#otherwise i will do it on my own so no worries

[ham1lton]

QUESTION TIME?

pairings: (platonic) lewis hamilton x f1 driver!reader.

warnings: sexist comments. interviewers asking rude questions.

summary: being the only female driver on the grid means being the unofficial spokesperson for women in motorsports and you’re tired of it.

author’s note: a part of my newest series! i’m still actively looking for more scenarios and ideas regarding this universe! so if u have any thoughts or questions? let me know! i’d love to hear them <3

“do you worry that being more open and accessible to different drivers will lower the level of competition within formula one?”

the silence could be cut with a knife. everyone in the room looked at you expectantly, eyes wide as they waited for your answer. you took a sip of water as you collected your thoughts.

sometimes, when you were younger and karting, you’d wish that you had been born a boy. that might have been an unpopular opinion but you held it occasionally, although not for the reasons one might think. being a man would have meant that you would have been treated as just another driver rather than a novelty. no one else on the panel was expected to act like a mouthpiece for their entire gender.

taking a deep breath, you composed yourself before addressing the question. "i understand the concern about maintaining the high level of competition within formula one. however, i believe that diversity and inclusivity in motorsports can actually enhance the competition rather than detract from it."

you glanced around the room, meeting the expectant gazes of the reporters and fellow drivers. "by opening up opportunities to drivers from different backgrounds and experiences, we bring new perspectives and skills to the sport. this diversity can drive innovation and push the entire field to new heights."

pausing for a moment to gather your thoughts, you continued, "i don't necessarily think talent and competitiveness are determined by gender or any other factor. it's about skill, dedication, and passion for racing. embracing diversity not only reflects the world we live in but also strengthens formula one as a whole."

as you finished speaking, you could sense a shift in the atmosphere of the room. while your response might not have been what everyone expected, you knew it came from a place of honesty and conviction. and deep down, you hoped that your words would spark a broader conversation about the importance of inclusion in motorsports.

the room digests your response, slowly and steadily until another interviewer speaks up. "i get where you're coming from, but let's be real here. formula one is about pushing the limits, about being the best of the best. we can't afford to water down the competition just for the sake of diversity."

you respected his perspective, knowing that he always spoke his mind but god, if that wasn’t the worst way to word that. "i hear you," you replied, "but i don't see diversity as watering down the competition. if anything, it's about elevating it. different perspectives bring new challenges and force us to raise our own game. isn't that what racing is all about?"

he paused, considering your words. "i suppose you have a point," he conceded, nodding thoughtfully. "but we still need to ensure that the drivers who make it to formula one are truly the best, regardless of where they come from."

you nodded in agreement, acknowledging the importance of maintaining high standards in the sport. "absolutely," you agreed. "and i believe that by embracing diversity, we can do just that. it's not about lowering the bar; it's about expanding it to include drivers who might have otherwise been overlooked."

after a moment, lewis, who had been your unofficial mentor throughout the process of integrating into formula one, raises his hand. he had been listening to the whole exchange with a furrowed brow.

“i just want to echo what y/n has said,” he began. “diversity isn’t a threat, if anything it’s our greatest asset.”

he turned to address the room, his gaze steady. "we've seen time and time again how diversity helps drive innovation and pushes the sport forward. and it's not just about gender or race – it's about welcoming drivers from all walks of life and giving them the opportunity to shine."

lewis paused, letting his words sink in. "formula one should be a reflection of the world we live in – diverse, inclusive, and full of opportunity. and by embracing that diversity, we make the sport stronger, more competitive, and more exciting for fans around the globe."

you smile at that and grin at the interviewer.

“is that a good enough answer for you?” he nods and your remark sparks laughter in the room. after a moment, the interviewers target your peers and you take a deep breath. free at last.

when the interview concludes, you find yourself walking step by step with lewis, who smiles at you.

“you answered those questions well. i’m proud.”

“just followed the hamilton playbook.” you tease. “who knows? maybe i’ll be fighting you for that championship next.”

“i’d welcome the challenge.” lewis laughs, his eyes bright with amusement. “but seriously y/n, never underestimate the power of your voice and your presence in this sport. i always say that the goal is to leave the sport better than we found it, and you’re only in your second season and doing that. i have no doubt you’ll achieve great things.”

his voice is thick with sincerity and he places a warm hand on your shoulder before leaving. as he disappears, a young girl wearing your merch comes bounding up to you. she’s grinning wide with a missing tooth and when she speaks, her accent is thickly american with a strong lisp.

“y/n! hi!” she waves a massive poster in front of you. it has your name, your number and a message of support. “y/n you’re the coolest! will you sign my poster please?”

with a warm smile, you kneel down and grin at her.

“of course! i’d be honoured.” your assistant hands you a sharpie and you scrawl your signature in the corner of her poster. her parents taking a photo of the two of you and then with her parents permission, you sign her hat and her shirt. “thank you so much for all of your support. it means everything and more to me. keep cheering me on okay? i do this for all of you.”

“i will!” she beams. you laugh and pass your assistant her pen. “you’re my hero y/n! thank you!”

she bounces off and her parents wave while saying their thanks. your heart swelled up after that interaction, reminding you as to why you do this. why you deal with all those incessant annoying questions because it gives you the opportunity to help inspire the next generation of young racers.

as you stand there, you see a guy with a camera walking your way. your eyes widen as you make a sneaky escape. today has been filled with enough questions, you think as you hide out in gavin’s office.

#jayde’s works ☆ #maneater ꕤ #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 texts #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lh44 x reader

[fernandopiastri28]

high for this ~ oscar piastri

Notes:

i am officially finished with holidays and back to school :/ so im going to be posting a lot less but i do have a few works just rotting in my drafts so i'll probably just be changing the names of characters and posting them. (not proof read so i apologise if there's any mistakes)

warnings: smut, weed, drug use, mdni

Oscar mindlessly lays sprawled out on his bed, his muscles aching from the gym earlier in the day. He tenderly rubs his hamstring, trying to nurse it back to not being too sore for his match tomorrow. 

He has some music playing as quietly as possible, a pulsing tune of some heavy rap. It’s not really to his taste, but he’s bored with his own playlists at the moment. His phone is near the foot of his outstretched left leg, while his right leg is tucked up towards his torso, his knee pointing high towards the ceiling. Both hands are hard at work around his right leg, his fingers pressing into the tough flesh.

He feels a buzz travel through his left foot as his nails dig into his skin. He makes a note to cut them. He hears the buzz too, this time over the sound of the music. He sits up awkwardly, wincing at the strain on his leg. Using his left hand, he picks up his phone and checks the two new messages he’s received. 

It’s Talia, unsurprisingly. She should be asleep, though, she promised him she’d start working on fixing her sleep schedule. He clicks the notifications, squinting to see the messages with the medical white lights flashing in his eyes in comparison to the darkened room.

tals🧡: you up?

tals🧡: do u wanna come over

Oscar shifts around in his bed so his back is pressed against a stack of pillows. He brings his hand away from his hamstring, ignoring the dull shoot of pain that runs up his leg once it loses his attention.  

They don’t do a lot of sneaking over to each other's houses, simply because they can see enough of one another during school days, so it isn’t anything essential. They get in all the kissing, cuddling, and make outs they want to during the day, so if she’s suggesting this, it means sex. 

Not necessarily just sex, anything within the umbrella of sexual activity. Oscar shifts his hips, trying to decide what he wants to do. They live pretty far from each other, meaning for him to sneak over, it's a 25-minute walk each way since he can’t just take the family car. It’s late—nearing midnight—and he’s sore. On the other hand, he’s horny.

And at Talia’s house, she doesn’t live with her parents. She lives with two of her close friends, skipped out on the college experience after her first year. Oscar didn’t get that luxury, much like his older sisters. Both of them lived at home for uni. But while she’s off now in France, he’s still a third year university student. Since her family won’t even be there, they don’t have to worry about being sneaky or quiet.

Oscar: Yeah. See you soon

He unplugs his phone and slips his feet into the pair of slides that are sitting at the foot of his bed. He opens his wardrobe, grazing his fingers over the line up of shirts that rest there. He grabs a graphic white t-shirt, wrestling it on. He cracks open his door, walking past his sister’s and the guest room, both vacant. His parents are on the level upstairs, so they can’t hear any disturbance he’s making. 

He settles for catching the bus instead, unwilling to walk up to an hour. He sits down in a row of empty seats, ducking his head down and popping an earbud in. There’s a scarce number of other people on the bus, two girls sitting close together, their heads spinning drunkenly. An old man, greying hair and a newspaper in his callused hands.

tals🧡: come thru window. sammy will bark otherwise.

Oscar replies with the hard thought out reply of a thumbs up before re-pocketing his phone, staring mindlessly out of the window at the dark surroundings that whip by. 

Oscar gets off at his stop 10 minutes later, and he’s the last person on the bus by that point. He approaches Talia’s house, not even bothering to go through the front door- Sammy would bark and wake the whole house up. He clicks open the gate, dragging it out only just enough to slip in. He walks across the side of the house, tapping on her bedroom window once he gets to it. He presses a hand to his pocket, making sure the pack of condoms he grabbed are still there.

The curtains swish open and Talia’s standing there, fiddling to get the window open. Once it's open, he feels a rush of cold air hitting him, accompanied by the smell of something almost like diesel. “Hey,” He grins as she leans down. 

She narrowly avoids the kiss he’s going for, giving him one on the corner of his mouth. “Sorry- god, it’s dark,” Her shadow rubs her eyes, reaching out a hand to help him in. 

Climbing in through the window isn’t a difficult task- just slightly uncomfortable. His crotch rubs against the window pane as he brings his second leg over into her room. Talia wraps her arms around his waist as soon as he’s inside. “Hi, Oscccc,” She looks up at him, her teeth gleaming white. 

