallowly.

He grants James a moment to get used to being full, slowly rocking his hips back and forth and listening for when his whimpers turn into soft moans, turning needy again, and then he reaches up to grip his chin, “Then take it, slut.”

The pace he picks up into is hard, not too fast but unforgiving and steady, a sure way to drive James crazy. Regulus nips his way along his husband’s chest, nuzzling his nose through chest hair and biting and licking at his dark nipples, tasting salt and sweat, feeling his cock twitch at the taste deep inside his husband.

When Regulus feels himself lose rhythm he hikes James’ legs impossibly higher, draping one of them over his shoulder before he starts spanking him again. The angle is awkward but it’s working, going off of the way James keeps jerking at the stinging contact, clenching around the length of Regulus and working himself into a frenzy, gasping and whimpering and groaning like he’s getting the best cock of his entire life.

“Touch yourself, baby,” Regulus demands, breath stuttering as he watches a fat tear roll down the side of James’ face, disappearing into the shorter hair at his temple.

Regulus keeps James’ thighs wide and open, rolling his hips with abandon, groaning and panting with every thrust, feeling sweat bead on his forehead and desperately trying not to lose control when James snakes a hand between his legs, frantically circling his cock while Regulus keeps pumping in and out of him.

“If you could only see yourself, baby,” Regulus grits out, “Fucking masterpiece, splayed out for me like this. Obliging my every demand, so fucking good, baby.”

James moans happily, tongue lolling out and without thinking Regulus sticks two of his fingers into his mouth, rubbing over his tongue and feeling the saliva coat them thickly.

“Can you go ahead and cum for me again, Jamie?”

James whines an affirmative around his digits, slurping messily, a trickle of drool trailing down the corner off his mouth.

“Think you’ll be a good boy and squirt all over me, baby? You know how much I love when you cum like that, hm?”

James breath hitches impossibly, eyes threatening to flutter shut as he nods deliriously.

Regulus quickly grabs him by the jaw, “Keep looking at me, James. I know you can do that for me, baby.”

And so he does.

On the next thrust James starts quivering again, fingers working furiously over his cock, mouth falling open around a silent scream and gazing Regulus right in the eyes as he pounds into him and James squirts around him. Spraying everywhere, absolutely in all directions and fucking messy, wetting Regulus’ torso and the couch—Regulus wouldn’t be surprised if the carpet wasn’t unscathed either.

That’s really all Regulus can take before his hips stutter in their pace and he buries himself deep inside James, letting the pulsing of his husband’s orgasm milk him dry as he spills and spills his cum into James for what feels like minutes on end.

At some point James lets his trembling legs back down, crossing his ankles tightly under Regulus’ bum as this one keeps jerking into his husband’s hole.

Once they’re both done Regulus is too exhausted to do anything else but collapse forward into James’ chest which he accepts with a happy hum.

They take a few minutes like this, James slowly coming to and starting to play with the curls at Regulus’ nape and Regulus breathing in the comforting scent of James, raking his short nails up and down the side of his ribcage.

After a while James presses a feebly kiss into the side of Regulus’ head, huffing out a big breath that makes Regulus rise with the motion of his chest before he snickers, “Well, happy fucking birthday to me.”

Regulus chuckles into the crook of James’ neck, dropping a kiss there before lifting and staring into his husband’s droopy eyes, “Yeah, happy fucking birthday to you, baby.”

#sirius arrives and is like: huh since when do you have a blanket draped over ur couch like that? that wasn't here two weeks ag-#jegulus #*gets forcefully elbowed by regulus*#jegulus microfic #jegulus oneshot #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #marauders #lune writes #lune’s tiny fic #trans james potter #ftm james potter #sub james potter #dom regulus black

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scribble-dribble-writes · 11 months

Text

Plastic heart - (4)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

The OG Barbie movie made me believe in magic.

---

“Give me the rollerblades.”, you stomped up the stairs to only notice then, that weird Barbie was headed out.

