#we will bring us to the surface consuming
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Ლლ(‿ˠ‿) ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ Disturbing
#TEXT#DAY 6#Tell me the tale it told alone So much as insult us one more time#we will bring us to the surface consuming#confusing this lack of ᕕ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ disturbing
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It's fascinating how even though you don't always hear about \ anyone other than Astarion, every origin companion in BG3 has an endgame/epilogue state that is either outright bad for them or at the very least "not as good as they deserve".
Obvious there have been books and 100,000 pages of fic and discourse written about Ascended Astarion. In the moments when he almost acts like his old self, even then it's merely humoring you with a whim.
Mother Superior DJ Shadowheart flat out admits to severe empathy for what Viconia went through, and has fully closed herself off from any sense of attachment or feeling other than Nocturne and Tav. Her continued need to find carve-outs and exceptions and loopholes parallels Viconia's own eventual disagreements with Shar. And as we know, Shar will eventually betray or abandon her if Shadowheart doesn't betray her first. It's the story of every devout Sharran we meet.
Gale, the God is a smug arrogant hubris-ridden asshole that's even mean to Tara in the epilogue. Nearly every single sentiment he expressed about why he wanted the Crown and to ascend is immediately inverted. Of course he's not going to interfere. He's a figure of aspiration. Once he received power himself he immediately forgot and forsook everyone and everything about why he wanted it in the first place. A romanced God Gale is SLIGHTLY more grounded but that's mostly just because you ground him. And if you ascend with him, that ends that.
Lae'zel's return to Vlaakith results in her ascension, which leads to her missing the party and being very dead. The things that Lae'zel claimed to value will never truly be as long as Vlaakith rules, and her not escaping and falling back into her people's death cult robs her of the ability to create a new Gith, a better Gith.
Karlach is dead, or almost as bad, a Mind Flayer. And while most of her initial personality remains, by six months in she's already grown emotionally distant and her personality is clearly and evidently being slowly overridden by the brains of the dying she consumes. She's forsaken the embrace of death for the guise of eternal continuation in her. And even surrounded by the ten people who should mean the most in the world to her, all she mostly thinks about is others' perceptions of her (ala the Emperor) and the fact that she's hungry. Mind Flayer Karlach even notes that she used to think becoming a Mind Flayer would be the worst thing ever, but now she likes it. Shades of the Emperor x1000 and a clear sign that the Karlach we know and love is rapidly becoming a memory.
and then there's Grand Duke Wyll. On the surface, it appears the happiest of the "bad" endings, but pay attention. Note how he discusses wheeling and dealing and making agreements with patriars. (How well has contracts and deals worked out for you in the past?) Oh, and in certain conditions including romance, Wyll will offer you the chance to become a Grand Duke as well - with the others being his father (Ravengard #3) and Florrick (Wyll/Ulder's longest lasting family friend). That's not a government of the people for the people. When the power is tied up by a husband, spouse, his father, and their most trusted advisor, that's the makings of a monarchy or oligarchy. Of the type of patriar power-claim to last for generations, something Wyll himself once mocked. Oh, and if you adopt a child, then you get into the worst part of it all: Wyll's been busy running a city, and oh hey, instead of y'all bringing YOUR FOUR MONTH OLD DAUGHTER with you, hey, she'll be cool being watched by the Ilmater temple for a night right? Sorry, Wyll, were you saying something a few months ago about distant parenting? Yikes.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#wyll ravengard#wyll#astarion#ascended astarion#god gale#gale the god#karlach#mind flayer karlach#mindflayer karlach#tara#lae'zel#lae'zel bg3#bg3 epilogue#bg3 ending#bg3 spoilers#baldurs gate 3#tav#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate iii#ulder ravengard#shadowheart#mother superior shadowheart#shart#bg3 shart
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So, what is the deal with the world’s most conspicuously uneaten Eccles cakes? (A meta)
Well, I wouldn’t say it’s bad writing, not even the on-purpose-as-a-secret-message kind. I agree there is a visual ‘loose thread’ here that the creators wanted us to notice, but I don’t think the meaning has anything to do with Metatron or the eventual plan for S3. I think the eccles cakes are all about what’s going on in this episode with Crowley and Aziraphale, and they’re unsettling in exactly the way they’re meant to be, even if we might not register the full implications consciously on first watch.
On the most straightforward level, this shot is the punchline to a joke set up by Aziraphale and Nina in the coffee shop. Crowley orders six shots of espresso, bound to get him all worked up and stressy. Aziraphale, who desperately wants Crowley to be thinking clearly when he learns about the Gabriel situation, says to Nina: ‘What do you sell that calms people down?’ And she replies: ‘Eccles cakes.’ From this moment on the cakes are a visual symbol of what Aziraphale needs from Crowley right now.
That’s why they get so much screentime as we cross the road and go into the shop. Aziraphale won't leave those eccles cakes behind because he’s still hoping that Crowley will respond to the request they represent: Please stay calm, please be patient and listen to me with empathy.
But Crowley never does respond, and as he storms out we get that close-focus shot of the abandoned plate to make sure the subtext hits home. The cakes are framed sitting in front of the horse statue, brilliantly dressed up in Crowley's sunglasses, to remind us that they were brought there for him and he's dismissing them. (Crowley is the frantic horse who can't be managed!)
There’s another level to it, though, which doesn’t fully become clear until episode 6. The episode 1 meeting in Nina’s café is the first time that Aziraphale and Crowley share a scene in the present-day in S2, which means that the last time we saw them together was when they were dining at the Ritz. As viewers, we quickly recognise the visual language of their partnership: a table for two, a drink, a dessert. It feels familiar. But the food gets delivered and then nobody eats it. On that level, it is a set-up without a pay-off and it really niggles as you watch. S1 closed out their relationship with a happy toast after a resplendent dinner; S2 opens it with a snack that gets ignored. The dynamics of who offers food to whom are also off, atypical. It’s a sign of how things are going to go later on, hinting at the fact their dynamic is dysfunctional right now, even though it might seem OK on the surface.
Which brings me, finally, on to the other thing I’ve wanted to point out…
The punchline is that Crowley doesn’t eat the eccles cakes, but the really subconsciously disconcerting thing is that Aziraphale doesn’t. That he seemingly never planned to, and never orders anything for himself. In fact, we don’t see Aziraphale eat anything substantial in any of the present-day scenes in S2. The only things he consumes onscreen are sherry, tea, and a travel sweet. (Oh, and Manipulation Coffee, which is definitely a callback to Crowley’s disastrous sextuple-espresso.) We see him with food, yes, but primarily he wants to give it to other people.
For me this little detail of S2 – not something you even fully notice until you think about it – is a very telling understated cue in terms of Aziraphale’s post-Heaven state of mind. It's about what amuseoffyre puts so well in another meta: 'the whole series looks like he’s having so much fun doing silly human things, but there’s this brittleness to it.' At first glance, we see Aziraphale interacting with food and assume he is now living the happy Earthly life we wanted for him, but on closer inspection he's not engaging much in the pleasure of eating for his own sake. He gets a quick sweet pick-me-up on his way somewhere else in the Bentley - all alone - and that's it. He's too anxious, too busy, he doesn't have time. Crowley doesn't have time to invite him for lunch.
I find it fascinating that Gabriel gets a squillion cups of cocoa in this season, waxing all lyrical about them, and Aziraphale gets none. Aziraphale's mug becomes Jim's mug, even. And he mostly makes the tea to show Muriel how to blend in. In short, S2 Aziraphale is terribly preoccupied with looking after/managing others, and not taking the time to look after himself. Like the Maggie and Nina match-making, all that kindly treat-offering is displacement, displacement, displacement.
No wonder it all goes wrong.
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happy valentine's day who wants to throw themselves on a fence spike for me while reciting biblical wedding vows as your last words so i can consume your soul and gain immortality but after confronting god who says he cannot bring you back i become so overtaken with grief that i lobotomize myself to erase my ability to conceive of you in any capacity to prevent my body from absorbing and using you as an eternal battery after which i send myself to a purgatory dream state and you surface in control of my body and defend it from the alien bug soldiers of a murdered ghost planet that are trying to kill me for the sins of the emperor i worship and then i stay sleeping in hell while you end up back in your own body and then my body kisses your body but it's while being inhabited by the soul of the earth and eventually you try to sacrifice yourself for me again but you can't because you're dead now and then i wake up in my own body finally in the same room as you but i faint and get carried off by eldritch barbie before i can hear you assert your devotion to me by calling her a slut. either that or we could get coffee
#...coffee from the spaceship canteen where you are a barista with a firm jawed long smile and i am a military chaplain#nona the ninth spoilers#ntn spoilers#nona spoilers#tlt#the locked tomb#the locked tomb spoilers#tlt spoilers#ntn#gtn#htn#gtn spoilers#htn spoilers#gideon the ninth spoilers#gideon the ninth#nona the ninth#harrow the ninth spoilers#harrow the ninth#valentine's day
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𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼
synopsis: you yearn to step onto the sand, relinquish your tail for just a moment and experience the world above. You find a man capable of granting you your wish, but there’s something wrong.
tags: mermaid reader, fingering, penetration, beach sex, vulgar, explicit.
wrd cnt: 1.6k
a/n NOT PROOFREAD: i had to get a little creative bc i was researching mermaid intercourse bruh i was deep in the google trenches…hope this is still good !
The moon shines down beneath the crystal clear waters, casting a mesmerizing glow on the vibrant coral reefs and schools of colorful fish. You were no stranger to this enchanting underwater world. But today, as you swam through the familiar marine life, your thoughts were consumed with a longing for something more. You had heard stories of a new world above the surface, a world where creatures with two legs roamed and breathed air instead of water. It was a world that both intrigued and terrified you.
As you gazed up at the shimmering surface, you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have shed your tail and explore this foreign land. But as a mermaid, it was only a dream, a distant desire that seemed impossible to fulfill. But little did you know, fate had other plans in store for you.
As you continued to swim along the coast to catch a glimpse of the stars, you find a man with long silver hair walking above the earths hide.
You try to conceal yourself in the night, but he takes quite a quick notice of you.
You get startled from his gaze, but his eyes shine a shade of blue so vibrant they hold you inbetween currents like a fish on a hook.
“Hello there, do not worry, I won’t hurt you”. The man says to you from above, his hands infront of him to show you his good intentions.
You swim up the sand, letting the water glide you up onto a rock, letting your tail lay on the sand; draped over.
He kneels down, “Are you okay?”. You’re avast ways from your home, but you couldn’t miss a chance to actually talk to a human.
”Yes, yes I’m alright.” You began to study his features like a predator ready to strike; his winged-lashes flickering.
You’ve never met a human before, you’d heard stories of the good and bad nature of them, but he seemed different. “You’re a mermaid.” His question sounding more like an awestruck statement. You nod slowly, unsure of his reaction.
“Amazing, I’ve been told your kind had ceased ever since tales of the property emerged. I never thought I’d get to see one again.” He says with a sense of wonder and disbelief.
You can feel your face conform at his words, “Again? Whats is your name?” you ask, suddenly breaking out of his trance.
“Neuvillette. I may look it, but I am not human. I’ve lived many years, and befriended many of your kind. I am just glad to be given the reassurance of your resilience”. He says with honesty.
“Thank you- I am y/n”. You finally tell him.
“Beautiful. What brings you to the coast?” He wonders out loud.
“I’m- just curious. I wished to take a look upon the world above me.”
“Curiosity can lead us to great adventures,” Neuvillette said, his eyes full of admiration as he gazed at you. “But it can also bring us trouble. You are brave to venture to the surface alone.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his words, feeling a sense of pride swell within you. “I couldn’t resist the urge to explore. And now, I have found something much more intriguing than just the surface world,” you said, your eyes flickering to Neuvillette’s lips.
He seemed to sense your desire and stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. “And what might that be?” he whispered, his voice low and sensual.
“I wish for legs…” You confess, teasing the handsome stranger just a bit.
“And you think I can grant them to you?”
“You are the hydro dragon, aren’t you? I couldn’t quite out my finger on it. But we have a many great tales about you…and your abilities.”
“You are correct. But I must warn you, it could be an unpleasant first feeling.”
“But you can do it?!” You flap your tail in excitement a few times, the hair that covers your wet and exposed chest flaling around as you wait for his confirmation.
“I can…but I must be here to supervise you. A lot can go wrong, and the people of this land may not all be so accepting”. He warns.
You take time to consider the need for your yearning, but still you hold onto the dream you desire so deeply.
“I’m sure of this.”
He releases a deep sigh, “Alright, please allow me.”
With his large palms, he picks you up off the rock; his hand under your slippery tail and holding you bridal style to sit you onto his lap.
You apologize about ruining his clothes with the salty sea water, but he pays no mind.
“Don’t look down. Simply look up here.” He commands, holding your gaze with his own as he soothes the length of your tail, speaking whispers you can’t transcribe, slowly feeling your body half lighten exponentially.
You suddenly feel a weight lifted off you, and look down with his permission.
Your face lights up, and you feel as if you’re dreaming. As if any moment now you’ll wake up under the sea foam and find yourself with a tail.
But this was real, and you thanked the man with everything in you.
“You’re welcome, but remember that there are still-“
“Arghh- Something’s wrong…”
His eyebrows furrow, not seeing anything physically wrong with you which only makes him more worried.”
“What’s wrong my dear?” He says, trying to be respectful and looking away from your naked body.
“Something’s feeling- so hot.” You squirm, looking to him for help.
“Guide me to where you need.”
Taking his hand in yours, you trail him over your stomach before placing it on your growing heat, making his hand cup your crotch.
“Right here” you plead.
His face was covered in deep red, unable to speak.
“That- is quite unusual…I’ve never seen that happen. Does it hurt?” He says with true concern, trying to conceal his arousal.
You shake your head, unable to describe what it felt.
“What is this? Have you ever felt this?”
Neuvillettes voice hitches as he’s even more embarrassed and trying to find the right words to explain what you feel.
“Well, not this exactly no. But, I think I understand the issue”.
He casts a shadow over you, his large body coming close to whisper something in your ear.
“You’re feeling arousal, and there’s only one way to get rid of it.”
You feel a lump in your throat, eyes locked into his as you feel even more helpless.
“Please…” You plead, grinding your hips towards his hand, “Help me get rid of it…”
He smiles down at you, spreading your wet lips apart, “It would be my pleasure, sweet mermaid.”
With a gentle tug, he pushes your back onto the rock you were sat on earlier.
He parts your legs and keeps the bottoms of your thighs on top of his, giving him a good view of his fingers delving into your tight hole.
“Mmfph- that feels…so good”. You confess.