Just as Oscar is about to reply, the petrol smell hits him even harder. He crinkles his nose, confused as to what it is. “Tals, what the hell have you been smoking in here?,” He laughs, his hands grabbing at her ass to get her to wrap her legs around his waist. His voice is thick with sarcasm, Talia is the furthest thing from a druggy possible.

“Weed,” She rubs her lips into his shoulder, mouthing at the fabric of her shirt. Her mouth is dry, barely wetting the cloth. Oscar’s eyebrows knit, tensing in confusion. “Got a joint, was bored,” She mumbles. 

He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. At the same time, it’s late- his mind is cloudy anyways. He looks past her, at her bed where there’s a metal tin and a joint laying on top of it. Explains the smell then. “Fuck Talia,” He lets out a deep breath, “Maddie and Amber can definitely smell it,” He groans.

Talia laughs, her voice thick and loopy. “Nah, they cleared out tonight so I could do this.” She pulls away from the embrace, tugging him after her by his shirt. She falls back against the bed, her eyes clearly red rimmed from the dim lighting over her bed. “Cmonnn Opie, wanna get stoned with you,”

It’s so strange to see her like this, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hot. It’s so unexpected, such a pleasant surprise from his usually wound up and rule following girlfriend. Oscar’s resistance weakens, the sight of her laying there- a goofy grin plastered across her voice is enough to make the strong man give in. 

He hovers over her on the bed, a knee on either side of her hips and a hand on either side of her head. “You’re insane,” His mouth meets red, puffy lips for a kiss. She’s hungry for it, bringing her hands up to his hair to tug him down. 

“More,” Talia begs, her voice breathy. Her pupils are huge and there's a spacey look in her eyes. Oscar teases her, shaking his head as he slightly resists kissing her any further than little pecks.

“I want a drag,” He whispers, reaching over her to where the blunt is precariously resting. He places it in between his lips, the bitter taste already seeping into his mouth. “Light it up,” He murmurs around the lump in his mouth. 

Her mouth and ears feel as if they’ve been packed with cotton, his voice is far away and just barely a noise. “You don’t know how to,” She giggles weakly, her fingers pinching the fabric of his shirt that hangs down onto her.

Oscar gets off of her, sitting against the head of her bed. His legs are spread, his body slumped down comfortably. “Teach me,” He pats the space in front of his lap, his eyes looking up through his lashes. Talia’s mind is foggy with weed, lust, and need. She’s willing to do anything. 

“Take this,” she pushes a plastic water bottle into one of his hands, already unscrewed and partially drunk. “You’re gonna cough a lot- the water will help with that,” she explains, leaning forward with her hands propped up on his quads, pushing the hem of his shorts higher up. 

She reaches over to where the bottle had been and her fingers feel numb as they wrap around the lighter. “You feel good?” She asks as he twists the joint around between his lips. He doesn’t quite know how to answer, it feels like a question for after he’s actually smoked it. He nods regardless, tensing his leg muscles under her hands.

“I’m gonna light it, okay?” Another question from her. Her voice is becoming harder to understand, the true effects of the weed settling into her. It’s bizarre to him, this whole situation. “And you just try to inhale as much as possible,” She waits for a nod of competency from him before continuing. “Don’t let it just rest in your throat- it’ll burn. If you can’t do a lot, just do it in small bits,” 

Oscar’s hand snakes behind her, resting on the small of her back. “Ready,” He mumbles awkwardly. She clicks down on the lighter and a flame flickers, wavering just below his nose. 

“Don’t stress it,” She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed and his nails are digging into the fabric of her shirt. It’s almost euphoric at first, then it’s hell. Heat fills his mouth and he’s coughing and wheezing. He did exhale- probably too much. 

He feels Talia’s hands all over him, her coldness contrasting against the warmth throbbing through himself. She takes the spliff from his mouth, sucking down on it herself. Oscar watches her hazily, his bottom lip tucked under teeth. 

“How long have you been doin’ this?” The words feel as if they’re not coming from him. Jesus, surely he’s not baked already. He feels the heavy weight of the joint being pushed between his lips again, his question seemingly going unanswered. 

He takes it, breathing it in again. He doesn’t let it rest in his throat, he focuses on the inhale. He doesn’t cough as much this time, but he still guzzles down what’s left in the bottle. 

They spend a few minutes alternating the spliff, blowing air into eachothers faces. The room reeks of weed and it’s boiling hot. He wipes the back of his neck with his hand, a line of sweat gathering there. She twists the hem of his shirt between her index and thumb, pulling it up slightly. She doesn’t need to ask- he takes it off for her. 

“I started when I first moved here,” She finally answers his question from earlier, dragging a thumb down his cheek, rubbing the back of his jawline. “I think one of Mads’ friends gave her a bunch because she was moving- couldn’t take ‘em. Us three smoked them one night, it was fun,” She mumbles. It means she’s only been doing it for about 3 years now. 

He tilts his head, resting it against a pillow. She presses the pad of her thumb into his bottom lip that he’s unconsciously pouting out- asking for either another drag or a kiss. “Wanted to introduce you,” Her lips turn into a smirk, her eyes half-lidded.

“And why’s that?” He teases, his other hand moving down to her ass. Talia looks to the side behind him, a knowing look on her face. She pulls herself into his lap, effectively straddling him.

“I wanted to get high,” She states plainly, “and when I’m high- I’m horny. Wanted to be like that with you,” Her eyes are bright and her cheeky are rosy. Oscar kisses her cheek, experimenting with how his mouth is getting drier and more uncomfortable. Once he feels some moisture returning, he kisses further along her jaw. 

She has the spliff in her mouth which forces him away from her mouth. He focuses on her jaw and neck, suckling near her collarbone. She moans, tugging his hair and effectively his head back up. She places the joint in his mouth again and pulls on the pillow behind him. He tilts his head enough for her to move it out of the way, leaving him laying down almost completely flat. 

 He watches dazily as she pulls her top off, leaving her in a lacy white bra. He reaches out, his fingers barely feeling her flesh. He knows he’s touching her, she’s making noises to confirm it. “ More , more , fuck ,” She’s begging, her voice so desperate. Oscar wishes he wasn’t so fucking spacey right now so he could see how wanton she was over him. 

He tips his head forward, looking past where smoke is burning into his eyes. He’s apparently not just touching her bra, he’s touching her fully exposed breast. He hasn’t realised up until this point that he’s actually hard. 

“Can I shotgun you?” She asks, her fingers snaking over his nipples. He whimpers at the touch and his mouth drops open around the blunt. He knows he’s out of it, but he’s consciously thinking enough to know that shotgunning is either claiming the front seat in a car, or piercing a beer can and then drinking it as fast as possible.

He settles with the assumption it must be the second one. He lols his head to the side, searching for where the beer is. “Yeah,” He hums, his hand dropping down over the edge of the bed and his hand swinging with the intention of hitting a can that isn’t actually there.

Talia laughs, tugging on his bicep. “Shotgun- I puff smoke into your mouth,” She explains, her voice all raspy from being so dry. Oscar licks over his teeth, his mouth still painfully dry. His mind feels empty, the only resounding thought is just talia, talia, talia. There are a few other ideas, sex stuff, nothing coming close to being as important as making her happy.

She leans forward, plucking the joint from his mouth. He gets a breath of fresh air and begins to gasp for it- a telltale sign he’s had too much in one go. He hollows his cheeks, cleaning the taste of smoke out of his mouth with spit. It’s a useless attempt as it’s already well stained.

She slides two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his bottom teeth. She lays down on him, her legs still hooked around his hips and a hand pressing to the headboard above him. Their chests are pressing together, her boobs heavy on him. He stares at them, shamelessly, his cock getting even harder to the point he’s beginning to actually feel it. 

“Can you suck my cock?” His voice is strangled and on the verge of incoherency because of her digits pressing into his tongue. She nods, kissing the tip of his nose. Her other hand is still holding onto the spliff, just sliding it against her wettened bottom lip. She finally sucks down on it, her lips twisting around it to keep the smoke in.

His mouth opens out of instinct, his eyes going bright just thinking about her mouth. The second their lips meet and he feels a slow release of smoke into his mouth, he feels like he’s dying. His eyes roll back and he grips a hand to the back of her head, pushing their mouths into each other’s harder.

He’s kissing her like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It’s disgustingly dirty, a combination of spit, teeth, tongues and far too much moaning. Being stoned apparently just makes him feel everything . His lips are on fire, his throat is on fire, his eyes are on fire, his dick is on fire. 

Their mouths pull apart, sticky from the remnants of lip gloss that Talia has on. He peppers her face with a few more kisses, desperate for the stinging burn. They look at each other for a few moments, a complete disconnect from the two of them and the rest of the world. 

“You still want it?” She’s semi sitting up now, her elbows resting on where his hips are poking out from his low sitting shorts. His mind goes blank at the question, unsure of what she could possibly asking.

“What?” He lets out a puff of air, his hand mindlessly travelling through her hair. She nudges low down on his abdomen with her nose, making a weird squeaking whine. 

“Suck you off,” She looks up at him, the green in her eyes barely just a thin ring around her blown up pupils. Oscar nods, shifting further down the bed. Her fingers hook into his waistband, an invitation. His eyes flicker shut, already wasted off the feeling of her hands tugging his shorts down. 

Cold air whacks into the tops of his thighs, the dark fluffs of hair standing up. Oscar doesn’t need to tell her what to do, it seems like every time she’s gotten baked before this has been spent with her preparing for this. 

Talia begins aimlessly mouthing at his crotch, licking and kissing over where the head is resting. Her mouth is wetter than his, seemingly soaked with saliva. He takes a drag from the blunt, his fingers retracting and stretching to scratch her head. She purrs at the motion, getting more eager around him. 