“I would but we’re all gathering for the sending away party are we not?”, she asked you but in the state that you were in, you were sure your plastic heart was melting. Atleast that was what you hoped your body could do, so it could shed this uneasy feeling. To become a rain cloud so you could pour it all out.

“Who are we sending away?”, you asked feeling out of touch with everything going on.

“Stereo. She’s having a crisis.”, you heard the answer and began to zone out. So that was what she meant before. If she was leaving, then you possibly had a chance now, a thought gripped you.

But the anger that Ken displayed flashed in front of your eyes again. As much as you loved him, he didn’t.

“Tell me where they are and I’ll get it myself.”, you brushed past her. Your only need right now was to forget.

“In the trunk. Don’t forget to read the instructions.”, she bid you farewell as she went on her way while you trudged ahead to find your cure.

The house was dark and eerie. No one could explain why dark clouds swirled around this particular house or maybe it was an aesthetical add on. There was only one trunk, placed in the center with ominous lighting over it. The fear was beginning to take root.

Why would you need instructions for rollerblades?

As you popped open the lid, it let out a hiss and smoke began to bellow from within it. As you seated away the grey wisps, you caught sight of a shimmering pink rollerblade set that looked brand new.

You reached for it and picked it up, the metal rim gleaming almost as if you heard voices telling you to put it on.

In it’s place was a small post it note with something written on it.

In bold font, it was labeled as ‘instructions’

Go to the tunnel of dreams and use the rollerblades to venture further in.

At the heart of the tunnel, you will be shown your deepest desire that could fix your broken heart.

If you chose to accept it, a path will open that will take you to it.

That seemed much more simpler than the box of chocolates. You began to wonder why she didn’t give this to you in the first place.

So you took the skates, the instructions and exited weird Barbie’s house, the cold air was making your smooth skin shiver.

Malfunctioning was the worst experience, so much so that you had had enough of it. You just wanted to go back to your routine, forget Ken and start making cakes again.

‘The tunnel of dreams’, a vintage poster that looked faded was stuck on to the side of a big gapping hole that you were sure was the just the main sewer tunnel. Except it looked it wasn’t in use.

You looked back at Barbie land, you could hear faint cheers and fireworks, no one was going to notice you had gone. You inhaled deeply and then put on the blades. There was nothing here that could make you stay and if you truly were to get your heart’s desire by doing this. Then there was no better bargain.

The wheels glided smoothly against the plastic floor of the pipe, the dark enveloping you until you could see a small light at the end, which began to glow brighter as you approached it.

The buzzing white light was actually coming from a small vintage TV, it’s screen flickering with different ads of different barbies. As you came to a halt in front of it, the screen flickered and it played an advertisement about you.

"Great potential combined with impeccable skill to make the most profound dishes from all around the world. This Barbie has it all, the house, the intellect, the resilience to survive in the most cruel places, *with a drumroll* ‘the chefs kitchen’."

"But not everyone can have everything. This Barbie however does not have a Ken accessory and the one Ken she loves never truly sees her for who she is. "

"So go follow your dreams and establish your careers by adding her to your collection!"

*Each item sold separately

Now that didn’t make anything better. The screen glitched to have a noisy black screen as you stood there taking in the information. But from the darkness came a voice, starting soft as a whisper to soon becoming a commanding echo.

“Is that what you dream of?”

“Is that who you are?”

“What do you long for?”

"Speak it out at once."

The silence had vanished and as the voices echoed, the TV came alive playing pictures of your life here.

What did you long for?

You didn’t know anymore.

Say it

What did you want?

Say it

You covered your ears and began to crumble as the space around you became overwhelming.

The noise, the swirling wind, the jarring lights from the TV that began to flick images from your mind, all of them full of Ken and a few from the bakery. As the foundation of your life began to shake, it cracked all the unnecessary thoughts until there was only one that echoed along with the voices outside.

You wanted to feel like yourself again.

To wake up and wear your outfit and smile like this was who you had always wanted to be.

So you said it softly, first. Unsure.

“I want to be me.”

But it was lost in all the chaos around you, so you began to yell.

“I want to be me.”