His hand moves your hair behind your neck, your chest fully on display as his free hand squeezes your mounds and roll your nipples under his fingertips, giving you two sources of pleasure unknown to you before.
“Neuvillette- I need more.” You beg, putting your hand on top of his, making him squeeze your breast harder.
“Anything for you, y/n.” He flashes a small smile before putting your hand on growing bulge.
“This is what is going to help you find your release, sweetheart.”
He helps you unzip his pants, and out springs his cock; falling right into your grasp.
Your eyes widen, it felt so big in your hands you didn’t possibly know what to do with it.
He helped you pleasure him, making your hand stroke him up and down as he thrusted into your palm.
“You’re so gentle…such a sweet thing.”
You feel your cunt drool even more, something so unknown to you made you feel so feral.
He positions himself at your entrance, kneeling perfectly before you with your legs wrapped around him.
“This…goes right in here.” He grunts out, pushing his thick, veiny cock fully into your perfect cunt and hearing your pleasure heighten quickly in the form of moans and gasps.
He started with slow, deep thrusts; getting you used to his size and the feeling of your own hole stretching.
You felt like you could pass out if he didn’t keep going, the ambiance of waves crashing against the rock behind you and the sounds of your wet skin slapping together drove you wild. The sea water brushed against your ass but his tongue slid against yours in such a manner that made your entire body feel like it was under the sun.
“Do you like how this feels?” He asks, grunting in your ear and whimpering at how your cunt squeezes him.
You nod profusely, thanking him about a million times as he keeps fucking you on the sand, holding your waist and trialing sloppy kisses down your neck and chest.
Your breathing was heavy and your mind was swirling with pleasure as he continued to thrust into you. You were completely lost in the moment, just the two of you on the beach, your bodies entwined in ecstasy.
He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster and more urgent. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, and he wanted to take you there with him
“Y/n- keep squeezing around me like that, fuck…such a perfect hole.”
Your moans turned into screams as you both reached your climax together, waves of pleasure crashing over you like the ocean behind you.
You collapsed onto the sand, panting and trying to catch your breath. He rolled onto his back next to you, a content smile on his face as he ran his fingers through your hair.
“That was amazing,” you said, pulling him close to him. “I’ve never felt anything like that before”.
“Well you have a few more hours of it if you so please.”
whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.
#jo’s posts#neuvillette#neuvilette genshin#neuvillete x reader#neuvillette smut#nuevillette#neuvillette genshin#genshin neuvillette#genshin smut
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childhood friend! reader who's somehow getting closer with itadori due to them being both bubbly and chatty; this obviously doesn't go unnoticed by megumi.
he can feel the resentment gradually building up within him, but how could he ever dislike itadori? sure, the pink-haired boy tends to steal the attention of his childhood friend (that megumi may or may not secretly harbor feelings for) but hey, could he blame reader for being drawn towards such a passionate and humorous guy?
(winks) i'm leaving you to decide which direction this scenario should go hehe
n. i can promise you that i understand very well which direction to write this, nonnie (winks aggressively). hope this serves justice for your req <3
fushiguro megumi had always been reserved.
a man who preferred the company of his thoughts to the noise of the world. he had grown accustomed to solitude, finding solace in the quiet corners of his mind where he could retreat from the chaos of the outside world.
but then you came along, a beam of light in his otherwise bleak life. you were his childhood friend, the only one who had managed to break the walls he had put around the core of his being. and as he saw you grow closer to itadori yuuji, a friend of both of you, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping into his soul.
as you walked into the bustling classroom, your eyes immediately found their way to itadori’s infectious smile. he was chatting animatedly with you, his laughter filling the room like a burst of sunshine. you’ve been drawn to his magnetic personality, his energy infectious and his jokes never failing to bring a smile to your face.
fushiguro megumi, your childhood friend, stood off to the side, expression unreadable as he observed the interaction between you and itadori. there was a tightness in his chest, a pang of jealousy that he couldn't quite shake off. he had always been reserved, quiet, but seeing you gravitate towards someone else, someone so different from him, it stirred up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within him.
you realized that as the days went by, you were spending an increasing amount of time with itadori because of his carefree nature and enthusiasm for life. you found yourself having fewer and fewer talks with megumi; his presence receding as itadori's charm dominated your days.
however, megumi always had a bad taste in his mouth whenever he saw you laughing with itadori. he was unable to ignore the bitterness that was boiling under the surface and the sense that someone so affectionately pleasant had taken his place. on the other hand, how could he blame you? how could he hold it against you for being drawn to someone who lit up the room with his mere presence?
one day, while you sat with itadori during lunch, megumi couldn't help but overhear snippets of your conversation. his heart clenched painfully as he heard you laugh, your voice mingling with itadori's in a way that felt like a stab to his chest. he turned away, the turmoil within him threatening to consume him whole.
later that afternoon, the man found himself alone with you for the first time in what felt like ages. the air between you was heavy with unspoken tension, a distance that seemed to grow with each passing moment.
"hey, megs," you started, breaking the silence with a hesitant smile. "i feel like we haven't talked in forever. you okay?"
his throat tightened at the concern in your voice, the guilt gnawing at him as he struggled to find the right words. "i'm fine," he muttered, his gaze flinching away from yours.
you weren't persuaded, though. "are you sure?" you pressed, your eyes searching his for any signs.
megumi swallowed hard, his chest tightening with a mixture of longing and frustration. "i just.. i miss us, you know?”
“i miss how things used to be."
your expression softened, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. "i miss that too, megumi," you admitted, reaching out to gently grasp his hand. "but things change. people change. it doesn't mean we can't still be friends, right?”
friends, he heard it right.
his heart ached at your words, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. “yeah, friends..” you were slipping away, drifting further and further out of reach, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
just when the heaviness of the stillness weighed heavily on you and megumi, there came a voice from across the hallway.
"hey, [name]! come check this out!"
itadori's cheerful voice pierced through the tension, and you turned towards him with a bright smile, leaving megumi standing alone in the echoing hallway. “yuuji’s calling me. later!”
megumi watched as you pulled your hand away and hurried off to join itadori, his heart sinking as the distance between you grew wider with each step you took. already on a first-name basis? it took megumi and you some years to get used to addressing each other by your first names, but just a couple months with itadori?
thus, it was in that moment, with the sound of your laughter fading into the distance, that he realized just how much he had lost.
a sense of resignation settled over him, the bitterness in his heart mingling with a profound sadness. he had always known that he could never compete with someone like itadori, someone who effortlessly captured the attention and affection of those around him.
as he stood there, alone in the empty corridor, megumi couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end. if perhaps, despite his silent protests and unspoken desires, he had already lost you for good.
because fushiguro megumi had always been reserved.
and there’s nothing he could do about it.
@uzurakis — rqs are open <3
#uzurakis will ruin your day (once again)#these typa writings are MY SHIT RAAAHHHHH#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#.writing#megumi fluff#megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi x reader#fushiguro x you#fushiguro megumi x reader#fushiguro megumi#jjk fushiguro#fushiguro x reader#megumi x you#megumi angst#megumi x y/n#itadori yuuji x reader#itadori x reader#itadori yuuji#yuuji x you
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We made it
⊹♡— in which she falls in love with the boy she grew up with, and they realise that the highs and lows of life hadn’t stopped them from succeeding
Max Verstappen x fem!reader
Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of j*s Verstappen, mentions of substance abuse
When I was six years old, life led me on an unexpected adventure, a journey that would intertwine my fate with Max's in the most remarkable way. It all began on a sweltering summer afternoon as I aimlessly wandered the sun-soaked streets of our tough neighborhood. The air hung heavy with the scents of asphalt and distant hopes. My parents were both ensnared by the cruel clutches of addiction, leaving me to navigate the challenges of life on my own, like a small boat adrift in a stormy sea.
On that particular day, a strange serendipity drew me away from my usual aimless wanderings. The distant sound of a kart engine reached my ears like a siren's call, beckoning me toward the source of its excitement.
Curiosity piqued, I followed the melodic hum until I stumbled upon a makeshift karting track hidden within a forsaken corner of our neighborhood. There, in the hazy afternoon light, I found a young boy, no older than me, toiling away in solitude, his small frame dwarfed by the task at hand. He was Max, his eyes heavy with a sadness that belied his tender age.
As I approached, Max looked up, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of surprise and weariness. "Hi," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken stories. "I'm Max. Do you want to race me in my go-kart?"
It was an invitation, a small glimmer of hope that hung in the air. But beneath the surface, I could sense a darkness, a heaviness that Max carried within him. It wasn't long before he began to open up to me, sharing the painful truth of what had transpired earlier that day.
Max had been part of a race, one filled with the adrenaline of competition and the dreams of victory. Yet, the story took a darker turn. He had lost that race, and the consequences of that defeat were more profound than I could have ever imagined. Max's abusive father, consumed by anger at his son's perceived failure, had abandoned him at the track, leaving young Max alone with the daunting task of cleaning up and packing away the remnants of their racing dreams.
In that moment, as I listened to Max's story, my heart ached with empathy and a sense of shared vulnerability. I couldn't bear the thought of Max having to endure this ordeal alone, left to grapple with the shadows of his own past. Without hesitation, I offered to help him.
Together, we folded up the discarded tires, picked up the strewn bits of trash, and neatly stowed away the racing karts. It was during this collaborative effort that our friendship began to take root, as we shared stories of our troubled pasts, found moments of laughter amidst the chaos, and whispered our dreams of becoming Formula One drivers under the setting sun.
As the golden orb dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched toward us, Max and I walked back home together. The bond that had formed during our shared experience grew stronger with each step. We might have come from the darkest corners of our neighborhood, facing adversity that seemed insurmountable, but in each other, we had found the greatest treasure—a friend who would stand by us through thick and thin.
The years rolled on, bringing with them the trials and tribulations of adolescence. Max and I continued to nurture our friendship, our shared passion for racing, and our unwavering support for one another. We became each other's pillars of strength in a world that often seemed unforgiving.
At the age of 14, we faced another turning point. Max's unwavering dedication to racing clashed with the realization that my passion for it was waning. I felt like I was holding him back, and the weight of guilt began to bear down on me.
"I don't think I want to race anymore," I finally confided in Max one day. "I think it's time for me to find something else.”
Max looked at me, his face serious but kind. "You don't have to do something just because I love it. We're best friends, and I want you to be happy."
His words offered solace, but I still grappled with the fear of losing him and the uncertainty of what lay ahead for our friendship.
High school came and went, and our bond persisted, though not without its changes. There was a subtle tension between us that hadn't existed before. I was nervous around Max, unsure of how to act.
One day, as we sat on my front porch, discussing our plans after graduation, Max turned to me, his eyes intense with emotions he could no longer contain.
"I don't want to lose you," he said, his voice trembling with vulnerability. "But I can't keep pretending anymore. I'm in love with you."
I was stunned, my mind racing as I processed his confession. I had never thought of Max in that way, but as he spoke, I realized that my feelings were more complex than I had ever imagined.
"I love you too," I said, my own voice quivering. "But if we try this and it doesn't work, I don't want it to ruin our friendship."
Max reached for my hand, the touch of his fingers reassuring. "We've been through a lot together," he said, his gaze unwavering. "We can handle anything."
With that, we embarked on a new chapter, our friendship evolving into a romantic relationship. The weight of unspoken emotions lifted, allowing us to be our true selves around each other, without the fear of losing the connection we had nurtured for so long.
As the years rolled by, we navigated the ups and downs of life together. Max faced challenges in his racing career, but I was always there to support him, just as he had been there for me. We both graduated from college, securing jobs in our respective fields, all the while never letting go of the love that had blossomed between us.
Now, at the age of 24, we sat side by side in the grandstands, our eyes fixed on the racing track. Max had made it to his first F1 championship race, a moment we had both dreamt of since we were kids. The tension in the air was palpable, the excitement electric.
And then, it happened—Max emerged victorious, clutching the coveted trophy. Tears of joy welled up in my eyes as I watched him celebrate his hard-earned triumph.
"I couldn't have done this without you," Max said, his arm wrapped around me, his voice filled with gratitude.
"I'm so proud of you," I replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek, my heart swelling with pride.
As we watched the other drivers celebrate on the track below, Max turned to me, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that words could hardly capture.
"You know," he began, his voice soft but resolute, "I never would have made it this far without you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
I smiled, the gratitude and love I felt for Max filling every corner of my heart. Our journey had been a tumultuous one, shaped by the challenges we had faced and the unbreakable bond that had carried us through. From a chance encounter on a karting track to the heights of an F1 championship, we had weathered every storm together. Max Verstappen had not only become a champion on the track but a champion of my heart, and I couldn't imagine a life without him by my side.
#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#formula 1 smut#formula 1 imagine#formula 1#formula 1 x oc#formula 1 x y/n
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Hi there! I absolutely adore the way you write and how you approach heavier topics. If it doesn’t bother you, could I request a Batfamily fic with reader who has an ED? I know a lot of people struggle with it and I feel like we all need a little affirmation sometimes. <3
Just The Way You Are
Warnings: Eating Disorders - please read with caution.
Word Count: 1.1k
Note: This one hit home hard. As someone who has struggled with and ED, I think it is important to raise awareness about them. Please note that this is based off off my personal experiences and from research. EDs present themselves in many different ways that vary for everyone. Please remember to be kind to yourself and others and if you are struggling and are able to, to reach out. I have linked some helplines below for those who are in need. Please remember that you are loved and you are perfect just the way you are. You are special. You are loved. You are unique. never let anyone take that away from you.
⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤
You hadn’t touched most of your food. It sat there getting cold as you pushed it around the porcelain listening to the way your fork scraped gratingly against the shiny surface. You had taken a few bites, longing to savour the taste of Alfred’s cooking as it melted on your tongue, but it didn’t seem to have the same effect anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to bring anymore of the food to your lips. Even the smell began to make your stomach churn. And you felt so stupid as you sat there staring at the plate as everyone else delved in. In some ways that made you feel worse. But eating had begun to feel like a crime.
When it first started, you never thought it would go this far. You just wanted to lose a little weight, to tone your stomach and your muscles just a little bit more. You weren’t even entirely sure why. Perhaps a cruel comment made in passing? It didn’t matter. But what did was the way that your mind seemed to wrack with cruel thoughts every time you looked in the mirror. Pointing out everything that seemed to be wrong. Or didn’t look like the models in the photos in Jason's magazines.