“Cmon princess,” Oscar murmurs, helping to slide his boxers down to mid thigh. He doesn’t wince or shiver when it meets the cold air as there’s barely any time for it to do so. The second he’s fully undressed, her warm mouth is engulfing his length. 

She bobs her head up and down, her lips tightening around his shaft and her cheeks hollowing for him. He’s pushing her head down without realising, the pressure is light but definitely suggestive. 

She doesn’t gag, just takes him further. He encourages her with a string of moans mindlessly escaping his mouth, mixed in with ‘ oh god, good girl’ and ‘that's perfect, princess, keep going’. He’ll smoke or eat edibles every weekend if this is how getting head feels like when he does.

Her nose presses into his crotch, her throat muscles working hard to accommodate the intrusion of him. He tries to touch her, help her get off while she’s giving him the blowjob he’s ever received but the way she’s lying with the rest of her body so far away, he settles for focusing the pleasure elsewhere.

He rubs his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. She whimpers and whines, her moans choking into noises that sound like she’s crying. Her face is reddened and her hair is sweaty, her fringe plastered down to her forehead with sweat.

“Close, I’m close,” He twists some of her hair around his index, his middle finger tapping into the top of her hair. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and tensed eyebrows. 

“In me,” She gags around his length. She doesn’t need to ask twice. He fucks his hips up into her mouth, forcing a moan and a gag from the back of her throat as he releases into her. 

He feels spent, his body aching worse than it did back at home. 

She pulls off slowly, her lips oiled with spit and cum. Her neck muscles flicker with tension as she swallows it down. That’s new. She’s strictly been a ‘spitter’ to this very moment. He wipes a drop of cum off her lip and kisses her deep. He tastes himself in her mouth but there's hardly any recognition for it. He doesn’t care enough to be disgusted about it, nothing about kissing her is disgusting.

“You’re perfect,” He slips his tongue into her mouth, tugging her up to be laying on top of him. “Wanna make you feel good,” He moves his head, kissing down her neck.

Talia lets out a noise of confirmation, “please,” she whines burying her fingers against his scalp. From the awkward angle he’s at, he slips her pants down past her ass, her underwear at the same time. 

He rubs a finger over her wet hole, teasing it. She lets out a stifled whimper, burying her face further into Oscar’s chest. He slides the finger in slowly, watching the bits of her face that he can see intently. She’s shying away, forcing her face away from his view.

“You’re all shy now?” He teases, massaging one of her breasts with his palm. She doesn’t reply, just keens on him, desperate for more. He pushes his finger fully in, sliding it in and out. “Look at me, pretty,” He kisses her forehead, nudging the spot with his nose. 

She reluctantly looks up before snuggling into his neck. It’s a drastic difference from how she was only minutes earlier. He pushes a second finger in, knowing her all too well that she’s needy for it. She groans, scraping her teeth down along his shoulder.

He groans, throwing his head back. He knows what he’s doing, not needing to even look. He pushes in and out, deeper and just as controlled. Her walls tighten around him, her wetness slicking down over his palm and around his wrist. His thumb joins in, rubbing along her clit. 

“Oz,” it comes out all jagged and breathy. “Fuck- need to,” She can’t finish her sentences at this point, pushed so close to the edge. He gives her a whisper of allowance, his breath hot against her ear. 

“Come for me,” He instructs her, his thumb applying more pressure as he feels a gush of wetness spill down his occupied hand. She’s gasping, panting for air when it happens. His body is still trying to regain full senses from the weed, barely noticing how deep her nails are digging into his sides, leaving red crescent moons into his skin.

Once she’s come down from her high, Talia rolls onto the space next to him on the bed. They watch each other, laying on their sides as they share the joint. They puff smoke at each other, laughing over absolutely nothing. 

“You’re staying tonight?” Whether it's a statement or a question is unsure, just how she intended. Oscar cranes his head to where he can see the sun is peeking out and beginning to set. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay right here,” He hums as the two of them both nod off to a hazy, stoned induced sleep.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x original character

[chilschuck]

Can i request for chilchuck react to reader who like to daydream and after he tell the reader he is married, the reader keep spacing out more often out of sadness and they also try to avoid interacting with him much so she can move on. But laios and the other think it's normal since she always avoid interacting with people ( the reader interact with chilchuck more after falling in love with him )

Do you think he will notice? (ಥ﹏ಥ) (ಡ‸ಡ)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAHHHH ANON this is such a good concept and made my heart hurt…… i ended up adding some comfort to it because if you’re like me, you need it after reading angst!! :”)))

— OF COURSE: chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ sfw + hurt/comfort! might be a lil ooc, lol.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 941

✦ i hope this turned out okay!! i made it shorter than my other drabbles by accident but it felt good to end it where it did. i kind of changed the prompt a lil but only because i wanted to give you guys some love from chil still. (;;;w;;;) i’m honestly worried this turned out bad…. hhhhh. i’m so sorry if it’s not what you wanted. ;;; i still hope you enjoy!!! <333

He knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t difficult to see that you had started avoiding him. Even your gaze refused to meet his own for longer than it had to. Your constant spacing out and stares at the floor said all he needed to hear: you were upset.

It only seemed to get worse when you overheard his talk about reconciling with his wife, any hope you had shattering into a thousand pieces in front of you. From then on, you didn’t smile unless you felt you had to. The thick silence you left in your wake was suffocating, and Chilchuck wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

The other members in the party took it as if you were being your usual spacey self, and didn’t draw any attention to the issue. This only made Chilchuck feel worse; he definitely noticed the change.

You used to hang back with Chilchuck and talk with him constantly, sharing little tidbits about yourselves or chatting mindlessly. Things seemed to come easily when it came to you... Too bad he only realized this now.

The smiles you gave him, the eyes full of affection, the lingering touches… It stung that they were no longer a part of his everyday life. Instead, the sadness that ate at you only bled through to your face, into your actions, and into your silence. It was unfamiliar and unbearable at the same time… Especially with the way you’d closed up further.

Chilchuck wasn’t stupid; he knew you harbored some sort of feelings for him. He wasn’t sure if that made this hurt more than it would otherwise. You were obviously distancing yourself from him, further proving his point that inner party relationships were trouble. Yet, there wasn’t any anger or resentment in his chest towards you. If anything, this was a misunderstanding between the two of you.

Calling your name, he approached you almost apprehensively. The recoil you gave made that familiar sharp pain in his chest reappear. Blurting out an excuse, you made your presence scarce. And just like that, you left him alone again.

Of course he noticed. If anything, he hoped that it was all some sort of miscommunication. Sure, he wanted to reconnect with his estranged wife, but… That’s what they were: estranged childhood sweethearts that grew apart. Along with their love, their relationship changed. Things weren’t something he could fix, and his old flame knew that too. But he hoped more than anything they could sort through their differences and still be at least friends.

Of course you didn’t know. There was no way for you to know, or have known his true intentions. Like everything else he tried to bury deep down, you were fading from his life. Chilchuck couldn’t seem to let this one go, to let you go.

So he chased after you. For once in his life, he decided to not swallow these feelings down. He knew there was only so much he could bury, only so much he’d want to bury. You didn’t deserve that, and he needed you to give him those smiles again. To give him those gazes full of adoration and those tender but fleeting touches…

You didn’t pull your hand out of his immediately. Instead, when he called your name again this time, you turned. Chilchuck swallowed.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Surely there was a better thing to ask at this moment, but your lip quivered nonetheless. A deep sigh leaving you, your gaze met with the floor again.

“…So it’d stop hurting.” Was all you replied, the weight of those words knocking the air out of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but you raised a hand to silence him.

“This is for the best... I hope you understand.” Your voice used to never sound so broken. It was soft in a way that he’d never heard before. You had truly given up on this, and he can’t say he blames you. He’d have given up on himself, too.

But he can’t let himself fall into that same cycle of self-pity. Not again, he assured himself, reaching up to grab a fist full of your top and pulling you down to meet his eyes. “Let me explain this to you. Please. I… I’m not going back to her because of the reason you think.” Chilchuck hadn’t heard himself this pleading in so long. He felt pitiful, and he suddenly remembered why he doesn’t like being vulnerable.

You couldn’t stop your head from nodding a yes to his request, that spark of hope trying to ignite once again in your chest. Trying to snuff it out, you waited patiently for him to continue.

And so he did. Baring it all to you, he decided this would be another step towards being more open with himself. Maybe you’d see him as pathetic for this, but he tried to piece the words together as congruent as possible. The feelings he had for her distinguished with the years spent apart and even some of the time spent together. This whole time he’s been sure that he just wanted to right the wrongs he did, and move on. Hopefully with you, when all this was over.

Of course you said yes. You listened, and with every word that left him, the flame within you rekindled. You weren’t sure what to say for a moment, besides giving a light laugh in relief. Even Chilchuck exhaled a brisk chuckle, scratching the back of his head in nervous habit. He’s not sure he could ever get used to this whole “telling your true feelings” thing.

But for you, he’d try.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune!! <333

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿 #trying to get better at hurt/comfort #and this may be terrible bc i’m so brain fried rn gdhfjfjhj #but i thought maybe you’d want some chil loving too :’))) #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #dunmeshi x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader

[screamingcrows]

Change of Pace - Dottore x reader

Note: Same reader as Tomorrow and all that. Approximately three weeks after 'Tomorrow'. "Fuck it all" *softens your Dottore*. I need this man to kiss my hand or I will murder someone. Keep this out of character ai bots or I'm sending you all Taenia solium eggs

Tags: fem reader, reader from Fontaine, burnout, overworked, soft, very mild gore (mentions taking brain samples), comfort, fluff, they're both bad at this

MINORS, AGELESS, BLANK BLOGS DNI

Your samples were long past saving by now. How long had you been staring at the plate containing the biopsies, twenty minutes? The light was burning through your vision, making everything swim in your mind. But it was needed for the fixation in the next step. If you ever made it that far.