“I want to feel like me again.”, you didn’t know you had that in you, a commanding presence to change this storm. And as you peeled away your hands to stand up straight because now you knew your demand. Your true desire.

If you didn’t value who you were? Deriving satisfaction or attention to fill that void from an outside source was never going to prove to be useful.

So as you said it, without a trace of doubt, without Ken’s face appearing in your mind, there was a new conviction.

You were going to put yourself first.

And with that everything stopped instantly. The chaos died and with it your skates began to glow. A bright pink that filled you with a warmth that felt good.

As you began to feel like everything was finally piecing itself together, it only began to fall apart. There was a tear in the dark floor that made it look like you were tearing out of your barbie box. The tear grew and grew until it swallowed you, causing you to fall through.

A choir began to sing around you, as you felt the grip on gravity on your legs.

Never let them know where you are from

Never go in search of your Barbie form

Keep this and you can return when you wish

But beware the tempt of reality, for it will change you

The more you crave to be real, the more it will sever your ties to your world.

All it takes is a wish to come back

If you choose to come back

All it takes is a wish to come back

Will you choose to come back?

With that, as the voices faded, you felt solid ground beneath your feet and immediately, a jarring sound of car horn.

“Oy get off the road!”, a man shouted from with a yellow car that had taxi written on top of it.

As your eyes began to adjust to this unknown world, buildings stretching up all the way up into the sky, strong smells swirling around you, you panicked to skate away when a pair of strong headlights blinded you. You scrambled to the sidewalk and bumped into another woman, who only turned to shout at you.

You backed into an empty alley way as you watched the crowd pass by.

Feeling scared but strangely, feeling set free too.

---

Tags:

@imogen-skye @ateliefloresdaprimavera

@meowkid1000 @jokersgrf @linacool13

@oh-kurva @dreamsarenicer @memospacexx

@haleysucks00 @ibetyouthinkaboutmefics

@tempobaekh @fallingwallsh @whatafreakingloser

@lcversrockk @imonmyvigilanteshh

@constellationscharts @eddiemunson4ever

#barbie movie 2023 #barbie movie #ken barbie #barbie #ken carson #ken x reader #ryan gosling ken #ryan gosling #im just ken

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a-local-idiots-shitpost · 5 months

Text

Movie nights with Mc

Lucifer:

old man is only interested in old men movies and series, he would ironically enjoy the shitty comedies with laugh tracks too

okay that one is stretching it to far, he might like old Movies but Lucifer still has standards

but he is in fact a fan of old movies, especially black and white ones

and once again old man loves old ass movies but there are plenty of good once especially Psycho

he was against it at first but started to enjoy it after watching it with you

he also isn´t against watching some old time Romance movies, might be a bit dated now a days but some are enjoyable and he´s even willing to make fun of the bad ones with you

Mammon:

he loves heist movies or old romance movies and he especially loves it when you two find some that are just a mash up of both tropes

actually Mammon is just willing to watch everything as long as it isn´t a Horror movie, he´s even scared of the Human World ones so his tolerance towards such stuff is really low

and he always wants to sleep with you because of it and depending on your view on this it´s a bad or good thing

but it is pretty cute seeing him trying to hide from the movie or burying his face in your neck so he doesn´t have to see anything but it´s just as cute seeing him cheer on the main couple in a movie

whatever you show him will be a W because this man always manages to be adorable no matter what

Leviathan:

you would expect me to say all you and Leviathan watch is anime right? … well I mean it´s kinda right because that´s what you two do but he also is a big fan of nature documentaries

especially if they are about deeps sea creatures or even mockumentaries about mythology creatures

well it would only be mockumentaries when it´s from the Human world, for the Devildom or even Celestial Realm it would be a real thing

and if you thought the Devildom was scary you don´t even want to know what´s hiding in the waters of the Celestial Realm, some true terrors right up there

and honestly if the both of you are watching those in his room it´s like your own personal Horror movie

you don´t know why but there are always silhouettes that look wrong and you don´t know where they come from