So, you started cutting back. Just a little at first. Snacks in between meals. And you started working out more, trying to burn off calories faster. But when you checked the scales it felt like it wasn’t enough. When you looked in the mirror, your mind still screamed at you, replaying comments and thoughts in your mind like a broken record. They scratched away at you until soon you began to cut back on meals. Breakfast. Smaller portions at lunch and just a few bites here or there at dinner, so that your family wouldn’t suspect a thing. And still even that didn’t seem to be enough. You still felt wrong every time you glanced in the mirror. You still felt like your body wasn’t good enough.
Soon they noticed. You were becoming more withdrawn, often slipping away into the bathrooms after meals. Often not at meals at all. You were sluggish too and seemed to lack the spark that you used to hold. They would ask you tenderly if you were okay, but most days you would scatter or pretend not to have heard them. And other days you would just tell them that you had already had something to eat. That you weren’t hungry.
And somehow lying to them made the situation feel so much worse. Like you were harming them as well as yourself. Your mind was a blur. Days seemed to pass by in some strange mess of time and the only thing that consumed thoughts were the lingering, cruel jests of your inner monologue. Sometimes, you begged for it to stop. You wanted to stop. But you couldn’t. Because you felt as though if you did you would feel disgusting. You would feel as though everything you had done had been for nothing.
“Not hungry?” Tim asked from across beside you. You had zoned out, not sparing the rest of them aside as your mind wandered off on a tangent.
“Hmm?” You frowned. “No. I had a big lunch not too long ago. It was stupid of me really, I should know better than to eat too close to dinner.”
Jason frowned. “You’ve been doing that a lot. Are you okay?”
“Mhm.” You hummed, keeping your eyes plastered on the table cloth, not daring to meet his gaze.
“I didn’t see you at breakfast either today Y/N.” Damian added. “Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?”
“Yeah.” You nodded, swallowing down the anxiety that rose within you quickly. “I’ve already said I’m just not hungry.”
“You’re looking a little pale kiddo.” Dick said “I don’t want you getting sick. Why don’t you try and take a few more bites. It’ll help.”
And soon it all became too much. Everything seemed too much. Too bright, too loud, too hot. And a tear that had been threatening to spill from your eyes for weeks now finally slipped free of its cage.
“I can’t.”
It was a simple phrase, but your voice trembled.
“Why not, kid? What’s the matter kiddo?” Jason asked calmly.
“I just… I just can’t.” you sobbed. “Because if I eat then I feel like my body isn’t good enough! I don’t look like a model. Everytime I look in the mirror I see a body staring back at me that is mine, but it doesn’t feel like me. It doesn’t look like how I want it too. How it’s supposed to.”
They fell silent for a moment. But then Damian spoke up.
“Oh Y/N/N… your body is beautiful.”
“Is that why you haven’t been eating?” Dick tilted his head.
You nodded meekly.
“Oh kid…you’re so perfect. You don’t need to change for anyone ever. Who cares what you look like?”
“Me! Everyone! I don’t know!”
“We don’t care. We think you are beautiful just the way you are. You are perfect y/n, and we wouldn’t want you any different.” Tim told you gently, placing his hand atop of yours.
“We love every inch of you. You are beautiful.”
You sniffled, wiping away your tears.
“We’re sorry you couldn’t tell us how you feel. But we are here for you. Always.” Damian told you.
“We’re always going to be here kiddo. We’re here to help you. Here to love you.” Jason added.
“We don’t know what we would do without you. It’s so important that you take care of yourself, beautiful.” Dick said. “And it will take time, as recovery does, but we’re going to be here to help you every step of the way.”
And they were true to their words. The four of them began to help you on your recovery journey. Often they would sit with you, taking small bites of food with you or offering you your favourite treats, reassuring you that it was okay.
If you ever felt overwhelmed, they would wait with you, allowing you to take your time.
Everyday they reminded you of how proud they were of you, even if you felt your progress had gone backward that day. Because they truly were.
Often they would slip you notes. Sometimes they came under your door or were left by your bathroom mirror. You had quite the collection. Each one was different. A different reason why they loved you, or a reminder of how proud they were of you. Reminders that you are loved and you are beautiful just the way you are.
HELPLINES
BATFAM TAGLIST:
@aestheticdaisies
@hell-o-kittys
@xxrougefangxx
@mamapucket
@hearts4robs
@harleycao
#batfam x reader#batfam x sister reader#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x sister reader#nightwing#nightwing x reader#dc#dc x reader#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x sister reader#red hood#red hood x reader#tim drake#tim drake x reader#tim drake x sister reader#red robin#red robin x reader#damian wayne#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x sister reader#robin#robin x reader#hurt/comfort#you are loved#you are perfect
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lights off (18+)
from ─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special *ੈ✩
pairings: oh seungmin x fem!reader
genre: smut wc: 4k
summary: it’s christmas break and you’re at your fellow classmates place to work on your group project, but when the power suddenly goes off you start getting bored, cold and a lot more cozy
contains: sub!reader, college fuckboy o.de, explicit language, protected sex, dirty talk, oral (f), pet names, choking (f), squirting, mentions of sexting/nudes
a/n: please, keep in mind english is not my first language, i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed
!! this is pure fiction for entertainment purposes
One thing you really dislike about your professor is that he never lets students pick their own partners when it comes to group projects.
If he did, you wouldn’t be here right now - at Seungmin’s place, literally having to beg for a crumble of his attention.
“Can you focus for just a moment please?” You rub the temples at the sides of your face, already feeling exhausted although you sat down to work less than twenty minutes ago.
You stare at the blank word document while the clicking sounds of Seungmin’s cellphone fill the silence of the room.
“Yea… I’m listening,” he says, quickly glancing up.
“To what? We haven’t even started discussing anything yet.”
You have no idea why he’s making it so much more difficult and time consuming for himself. This will take forever.
“Okay, okay,” he locks his phone and puts it on the table. “I’m all yours, babe.”
“Don’t call me that.” You roll your eyes, then move onto your notes. “Let’s divide this into parts. It will be easier for both of us, and a lot quicker too. You will work on one thing, while I do another.”
“Sounds good.”
He drums on the surface of the table with his fingertips while you go through the notes, dividing them in parts. You feel his gaze on the right side of your face, and that brings a sudden flush to your cheeks. It makes you realise that you sit surprisingly close to one another.
“This is for you,” you slide the papers in his direction. He immediately sighs, tortured by the amount of words.
He opens his own laptop when his cellphone earns another notification which steals his attention again.
You know it’s rude. And kind of pathetic too, but curiosity got the better of you, and you secretly try to take a peek at the messages that keep piling up on his screen. However, his hands move too quickly, allowing you to catch only a glimpse of a red heart emoji, but no name.
It was expected. Seungmin’s reputation around campus is a popular topic of discussion, making it loud and clear that girls take up most of his time and interests.
His thumbs type for a few seconds, then freeze while his eyes read through the response. A smirk forms on his face, and you force yourself to look away, when his eyebrows raise at you. The look lasted one second, but you could still notice that there’s something different about his gaze.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, shoving his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants.
Great. Looks like you’re working on this project alone.
As you watch his tall figure disappear into the corner your mind helplessly drifts to the detailed stories you’ve been told about him. The number of conversations you’ve had to sit through listening about his allegedly numerous hook ups, and his allegedly big size is more than you think is necessary. None of them left an impression on you then, but being actually here right now where you realise he potentially has done them… You hate to admit that you’re a little curious if some parts are really true.
After he comes back the words fly out of your mouth on their own.
“Who are you texting?”
“A chick,” he replies just as the screen vibrates for the nth time since you got here.
“Of course.”
He opens the chat, as he sits back on his seat. Whatever he saw on there makes his lips curl up in a playful grin, and he decides to turn it into your direction.
Your eyes widen after you take a look at the screen, and you bring up your hand to cover them, but too late.
You saw everything of the explicit picture.
“Jesus, I didn’t ask.”
“What?” He laughs at your flustered expression. “You asked who I’m texting.”
“I was asking about her name, not her boobs.”
“Aren’t you a prude.” He swings back and forth with his chair.
“I’m not a prude for simply not being interested in random strangers body parts.”
You drag the cursor on the computer screen, but not even knowing what exactly you’re looking for. Your mind suddenly fogs up from the realisation behind Seungmin leaving the table a minute ago.
Did he really go to the bathroom to take a dick pic?
“When was the last time you saw some?” He leans on the table, searching for your eyes. “In real life, sweetheart.”
However his gaze stops at your lips. Your eyes are nervously changing directions across the room, and it’s impossible to meet them, but he also finds the fact you don’t realise how hard you chew on your bottom lip fascinating.
“Was it too long ago?”
“Seungmin…”
You jump in your seat when out of nowhere all the lights in the apartment go off.
“Shit, no way” he cusses, looking around. “The power went off.”
Despite the low chances, he stands up to try and find at least one candle in the messy drawers, as he keeps the flashlight of his cellphone turned on.
It’s pretty dark in the room already, and when you go to the window you see outside is snowing again. Soon the white view is going to turn pitch black cause it’s pass five o’clock.
“Wait… Found one.” Seungmin shouts from the kitchen. “Must be my roommate’s.”
He returns, placing it on the coffee table and lights it up.
You both move to sit comfortably on the couch and read your notes, occasionally discussing some key points you can use for your project.
You thought about going home, because you have no idea when the power is going to be back for you to get to do actual work, but what are you going to do all alone without any internet? At least here you have Seungmin’s company.
That’s definitely something you never thought you’d prefer over anything to be honest.
It didn’t take long enough for the temperature in the room to drop now that the ac isn’t working. You’re snuggled up in a blanket, legs pressed together against your chest, as you take up the small corner of the couch.
Seungmin drops the pile of notes on the coffee table with a sigh and leans back, glancing at you. His blanket is placed over his shoulders, while his black hoodie is covering his hair.
“Do you want me to bring you another blanket?” He asks.
“No, thanks. I’m fine for now.”
The silence wraps around both of you again, and as a minute passes you find yourself thinking back to his question. As if he could see what was going through your mind Seungmin speaks out from the opposite corner.
“Soo…” his low voice makes a short pause before asking. “When was the last time you hooked up with someone?”
“Why don’t we talk about the project instead?” You ask back sharply.
“Oh, come on, don’t be such a downer,” he complains. “That’s all we did for the past sixty minutes, let’s give our minds a break.”
He’s right, your mind does start to feel a bit bleary, but is every single conversation you have going to revolve around sex?
“Two weeks ago?” He tries to guess. His brows knit together, confused at your pale expression. “A month? Wow, more than a month?”
“Yes, it’s been… over a month.” Why is he gasping like you’ve committed a crime? “Can you… stop overreacting now?”
“Damn… That’s tough.”
“For you,” you point out, sneaking even further into the blanket. Thank God he cannot see the new color of your cheeks.
“I’m just surprised, because you’re hot.”
You look up as if you’ve been struck by a lightning. The yellowish glow of his side profile vibrates in the dark while you search for any small hint that may tell you he’s joking.
Seungmin turns to face you, and you lock eyes for the first time since you’re here. He really is surprised, a lot. You have sex appeal that’s impossible to not spark a guy’s interest, it looks like maybe you just haven’t met the right one who knows how to handle you. He moves closer, sliding a hand under your blanket to find your feet. His fingertips graze the exposed skin of your ankle; so soft, it instantly awakes his dirty imagination.
“Seungmin…” you utter, surprised at the sound of your voice coming out suddenly so breathy.
“I love the way you say my name, Y/N.”
His words attract your body in a way you couldn’t even begin to oppose to, and you lean towards him, as he helps you uncover your body.
His hands attach to your hips, as you straddle his lap. The realisation of what you’re really about to do hits you the moment you’re face to face, close enough to exchange breaths.
“I can help you out, sweetheart,” he leans in with the assistance of your fingers wrapping around his neck. “I can make you feel good… like no one has before.”
The next thing you realise is that you don’t mind doing it at all.
Seungmin’s smug smile disappears the moment you press your lips together. You can’t tell who went for it first. You could only think about how captivating the feeling is. The taste he brings you when he invites his tongue in your mouth, the confident dance of his lips leading yours, the fact there was no build up - the pace was quick and wild from the start, and it only keeps growing more intense - all of this coming together gets you on cloud nine.
You gasp for air into his mouth when your lips separate only to meet again second later, while his hands go lower. When his fingers grip you tightly from behind, your hips instantly listen and you begin to rock slowly. You hold onto his broad shoulders concentrating on the swaying motions which at one point force Seungmin to break the kiss, and groan quietly, looking down at his lap.
He unbuttons your jeans with one swift motion before stripping you from your shirt. Your nerves go wild the more of your skin gets exposed, but the way his eyes hood from lust before leaning into your neck makes your worries get easily replaced from a new wave of arousal.
With arms wrapped around your naked waist, Seungmin takes his time in exploring your flesh. He enjoys the obedient way you stand in one place, only putting your hair away, so he can cover as much as possible from the delicate surface of your neck. But his half-hard on keeps twitching for attention, and he signals you by giving your hips a squeeze.
The unfamiliar, but sweet taste you have in addition to your steady grinding against his growing buldge, gradually turns his wet smooches into hungry sucking that will not go unnoticed later.
Each soft humm that escapes your lips makes him even more eager to already move his mouth in other places of your body.
“Damn, you already made me so hard, baby…” He mutters, moving back to look at you, but quickly unclipping your bra before that. “What am I gonna do?”
You smile shyly, tossing the piece to the floor, and that makes Seungmin’s erection twitch once again.
Your one hand hesitates a little over his thigh, taking the courage to change its position.
“Feel it if you want.”
He catches your tender breasts, groaning from both how they nicely fill his hands, and from how your palm skims lightly across his boner.
As his thumbs tease your nipples, Seungmin lets his tongue get another taste of your neckline. He makes an overwhelmingly slow stripe all the way up to your throat, causing your head to fall back. It’s wet and warm, and you cannot help but moan at the way your body temperature rises the higher he guides his mouth. You grip harder on his erection through his sweats, as your teeth grab your bottom lip after he finally reaches your chin.
“Take these off for me,” he says, adding a few kisses to his words.
You do as you’re told, while at the same time he gets rid of his own clothes. The view of his fit stomach steals your attention right away, and when he’s just about to hover over you, your hands curiously reach for his abs.
“Here, wear this,” he puts his black hoodie over your head after you sit up. “It’s too cold to stay like that as much as I love watching your tits, baby.”
If you weren’t feeling tipsy from his kisses earlier than you definitely do now, as the scent of his cologne stimulates your senses, and the warmth he left in the fabric steeps into your bones, making the shivers fade down.
When he slides fingers under the hem of your underwear you slightly lift up, so they can go away too.
He doesn’t waste time in settling between your legs, and your heart starts racing from excitement.