Hours of work, wasted because of your own inability. The clatter caused by your head hitting the table echoed ruthlessly while you fought off images of a dismayed Dottore. One thing was anger, disappointment was another matter entirely.

Maybe doing tissue analysis of your own brain would've been more valuable, at least then someone might figure out what was wrong with it.

A hand wrapped around yours, gently prying open your fingers before taking the scissors away. Sight was unnecessary to discern the owner as only a single other warm body frequented this section. Your eyes remained shut, now empty hand feeling along the table for its previous quarry.

If nothing else, dead samples could still be used verify that the technicalities worked, even if the data would be misleading.

"You're barely lucid, in which case I'd prefer if this waited until tomorrow. You're supposed to be handling raimei angel extracts later in the protocol, and stunning yourself would be unfortunate," Dottore was clearly trying, voice so uncharacteristically gentle it felt all manners of wrong.

It only made you sigh in desperation, how hard he was trying compared to you, his dedication unwavering regardless of the objective he put forward.

"I'm fine, I just need a moment. You wanted the initial assessment this week," your voice was muffled enough that it would hopefully hide the exhaustion.

The low chuckle he let out caused a shiver to run down your spine. It was something he'd done more as of late, a pleasant change of pace since the talk. You could almost see the charming smile that would no doubt accompany it, the glittering light in eyes you'd been fortunate enough to glimpse once.

There was no time to open your eyes and check, a warm palm coming to rest on the back your head. The light tremble in his hands made your chest tighten so long as you imagined it to be caused by worry instead of damage.

"You've been staring at nothing for an hour, hardly the best use of your time, and certainly not an indication of someone who is 'fine'."

An hour? Oh, the samples were beyond salvageable if that was true. Everything would've died in the wells by now. A pit dug itself out in your heart, tearing at what had otherwise reluctantly been dedicated to the harbinger. Thoughts of disaster were many, magnitude rivaling divine intervention according to what little remained awake of your consciousness.

Dottore was tugging at your wrist, hand swallowing yours with ease. For being a scholar, his hands spoke of a much different past than others bearing the same title. Another question that would at other times stoke the embers of your curiosity.

Did he want you to stand? Begrudgingly, your body attempted to follow where he lifted your arm. At the feeling of warm lips pressed to your wrist your eyes flew open in disbelief. The visage was the closest to divinity you'd ever gaze upon, in this fact alone were you without doubt. From where you were, the light behind him formed a halo, illuminating his tousled hair. His eyes were closed in silent devotion for but a moment.

Without the beaked mask, he was a completely different man. The large burn that covered a quarter of his face drew your attention first, but it was the crinkles around his eyes that made him look so painfully human.

"You are in no condition to work, this can bear to wait a day or two," his voice remained steady, the only thing you could safely cling to, too lost in committing to memory what he showed of himself.

"Are you certain, Dottore? If I just… ninety minutes of rest, a full cycle should be enough and then I can start over. We still have-"

"We still have plenty of time, dear. I told you, this isn't my most pressing project, so working you to the brink of destruction would be folly."

And that was enough to pacify you. The fact that he'd used a term of endearment, however questionable the choice, kept you smiling through the familiar corridors of the Palace, tucked securely under his arm and away from view. Under any other circumstance, this would've felt humiliating, but for today there was no fight left, only a dull yearning that had tears prickling your eyes.

It never became more than dozing off against him on a couch in his chambers. But that was enough, the heat from his body and his low mumbling while he read from a book soothed your frayed nerves.

#dottore x fem reader #il dottore x fem reader #dottore x you #dottore x reader #il dottore x you #il dottore x reader #genshin impact x reader #comfort #fuck everyone i need my dottore soft today #x reader #x female reader #il dottore #dottore #crow with a pen

[sxcret-garden]

3rd Desire ღ A Little Jealousy [M]

ღ Aspects of Desire series ღ Ateez Jongho x fem!reader ღ feat.: Yeosang & Wooyoung ღ words: ~4.8k ღ genre: established relationship, college AU, fluff, some humor, slice of life, smut (dom!Jongho, sub!reader, clothed sex, teasing, tiny bit of finger sucking (idol receiving), oral (idol receiving), he’s a lil mean again, hair pulling, biting, dacryphilia, bit of brat-taming, reader goes into subspace, sir kink, fingering (reader receiving), unprotected sex) ღ warnings: heavy dom-sub dynamic, (he runs his hand through reader’s hair and picks her up)

Desc.: When you’re meeting up with your classmate and friend Yeosang in order to finally finish that dreaded uni project that’s been keeping you on edge for the past weeks, you don’t expect him to bring along his flirtatious friend Wooyoung. What you also don’t expect is said friend knowingly attempting to flirt with you in front of your boyfriend, who just can’t help but let the hint of jealousy it makes him feel influence his actions once you’re in the comfort of your own home.

Author's note: This is actually one of my fav chapters so far, and 80% of the reason is because the first scene was so much fun to write kasjdfkljsöldka

← prev chapter ღ next chapter →

Arriving at the café a few minutes early, you find Yeosang already waiting for you. You came here from your university dorms, about 20 minutes by bus, so you didn’t expect to be late, but you tend to always leave a little earlier than you have to anyway, just to be sure.

Your meet-up place is a cute little café that turns out to be a lot more spacious than one would assume looking at it from the outside, and it serves all the classics, as well as a couple of drinks that are especially popular these days.

“Did everybody send you their parts?” you ask, starting up your laptop, while Wooyoung watches the alarm that’s supposed to tell you when your drinks are ready.

“I thought they were supposed to send them to you…?” Yeosang replies, eyes widened because he doesn’t want this meeting to already turn into a catastrophe. The frustration that your teammates have continuously nurtured with their incompetence over the past two weeks bubbles up deep inside you again, until you check your emails and you find that they did indeed send their parts to you.

“Sorry, my bad,” you sigh deeply.

“It can happen,” Yeosang assures you, while the alarm goes off, shaking the whole table as it vibrates, and Wooyoung immediately grabs it and gets up. You’re glad he’s at least being useful in that regard - otherwise you’re not sure why Yeosang brought his friend from an entirely different major along to your café date of hell.

“He insisted,” your teammate tells you upon posing your question. “Actually I don’t know why I brought him either.”

“Excuse me?!” Wooyoung exclaims in offense as he returns with your order, having heard his friend’s reply. But Yeosang is quick to wave it off.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” To your surprise his loud friend merely sits down while eyeing him with a doubtful expression, but he doesn’t say anything more to that. Finding yourself more fascinated than anything else by their dynamic, you shake your head eventually and redirect your attention to the screen in front of you. 

“I’ll send you the parts so we can go over them together,” you announce as you’re already dropping the files into your kakao chat with Yeosang, the familiar tone coming from the speakers of his laptop signaling an incoming message that tells you he received them quickly. Wooyoung leans in, nosily looking at the files his friend is opening.

“Looks good… if you ignore the formatting,” Yeosang shades, making you chuckle, and Wooyoung lets you hear a loud “Hey!”

“You didn’t do yours any better!” he teases Yeosang, attempting to pinch his side but his friend evades the attack. 

“Personal space,” he just remarks, pushing Wooyoung away with his flat palm against his cheek. Once again you find yourself fascinated by their cartoonish behaviour most of all, but you don’t comment on what just unfolded in front of your eyes. “And also, mine doesn’t look very interesting, but at least it has the correct formatting.”

“Yeah, this professor doesn’t really have an eye for aesthetics,” you add, grinning yet unhappy about the way the paper you were supposed to put together looks overly sterile. “But I guess that’s what science wants.”

“Well, the contents are what matters,” Yeosang adds, this time not defending himself when Wooyoung throws an arm around his shoulders, but you can tell he’s not happy about the pda. With curious eyes he leans in, skimming through the text on Yeosang’s screen, and you give him an annoyed sigh. You really just want to finish this damn project already, before it consumes any more of your nerves. 

“Oh. Sorry,” Wooyoung grins as he notices your distress, moving away from the computer as he straightens his back, and you’re not sure what to make of his reaction. Telling yourself to focus on the problem at hand instead of him, you begin pasting the text into one collective document, while Yeosang starts reading through everything in search of any possible errors.

“Looks good,” he eventually announces, and you agree, having joined him in proofreading everything. 

“You two sure are fast,” Wooyoung comments, and he shoots you a gaze filled with mischief.

“This is the tenth time we read through these, so…” you explain.

“I see… Yeosang here told me about how horrible the others were to work with,” the guy sitting next to your classmate continues.

“You’re also horrible to work with, and you’re not even a part of this,” Yeosang mutters under his breath, causing you to chuckle, and Wooyoung immediately complains.

“That hurt! I know when to be serious, in contrast to some people.” He says it so ominously that you think at least Yeosang must know who he’s talking about, but he too shoots him a questioning look. “Whatever,” Wooyoung brushes it off with a hand gesture. “You’re done now, aren’t you? So we can finally get to know each other,” he adds, directed at you. “This guy told me a lot about you, so I’ve been dying to meet you.” He points at Yeosang, whose ears grow bright red and he waves his hands in front of his face.

“It’s not what it sounds like. I don’t talk about you all the time, this guy here just likes to blow things way out of proportion,” he explains, and with the way Wooyoung is grinning from ear to ear now, all you’re left with is to believe Yeosang’s words.

“Figured,” you say. “So? What did he tell you about me that made you so interested?” You give Wooyoung a challenging smile, and the guy is eating up your attention as he watches you with a spark in his eyes.