Satan:

anything with blood is something he loves unless it involves animals than he loathes it and demands you to turn of the movie before he breaks the TV

which is a really small time frame until he does go through with it and the dudes brutal considering it literally did nothing but play a movie

so to save your TV you only play movies you know no animals are harmed on screen, which isn´t really that difficult

but you still have to look into the movie to know for sure, but asides the fact he tries to destroy your TV it´s usually a pretty good time

and it´s funny hearing him rant about the inaccuracy in a movie that was originally a book

Asmodeus:

he wants to watch Romance movies and nothing but Romance movies

well he might let some Horror movies fly but only if they are tasteful

I mean tasteful can be debatable because this just means it has either sexual aspects, gore or a mix of both

makes for an interesting experience in this case though

and it´s randomized depending on his mood, one that was acceptable before is unwatchable for him other days

but it never is any movies you really like so it´s whatever

but Romance movies are always a go for him and he rarely complains, unless they are painfully boring and have nothing interesting going on

but be warned if you watch them he will expect some big gestures like in the movie from you and depending on it it can be downright embarrassing to actually a very sweet and good idea

Beelzebub:

he´ll let you choose the movie or series both of you will watch but he would love to see some cooking shows or anything centered around food

which if you have enough snacks won´t be a problem but there are never enough snacks for Beel and he´ll get hungry and will go to the kitchen

I mean not much of a difference there but he´ll try to recreate the things he saw on TV and yeah sometimes it works, sometimes it´s okay and sometimes it´s so bad that not even the Avatar of Gluttony wants to eat what he made

yeah it´s that bad sometimes…

you can just say goodbye movie night and hello improvised cooking show with Beel

but it´s nice at least, he´ll share his food with you and you try your best to make something half way edible with him

Belphegor:

it actually isn´t that bad, he sleeps through most of the movies anyway and doesn´t mind you just recapping everything for him

and he´s willing to watch nearly everything with you, he won´t watch Romances with you though

he was forced to watch those with Asmo one to many times and can´t see one without wanting to go on a rampage

otherwise everything is game he doesn´t have any genre preferences either maybe he´ll even find one that pleasantly surprise him

I mean he´ll sleep through them either way but if you two watch one that he likes or is at least interested in he´ll just know what happened

but only if he likes them if he doesn´t it´s like nothing every happened and he can barely recall the name

honestly your kinda jealous of that...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #lucifer avatar of pride #obey me lucifer #mammon avatar of greed #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #leviathan avatar of envy #satan avatar of wrath #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus avatar of lust #beelzebub avatar of gluttony #obey me beelzebub #belphegor avatar of sloth #obey me belphegor

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zillychu · 5 months

Note

I really like your “ghosts treated as natural disasters” au! It’s super cool! I wonder how people get around the fact that phantom has never been seen sucking anybody’s life force out? Do they think he’s building up to something big or just protective of the population center he’s found

That's a great question! I tried to keep that post as short and sweet as possible but oh man do I have a lot more nitty gritty details in mind.

For one, ghosts aren't restricted to Amity Park. They have haunts (territories) but they have lairs in the ghost zone as well, so they tend to go back and forth between the worlds.

However, only the Fentons have a portal with a fixed location, and they rarely have it turned on. (Fun fact: the Fenton portal is made after ghosts explode into the human realm in this AU!) There are areas on earth with higher portal activity, but where they pop up and how long they stay is pretty random.

So, ghosts naturally wander. They pop back into the human realm as they wish, but it's not always close to their haunt. Lots of lesser ghosts don't even have haunts, too mindless for intelligence and more like roaming animals. Smarter ghosts can be curious and explore other parts of earth. They tend to only get defensive of their haunt if they sense other ghosts hunting there excessively, or trying to lay claim on the haunt.

So, in short, Phantom isn't always in Amity. He's there most frequently, but does appear elsewhere on earth at times. There's basically no way to tell how many ghost-related deaths are Phantom's fault.