“Already so wet for me…” His hand brushes your slickness up and down with just enough pressure to get you to gasp. He smirks, spreading your lips apart with two slim fingers. “Such a pretty sight… Don’t even need to spit.” He bumps your wet entrance once with his fingertip, before moving it up slowly to your clit.
Even the way his breathing caresses your folds overwhelms you till you can’t take it anymore.
“Seungmin, please…”
You hear his amused chuckle, but you couldn’t care less right now.
“Please what, baby?”
“Touch me, please..” You plead, feeling your core warming up, and he’s not even doing anything yet. “Please…”
Seungmin watches with satisfaction the way your hips jerk up from desperation.
“Shh, stay still, doll.” His hands slide under the hoodie, pressing your body down.
The next second you feel Seungmin’s tongue going over your clit gently, letting you get used to the forgotten feeling. The delicate stripes evolve into teasing circles that go around your bundle of nerves with a growing amount of pressure. Your chest begins to rise much quickly, forcing Seungmin’s hands to shift from one part of your skin to another.
“O-oh… f-fuck..” Your fingers grip the long black sleeves tightly in a fist. “F-feels amazing’…”
It’s been so long since somebody touched you intimately, but you would’ve remembered the feeling if it was even close to this, right?
Seungmin begins to slurp on your candy-like essence, containing the urge to rub himself against the couch from your rising moans. He isn’t done yet, but you already sound like you’re close to cumming, and he can feel your stomach clenching under his palms. He checks if he’s right by pushing a finger inside you. It automatically gets sucked in - slowly, because of how freaking tight you are, but surely. When his tongue goes back to stimulate your clit, your body begins to roll, but not that leads him to swallow the shame of humping the cushion, but the way you chant his name - loud, recklessly, while pressing his face further into your pussy.
“Seungmin, ‘m— f-fuck, fuck…” You squeal, as a wave of delight you’ve never felt before washes over you, causing your fingers to pull on a few strands of hair.
When you feel some movements, you quickly remove your hand, embarrassed from your action.
“Hadn’t tasted such a sweet cunt in a long time, damn sweetheart… I’m obsessed..”
You shyly avoid Seungmin’s gaze, but not for long, because he crawls up your body for an open mouthed kiss. His hand wraps around your neck without putting much pressure, but the erotic nature of it makes you mewl against his lips before locking eyes with his.
“You’re so fuckin’ hot, you know that?”
Both of your mouths are now wet - glistening with a mix of your arousal and his own spit. The husky change of his voice gives you burst of shivers.
Instead of answering, you lower your hand to his clothed erection, rubbing the hard length. The wet spot you stumble upon sends butterflies to your stomach - you didn’t expect to see him so turned on.
Seungmin’s forehead presses against yours.
“Do you want it?” He asks, and you nod - too quickly, too needy, but you didn’t care about that right now either.
“Why don’t you talk to me, baby? Wanna hear your sexy voice, it turns me on..” his hand moves up, letting his thumb swipe your lips. “It’s alright… I’ll get those words out of you.”
The confident smirk returns to his face, before he stands up to take off his boxers. You follow his fit silhouette walking around the room, and the realisation that every single part of his body is crazy attractive slowly sinks into your fuzzy mind, as he rolls the condom onto his length.
You don’t realise how shamelessly you’re staring until he speaks up, already on his knees with your legs in his hands.
“Like what you see?”
You shut your eyes in anticipation when you feel him glide the head of his cock, spreading the slickness. Not a moment later his phone starts ringing, but he quickly reaches the table and turns the sound off.
You don’t know who’s calling, but you can make a good guess.
“Did she?” Your playfully curled up lips change drastically when he slides his thick tip through your entrance.
“Your answer is the one that matters, sweetheart,” he replies, squeezing his eyes, as another inch goes inside you. The tightness causes him to repress a growl and dig his fingernails into your plush thighs. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight it’s crazy…”
“I like what I see…”
Your unexpected response moves Seungmin’s gaze towards your face that already has that fucked out glow he loves to see underneath him. He’s seen it so many times, but on you it looks different; so much more radiant and lustful it’s making him feel tipsy. His hand grabs a handful of the hoodie, exposing a small part of your waist. It’s too big for you, and that turns him on even more.
“F-fuck, baby…” Seungmin’s fist tightens around the fabric, as he forces his hips to move back and forth. His hissing gets lost from your mewls coming from the stirring way your pussy is expanding for him.
“And I like what I feel too,” you mutter through your moans, making Seungmin’s mind cloud up.
The veins of his arm appear vividly from the fact he’s giving his all in controlling the temptation to just push himself in one go. It was easier when you stayed quiet.
“I…” you stutter, getting more and more distracted from the building warmth. The lewd wet sounds from Seungmin’s movements take you slowly out of reality too. “I need more… more, p-please.. go faster.”
“You still have some more to take from me, sweetheart.” His eyes smile at you before his steady pumps stop, so he can insert the last bit of his throbbing length.
Your jaw drops in a silent scream after he hits such a deep spot for the first time. Your hand slides down to your lower tummy, as you already feel addicted to the feeling of being so full and stimulated.
Seungmin adjusts your legs on his shoulders with his hips now comfortably moving on their own. You’re taking him with ease - the rubber easily glides in and out from your never ending slippery moisture; it grazes your pulsating walls, letting him find your sweet spot without a problem.
“Holy shit, you feel amazing… so amazing, doll.”
His pants escape his hanging mouth in almost perfect sync with the steady thrusts, clashing with the airy moans slipping from your lips. Your face is prettily scrunched up from pleasure; your fingers constantly clenching the sleeves of his hoodie.
A moment later Seungmin drops down, trapping you between his two muscled arms.
That’s when your fingers unconsciously release their fists, automatically moving towards his broad naked shoulders. When your palms slide on his skin, enjoying the feel of his tense muscles underneath them, you see Seungmin’s eyes flutter shut. His hips quicken their pace, provoked by the way you grip his biceps for support.
He forces his eyes to open, as there’s a question that doesn’t leave his mind the moment he got you into his hands.
“Do you like it rough, sweetheart?” He fixates his attention upon your puffy lips, waiting for an answer.
“I… I-I think so..”
Your words sound more like a question, than a response.
“Tsk, poor pretty girl… I don’t think you’ve ever been properly fucked before.”
Seungmin forces himself even deeper. He swiftly bends your knees to your chest as much as possible, squishing you with his weight to the point they reach your forehead, as he gets balls deep inside you, leaving you speechless.
Every hit he makes with the head of his cock is perfectly aimed, followed by another that shoves inside you even harsher; even louder. Your eyes roll back while your mouth drops open once again. You were going to tell him to not slow down even for a second only if you were able to form words.
“A-ah, fuck—“ he groans, feeling so clearly how the pounding brings you closer to a second climax. “Cum for me again, baby, go ahead…”
Seconds away from your orgasm bursting, the smashing of Seungmin’s body becomes sluggish, but in the best way possible. He savours every second of the clenching and your nails digging into his hips until you come back to your senses with his tip pressed into your cervix.
“Good girl,” he taps one of your cheeks, lightly, but still enough for you to get the idea of how heavy his slap would be. “Now come here,” he says in the usual sweet manner he talked so far, however, you notice a new commanding note to it.
Your legs feel wobbly when you crawl to the opposite arm of the couch where he waits for you in the softly dim light.
Seungmin easily changes your posture by twirling you around and pulling your hips over the armset. The first thing he does when your feet touch the floor before going into the next round is to spread your butt cheeks as much as possible for a nice view.
“Fuck, baby, I can stay in this pretty pussy all night.”
“Mmmhp…” You howl with one cheek pressed into the couch cushion, as two of his accessorised fingers slide into your sore hole. You feel the rough metal edges of the rings grazing your walls, then the back side of your thigh as he pulls them out, leaving wet trails behind.
He grips hard on your ass the moment he shoves all of his cock in one unexpected push, earning a surprised yelp from your throat. The new position gives him the perfect angle to your g-spot, so he speeds up the pace immediately after lifting your legs in the air and holding them spread out by your thighs.
“Fuck, look at you taking me so well…”
You listen to Seungmin’s breathy voice behind you with both hands planted on the cushion, before zoning out from the overstimulation. The rubber around his throbbing cock is fully coated with juices, and the furious speed of his hips causes them to soak into the armset.
“G-god… feels s-so so good, Seungmin…” You’re not sure if your words come out coherent enough, but you need to let him know.
The bullying of his hips also results to your clit rubbing painfully into the rough fabric of the furniture, and turning red and swollen, but adding to the building pleasure regardless.
Seungmin gnaws on his lips while the jiggly motions of your ass make him want to mark it with his cum right there and then. He holds back the groans and curses at the back of his throat, so he can focus on your sweet whines. Eventually his one hand frees your leg in order to go up your heated spine. His palm slides under the hoodie after he leans forward, quickly finding the back of your neck, and gripping your throat.
This time he allows you to feel some of his strength - he squeezes with fingers, feeling all your strands of hair that are sticking to your skin from sweat. His rings print your flesh, repressing your breathing.
“H-holy shit…” He grunts, as he brings back the familiar burning knot in both your bodies, but times more intense. “F-fuck… moan my name, doll.”
Your lips tremble, but the only thing you do is choke pathetically on your whimpers. You can now feel how your entire pussy gets sore as well as your throat.
However, Seungmin insists on his wish by not loosening up his grip.
“Do as I say sweetheart or I’m fucking pulling out.” His threat meets only silence, and he scoffs. “Say my fucking name, slut.”
“U-uh… S-seun—“
You cannot find a way to say the rest of the letters, but it’s not necessary. The second Seungmin gets the small taste of you suffocating on his name the powerful climax flows through his veins, and he manages to quickly move his hand from your neck into your hair. He takes a handful of it, pulling roughly from your roots, as his cum fills the condom.
You’re not sure how, but he knows you didn’t cum yet. As his mind clears up from the overwhelming rush, he begins to land harsh slaps on your ass; coloring your skin by using more and more of his strength, while the metal rings make it sting even more.
When he starts to pump his fingers inside you, your legs go completely numb, threatening to slip your figure from the arm of the couch.
“Don’t tell me you thought I’ll just leave you like that, sweetheart?” Seungmin smirks, twisting his fingers in all the right ways.
“Seungmin… c-can’t ‘m gonna…”
Seconds later, from furious deep thrusting and multiple spanks, you feel your whole body crumbling down. Your jaw stiffens from pain, as you can’t close your mouth for a moment from so much wailing.
Seungmin slams his palm steady and intense, leading to you convulsing uncontrollably and lifting hips as much as possible, while cumming on his hand.
“Holy shit,” he gasps, trying so hard not to slow his thrusts, as you clench around his fingers and spray transparent juices everywhere on his couch. “Yeah, baby, just like that, fuckk, you’re so hot..” His cock instantly twitches upwards at your arousing squirt. “Let it all out, pretty girl.”
When the lights turn back on, and the jumble of emotions washes over you like a bucket of cold water, you realise that all of the stories about Oh Seungmin are true.
And now you’re a part of them.
! please do not repost, copy or translate my works
#dinna’s holiday special#— lights off#xdinary heroes smut#xdinary heroes hard thoughts#xdinary heroes hard hours#xh hard hours#xdh smut#oh seungmin smut#o.de smut#seungmin hard thoughts#o.de hard thoughts#seungmin x reader#o.de x reader#xdinary heroes x reader
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Omg can u pls do a blurb ab Demon!Harry finds Angel!Y/N being bullied by some other demons and he stops them before they go too far?? 😇😇😇
harry was just on his way home after a terribly long afternoon of making sinister deals and collecting the souls of the damned when he heard the commotion across the street. normally, it being literal hell, he wouldn’t expect much differently from the world around him, but he happened to take a fleeting glance toward the whooping laughter and mocking voices, and saw something that made him do a double take.
now, there is no place in hell for the color white, save for the teeth of the few demons who care for dental hygiene and the whites of their eyes before they’re consumed with inky blackness. so imagine harry’s surprise when he thought he spotted an array of ivory feathers, scuffed as they may be, flutter behind a wall of burly demons whose backs were turned to him. but no, that couldn’t be right… right?
call it the pull of curiosity (months later, he would call it fate), but harry felt like he should go over there, if only to confirm his suspicions. so he did.
harry walked up behind the group, quietly so as not to be heard, with his arms crossed and his jaw set. he was still many meters away, but the closer he got, the better he could hear, and suffice to say he was becoming concerned. now, harry’s all for roughing someone up— it’s quite literally in his job description, right under ‘hijacking high school slumber party ouija sessions’— but something about the whimpers of pain and pleas for mercy weren’t sitting well with him.
“please, i-i’m sorry, i don’t know how i—,” the voice cut off with a sharp cry.
was that a girl’s voice? surely they didn’t kidnap a girl from the surface? harry may be a demon, but even he had some morals.
“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”
“how did a pretty little thing like you get all the way down here, huh? ’s like you’re beggin‘ for us to grab you by the neck and—”
“quiet, dumbass. don’t want anyone to know about this. don’t wanna have to share it, do we? fuck, we’re so fucking lucky.”
harry saw the demons shuffle around a bit, seemingly manhandling whatever girl they were tormenting. when they turned and harry’s view was no longer obstructed, his eyes widened momentarily as his wildest suspicion was confirmed. but how in satan’s name did an angel get to hell?
one of the demons had his arm wrapped around the terrified girl’s middle, his broad chest to her back, her wings crumpled in what harry assumed could only be quite painful between them, free hand clamped over her mouth. another grabbed both her wrists in one of his, squeezing tight and causing her knees to buckle as she sobbed into the first creature’s palm. harry could’ve sworn he heard a muffled “please!” from beneath it.
“the things we’re gonna do to you, doll face…,” mused one of the demons who wasn’t grabbing the angel, instead groping his crotch, squeezing and moaning, “fuck, i’m hard just thinking about it.”
their poor celestial victim’s eyes went wide with unmistakable fear, and she squirmed harder in their grasp, kicking her legs and subsequently having them restrained by the fourth and final gang member. she wasn’t touching the ground anymore, and had no more leverage to move in their grip.
“c’mon, let’s get outta here before someone—”
“what’s all this about, gentlemen?”
harry hadn’t even realized he’d come up to the edge of the scene until the demons before him shot their heads up in surprise, their leader (crotch-groper) leveling out to just about an inch shorter than him.
“harry!” he said with a grin, flashing harry his yellowing teeth as if they’d been friends for years, “what brings a demon of your standing down to this here part of hell?”