“How you took the lead in your project after everyone else did nothing, for example,” Wooyoung replies. “I respect people like that! You know, people who get things done.” You chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“Don’t be mistaken, I’m not usually the leader type. Just… when I need to be… for the sake of my own sanity.”

“I see,” Wooyoung says, leaning back in his chair now, taking on a comfortable stance.

“I’m sorry about him, I shouldn’t have brought him along,” Yeosang says, once again. “He flirts with everything that breathes in his direction, it means nothing. He’s just doing this for his own entertainment, but I can punch him for you if you want?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you say. “It’s fun to do this every once in a while.”

“Oh? What do you mean - every once in a while?” Wooyoung pries, a broad grin now playing his lips as he leans back in his chair. “You’re not the type to go out and meet people like this?”

“Not to flirt with them,” you laugh, directing your gaze towards the entrance of the café, where the image of Jongho walking inside has caught your eye. You decided to have him pick you up after your meeting with Yeosang, so that you could grab dinner together. You didn’t expect him to be here this early, though. “I’m not sure if my boyfriend would like that,” you add, looking back at Wooyoung, whose mouth forms the shape of an o, before he once again merely grins at you.

“I see, I see… but the fact that you flirted back at me tells me you like to live dangerously,” he remarks, before letting out a giggle that seems both very sudden, yet not out of character at all. Yeosang can only sigh beside him. He looks like he wants to snark at his friend for that, but he bites back the words, as your attention is visibly drawn elsewhere and you scoot over on the bench to make space for your boyfriend.

“Hello,” he greets the other two, politely bowing his head in front of them, before he sits beside you. And now you’re the one grinning to yourself, seeing his shyness that seems even weirder now, that you’re getting to know more and more very different sides to him.

“Wait… is that the boyfriend?” Wooyoung points his finger at the guy next to you, eyes raised in surprise.

“Yeah,” you answer.

“You’ve been talking about me?” Jongho asks, raising his eyebrows as well. There’s a hint of disbelief in his voice, and for a second you wonder if you should use this opportunity to tease him a bit. But of course Wooyoung, the loud one, is faster.

“She’s been talking about you.”

“Don’t believe a word he says,” Yeosang utters, before you can defend yourself. “He just says whatever.” Another highly offended Wooyoung-noise is what follows, while you feel Jongho tapping your arm lightly, and when you glance over to him you can see him quietly laughing. Apparently he finds their dynamic just as amusing as you do. 

“Yeah, so… that’s Yeosang, who I’ve been working on the project with. And that’s his friend Wooyoung, who has nothing to do with the project but came along anyway to be a distraction,” you introduce the two guys, then you point at your partner. “That’s my boyfriend Jongho.”

“You think I’m distracting?” Wooyoung retorts, because that appears to be all he heard, and he says it proudly and with this shit-eating grin on his face as he puts his elbow on the table, supporting his head with his chin in his palm. You can’t lie, his bold attempt to continue flirting with you in front of your boyfriend both makes you think he must be incredibly stupid, and somehow also makes you admire his courage.

“Not in the way you think,” you answer calmly, trying to sound almost cold. Next to Wooyoung, Yeosang is muttering an “oh my god”, but most importantly your boyfriend doesn’t react to it. Instead he diverts the conversation into a different direction, and in your head you thank him for it.

“So… were you able to finish everything?” he asks, and you nod.

“Almost,” you say. “The formatting needs to be checked again, but that’s Yeosang’s job. So… if you want to go get dinner now, we can!”

“Ah, no, I wasn’t trying to rush you,” he assures as he balances somewhere between seeming friendly and polite. 

You end up leaving pretty soon anyway. Yeosang informed you that he still had things to do (you assume he just wanted an excuse to get rid of Wooyoung) and so you packed your things and split up into pairs in front of the café, with your friend and his friend taking the route to the bus stop across the street, and you and Jongho walking a couple of blocks to get to a restaurant you’ve been wanting to try. It’s serving stew as its speciality, just right for a chilly evening like today.

A groan of satisfaction escapes you as you link your hands above your head and stretch your arms and back after entering the apartment. Your boyfriend smiles at the sight in front of him as he puts his jacket on a hanger and then he follows you into the living room.

“Getting dinner there was a really good idea,” you remark as Jongho comes up to you from behind, placing his hands onto your hips and leaning in.

“Right? You should let me pick restaurants more often,” he mutters right beside your ear, and when you whirl around to get a proper look at his face, he laughs softly.

“I think it was my idea to go there?” you retort, taking offense in him attempting to take all the credit, but he’s quick to appease you.

“I know, I know, just joking.” You huff at his attitude with a smile, before he adds, “I thought you liked mischievous guys.” He walks away and towards the kitchen as you’re still confused about his words, but when you begin to have a hunch about what made him say this, he’s already out of sight. You follow him, finding him pouring himself a glass of water, and without a change in expression he takes a few sips. You can only stare at him, hoping for him to say anything to help you figure out whether that hunch is right or wrong, but he doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry. Setting down the glass, he seems to be thinking about something as he’s supporting his weight with his hands on top of the kitchen counter, and then, when he finally shoots you a glance, the expression on his face has changed.

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Liked what…?” Jongho pushes himself off the counter in front of him, taking a few steps towards you instead. He comes to a halt when you’re merely a few inches apart, his head tilted to the side ever so slightly, and his hand finds your face.

“That guy flirting with you,” he says, his voice dangerously low, and he lets his thumb trace the outline of your bottom lip. “You liked that.”

“I…” You gulp as you look up at him. So he did realize it. You should’ve known better than to assume you could hope he wouldn’t be able to read you that well. But you were mistaken. It seems he already learned to notice and correctly analyze even the smallest of signs, and you guess in some way that’s a good thing, you’re just not sure what this means in a situation like this.

“It’s fine, dear,” he speaks, his voice merely a whisper now, and he leans in to press one feathery light kiss onto your lips. “You can admit it.” Again, you find yourself gulping. But the sweetness of his kiss mixing in with the soothing effect his words have on you leave you unable to ponder on this for longer. And so you simply say it, without thinking about the consequences.

“I liked it.”

It was only yesterday that you had another conversation, figuring you should talk more in depth about your wants and what you don’t want, after he almost crossed a line last time. You talked about your relationship, your sexual relationship mostly, the kind of dynamic that’s slowly growing between the two of you, and the kind of dynamic you two wish for. Surprisingly, from what you’ve discussed at least, your wishes align mostly.

You both agreed you want more. More than a kink or two incorporated into your sex life. More than a barely noticeable difference in power. He made it clear he’s willing to go into this with you, take you by the hand, and that he’d make sure to satisfy you.

But you know he also wants to be satisfied himself. And it’s exciting you, thinking about it then, and thinking about it now, as he’s steering you towards the nearest wall, until your back gently comes in contact with it. It’s not much, no grand gesture, and yet you can already feel the flames of desire burning up in your stomach.

“I see.” He speaks slowly now, the tone in his voice sending a shiver down your spine and you know he can see you tremble. From excitement for what’s to come, and curiousity about what he plans to do with you now. “What?” He raises an eyebrow, one hand resting against the wall right next to your head, the other reaching out until his fingertips come in contact with your stomach, and he lets them dance up until he’s almost reached your throat. When he sees you gulp at his action, he huffs, as if laughing at you. “You think I’ll give you what you want that easily?” Jongho asks, pulling his hand away and you inevitably frown at him for it. “After flirting with another guy? After you tell me you liked it? I don’t think so.” He takes a few steps away. There’s a calm expression on his face, his look feels almost icy as he lets his gaze wander from your head down your body. “You should know who can please you best,” he warns. “Or, don’t tell me you think that cheeky guy could make you feel better than me?”

“No!” you respond immediately and without having to think about it.

“But you still liked the attention,” your boyfriend states, matter-of-factly. 

“Y-yeah…” you admit, making yourself smaller instinctively.

“Cute,” he huffs at your apologetic gesture, and there’s a hint of a smirk sitting on his face. You weren’t 100% sure about it before, whether he really is jealous or if he’s doing this for fun, but now you can clearly tell - he’s enjoying this. And that’s fine, because you talked about this too - what you’re about to get yourself into, and how far you’re both willing to go in the process.

“Come here,” Jongho orders along with a gesture of his hand and you oblige. You step closer, let him put his arms around you, and the kiss he presses onto your lips is surprisingly soft. Slowly, he moves his lips against yours, tilting his head so he could deepen the kiss eventually, taking his time as he runs the tip of his tongue along the front row of your teeth, and just when you begin to want him to kiss you more passionately, he parts from you. One look at your face, his darkened eyes making you shiver in his hold, then he brushes his lips against the corner of your mouth. Trailing kisses across your cheek and eventually halting beside your ear as he cups your face with both hands now.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.” You don’t hesitate, and you don’t protest. It’s like his words put you in a trance, making sure you wouldn’t even think of disobeying him. And so you do, you drop down to the floor in front of him, hands immediately fumbling with the button on his pants, because you know what he wants. There’s only one thing a guy could want when he tells you to get on your knees for him, and you’re set on giving him that. But your eagerness doesn’t go uncommented. “So greedy,” he mutters, as he calmly watches you pull down his pants and underwear, exposing his half hardened length. His hand finds its way into your hair, fingertips massaging your scalp and for a second as you glance up at him you think you can see his features soften. “You already know what to do, hm?” your boyfriend continues, yet you wait for the okay to touch him.

“Can I…?” you ask, making him let out a short laugh. And there it is again, that grin that would tell anyone that he knows he’s in control, and he’s enjoying it. 

“Are you gonna make me wait?” he poses a question in return, and in that same breath phrasing the answer himself. “I don’t think so.” 