Not only that, but slowly devouring a human's life force over time isn't uncommon! More intelligent ghosts will do this in an effort to prolong the duration of their "meal", and indulge in the terror it incites. A lot of people simply get very ill and exhausted over time, until there's not enough life left in them. But since this happens to humans naturally all the time, well... it's often hard to tell if the decline in health is from natural causes, or a ghost. (Lesser ghosts don't eat as much, but they have no intelligence to keep them from stopping till they're full. They get full quickly though, so you're less likely to die if one catches you. Just watch out for multiple encounters.)

Danny does take this to an extreme, though! Humans do replenish their life force naturally over time--it's just that ghosts that eat slowly still overcome that natural regeneration. Phantom is literally the only ghost that takes so little over such a large population that it's barely perceptible (unless he messes up, which, oops--that's happened).

But there's simply no evidence that this is probable, or even possible. Ghosts have no reason to do this, it's not as satisfying to them if their prey doesn't experience the terror that comes with knowing they're being drained.

(Also, just another fun little factoid: haunts are usually small! Lesser ghosts will haunt a single item, stronger ones will haunt a building, the strongest on record will haunt something like a park or complex. No one has figured out yet that Phantom haunts all of Amity because that's unheard of!)

Another factoid: ghosts don't need life force to survive! They lived in the ghost zone all this time just fine.

Life energy simply gives them more power, and better ability to stay in the human realm longer, and more corporeal. And it's instinct--it tastes good.

Danny, however, does need that life energy to survive. He needs his ghost half strong enough to stay attached to him, or it could detach and leave his human half dead. Then he'd just be another ghost.

(Also, The more sentient a life is, the stronger it is. So ghosts could technically drain the life of plants and animals, but it's gonna be mostly empty calories.)

#Danny Phantom #zilly squeaks #i need to think of a name for this AU #maybe just a title since it's less of an AU prospect and more just a story idea #hmm #also just another friendly reminder that I'm not protective of my AU ideas!#if you wanna take bits and pieces or the whole thing outright and make it your own? feel free!

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makethosenarratorsfight · 11 months

Text

UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; SIDE C

*NOTE; propaganda is out of order due to poll length!

Eugenides Propaganda:

the entire plot hinges on a detail he lets the reader (and every other character) assume is true. I don't want to spoil it because it's a really fun reveal but he is lying from the first second he appears on the page and you can't trust him to tell the full truth about ANYTHING related to himself and his goals. he mostly does it to keep his advantage and not have other characters be suspicious of him but it's just so fun when you realise he's been lying the whole time

Harrowhark Propaganda:

She gave herself a lobotomy and gives completely incorrect flashbacks to the previous book. Things that straight up did not happen. Gaslight gatekeep girlboss.

She’s schizophrenic (confirmed by the author) and also lives in a world with necromancy and ghostly revenants. She’s not just an unreliable narrator for readers, she’s an unreliable narrator of her own internal experience. She knows this and has to work with people around her to compensate for it. Descent into spoilerville below. Seriously Do Not Read if you want to read these books. There’s also the little matter about how she is *not actually the narrator* of a huge chunk of the story that we are initially led to believe is being told from her perspective.

(Spoilers) Holy shit she is THE most unreliable narrator. This gremlin gave herself a lobotomy so that she could forget about Gideon Nav, the most important person in her life (for magic soul-preserving reasons) so half of the second book in the series is spent gaslighting the reader about a book they just read. She comes up with an entire alternate version of the events of the first book in the series to carefully exclude any mentions of Gideon, and any time someone says ‘Gideon’ in front of her she LITERALLY has a stroke and/or an intercranial hemorrhage as her brain overwrites the word with someone else’s name. God occasionally intentionally triggers her memory revision to get out of difficult conversations. She also hallucinates ALL the time (unrelated to the lobotomy). She shows up at her frenemy’s room in the middle of the night (think little kid stumbling to their parents’ room and saying “I frew up”) to ask her to come check underneath her bed for the corpse that’s been wandering the space station. When frenemy checks underneath the bed, frenemy claims not to see anything, and Harrow is such an unbelievably unreliable narrator that it’s an open question in the fandom as to whether frenemy genuinely didn’t see the corpse or if frenemy was just yanking Harrow’s chain. Harrow is also haunted by a literal ghost that fucks up her already fucked up alternate history. Girlie will pick up a piece of paper and read from it the most violent and haunting piece of prose ever composed, when in reality all that’s written on the paper is the elementary school Superman S*. I am NOT joking that is a real goddamn scene. Harrow was created to win this poll. TLDR; she has brain damage and memory loss, she hallucinates, and is also haunted. * https://twitter.com/vestenet/status/1301012651145859072