“answer the question or i’ll deliver you to lucifer myself.” harry didn’t spare the angel a glance, not wanting to alarm her further, but from the corner of his eye he could see her begin to tremble in her restraint.
crotch-groper, who harry soon recognized as lyle, a rather young and distasteful demon, clenched his jaw before responding. “found her all curled up an‘ alone in the alley. we were gonna go have some fun with her at sanjay’s, if you know what i mean. you want in? i just got a batch of new devices i haven’t had the chance to try out yet, and a fuckin‘ angel’s guaranteed to be a vir—”
“enough,” harry held up a hand to silence lyle, who only shut his mouth (albeit begrudgingly and with a huff) due to harry’s higher ranking— he really didn’t want to get reported to the boss… he quite liked his legs and wasn’t fond of the idea of them bending the other way.
harry finally took a good look at the angel, keeping his face stoic. her eyelashes and flushed cheeks glistened with tears, her body was shaking like a leaf, and she looked on the verge of hyperventilating. he couldn’t explain it, but harry found himself itching to smooth out the crease between her brows with his thumb.
he wished he could signal to her that he was handling this.
eyes meeting lyle’s again, he said, “an angel’s presence in hell is a grade six security violation. in other words, above your pay grade. she is hereby relinquished from your custody and into mine to be dealt with accordingly.”
“the fuck she is!” shouted one of the lackeys holding the girl, “we found her first!” and with so much as a tilt of his head, harry made it so his ribs snapped inwards and punctured his lungs, effectively ending the creature’s existence and his grip on the angel’s legs, allowing her to stand as he crumpled to the ground.
four pairs of eyes widened at harry, and then one of them squeezed so tightly shut he worried they might never open again.
“any more complaints, then?”
the three remaining gang members shook their heads, releasing their hold on the celestial, causing her to scrape her palms and knees on her short trip to the asphalt with a pitiful “oof!” if harry had blinked, he’d have missed their instantaneous dissipation from the scene.
fucking finally.
crouching to the ground where the innocent being was curled up into herself, harry reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder as he began, “hey.”
but he didn’t get very far, because the second his skin made contact with her own, the girl scrambled backwards into the nearest alley wall with a gasp. dirt was collecting under her fingernails, at least one of her wings was definitely broken, she had no idea how she ended up in satan’s domain, and she was just so scared.
harry noticed how she couldn’t even look him in the face, her hands covering her own for fear he would attack her. he felt a pressure in his chest at the thought.
“’s all right, love,” he reassured. “’s all right, ’m not going t‘ hurt you.” she didn’t move an inch, so he patiently continued. “i’m harry. what do they call you?”
and while she was terribly afraid to speak to him, she was more afraid of what he might do if she continued to ignore him.
“y-y/n.”
harry smiled at the pretty name. “it’s nice to meet you, y/n.”
y/n kept her hands in front of her face as she responded. “nice… nice to meet you too, harry.”
he thought it was endearing, really, how her manners were so ingrained into her being that she could be polite to him even now. harry wanted to move a little closer, but he didn’t want to spook her. so he asked her if she could move her hands and open her eyes.
y/n shook her head so fervently, harry worried she might give herself whiplash. “he’s still there,” she sobbed, upper body shaking with her cries.
“’s just us here, love.”
“n-no… the man. the… the one you…,” she couldn’t bring herself to say it, but harry caught on. the one you killed.
oh, right. harry had forgotten him before he’d even hit the dirt. he waved his hand and the corpse disappeared from sight.
“he’s not, promise. no one to be seen for miles.”
tentatively, y/n lowered her hands, but they still hovered over her mouth, prepared to shoot back up at any moment. her eyes opened up to him again, and this time harry could admire their beauty without having to pretend to be indifferent.
“hi,” he smiled a gentle smile, settling his palms on his knees so she could see them still and empty. “can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?”
y/n flinched at the pet name, which didn’t go unnoticed by harry, and it took him a few moments to understand.
“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”
“oh. sorry, um, about those blokes. they’re right big twats, they are. they won’t bother you again.”
y/n slowly began to relax, ever so slightly. but she still had a million unanswered questions, and her guard was still way up. why was this (rather handsome) demon being so kind to her? was it true he was going to be ‘dealt with’ by him? and why… what was that warm feeling she got in her tummy each time he called her ‘love’? she figured she should start with the most important question.
“what are you going to do with me?”
harry could literally feel the fear flowing through her veins, could practically hear her thoughts running a mile a minute. his face softened.
“well. first, we’re gonna have to take care of those wings, and any other injuries you may have. after that, we’ll try to find a way to get you home.”
y/n didn’t look convinced. “you’re… you’re not gonna… lock me away?”
“did you commit a crime in heaven? did you sin?”
“no…,” y/n tried to think back, tried to remember the moments before she wound up in hell, but it was like she was missing part of her memories. “i-i don’t think so.”
harry stood up, wiping his palms on his trousers and holding out a hand to help her up. “well, then there you are. it might be hard to believe, but there is a system for punishment in satan’s kingdom, too. if you haven’t done anything, we’ll get you right on home.” he didn’t say it aloud, but a small part of his heart twinged at the idea of letting her leave.
why was that?
y/n gratefully took his hand, but wasn’t able to help pull herself up. she was too weak, and her whole body ached. she figured she was only feeling it now from the passing of adrenaline as harry helped her relax. a whine tumbled from her lips as she struggled to stand.
“here,” harry spoke in a quiet voice. he stepped closer to her, and on instinct she shied away. he paused for a second, opening up his palms and facing them upwards as he approached to show he meant no harm. “y‘ can’t walk, love. let me help.”
hesitantly, the angel nodded, and harry swooped down to pick her up under the knees and shoulders. a small squeak escaped her lips as he pulled her off the ground, and he cooed, “i’ve got you. i’ll be careful.”
once she was securely in his arms, y/n asked the next biggest question on her mind.
“why are you helping me, harry?”
harry looked down at her big doe eyes, subconsciously pleading for him to protect her from the unknown horrors of this underworld she’s never hoped to find herself in. her small fists gripped his shirt like a vice, crinkling the well-pressed material, though harry found he didn’t mind.
“well,” he breathed, “this isn’t your home. and you’re hurt. and i know if i was confused and alone in a scary new place, i’d want some help, too.” then, to lighten the mood a bit, he added, “though, truthfully, it’d be hard to get me to admit it.”
y/n mirrored his small smile, uttering a breathy, “thank you.” her fingers still clung to his shirt just as tightly, but she relaxed enough to let her head fall to rest against his collarbones, and harry counted that as a small victory.
his wings, long and dark and somewhat ashy, extended fully behind him, and began wrapping themselves around the sweet girl in his arms, a barrier between her and the dark secrets of hell. then, generating no noise or wind as though nothing had occurred at all, the pair dissipated from sight.
taglist: @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy
and also @cherryjuiceblues <3 :D
#this was supposed to be a short little blurb what have i done#harry styles#blurbs#request#harry styles blurb#harry styles request#harry styles blurb request#harry styles x reader#harry styles x reader blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles x reader fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles angst#harry styles x reader angst
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Shuri makes her way down to the docks. It’s the middle of the night. She walks down to the end of the dock and takes off her sandals. Before putting her feet over the water and waiting.
She throws a pebble in. And after a moment she hears someone surface.
“Technically I am not in your ocean.” She sasses.
“And… I come bearing gifts.” She smiles. Scooting over a bit and putting the dock beside her. Before reaching into her bag.
“I bet it’s been a while since you had chocolate. And it probably tastes different than what you are used to…” she rambles bringing out a chocolate bar.
“Would you like to try it?” She asks.
@did-he-freeze
Namor sits down next to her, glad to see she's not trying to jump in without her beads this time. "Chocolate, as you call it, when I was young was a form of payment, only to be consumed by the rulers or priests... We never had any in the water, so we relied on other things to create the same system..." He explains a bit awkwardly. "Yes, I would like to try some... My mother always said the smell of it was something to soothe the soul..."
#since they made him aztec in the movie im pulling from certain astec traditions and cultural ideals I know about#just to make a list of things his mother would have liked!#this man needs to try tamales at some point too cuz you cant make those under water either but they were huge in aztec culture
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III's ABC's
PAIRING - III x reader, III x polyves (Briefly mentioned)
WARNING - NSFW! Pantie thief, prostitution, exhibitionism, partner sharing? Sounding
AUTHOR'S NOTE - Honestly, III is a wild card in my eyes. There is a lot of random things he enjoys if you can't tell. I hope yall enjoy these! I might be expanding my III category sometime in the future
WORD COUNT - 1,073
Master List
❥ A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
➛ Can we admit that after he cums he just lays on you or lays there for a while just enjoying the afterglow
➛ He will eventually get up when the cum becomes uncomfortable, quickly getting you a wet rag and some water.
➛ If it’s bad enough, he’ll drag you into the shower and then just lay his head on you.
❥ B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
➛ His? He loves his hair tbh, he prides him on it and making it look good.
➛ Yours? God does he love your neck. Just loves biting into it and kissing the mark, loves the sounds you make.
❥ C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
➛ I am very sorry but he loves cumming in your mouth, just for you to spit it back into his mouth.
➛ Will finger his cum into you as well
❥ D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
➛ A panties thief. Dirty panties to be exact.
➛ Sniffs them while touching himself thinking of you, wanting to bury his face between your legs and consume you.
❥ E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
➛ Mm he knows a lot, has hired sex workers in his free time just to experience the world. (Don’t worry he was safe)
❥ F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
➛ More on the basic side out of all the positions in the world.
➛ He likes cowgirl/reverse cowgirl. Loves being under you while you take his cock, use him however you feel fit. But also loves to grab a handful of your ass when you’re in reverse.
❥ G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
➛ He’s definitely goofy, making jokes the whole time, trying to make you smile while pounding you into whatever surface he is taking you on.
➛ Does get serious at times, growling softly in your ear because he wants nothing more but to make you scream.
❥ H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
➛ Mm hairless for the most part, if he does decide to grow any hair it's shaved quickly afterward. He just doesn’t enjoy the feeling and mess.
❥ I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
➛ He’s a goofy ball for the most part, does whisper and tell you how pretty you look underneath him.
➛ Hell if you’re on top of him, he says you are one of the prettiest angels he’s ever seen.
❥ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
➛ Half the time he doesn’t realize what he’s doing till it’s almost too late.
➛ He’ll slowly palm at himself, lost in thought, thinking about something he has done in the past.
Only gets up and goes somewhere private when he has to choke back a moan
❥ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
➛ Power play. He likes fighting with his partner to see who can take control of the situation
➛ Voice kink. He mainly gets this from Vessel’s voice but he can and will melt for anyone with a good voice
❥ L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
➛ Kitchen, loves taking you knowing that the others eat there, always bringing up memories every time he’s in there
➛ Others’ bedrooms. Something about dirtying their room with his and your cum just sets him off.
❥ M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
➛ The adrenaline gets him going. He loves doing things that get his blood pumping… Which gets his cock hard.
❥ N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
➛ I feel like this is obvious with all of my NSFW ABC’s but no scat play… He just, literally makes him gag at the thought.
❥ O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
➛ Please suck this man’s cock, he is a whimpering mess when he’s receiving
➛ He also loves to give oral, he’ll have your cum on his tongue as much as he can. Will try to suffocate himself just burying himself in you
❥ P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
➛ Medium honestly, doesn’t really have a set pace that he enjoys, just savors the feeling of you wrapped around him
❥ Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
➛ I would like you to understand one thing… He does not mind taking you in front of the others… Quickies happen so much with him, honestly loves them bc he can take you whenever he feels like it.
❥ R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
➛ Oh definitely! As previously stated, he takes you anywhere and everywhere. Has had you on his cock while having a causal conversation with Vessel.
❥ S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
➛ He doesn’t last forever but he lasts a decently long time. If he cums before he beds you, he’ll last longer but then it's sometimes hard to cum.
❥ T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
➛ Has some toys but nothing really interests him as much as you.
Has one set of toys that he’ll never let you or any of the others know about
❥ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
➛ The biggest tease out of all of them. He enjoys getting you all flustered before dipping to go play on stage. He just can’t get enough of watching you whine after he pulls his hand out of your pants.
❥ V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
➛ Quiet at first but slowly grows louder.
➛ His accent comes through a lot when he’s in pleasure and he’s almost embarrassed about it.
❥ W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
➛ That set of toys I mentioned earlier? Yeah, it's a sounding set…
➛ He loves the feeling of the smooth metal going into his cock
❥ X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
➛ He has his nipples pierced, but it was mostly done as a joke than anything
❥ Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
➛ Bless all of his partners, he is nearly always pent up, always ready to go again.
❥ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
➛ They barely sleep due to their nature… He’ll fall asleep after multiple rounds and will nap for roughly 4 hours before waking up again.
Master List
#sleep token#sleep token ii#sleep token iii#sleep token iv#sleep token vessel#imagine#headcanon#sleep token headcanons#sleep token iii x reader#sleep token smut#sleep token iii smut#smut
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hi!! do you also write for armin (separately)? ive been craving some armin content for a while and i found your account, your writing is so amazing, and i was wondering if you'd write something where candy and armin arent back together yet in UL and, after a night in the snake room with alexy, rosa, priya and the others, armin decides to fight for her love not knowing he doesn't need to fight for it since she's head over heels for him
STILL HERE │ Armin Keenan.
When a reunion with an old love reminds Armin of everything they experienced together, he decides that after so much time, it's now or never that he should get you back.
pairing('s). armin keenan x f!reader
genre. fluff, angsty.
content wanings. mentions of breakup, alcohol consuming, cursing, kissing, suggestive themes.
author's note. MISSED THIS BOY SO MUCH DURING UL, hope you like this!! (tysm for requesting, sorry it took so long!) AND BTW, i found like a lot of lastnames and i decided for this one (not sure if is the canon one ://)
I was sure that my return to the city would be harder. After all, I couldn't blame anyone for being angry with me. If one of my friends just left, without even saying goodbye, I wouldn't be happy either. But, luckily for me, they had a much better reaction than I expected.
At the moment, I only saw Rosa and Melody. Although perhaps I didn't know how to show it at the time, having seen them after so long squeezed my heart so much that I still feel my emotions on the surface.
To tell the truth, I'm scared. Although I used to seeing eachother very often in high school, whether to go out for a drink or just to walk around the city, this is not high school anymore. And it's now, when I'm getting ready to go out, that I feel like I'm getting ready in my old room to go shopping with the them. The phone vibrates, and brings me out of my melancholic thoughts.
I look at him out of the corner of my eye, the screen glows with a notification from Alex.
Alex…
I refrain from further worries and simply read it from the preview.