You keep one hand resting on his thigh, while you wrap the other around his cock. Peering up at him to watch him as he watches you, you start moving your hand slowly, and the second your palm brushes against his head, you can see the way his lips part to make way for a quiet sigh. You bring your fist all the way back down his shaft, repeating the motion a few times, until you find a hint of impatience on his features.

“Dear…” he mutters, untangling his fingers from your hair to cup your chin instead. As he lifts it up, his thumb presses against your lips, and when you open your mouth to let out a shaky breath, he pushes the finger inside. Your eyelids fluttering shut, you meet him with the tip of your tongue, instinctually swirling it around his finger once, before you close your mouth around it and suck on it. “Like that…” Jongho breathes a praise in your direction, before pulling his thumb out of your mouth and putting his hand back on top of your head to steer your field of vision back towards his core. He stays quiet, but he wouldn’t have needed to say anything more anyway to get you to finally do what he wants you to. You move closer, extending your tongue for mere kitten licks, quick strokes that wouldn’t possibly be near satisfactory against the tip of his cock. You glance up at him again, seeing the impatience building up behind his gaze that won’t leave you, and for a moment you wonder whether you should try and see what happens if you push him a bit more. 

But your own hunger wins over that desire. He was probably right, you really are greedy today, because the second you wrap your lips around him, you find yourself moaning at the feeling of having him in your mouth. The hiss of pleasure he lets out forces you to suppress a grin. Instead, you take him in further, hollowing your cheeks as you let him fill you up with his size. 

His hips stay still. You wonder whether it would stay like this, whether he would make you do all the work and merely guide you into the pace he wants, as he is doing currently, with his fingers grasping onto strands of your hair, or if he would eventually lose patience and start fucking into your mouth. All you know is you’re fine with either, and yes, you’re eager to please him, eager to get him off. 

Your hand still wrapped around him moves along with your head for additional friction, and you keep peering up at his eyes, wanting to see the moment he breaks apart, and all the expressions leading up to it. And yet he stays in control, disappointingly much, so you take him in even further as you sink back down on him, until his tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag in response. You furrow your brows at the uncomfortable sensation, and yet you do it again with your next repetition of the movement. So long, until tears are starting to well up in your eyes, and that’s when he takes his hand away from your hair and cups your face instead, cursing at how good you’re being for him.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he groans, and now you can see the pleasure distorting his face - it’s not much, but it serves as a motivation to work even harder for him. The sound he lets out as you swallow around him makes you moan as well, until you move your head and your hand faster, and the lewd sounds of you sucking him off, as well as your boyfriend’s heavy breaths fill the room. “Y/N, stop,” he mutters, and you don’t, because you want to push him over the edge so desperately. Instead you mewl at the taste of his precum leaking onto your tongue, and you close your eyes, preparing yourself to take his load.

What you don’t prepare yourself for is him yanking your head away by your hair, the shock from the sudden action and the immediate wave of pleasure that follows as he growls,

“I said stop.”

“Yes, sir.”

A sudden weakness washes over you, and the only thing you can do is move your head up just a little bit, leaning into the touch of his hand on top of it. And you don’t miss the way the words affected him. After he had suggested you calling him that and you had refused, saying you found the thought of calling your boyfriend sir a bit weird, you know he didn’t expect you to say it after all. But you did. And now there’s an entirely new expression on his face, an entirely new burning passion reflecting in his eyes, and you know it’s only a matter of time until it burns you too.

“Get up,” he says eventually, and you do as told, finding yourself held up safely with his hands resting on your sides as soon as you stand. Your body feels light, almost like he’s taken control of your will, when he steers you back a few steps, into your original position against the wall. Without hesitation, he kisses you, teeth clashing together as he tears at your clothes, and he only parts from you to pull them off, piece by piece, one after the other, and when he has gathered half of them on a pile somewhere on the floor, he decides that should be enough. Your pants gone should do, and when his lips smash onto yours again, you feel his hand between your thighs, fingers prodding at your folds.

“Shit,” he hisses against your lips. “You’re fucking soaked… can’t wait to fuck you…” His words make your head spin, and the way his fingers slip inside you effortlessly only adds to your lightheadedness. You throw your arms around his frame, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt covering his back, and you buck your hips into his palm as he starts curling his fingers inside you. You can only mewl at the pleasure, sentences are too hard to form right now, maybe if you tried you could get out a few words with no correlation between them. 

“...p-please…” you slur, “...f-fuckme…” 

“Who do you belong to?” Jongho asks, his fingers working you at a speed that should give you time to answer, but that won’t keep you sane for long. And yet you can’t say anything, only pathetic whimpers come out when you open your mouth. “Who?” he repeats. “Is it me? Do you belong to me?”

“Y-yessir…” you manage to say, and he bites his bottom lip hard.

“That’s right.” You can hear his voice trembling as he speaks, and you let out another sorry excuse of a moan as he presses his thumb against your clit. “Gonna make you cum so good, pretty girl… just wait…” All you can do at this point is cling to him for dear life, incoherent whines and whimpers falling from your lips, in between words that are supposed to tell him you want to cum on his cock, but you’re not sure how much of that actually gets through to him. And still, when your walls are starting to clench around him and your whole body tenses up, he finally pulls out of you. With his hand soaked in your juices he gives himself another few strokes, before telling you to hold on tight and lifting you up with his hands placed on the underside of your thighs. You cry out as he pushes into you, tears welling up in your eyes again, and this time they fall. Rolling down your cheeks as the pleasure overwhelms you, arms wrapped around him so tightly that you’re not sure if maybe you are squeezing a bit too tightly after all. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters in this moment is the chase for your high, and it ends with merely a few of his thrusts. Your body shakes violently as your orgasm hits you, you bite his shoulder and yet the moans won’t stop escaping you, and as you do, he too comes undone. You keep clenching around him as you feel him spilling inside you with a groan, and even as you start coming down from your high, your body won’t stop trembling. 

He tries to help you stand, but realizes quickly that all attempts are futile. So he carefully lets you sink down onto the ground, staying close to you in order to keep holding onto you. 

“How was that?”

“Good…” you manage to whisper an answer, not having the energy for a more elaborate one, but your boyfriend understands.

“I’m glad.” Jongho collapses with his back against the wall next to you, letting you rest your head on top of his shoulder and him leaning his head against yours. His hand finds yours naturally, fingers intertwining, as your mind is still drowned in bliss from the afterglow of your orgasm.

“It was perfect, actually,” you say, correcting yourself. “You were perfect.” You lift your other hand up to comb your fingers through his short hair, eventually letting it rest against his cheek and bringing him in for a short but sweet kiss. And then there it is again, that soft smile appearing on his lips, and when you lift your head he buries his face in the crook of your neck - to hide that expression from you, as you assume. 

“Well, I didn’t think you’d actually call me that, after saying you didn’t want to at first,” he says, and you retort, questioningly,

“Sir?”

“Yeah…” Jongho looks away, still visibly affected by it, and you shoot him a mischievous glance.

“I’m… really enjoying this though. And I’d like to keep… trying new stuff too…” you speak, and your boyfriend gives you a smile.

“We just tried a lot of new stuff, and you already want more?” He gets up, walking over to one of the cupboards and getting you a glass of water. “Drink this, first of all,” he says as he hands it to you. “And tomorrow we can sit down and talk again.”

#ateez smut #jongho smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez drabbles #ateez series #ateez x fem reader #ateez x you #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #jongho imagines #jongho x reader #smut

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Content warnings for this chapter: weapons, implied ptsd references, gambling addiction

@justalunaticfangirl

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55445686/chapters/140819224

Chapter 4 - Jesper

By the time Jesper woke up, he was supposed to already be in the library. Shit. Shit shit shit. He fumbled his way into his coat and hurried out of his dorm, arriving just in time to see his new Business and Markets partner walking back out of the building. Shit shit shit.

“Excuse me,” he’d said, hurrying to catch up with the boy yesterday.

He’d turned to face him slowly. 

“Hi. Are you…” Jesper surveyed the piece of paper in his hand, as if he didn’t know exactly what it said and exactly who he was talking to, “Wylan Van Eck?”

Wylan raised an eyebrow, tapping his slender cane pointedly against the floorboards. Up close Jesper could see that the kid’s eyes were slightly clouded over, softening the edges of what otherwise would have been a startling blue, but there was no sign of whatever accident might have caused him to lose his sight - except maybe a small, slender scar above his right cheekbone. But unless a good deal of it had faded since he was a child, the scar didn’t cross either of his eyes.

As soon as the note had shown up at his dorm this morning, stating his new partner for Business and Markets was none other than the merchling he’d seen leaving the office yesterday, the reason the dean had put them together was glaringly obvious: Jesper would have to take responsibility for writing the project, so he would be forced to do the work himself instead of letting Helena Dentte gift-wrap him a decent grade. Not that a single decent grade would’ve let him escape from the approaching surety that he was going to flunk out and end up wandering aimlessly around the Barrel until - until what? Until he ended up dead in a ditch somewhere?

“You already know that,” said Wylan, folding his arms.

“Alright, yeah, I already know that. I’m Jesper Fahey, I’m in your class; Economic Principles for-”

“For Business and Markets, right,” he nodded, “We’re being reassigned as partners?”

“Yeah,”

There was a pause.

“Do you, erm, want to meet some time to get started, or…?”

Jesper wasn’t really sure where that ‘or’ was going. 

“I have to get home pretty quickly after class,” Wylan swallowed, “My father worries. But I could meet you in the library tomorrow morning?”

Jesper nodded, then caught himself and said:

“Yeah, that sounds good. Say ten bells?”