Girl is so unreliable, she unreliably tells me events I was there for!!! She's retelling the previous book and I'm like "girlie, this is absolutely not how it happened". Also, she gave herself a DIY lobotomy, it has to impact your memory center I guess

She literally had a lobotomy, how can she be reliable

More Propaganda under cut!

Harrowhark is simply the unreliable narrator of all time. Can’t remember shit because of a lifetime of trauma? Check. Maybe lying to yourself and those around you a bit? Most definitely. Being gaslit by the survivors you depend on to orient you to reality? For sure. How about a little bit of canon schizophrenia? She’s got it all. Ghosts? Or something? Spirits that are attached in some way to your body and are not perceivable by others? Sure, sure! But how about spirits that are attached in some way to your body and are gonna use you to hijack others’ bodies and maybe kill God, too? Absolutely. Wee bit of DIY brain surgery? If it would make you an unreliable narrator, friends, then Harrowhark Nonagesimus has been there, been subjected to that!

Okay I don't know that much about this series since I haven't convinced myself to read all of the first book, but this is my blorbo in law so I'd feel bad not spreading propaganda (all of what I'm saying is something I've read, as to prevent myself from straight up submitting misinformation). So all of Harrow's unreliable narration takes place in the second book, Harrow the Ninth. Basically, without her even seemingto acknowledge it, Harrow's brain is very fucked up during this book, to the point where even she's not sure how reliable her narrative is. There's many questions left unclear as a result of her fucked up little brain, like what's real, what's fake, whether we can trust her judgement, whether even she can trust her own judgement, whether her original cavalier is dead or not (Harrow is convinced she is), etc. Let me tell you, I adore unreliable narrators who aren't even that sure if they're reliable. I have yet to eat that trope up here in this circumstance, but this poll might not run again by the time I do, so for now, here's my messed up blorbo in law.

OKAY SO REMEMBER MY GIDEON SUBMISSION? HARROW DOESN’T! SPOILERS AHEAD BECAUSE SHE LOBOTOMIZED HERSELF TO FORGET GIDEON BECAUSE THAT’S A HEALTHY WAY TO GRIEVE AND THEN IN THE ONLY PARTS OF HER BOOK THAT SHE NARRATES (THE REVISED CANAAN HOUSE PARTS) IT’S LITERALLY A ROOM FULL OF GHOSTS HER BRAIN SUMMONED TO DEAL WITH THE FACT THAT SHE CUT HER BRAIN IN HALF TO FORGET GIDEON. she also is a) haunted and b) psychotic, experiencing hallucinations her entire life of both the ghosts haunting her and less supernatural hallucinations- bells tolling, bones rattling, her parents (some of the only dead people NOT haunting her), etc! in the revised history of canaan house that her brainghosts invent, she brings along someone who knows about her psychosis to help reality check her when she tells him go! her caregiver as a child and support when she got older, crux, is a horrible man- but at one point, when someone other than harrow is in harrow’s body and tells him “i am not harrowhark, i am sorry,” his response is simply “aye, you’ve said that before too. who are you then, if not my lady harrowhark?” showing his familiarity with her psychosis and his love for the child he wouldn’t dare see as a daughter. but enough about that lets talk about her unreliable narration! she lies about her feelings of course but she also simply hides the truth from everyone, all the time, compulsively. also literally the entire section of her book that she narrates is a lie she’s telling US about a lie she’s telling HERSELF and no one understands even a little bit of the truth until like the last act of the book. queen.

#eugenides #the queens thief #queens thief #harrowhark #harrowhark nonagesimus #harrow the ninth #unreliable narrator battle #unreliable narrators #polls #side c

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