"[Y/NNN]??? we are waiting for youuuu"
"Years waiting to see you, and you still late🙄"
I smiled wistfully. I know he says it jokingly, but the guilt is real. But that's not important now, because it's once and for all my time to fix that, and to get back on track with my life here. I type a quick, “on my way,” before pocketing my phone and heading out the door to my campus room. Although the phone rings again, I don't bother checking it and I hurry to arrive on time.
I look at the time on the screen: "11:48." I curse under my breath. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I'm lost, and that even though I've been wandering around on the same street for more than twenty minutes, I still can´t find the bar. On the other hand, who would think of inviting someone to a place and not sending the address?
When I start to stress again, I recognize a voice in the distance that I would recognize anywhere. It's Alex. I follow the sound, although I don't pay attention to what it says, none of it matters when I see it. His eyes light up and he falls silent immediately. As I expected, he almost hugged me to the ground. Rosa also briefly joined our hug, smiling as she watched us interact.
"Finally!" He screeches in my ear, and although it dazes me a little I laugh out loud. "I missed you like crazy…" He whispered to me, and I had to separate myself for a moment to not burst out crying in my place.
"I missed you, Alex.." I sighed, but he seemed to notice my mood, changing the subject slighlty.
"You´re back, all that matters." He jokes, and I smile. "I hope you're ready for the surprise then."
I raise an eyebrow. "Surprise?"
"Yes, I told you by text." He emphasized obviously, gesturing towards his phone.
Of course, the text I didn't read. I nod briefly, so he thinks I know what he's talking about. Their surprises honestly scare me. They can go from something exciting to something illegal, you never know what to expect from these two. I'm nervous yes, I assume the "surprise" is inside.
"It's not bad at all." Rosa calms me down, she seems to read my mind sometimes. "I promise you'll be happy"
Well, now I'm scared.
Alexy wastes no time in cutting off the conversation, and Rosa simply presses her hand on my back lovingly, urging me to enter the disco-bar, "Snake Room." This was definitely not there when I lived here. Well, most of the things I see now didn't used to be there. Upon entering I immediately notice the loud music, the smoke and the smell of alcohol, the lights blur my vision a little, and it is difficult for me to discern where Alex is.
Rosa guides me a little to the table near the bar, which seems to be one of the quietest places in the place. But that's when the colored lights hanging near the stage allow me to catch a glimpse of him.
"I thought it would be nice for you to see each other again." Alex says, trying to calm the tension in the air.
My breath stops for a few moments. I don't know how to feel, but my body responds on its own. I'm shaking a little, and at this point I don't know if it's the flashing lights or their presence that's making me dizzy. I can barely move to get close to greet him. He changed a lot. Of course his essence is still there, I can tell, but it's definitely different.
"Welcome back." His voice is also different, deeper I could say. It throws me off a little. Well, all of him does. I curse myself internally. I was convinced I was ready for this, but I see I'm not.
I smile at him reflexively, and sit down across from him. The silence feels quite loud now that I feel his gaze on me, even though I avoid making eye contact. Rosa clears her throat, and gestures indiscreetly at Alex. I would laugh, if it weren't for the fact that this whole situation has me totally overwhelmed. I look at him for a few seconds, but he was already looking at me. God, I don't know if I can handle this.
"I imagined you´d be happier…" He smiled with amusement, and I couldn't help but feel my heart skip a beat at his expression. He looks boyish, in a strange way. It's as if for a moment, his expression took me back to high school Armin.
"I'm surprised, that's all." I laugh nervously.
"Well, he came all the way here just to see you." Alexy clarifies, but Rosa waves him off with a glare.
I look at him with my eyes slightly open. "You´re not living here?" The question escapes me before I can think about it.
"Not quite." He clarifies, and takes a sip of beer. It's now that my throat feels a little dry, but I don't feel like drinking alcohol. I could end up doing things i´ll regret. "Although now that you're back, I'd think about it." He winks at me.
I looked to the side, and felt my cheeks burn a little. It looked like it was going to be a long night.
"I thought you were tougher." Rosa reproaches, tripping a little, but Alexy holds her steady. "Now you go to bed early and don't drink. You've become an old man." He grimaces, and a laugh escapes us.
"It's not that!" Alex complains. "I just wanted to greet [y/n] sober." He looks at me smiling, and I smile back. "I'll take care of the old drunk" Rosa exclaims a "hey!" and hits him lightly on the shoulder, but he doesn't flinch.
"Are you back on campus?" Armin asks me, and then I remember that he is, in fact, still here. He looks at me, waiting for my response but I freeze instantly. Every time he speaks I experience the same embarrassment.
"Well, I'll leave you, lovebirds." The idiot does it on purpose. But for the first time, I notice that I'm not the only one embarrassed, Armin's cheeks turn pink, and he sends a reproachful look to his twin, who smiles innocently. Some things never change, I see. "Take care of her." It sounds more like a threat than a request, to which the black-haired man rolls his eyes and nods.
I watch Alexy walk away in the opposite direction.
Silence falls between us, and it is until we see the two disappear after turning down the street that I understand that I am alone with him. I smile awkwardly at him before taking a couple steps back.
"I'll walk you back." I open my eyes a little, and look at him with surprise. He seems sure of his words, and looks at me expectantly with that smile of his that I still have to get used to. "I don't like the idea of you walking alone,"
"As much of a gentleman as I remembered." I reply, a flirtatious smile escaping me and Armin simply smiles wider. "It's close, anyway"
"I insist." His expression is confident, and well, I don't mind his company either.
With a slight nod of my head, Armin understands that I agree, so we start walking towards the campus. The silence this time is not awkward, and although we don't talk about anything, it really feels like there are an infinite number of topics to touch on. Not very pleasant topics. After all, we can't ignore that we were together, and that the break-up wasn´t the most pacific thing either.
"I was also glad to see you again." I whisper, and even though my voice sounds quiet, he hears me. He always does.
"I figured you'd be mad." He confesses, and although I don't see his face I know he's looking at me.
Deep down, yes I am. But I'm not sure if that was enough of a reason to ruin the evening and Alex's surprise. It would have been nice to have mentally prepared myself so that I wouldn't have reacted like a schoolgirl to seeing him.
"Well, it's been a long time…" I clear my throat a little. "I have my reasons to be tho."
"Yeah, but I bet you forgot all of it with how good I look." He mocks, smiling widely.
I click my tongue. "You can't use your face to change the past."
"You're right, but I can use it to change things now." A lopsided smile appears on his features, and his comment takes me by surprise.
I tense up suddenly and simply look away. I hate that probably if he tried… "You're too cocky." I complain.
Deep down, I wonder if that would bother me. It's stupid. Armin didn't care that we broke up, I really wonder what his intentions are now. But, I can't deny that the memory is still alive in me. Everything about him remains in me as if he had never left, and it bothers me that I couldn't change that in this embarrassing amount of time we were apart.
"I just feel like I'm not the only one." Armin grumbles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants. Now I also notice that his style is different. It doesn't seem like his brother intervenes as much in his clothes as before, that is, he maintains a bit of his own style more than anything. More calm and informal.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I grimace, crossing my arms before looking back at him.
"I say that because I notice the way you look at me." His words make me even more angry. Sometimes I feel like there is no one who can read me like he does. It was always like this, since we were young. One expression on my face was enough for Armin to decipher what was happening to me.
"I―no.." I stuttered and he noticed it, however, he didn't continue probing and I remained silent.
The walk to campus was getting shorter, and I wasn't sure I knew how to say goodbye. Everything was so strange. It's not that I want to see him, but knowing that he was going to leave made me feel like I couldn't just leave him like that. My heart is beating fast, I feel like even he can hear it.
And although it seems like things can't get any worse, several drops falling on my hair bring me out of my frantic thoughts. The chance of rain was quite low today, but of course it has to rain anyway.
"This weather is a bit nice." Armin points out, extending his palm to feel the raindrops on it, which slowly intensify.
"Nice? I'm soaking my clothes." I grumble, trying to cover myself a little.
"On one of these days we kissed for the first time" Armin smiles to himself, and simply lowers his gaze to look me in the eyes.
Shit. I didn't expect to have to think about this again. Less now that he´s here. Of course I remember it. I invited him to eat at the restaurant where we made that ridiculous double date that I actually still remember as one of my most precious moments.
On the way back home, rain started pouring and us, like idiots, hide nder a tree until it calmed down a bit. I wouldn´t forget something as special as that.
"You have no right Armin." I feel my eyes water at the memory, but I am relieved to know that because of the rain it is not very noticeable. "You can't say that now."
"It's not easy to pretend that I don't remember anything that happened." He frowns a little and stops in the middle of the street, forcing me to do the same.
"I'm not asking you to do it but…" I stop, feeling a sudden lump in my throat.
"And you can't pretend that the same thing doesn't happen to you."
And he is right. He always is when he talks about my feelings. He is correct, of course. Since I saw him, I knew that in fact, nothing of what I felt for him had managed to dissipate over the years. My heart still belongs to him.
"I lost you once, [y/n]. I can't let you go again…" His words hit me like a bucket of cold water. "When I knew you were coming back I―…"
I interrupted him. "Do you think it's easy for me?" I raised my tone of voice slightly, the fierce rain drowning out the noise a little. "Your lack of interest tired me out, Armin. You can't come back into my life like this and expect me to throw myself into your arms like it was nothing."
"I know I did things wrong, but I can still show you that I changed!" He raised his voice too. My heart was racing, and his blue eyes looking at me like I was the only thing in the world made me feel like a teenager again. "I'm not the same one who made mistakes. The only thing that remains of me is the love I have for you, [y/n], it's the only thing I couldn't change."
Tears are streaming down my face, and I don´t think it comes unnoticed by him anymore. He sheepishly tries to dry them, but the water keeps running down.
"Look at me," Armin approached me and forced me to look at him with a gentle movement of his hand. He pressed his fingers a little on my chin. "I love you." And now, in his bright eyes, in his warm hands and in his smile that I never thought I would see again, I see the truth.
Without being able to get the words out of my mouth, frustrated, angry, I let myself go and as if my hands knew their way, they wrapped themselves around his neck and pulled him closer to me. Our breaths merge and his arms end up around my waist. We are so close I memorize every feature of his face, every new thing my eyes notice.
"Are you going to kiss me or keep making me wait?" He murmured, and to silence him once and for all I kissed him.
I felt safe, at peace. Like I've been waiting for this forever. His lips fit perfectly on mine as always, his grip tightens and I need to hold on to him as I feel my legs shake a little. It's passionate, fierce. It's not like the way he kissed me before, so innocent and clumsy.
The butterflies that I thought were dead begin to flutter in my stomach again, and the only thing that separates me from jim is the lack of air. But even though we break the kiss, Armin doesn't let me go, he keeps me close to him and brings our foreheads together.
"This time I'll make you stay." He sighs, and kisses me again to seal his promise.
©allmcl !
#amor doce#amour sucre#cdm#corazon de melon#mcl#mcl armin#mcl boys#mcl castiel#mcl high school life#mcl kentin#my candy love hsl#my candy love#armin x reader#armin fluff#armin fic#armin mcl#mcl fanfics#mcl oneshots#mcl fluff#mcl headcanons#mcl lysander#mcl nathaniel#fanfic#fic#fluff#sucrette
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Spared
I intended to write a short drabble about Abby being immune to Cordyceps, but alas, it morphed into approximately 5k words right before my very eyes. How does this happen? Anyway. I appreciate your presence, taking the time to read these fragments of my mind. Thank you for being here. I hope you enjoy. This is a darker, more angsty, gore-filled journey and, as always, it’s intended for 18+ audiences only. Violence and sexual themes.
A man on a mission, Dr. Jerry Anderson devoted himself to eradicating the plague that wreaked havoc on the world.
Developing a vaccine against Cordyceps consumed his life.
In their quest for answers, people would come from all corners of the globe, hoping to be included in his trial. Despite undergoing countless procedures and surgeries in a desperate pursuit of a cure, most patients tragically succumbed to the treatments themselves or to their initial infections. As the years passed and resources became scarce, his experiments progressively lost their footing.
Mere weeks before his untimely demise, Dr. Anderson conducted his last trial on a patient. The experiment unfolded in a way he never anticipated.
After receiving the injection, the patient, without previous exposure to the virus, experienced a perplexing mutation, developing far more than immunity to the perils of infection.
She possessed the ability to communicate with it and maneuver through it, like a ghost.
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“You wanted to see me.”
Isaac extends his arm, signaling for you to have a seat at his desk. He swirls a decanter filled with a rich, dark liquid before pouring it between two sturdy glasses.
With a jarring crack against the maple surface, Isaac sets one glass before you.
“I don’t drink,” you say.
As you bring the potion to your nose, the pungent smell of the liquor assaults your senses, and you search for a compliment to give out of courtesy. Hoping to dissuade him from making further gestures of rapport, you decide against it.
“Is this an issue I need to be aware of?” he asks. “I have no patience for drunks.”
Leaning back in his chair, he peers at you intently over his glass.
“No, sir.”
Given the stories you’ve heard about his inebriated escapades, it’s quite ironic to hear such a statement from him.
You feel the uncomfortable burn of his glare, a demand for you to elaborate. Clearing your throat, you offer him a hesitant explanation.
“I prefer to keep my head straight. It’s important in my line of work,” you say.
Unimpressed by your reasoning, he leans forward and flicks your glass, producing a sharp sound that resonates through your chest.
“Do you smell smoke?” he asks.
“No,” you say. “But I’d really rather not—”
Silencing you with a raised hand, he swiftly cuts you off.
“Good. I don’t recall setting a fire. Have a drink,” he orders. “We have matters of discretion to discuss.”
As usual, his matters of discretion connect you to his hidden mercenary, a soldier you have treated multiple times throughout the years unbeknownst to your comrades. She’s Isaac’s most lethal weapon, a secret you wish you didn’t have to protect. What he is doing with her feels cruel, using her impenetrable body for brutal warfare and then leaving her isolated with her injuries, all while she waits for the next assignment.
It takes weeks for the roiling feeling in your gut to subside after meeting with her.
“When do you plan on ending this?” you ask.
Maybe the booze is taking effect, emboldening you beyond your usual self. It’s impossible to bite your tongue, the torment of watching this unfold gnawing at you.
“Excuse me?” he drawls.
“Sir, she’s alone out there. It’s not right,” you say, reluctantly downing the last remnants of the glass before pushing it across the desk. “There are factors you need to consider. Mental decline, her physical limitations. If you’d consider bringing her in, she’d make a promising squad leader.”
Trying to reason with him about her basic human needs will be futile, so as with every other matter, it’s more effective to approach the situation from a tactical standpoint. His perception of human beings as living entities is questionable as is.
“Do not underestimate her faculties,” Isaac says. “She’s built differently. This is the purpose she serves to keep her people safe, and she does it willingly.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but sir, if you’d just give me a minute.”