“Ten bells,” 

To be entirely honest, he hadn’t been thrilled to see Wylan Van Eck’s name on the note he was currently distractedly crumpling between his fingers. The chances of him being more likely to pay for a grade than work for it were too high, and if Jesper was going to be stuck doing all the work alone then this plan of the dean’s was going to crash and burn about twenty times faster than it was already likely to. But at least he seemed prepared to start the project - Jesper couldn’t actually remember what the project was, so he’d have to hunt through the piles of abandoned papers in his room later to try and find the original assignment. But he’d had things to attend to first, and judging by this morning he’d apparently let them get out of hand. At least he woke up on campus though.

“Wylan!” he called, rushing up to the boy as he reached the base of the stone stairs, one hand on the railing and the other using his cane to find the edge of each step, “Hey, sorry, it’s Jesper. I’m so sorry-”

“Oh, so you decided to grace me with your presence?” Wylan snapped, turning to face him.

Jesper was taken slightly by surprise.

“Really,” he said, “I’m sorry, I just-”

“Showed up horrendously late,”

“Hey, look kid,” Jesper snapped, because it only took about three seconds for him to get defensive, “I’m trying to apologise to you here-”

“Don’t call me kid,” said Wylan, turning away, “If you want to try showing up tomorrow, I’ll be here from eight,”

Jesper was too taken aback to reply, and for a moment he just stood at the base of the stairs, watching Wylan walk away. He sighed - what time was it? He pulled the timepiece from his pocket and discovered he was over two hours late. Okay, maybe Wylan was right to be a little annoyed. More than a little annoyed. 

Twelve bells. He could go to the library alone, to study for a while. He could go and find that assignment, so he knew what he was actually doing when he met Wylan tomorrow. There were a thousand things he could have done.

He walked back to the Barrel, wondering vaguely what Wylan Van Eck was doing at the library from eight in the morning. It was a rare thing for Jepser to see eight in the morning. Jesper didn't want to cross paths with Wylan again until tomorrow; it was impossible to avoid the Geldcanal on the way back to the Staves but Wylan had gone North so Jesper moved South and crossed into East Stave not far from the Slat. 

When he’d arrived last night it had been about eight bells, leaving Jesper just enough time to change out of his ugly brown coat before he got to the Crow Club, and he’d found Nina on the doorstep of the Slat. It had taken him by surprise - she didn’t come this way much. Kaz had branded her a snob for it, but they all knew Nina was only here to find a means to an end. Jesper didn’t know the full story, but her beau was stuck in Hellgate on some false charges - at least she was claiming they were false, anyway - and she was making very slow progress through the living nightmare that was Kerch’s legal system in an attempt to win his freedom. But she wasn’t here tonight, and as Jesper wandered past and up towards the Crow Club he wondered what she’d been up to last night.  He hadn’t seen Kaz, in the end, except very briefly when he crossed through the Club and gave Jesper nothing more than a sidewards glance, but he had seen Inej. 

When Kaz walked through, Jesper was briefly overcome with the need to go and apologise to him. But that was the stupid in him; the part of him that imagined Kaz would forgive him and move on as though this weren’t the fifteen hundredth time he’d brought trouble to his door. He had to wonder why he kept him around, but the answer came pretty easily: he was a good shot, and they both knew he would stay no matter what Kaz said because he had nowhere else to go. So he didn’t make eye contact with Kaz, and instead turned his attention back to his hand of cards and the group of pigeons ready to pour their hard-earned cash into the Dregs’ coffers. It had been a couple of hours later when Inej appeared from nowhere and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Saints -” Jesper jumped, “you have got to stop doing that,”

“Not likely,” she said, “I might need you, I’m going to West Stave,”

Jesper frowned. 

“You are?”

“Nina needs me for something, didn’t say what in the message. I just - well, I don’t know what she wants. She said she’d meet me at Goedmed bridge,”

“Okay,” Jesper paused, “What do you need me for? I’m supposed to be here all night,”

“Kaz knows,”

Jesper fidgeted with one of his rings for a moment, then nodded. He kept up a steady stream of chatter as they walked to West Stave, because he knew Inej would find it easier than the quiet.

“And you’re joining me at university this week then?” he asked, when he was finally starting to run out of topics.

“In three days, if all goes to plan. I don’t really know what the plan is, but…”

“Let’s face it,” Jesper sighed, “even when he tells us, we never actually know the plan. I’ll never know how he does it,”

“I think it’s called running on up to sixty percent dumb luck,” said Inej, as Goedmed bridge and the silhouette of Nina Zenik came into view ahead of them.

As they approached Jesper realised the strange thing: Nina was wearing her kefta. Of course he knew she wore one at the White Rose, he’d been enough times when jobs went wrong and either he or a compatriot needed Healing, but he also knew she never wore it outside of the building. It just wasn’t safe to wander the streets so brazenly proclaiming you were Grisha like that. He fidgeted, finally falling quiet, and he felt Inej’s eyes flicking over him. Did she know? Had Kaz told her?

“Sorry,” said Nina, looking at Inej as they met on the bridge, “I know the note was vague, I wasn’t sure how much I could really say,”

“What’s going on?”

She played with the sleeve of her kefta.

“I’ve got a job, I don’t… I don’t know exactly what it’s going to look like, and I don’t like going out in this thing. I was just going to ask if you could tail me?”

Inej nodded, slowly.

“Where’s the job?”

“The Geldstraat,”

Jesper raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing on the Geldstraat?”

“I have absolutely no idea. Something a Merchant Council member didn’t want to touch the White Rose for,”

“So literally anything?” offered Jesper.

Nina made a face that said ‘yeah, pretty much’. Inej rested her fingers on the knife handle in her belt - the one with the roses on, Jesper couldn’t remember which Saint she’d named after. He was distracted, because he’d noticed that she laid her hands on it or any of her other knives the same way he did his guns. She was on edge.

Now, as Jesper reached the Crow Club and the sun remained obstinately hidden behind a cloud, the building was about as quiet as he had seen it all month. He fought a yawn as he wandered in, surveying the several empty tables, but before he had a chance to take a seat at one of them games that was actually in progress Kaz had appeared ahead of him.

“I need you at Fifth Harbour,”

“Well, good morning to you too,”

Kaz didn’t look amused.

“Fifth Harbour. We’re quiet,”

“It’s always quiet at this time,”

“It’s too quiet. Go,”

Jesper went. And as much as he might have wanted - needed - to do otherwise, he took himself back to the University District that evening and he went to the library the next morning. He didn’t go at eight, because that was just ridiculous, but he managed to make it for nina bells half chime and he didn’t think that was bad at all. He found Wylan sitting alone at one of the tables, apparently not doing anything.

“Hey, kid, it’s me - Jesper,”

“I’m not a kid,” Wylan snapped, turning towards Jesper’s voice.

“Sure,” Jesper sat down opposite him, “You’re an elder statesman,”

Wylan ignored him. They started work, evidently both half-heartedly, and at some point Wylan muttered:

“I hate economics,”

Jesper snorted.

“Same. What a perfect partnership,” he plunked his fountain pen onto his desk, “Why do you even have to take this class then? Don’t you inherit Daddy’s business either way, merchling?”

Wylan grimaced.

“That’s even worse than kid. And no, I don’t,”

“What do you mean you don’t?”

“How am I supposed to run a business, Jepser?” he shook his head, “My stepmother’s kid’ll take it,”

There was no spite or jealousy in his tone, and yet there seemed something profoundly melancholic about every word he spoke. Jesper wasn’t sure why being blind meant you couldn’t run a business, so he said so, and Wylan just scoffed. 

“I’m just saying,” said Jesper, “if they think there’s any hope of teaching me how to run a business they must know how to teach you to run one. And anyway, if you hate economics and you’re not even gonna run the business, what are you doing in this class?”

Wylan shrugged.

“It was the only thing that would make my father agree to let me come to the University,” he said, “One business class. Just in case,”

“Just in case of what?”

Wylan either didn’t hear that question or just ignored him, but Jesper was pretty sure it was the latter based on the blush that gathered in his cheeks.

“Why are you here, if you hate it so much?”

“To find my entrepreneurial spirit, of course,”

Wylan raised his eyebrows, his scar shimmering ever so slightly in the sunlight coming through the window.

“And what’s your grand business idea, then?”

Jesper grinned. 

“I’m thinking of providing a service for rich kids who want to make their parents mad,”

“I’d roll my eyes, but that would probably be quite fruitful,”

Jesper barked a laugh.

“And that’s without even knowing how cute I am,” he teased, “Trust me, if you knew what I looked like you’d know I’m gonna charge a pretty steep fee,”

“Is that so?”

“Sure is. What do you think merchling? You could be my first client,”

Wylan did roll his eyes then, and Jesper watched the blue move beneath the slightly cloudy film.

“I think you need to stop calling me merchling,”

“I’m afraid that would come with a price tag attached,”

“Are you flirting, or just broke?”

Jepser laughed again.

“Oh, it’s almost definitely both,”

#don't go blindly into the dark #six of crows #grishaverse #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #matthias helvar #wylan hendriks #soc #wesper #wesper fanfiction #wesper fic #soc fanfiction #soc fandom #soc fic #six of crows fandom #six of crows fanfic #six of crows fic #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse fandom

[snaileo]

honestly i dont even know how to BEGIN updating my sims 4 game. i havent even updated for the infants patch - hell has that one game breaking bug even been fixed (the one that changes sims faces/makes their names the same/ etc.) like OHGHGHGH i really dont want to lose my saves

#the sims 4 #ts4 #idk just putting this in the tag in case anyone has any starter tips for beginning to update my game lol #otherwise i will do it on my own so no worries #godddd not to mention the infant update came with so many skin detail/eyes updates UGH this is tew much #im more scared of the glitches that cause faces to change/names to change since #some of my saves are several years old and i still play them #dont wanna lose my sims

[piningprecussionist]

Soooo for the future AU with married Kim and Ramona, who do you think would take whose last name?? Or would they double barrel them?? Or not mess with their last names at all? Was literally lying awake thinking about this last night it means far too much to me

Oh man... much to consider...