“Do I need to find someone else to handle this case?” he asks.
It’s a loaded question, a double barrel to your temple. The act of assigning someone else to handle her case doesn’t entitle you to be included in the mission rotation again.
Only you hold the key to the secret of her existence, and it will die with you.
“When do I ship out?” you ask.
“Tonight,” he mutters.
He turns his back to you, and you can hear the faint sound of liquid pouring into his glass. When he dismisses you by consuming it alone, you see yourself out.
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The journey to the prison is a tumultuous one.
The absence of infected is a relief, but the spray-painted rattle snakes garnishing the buildings and the maze of explosives on the roadways dangle ominously in your face. With Bear, your devoted canine companion, you make it as far as the gas station before a spike strip shreds the front tires of your Humvee. The sunken road, slicked by rain and oil, causes the vehicle to lose traction completely, sliding sideways into the long-abandoned propane tank sitting at the edge of the freeway.
Warmth spills through your eyebrows, prompting you to reach up and touch your forehead to locate the source. Your fingers, stained bright red, begin to tremble as you observe Bear—his ears flattened with every dark hair along his spine raised in alarm.
It’s a matter of seconds before a pair of violent hands tear you from the vehicle and toss you into the dirt, jarring rock granules forcing your eyes shut. You blink them away until all you see is a mangled police visor staring down at you, its surface speckled with dried blood, a menacing baton swinging an inch from your nose. Though the mask muffles the voice behind it, there’s a barbed, frigid edge to his tone.
Bear lunges out of the cab, seizing the enemy by his throat and forcing him to the ground. It grants you enough time to scramble to your feet, only to be met with the disturbing view of an infected hoard stumbling toward you from the hillside, chains dragging behind some of them.
Your vision becomes increasingly blurry as nausea ferments in your stomach, twisting you inside out. You pilfer the rifle off your attacker, as a group of his mates emerge from the shadows. You lean against the Humvee, examining the firearm before chambering the only bullet attached to the limp body at your boots.
“Fuck ‘em up,” you command.
Bear is a missile, darting through the rubble, his target set everywhere at once. Next to Isaac’s best kept secret, your dog is a diabolical killing machine.
“Shoot that fucking dog!”
Your eyes narrow in on the enemy poised to strike Bear, and you steady your aim. The roar of your scream lingers in your ears as you fire the only round you’ve got. An aggressive swarm of infected are moving toward the chaos in a cluster of rot and tangled limbs and you’re frozen. A horrific slaughter, surpassing any level of violence you’ve encountered, breaks out in a flash.
The infected shred your attackers apart, ribbons of flesh and shattered bone coating the pavement. The moment you call out for Bear, the sudden noise turns a dozen vacant, pustule eyes on you.
With no weapons at your disposal, you frantically scramble onto the roof of the Humvee, scanning the surroundings for an escape route. A sea of infected pool together like a rancid colony of ants.
Some say that the pain from a Clicker attack is unlike anything else. Perhaps it’s their blind, frenzied hunger that makes them so vicious.
You’re on the brink of discovering it firsthand when the decaying corpse, with its outstretched arms and gnarled fingers, halts mid-motion.
The infected stop in their tracks one by one, haunted marionettes with abruptly yanked strings. Save for the sound of your own blood pumping in your ears, the silence becomes deafening. Their bodies writhe in an eerie synchronicity as you try not to breathe.
In rare form, you squeeze your eyes shut to escape the fear. The sudden weight of a hand on your shoulder causes you to swing violently in its direction, your fist caught by a solid, calloused palm. Your piercing scream permeates the silence before you instinctively clamp your hands over your mouth.
Despite your shock, the lifeless figures remain unaffected, and you squint to make sense of it.
“I don’t understand,” you say.
Through tangled locks of greasy hair, celestial blue eyes stare expectantly. Her intense gaze rakes over you, a familiar pearl-white streak marring only one iris. It’s been a while, but her angular face is a sight you remember well.
“They can’t hurt me?” you ask.
“They can,” she explains, reaching up to examine the gash on your forehead. “But they won’t.”
“Bear,” you blurt.
Using her thumb and forefinger, she turns your chin until you spot your dog at the edge of the hoard. You can feel his confusion as his tail wags anxiously, ready for your next command. The simple act of turning your head sends a tsunami of vertigo crashing over you.
Out of nowhere, your mind becomes a jumbled mess, making it a challenge to string coherent thoughts together. She senses your trepidation, and her hands immediately find your hips, offering stability as you falter.
“I’m dizzy. I need to get down,” you stammer.
Her grip tightens and you try to focus on the sharp sting of her fingertips digging into your skin. The world tilts, the infected shuffling and groaning as they slowly snap out of their trance.
“Breathe,” she says. “Stay with me.”
Darkness cloaks your vision before you can summon the energy to respond.
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As you blink awake, the biting cold hits you first. The source of the unwelcome breeze draws your attention, as the chilly gusts sneak into the room through a slit in the concrete. It’s meant to be a window, but it falls miserably short of the mark.
You’ve spent countless nights inside this prison, mending the wounds of Isaac’s soldier in the dim, flickering light. It’s the first time you’ve landed yourself in her bed.
The blanket, enveloping you like a cocoon, is unpleasantly musty, and you peel it away. Rising from the rigid steel slab, the room spins, deterring you from getting on your feet. Your body feels heavy and sore, a relentless ache pulsating behind your eyes. You give it another shot and stumble to your feet, using the walls as a crutch until you regain your balance.
Bear sleeps peacefully at the foot of the bed, his gentle snores filling the room. It’s intriguing how he finds more peace in the prison than in his own home, but he certainly deserves some rest.
The clank of iron plates echoes down the corridor, and you follow the sound. Your bare feet recoil against the chilly ground, and you’re left pondering when exactly you misplaced your boots. The hiss of heavy breathing and the occasional strenuous grunt accompanies your journey from one cell to the next, guiding you down the hallway toward the sound.
You peek around the corner and wild blonde hair appears in your line of sight.
Chances are, she already senses your presence, but you give a gentle warning that you’re approaching just in case.
“How long have I been out?” you ask.
Performing dips on a rusted bench, she maintains her focus, her back turned to you. Muscles flex and bulge with each repetition and you notice she’s adopted fresh scars across her ravaged back since your previous visit. Without a word, she powers through her reps and smoothly transitions into her next set.
It took several visits before she would give you anything more than a frosty response. Despite the feeling of regression, it’s possible she just needs time to adjust.
“I noticed you grabbed my bag,” you say, idly fidgeting with your hands as you linger in the doorway. “Thank you for that—for all of it, really. I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.”
Her body stiffens into a plank, losing momentum in her push-ups. Beads of sweat roll down her face and drip to the ground, her solid body trembling. She takes a deep breath before releasing it in a huff, continuing her routine without pause.
“Have you eaten? I packed some spices I think you’ll like.”
With a frustrated growl, she shakes her head, trying to dispel the irritation. Your instincts tell you to leave her alone to finish her workout, but for some odd reason, you find yourself unable to hold back the torrent of words.
“I thought it’d be cool to start a garden here. Herbs are nice to cook with, you know? Some for healing, too. There’s a decent spot in the yard for it.”
“What’s next—rose bushes?” she mutters.
“Roses can be great for tinctures,” you explain. “It’s a learning curve, but you get great sunlight for them.”
She props herself up on her elbows mid-push-up and lets out a choppy breath. When she raises her eyes to meet yours, anger fills them to the brim, and the hostility is scalding.
“I want Isaac to stop sending you.”
The pain of the unexpected dagger is far more intense than you could have ever imagined. You often wish that Isaac hadn’t implicated you in his secret, but you’ve grown to care for this wounded soul.
“You might as well take me out back, then,” you chuckle humourlessly. “Because that’s a death sentence.”
“Give me five minutes,” she sneers. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Look, I didn’t ask for this,” you say, a kernel of truth wrapped up in a rather emotional reaction to her painful barb. “I’m his soldier, too.”
Springing up from the ground, she snatches her shirt off a nearby chair and pushes past you. Before she slips the tattered garment over her head, you catch a glimpse of a deep, jagged laceration at the base of her neck.
While you make a mental note of it, you ultimately decide against bringing it up.
Rather than hounding her when she clearly wants to be alone, you decide to hunt for that old claw bathtub, desperate for a soak and maybe a good cry.
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This tomb scatters beauty, but you easily find its seeds.
The copper tub catches the flickering candlelight, and the gleam is otherworldly against the lonely shadows. The moment you step into the hot water, you can feel your skin buzzing with gentle licks of heat and your tired muscles begin to surrender to the relaxation it brings.
You can recall the day she dragged this old bathtub into the prison, the legs of it squeaking across the concrete floor as if the claws belonged to a corporeal animal. Showers alone proved ineffective in hastening her healing process and cleansing her wounds and, surprisingly, despite her initial uncertainty, she took your advice.
The candles differ from the ones you previously left behind, so you assume she still makes use of the hollow luxury when the mood strikes.
Submerging your head, you study the muffled sounds brought about by the density of the water. Everything is disparate beneath the surface, the low-pitched hoots of an owl muted and distant.
“I made food.”
“Jesus Christ!” you choke, body thrashing and creating a chaotic spray of water in every direction.
Your actions soak the woman standing beside the tub and, when she averts her gaze, droplets of water slip from her dirt-slicked lashes.
“Knocking helps!” you say, bracing your arms on the copper ridges.
“Count the doors in here—I’ll wait!”
Her sarcastic wit catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks sting as confused gaiety tugs at them.
“What’s that face for?” she snaps.
It’s difficult to discern whether she’s asking a genuine question or if she’s in a defensive stance, so you wager it’s a blend of both.
“You’re funny,” you say. “When you’re not being a jerk.”
This time, when her eyes meet yours, the fury dissipates. There’s something soft and temperate where you’ve only ever witnessed the bane of unforgiving steel.
The pads of her fingers are a deep pink hue, and it dawns on you that the porcelain bowl must be extremely hot. You gesture to the side table disguised as a wooden stump and she sets the dish down.
“Can I have a look at that?” you ask, reaching for her hands.
The tub and clever positioning shroud your naked body, but the rest is all about her and her sudden ardent manners. With her face turned away, she offers you her palms first.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” she says.
While inspecting the burn and its surrounding wounds, you notice her shoulders dropping.
“You can sit, if you want,” you say.
Upon surveying the area, you’re aware that the number of chairs matches the number of doors, prompting an apologetic chuckle. A tiny smile teases her mouth as she crouches at your side instead.
“You need to run this under cold water, okay? And I should dress these cuts, so they don’t get infected.”
“What about you?” she asks. “I tried to clean it out, but it’s ugly.”
She moves to touch the gash on your forehead, and her quick movements startle you. When you flinch, her hand lingers in the air until she decides to rework her pace, taking a more languid approach.
“It’s been forever since someone called me ugly,” you jest.
“Missed opportunity,” she mumbles, biting her bottom lip to keep her grin at bay.
“You haven’t polished off that honey I brought yet, right?”
Her expression resembles a guilt-ridden thief caught in the act, and you struggle to suppress a burst of laughter.
“I should’ve known better. Maybe you need a hive instead of a garden,” you say.
She snorts at your suggestion before grabbing the cloth hanging on the tub and dunking it into the water. Instinctively, her weathered hands shape the fabric to dab gently at your injury. The surface is bruise-tender and the pain throbs outward in torturous sparks. She cups your jaw with her other hand to keep you from squirming.
“What if I’m allergic to bee stings? Because that’s a death sentence,” she mimics.
“I’ll try not to throw you in then,” you say. “No promises.”
A wide, earnest grin spreads across her tough features, and you forget how to breathe for a spell. She’s filthy and in desperate need of a hairbrush, but she’s still prettier than anyone you’ve met.
“What’s your name?” you ask.
Isaac never refers to her as anything other than his mercenary, and every time you had considered asking her in the past, your better judgement advised against it. Her preference for anonymity is clear, but you have so many unanswered questions.
In a smooth motion, she glides the cool cloth across the bridge of your nose.
“Do you really want to know?” she asks.
Seeking a moment of connection, you grasp her wrist, pausing her ministrations. Her gaze meets yours with a sense of urgency and she doesn’t break eye contact.
Water trickles from your hands, twirling along her wrist and cascading down her forearm. She fights to keep her eyes open, a raspy hum building at the back of her throat until goosebumps skate across your skin.
“I really want to know,” you say.
Her nod is slow and deliberate, contemplating the price she will have to pay for her decision.
“Once you see me,” she warns, and it’s uncertain whether she’s cautioning you or herself. “There’s no going back.”
“I can live with that,” you whisper.
Just when it looks like she’s ready to share, her body tenses up and you can almost touch the impenetrable barrier rising between you.
“Your stew is getting cold,” she says. “I’ll grab you a towel.”
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Away from the stadium lights, midnight is a mesmerizing weave of glistening diamonds spilled across an indigo sky. The sight of the Milky Way reminds you of her. That blemish etched along her iris—a celestial river carving through blue canvas.
You curl up on a bedroll in the tall grass and listen to the melodious ensemble of crickets and frogs, yearning for extra time in the countryside. There’s a sense of security here, with no sign of danger for miles. The tall and formidable walls back home do little to drown out the blood-curdling cries of the infected. Their presence is always looming, close enough to unsettle you, but never close enough to harm. It’s enough to disrupt your sleep, their ruined faces bleeding into your nightmares.
The once spirited and untamed landscape of home now only grows the carefully cultivated visions that Isaac orchestrates, depriving both his plants and his people of freedom.
Prior to Isaac recruiting you for his mission, you contemplated abandoning your ties to the WLF. You didn’t want to spend another moment on this planet living in a perpetual state of war, never knowing when you’d catch a stray arrow.
The peaceful ambiance of birdsong in the early morning tempers the harsh world for you. It’s a reminder that amidst famine and devastation, there must be more.
“You’re not sleeping inside tonight?”
Bear’s collar jingles, bringing you a sense of comfort as the dog keenly explores the prison yard before heading back indoors to nap. Your pup instantly feels at ease with the mysterious woman from the middle of nowhere, and you have no trouble comprehending why.
“I am,” you say. “I just wanted to see the stars first.”
“You don’t see much of that where you’re from?” she asks.
When you pat the ground, she sits cross-legged next to you like an old friend.
“Not really. It’s too bright in the city,” you explain. “I’m going to need to stitch that up—don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
While shooting you a disapproving look, she absentmindedly traces the cut near her collarbone before leaning back on her rugged arms. She tilts her head to study the cloudless sky, and it draws your attention to the neat braid resting at the nape of her neck.
A fresh and woody scent emanates from her, with a subtle hint of pine carried to you by the wind.
“I’ve always wondered why there are no infected here,” you say. “You keep them away when I’m around, don’t you?”
You know it’s her, the one responsible for it all, but you’re still in the dark about her methods. The extent of its impact on her remains elusive to you, but you’ve witnessed her increasing exhaustion. Her strength and abilities set her apart, but they also have the power to decimate her reserves.
“They’re closer than you think,” she says.
“If I get up right now and walk out those gates, am I in danger?” you ask.
“Yes,” she says, a look of agony flashing across her features. “But not for the reasons you think. I can’t—it’s people I can’t control.”
“I wasn’t imagining things, then?”
Her teeth grind in apprehension, as she plucks blades of grass from the ground to build a small mound above the laces of her leather boots. You let the gears turn, patiently waiting for her to come to her own conclusions. The struggle lies in wanting her to confide in you, wanting to divide the burdens that shackle her.
“I’m here,” you say. “Whenever you’re ready to talk.”
“What if I can’t?”
“I’ll still listen,” you say.
When she turns her head to face you, fragile threads of trust blur her stern demeanour, a courageous step taken in silence. She lumbers from the ground until she finds her feet.
“Where are you going?” you chuckle lightly. “You need rest.”
Brushing the dirt off her pants, she makes her way to the perimeter fence, beckoning you to follow.
Left untended, the field beyond it is a forgotten acreage of towering weeds, sun-stretched wildflowers wilting beneath the somber moon. The ringing chorus of quick, guttural frog croaks fades as a Runner emerges clumsily from the treeline.
Your heart skips as her rough fingers intertwine with your own, a bolt of sweet lightning cleaving through your chest. You can feel the strength in her grip as she guides your joined hands to the chain-link. She squeezes, pressing the tips of your fingers around the galvanized wire.
You’re left bewildered, staring at her, before she gestures towards the field with a subtle tilt of her chin. The writhing, infected body creeps nearer and your heart pounds. With every graceless step the creature makes, nervous vibrations fuse between your ribs. It stumbles, festering limbs lunging forward, and it takes every ounce of self control to keep from screaming.
The warm body at your side inches closer to ease your erratic breathing. Her composure is remarkable, as if she has performed this action countless times, a mastery of the dead—a striking juxtaposition to your tight, hard swallow resonating through the lonesome field.
Behind the disease-ridden shell, the faint traces of a woman’s features start to emerge as the battered body reaches the other side of the fence. The infected woman is so close to you that you can see the intricate network of veins in her eyes, and the red, inflamed rims of her eyelids where her eyelashes once were. Every muscle in your body freezes, not daring to twitch or even let out a breath.
The septic woman pushes her forehead to the fence, head tilting at an unnatural angle, seeming to study every detail of your face. The putrid odour hits your nostrils with such force that it’s impossible not to recoil. As terror grips you, it spreads like wildfire.
“How?” you rasp, your voice so faint, it’s barely a whisper. “Why isn’t she attacking me—doesn’t she want to?”
“It’s all she wants.”
Your attention falls to the soldier whom Isaac has bound you to restore, and you notice she is rapidly losing strength, her skin growing paler as the life force ebbs away.
“Okay, that’s enough. Make it stop,” you order, panic rising as her nose trickles a thin stream of red. “You know what? Fuck it!”
Without hesitation, you reach for the knife holstered on her thigh, sliding the sharp blade through the fence, until the spindly body collapses to meld with the soil.
----------------------------------------
Your hands move with care as you suture the wound above her collarbone, the heat of her breath fanning your face. Positioned behind her is a mural she painted, featuring a serene beach and a shipwrecked boat nestled against the coastline. Decorated with kelp and dappled with rust, the sailboat’s intricate detailing is striking.
“I’ve never been to the beach,” you say.
Her blue eyes, wide with curiosity, lock onto yours, and a huff of quiet laughter escapes her parted lips.
“What’s so funny?” you ask.
“I’ve never been, either,” she admits.
You take a step back to observe her, noticing the lines etched on her face that tell stories of resilience. There is a captivating depth that makes you long to delve further.
“Well, you had me fooled,” you say, reaching for the scissors on the surgical tray. “You’re a talented painter—I’m sorry I hadn’t noticed sooner.”
With a dismissive shrug, she makes it seem like transforming a gloomy prison into a magnificent cathedral of art is a piece of cake. Her artwork is so impressive that you would never guess she has spent little time at the beach.
“Nah, it wasn’t here last time,” she says, adjusting her stance and widening the space between her thighs to provide you with more room to work. “I thought I’d try something new. We’ll see if it sticks.”
You lean in closer, gently tending to the cuts and scrapes that have gathered along her shoulders and neck. Her skin, adorned with freckles, is a beautiful mosaic of its own. Some strands of her braid have unraveled, perhaps because of a lack of practice, but the untidiness complements her.
“I’ve always wanted to learn to braid hair,” you say, pondering for a moment if, for her, it’s a self-taught skill or something guided by someone more experienced. Her mother maybe. “It suits you.”
Her nose wrinkles skeptically as she lifts her hand from her lap, her fingers carefully tucking your hair behind your ear.
“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” she asks.
Given the antics outside, it’s a valid question. You can’t think of a scenario that sent chills down your spine quite like that one. But with her by your side, you felt an unspoken sense of protection. She nudges you with her knee, her eyes narrowing in anticipation of a response.
“I think I am,” you confess, pulling the steel cart to the other side of her brawny frame to better access the supplies you need.
“And yet, you stay,” she asserts. “I guess you don’t have much of a choice.”
“I always have a choice.”
While you meticulously inspect her newest scars, cleansing the wounds that besiege them, she takes hold of your hand, motioning for you to stop.
“Abigail,” she says, worrying her bottom lip. “My name—if you still want it.”
In an instant, your inquisitiveness peaks, keen to uncover both her origin and the path that led her to this place. All in good time, you suppose.
“Abigail,” you say, appreciating how smoothly it rolls off your tongue. “That’s a really pretty name.”
You watch in awe as a blush creeps up her cheeks, giving her a rosy glow.
“Thanks,” she murmurs. “It doesn’t feel like it belongs to me anymore.”
“Maybe we can change that,” you whisper.
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It starts with him
What was once a promise of technology to allow us to automate and analyze the environments in our physical spaces is now a heap of broken ideas and broken products. Technology products have been deployed en masse, our personal data collected and sold without our consent, and then abandoned as soon as companies strip mined all the profit they thought they could wring out. And why not? They already have our money.
The Philips Hue, poster child of the smart home, used to work entirely on your local network. After all, do you really need to connect to the Internet to control the lights in your own house? Well you do now!Philips has announced it will require cloud accounts for all users—including users who had already purchased the hardware thinking they wouldn’t need an account (and the inevitable security breaches that come with it) to use their lights.
Will you really trust any promises from a company that unilaterally forces a change like this on you? Does the user actually benefit from any of this?
Matter in its current version … doesn’t really help resolve the key issue of the smart home, namely that most companies view smart homes as a way to sell more individual devices and generate recurring revenue.
It keeps happening. Stuff you bought isn’t yours because the company you bought it from can take away features and force you to do things you don’t want or need to do—ultimately because they want to make more money off of you. It’s frustrating, it’s exhausting, and it’s discouraging.
And it has stopped IoT for the rest of us in its tracks. Industrial IoT is doing great—data collection is the point for the customer. But the consumer electronics business model does not mesh with the expected lifespan of home products, and so enshittification began as soon as those first warranties ran out.
How can we reset the expectations we have of connected devices, so that they are again worthy of our trust and money? Before we can bring the promise back, we must deweaponize the technology.
Guidelines for the hardware producer
What we can do as engineers and business owners is make sure the stuff we’re building can’t be wielded as a lever against our own customers, and to show consumers how things could be. These are things we want consumers to expect and demand of manufacturers.
Control
Think local
Decouple
Open interfaces
Be a good citizen
1) Control over firmware updates.
You scream, “What about security updates!” But a company taking away a feature you use or requiring personal data for no reason is arguably a security flaw.
We were once outraged when intangible software products went from something that remained unchanging on your computer, to a cloud service, with all the ephemerality that term promises. Now they’re coming for our tangible possessions.
No one should be able to do this with hardware that you own. Breaking functionality is entirely what security updates are supposed to prevent! A better checklist for firmware updates:
Allow users to control when and what updates they want to apply.
Be thorough and clear as to what the update does and provide the ability to downgrade if needed.
Separate security updates from feature additions or changes.
Never force an update unless you are sure you want to accept (financial) responsibility for whatever you inadvertently break.
Consider that you are sending software updates to other people’s hardware. Ask them for permission (which includes respecting “no”) before touching their stuff!
2) Do less on the Internet.
A large part of the security issues with IoT products stem from the Internet connectivity itself. Any server in the cloud has an attack surface, and now that means your physical devices do.
The solution here is “do less”. All functionality should be local-only unless it has a really good reason to use the Internet. Remotely controlling your lights while in your own house does not require the cloud and certainly does not require an account with your personal information attached to it. Limit the use of the cloud to only the functions that cannot work without it.
As a bonus, less networked functionality means fewer maintenance costs for you.
3) Decouple products and services.
It’s fine to need a cloud service. But making a product that requires a specific cloud service is a guarantee that it can be enshittified at any point later on, with no alternative for the user owner.
Design products to be able to interact with other servers. You have sold someone hardware and now they own it, not you. They have a right to keep using it even if you shut down or break your servers. Allow them the ability to point their devices to another service. If you want them to use your service, make it worthwhile enough for them to choose you.
Finally, if your product has a heavy reliance on the cloud to work, consider enabling your users to self-host their own cloud tooling if they so desire. A lot of people are perfectly capable of doing this on their own and can help others do the same.
4) Use open and standard protocols and interfaces.
Most networked devices have no reason to use proprietary protocols, interfaces, and data formats. There are open standards with communities and software available for almost anything you could want to do. Re-inventing the wheel just wastes resources and makes it harder for users to keep using their stuff after you’re long gone. We did this with Twine, creating an encrypted protocol that minimized chatter, because we needed to squeeze battery life out of WiFi back when there weren’t good options.
If you do have a need for a proprietary protocol (and there are valid reasons to do so):
Document it.
If possible, have a fallback option that uses an open standard.
Provide tooling and software to interact with your custom protocols, at the very least enough for open source developers to be able to work with it. This goes for physical interfaces as much as it does for cloud protocols.
If the interface requires a custom-made, expensive, and/or hard-to-find tool to use, then consider using something else that is commonly available and off the shelf instead.
5) Be a good citizen.
Breaking paid-for functionality on other people’s stuff is inherently unethical. Consider not doing this! Enshittification is not a technical problem, it is a behavioral one. Offer better products that are designed to resist enshittification, and resist it yourself in everything you do.
Nothing forced Philips to do what they are doing: a human made a decision to do it. They could have just as easily chosen not to. With Twine’s server lock-in, at least we chose to keep it running, for 12 years now. Consider that you can still make a decent living by being honest and ethical towards the people who are, by purchasing your products, paying for your lifestyle.
We didn’t get here by accident. Humans made choices that brought us to this point, and we can’t blame anyone for being turned off by it. But we can choose to do better. We can design better stuff. And we can choose not to mess things up after the fact.
We’re putting this into practice with Pickup. (We also think that part of an IoT reset is giving users the creative freedom of a general-purpose device.) If you’re looking for something better and our product can fill a need you have, consider backing us. We cannot claim to be perfect or have all of the answers, but we are absolutely going to try. The status quo sucks. Let’s do something about it.
Published October 15, 2023 By Jeremy Billheimer
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The Three LOVES THEORY by Roxie Nafousi
There’s a theory that throughout our lifetime, we will fall in love three times, at three different stages of our lives. Each love feels totally unique from the other and teaches us something different that shapes the person that we becoming. The three types of love are the first love, the intense love, and the unconditional love. Ahead, we’re breaking down the meaning of each and what you typically learn from each stage of love.
The First Love
This love feels like a fairy tale. It’s that all-consuming puppy love and one that, at the time, you think will last forever. Often we experience our first love in high school, and usually it ends because the two people either grow apart or because of some trivial argument that the relationship simply isn’t strong enough to withstand.
This love is usually more surface level, with more importance placed on how the relationship might look to others. While it certainly feels like true love at the time, it’s not usually the deep, raw love that you’ll experience later on. The heartbreak can feel immense, initially, but you usually recover from it quickly.
What We Learn: That falling in love is the most incredible feeling in the world, but that not all relationships last forever, and they certainly aren’t always like they appear to be in the movies.
The Intense Love
This is the second love, and it’s usually the one that turns our world upside down. As we fall into this intense love story, the relationship becomes a mirror into our soul: we see all our insecurities, our needs, and our desires staring back at us. In this relationship, we may experience jealousy, fear, and self-doubt that we’ve never felt before. The relationship comes with massive highs and dramatic lows. We often try to mold the other half into our perfect partner, and we try to mold ourselves to become theirs. This is the love that feels like a rollercoaster and the one that can leave us feeling guarded, distrusting, and hurt.
The heartbreak from this relationship can be indescribably painful, but it is also through this heartbreak that we really grow, change, and evolve while finding the inner strength and resilience we didn’t know we had.
What We Learn: What we do want from love, and what we don’t.
The Unconditional Love
After we’ve recovered from the heartbreak of the intense love and we’ve begun to heal and cultivate self-love, then comes the unexpected love. The one that comes from nowhere and feels just completely and utterly right. There are no games, and when you are with them you simply feel like you are home. You embrace all that they are, all their imperfections, and all their nuances. You feel more yourself with them than you ever have before, and you constantly inspire each other to be the best versions of yourselves. When you face an obstacle or a challenge in the relationship, you work together to overcome it because you are both committed to your future. This is the unconditional love that marks the beginning of forever, and you thank the universe every day for bringing them into your world.
What We Learn: That true love does exist and that it is possible to feel completely safe, protected, and adored by another human.
Roxie Nafousi - The Three Loves Theory
Mimi's note
Right now we're between the second and third. Both Crowley and Aziraphale need to recover and cultivate self-love before they can embrace all that they are, Aziraphale all the dark gray shades of Crowley and Crowley all the light gray shades of Aziraphale.
I have no doubt that their love will become unconditional love (it already is, but they don't know it and being apart will allow them to see it).
I trust Neil and Terry and will hold on to these words, "Everything will be okay."
insp (x)
#good omens#Good Omens 2#Aziraphale#Crowley#ineffable husbands#AziraCrow#david tennant#michael sheen#true love#unconditional love
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