Obviously, the funny/correct (/j) answer is they end up hyphenating it as Pine-Flowers.

But honestly like.. either of them taking the others name is also so cute? Kim Flowers, Ramona Pine.... they make me very 💞💞💞

(Flowers-Pine is also a fine order for the hyphenated take, and arguably more funny since Pine-Flowers is right there, but I think Pine-Flowers has better flow, ya know?)

Of course, this is taking at as a "legitimately married" au as I have taken you to posit here,, whenever I think about their future selves, personally, I've been thinking about it like "yeah Ramona's still married to Scott actually. This changes nothing for me" ahfduksfjdh

#like i see them still giving eachother rings and maybe calling eachother by their own respective last names while they go about whatever it+ #+is they're doing... #they cant file formally since ramona isn't divorced but it only gnaws at Kim sometimes because it's Scott Fucking Pilgrim- Ramona otherwise+ #+gives no indication that Kim has anything to worry about. and she doesn't! imo anyway #(idk so far as im concerned until bryan tells us what Future Kim is up to i am considering them Canon your honor shjfshjdhf and thats how + #+that works out in my mind considering canon statements made) #((plus is explains to me why even older scott would drag kim there for the final showdown...)) #spto #kim pine #ramona flowers #ship stuff #kimona #pineflowers #ramkim #kimram #kim x ramona #ramona x kim #thats all im doing maybe. we'll see if i decide to add more/longer ones #ooc #txt #cassmouse #tysvm for the ask! <3 i also lay awake thinking abt them... they are everything to me.... #((also i generally need to be thinking abt future kim for a Thing. sans pineflowers Tragically but For A Thinggg....)) #asks #(forgot that. whoops.)

[blackwaxidol]

Ru'thûn is no Osmium royal, she has no common blood with the Hive Gods. she comes from no extant Swarm known to the Vanguard, or even most Hive.

her armour is fluted steel, yet coarse like sharkskin. it is older than humanity, and is so deeply impacted into her chitin that tearing it away would flay her hide. within the fine, granulated crevices of her armour are the perfect growing conditions for fatal anaerobes.

(an old side portrait of Ru'thûn from February 2022. reuploaded from my twitter. feel free to click and zoom in.)

#destiny hive #hive oc #oc: Ru'thûn #oh i need a new art tag... um... #blackwax art #i'll xkit a new one later. #ah this is so... there is so much i would change about this. #does not matter right now. #since this is a .png there shouldn't be any loss in quality from my saving it and reuploading here... #i tend not to use my phone like this because of an implicit worry that the image will degrade. i hope it looks fine on desktop. #i can't believe i drew this and two weeks later Witch Queen came out #and the First thing i noticed was that Savathûn had the same heels as Ru'thûn... #the only difference between their shoes is that Ru'thûn does not have the prongs on either side. otherwise it is identical which is funny. #if the background was transparent i would say use this to compare heights since that is what it was meant for. #then again you could just superimpose your own thing onto her. #her neck is craned forward though... #i always say Ru'thûn is 20 (now 22) feet tall withoutn horns because she has no horns adding to her height. #i still do not think her horns or... i forgot the word for her Alien Queen graft... add too much. #a lot of this drawing i would redo... now that i have a nice 3d model to look at perhaps i could do that. #Ru'thûn's graft does flare upwards a little but i don't know how much height that would add. #i think what i will do is get some charts out and then count. #otherwise. for this image. i imagine her full height would be roughly where... #the large gap between the third and fourth spine on her headpiece are (not counting the horn on her forehead). #eugh.

[waterfallofspace]

Little mostly positive waterfall ramble/rant under the cut~ (warning, I do swear a lil haha~ and feel free to ignore ofc!~)

Finally got the dumb panic-induced false confidence nerve to tell one of my only two in-person (well, one province over, but USED to be in person till earlier this year) friends about The Kink. I've told a handful of internet friends before, but never an actual real life friend I might have to see in person one day.

He actually took it really well, my other irl friend (of 15 years, his girlfriend, known him only about 3-4) would not want to know, we just don't have that type of relationship, she doesn't have that comfort level, but me and him have always been able to have deep and honest talks~

I was. Honestly scared out of my fucking mind. We were in call, but I typed the messsage and then IMMEDIATELY deafened until he read it, but once I got back we had a good talk, he asked a few questions, we made a few jokes, and overall the mood didn't change at all.

I'm honestly always so worried people will think I'm getting off to them sn--zing every time... or anyone else who does... which, ofc, just isn't how it works, but he didn't even consider that. (and made a few joking-yet-honest comments that even if I did get off to him snzing, he wouldn't honestly care. Which knowing him, is completely true~)

Anyways, this is a bit of a random/personal thing to post, but I've been so deeply ashamed of this part of me for so long, and then only recently started feeling more comfortable, and I've been toying/struggling with the idea of telling him for almost a year now, so to finally do it, and get such a good response... honestly it just feels so good. I don't think anything's gonna change in our dynamic, or get weird in any way, and that fills me with so much relief. (and yes, he knows I have a tumblr, but he promised not to search for it thank GOD)

#waterfallrants #waterfallrambles #waterfallpersonal #thats not a tag but now it is! because this is my blog! and i can do! what i want! #actively using it as a journal at this point but you know what i dont care #im out of my mind right now- literally just got off call my heart is POUNDING #but he took it so well and was like 'oh- that's it??' #the only time he was like 'woah what thats a bit weird' was when i told him how long ive felt this way (since lil child) #but otherwise he was so supportive (in his own 'makes jokes about it but gives genuine comfort with them' way) #and honestly it feels. so refreshing?? that now he.... i guess TRULY knows me?? like- knows this side of me. knows ME me #idk guys please feel free to ignore this honestly might even delete it later idk but im just kinda exhausted in a good way #it was a good talk (liek we always have) and im honestly not sure why i was even so worried in the first place ToT

[wonder-worker]

"The feast of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist being appointed as the day upon which the coronation of the king [Edward V] would take place without fail, all both hoped for and expected a season of prosperity for the kingdom."

-Excerpt from the Croyland Continuator / David Horspool, "Richard III: A Ruler and Reputation"

Even though Edward IV’s death was unexpected, after twelve years of peace there need not have been too much of a sense of foreboding about the succession. The great dynastic wound from which the Wars of the Roses had grown had not so much been healed as cauterized by the extinction of the House of Lancaster. There was no rush for London, as had happened in earlier, disputed successions. The royal party didn’t set out from Ludlow for ten days after hearing the news of Edward IV’s death, while Richard took his time, too. And the new king had [his mother the dowager queen and] two uncles to support him: his mother’s brother, the sophisticated, cultured, highly experienced Earl Rivers; and his father’s, the loyal and reliable Duke of Gloucester, to whom Edward IV had entrusted unprecedented power and vital military command.

... [Richard of Gloucester] had achieved his goal by a mixture of luck and ruthlessness, and if he made it appear, or even believed himself, that destiny played a part, this only made him a man in step with his times. Modern historians have no time for destiny, but sometimes the more ‘structuralist’ interpretations of the events surrounding the usurpation can come close to it. When we read that ‘the chances of preserving an unchallenged succession were . . . weakened by the estrangement of many of the rank-and-file nobility from . . . high politics, which was partly a consequence of the Wars of the Roses and partly of Edward IV’s own policies’, it is hard not to conclude that an unforeseeable turn of events is being recast as a predictable one. But without one overriding factor – the actions of Richard, Duke of Gloucester after he took the decision to make himself King Richard III – none of this could have happened. That is, when the same author concedes ‘Nor can we discount Richard’s own forceful character’, he is pitching it rather low*.

Edward IV had not left behind a factional fault line waiting to be shaken apart. Richard of Gloucester’s decision to usurp was a political earthquake that could not have been forecast on 9 April, when Edward died. After all, Simon Stallworth did not even anticipate it on 21 June, the day before Richard went public. We should be wary of allowing hindsight to give us more clairvoyance than the well-informed contemporary who had no idea ‘what schall happyne’. This is not to argue that Richard’s will alone allowed him to take the Crown. Clearly, the circumstances of a minority, the existence of powerful magnates with access to private forces, and the reasonably recent examples of resorts to violence and deposition of kings, made Richard’s path a more conceivable one. But Richard’s own tactics, his arrest of Rivers, Vaughan and Grey, the rounding up of Hastings and the bishops, relied on surprise. If men as close as these to the workings of high politics at a delicate juncture had no inkling of what might happen, the least historians can do is to reflect that uncertainty [...].

(*The author who Horspool is referencing and disagreeing with is Charles Ross)

#wars of the roses #edward v #richard iii #edward iv #my post #I'm writing a post on this topic but I have no idea when I'll finish it so I figured I should post Horspool's epic analysis #or should I say epic takedown? <3 #friendly reminder that Richard's usurpation happened primarily and decidedly because of Richard's own decisions and actions #we need to stop downplaying his singular agency and accountability by casting the blame on others #most of all Elizabeth Woodville and her family but also the bizarre interpretation of historians like Ross and Pollard (et al) #who somehow hold Edward more responsible (through a 'structuralist' view as Horspool says) even though that literally makes no sense #also friendly reminder that actual contemporaries did not view Edward V's minority as a sign of worry and potential discontent #quite the opposite - they expected him to have a prosperous reign. which made sense since Edward IV left his son a far more stable #country than any former minor king (and most other adult kings tbh). The irony is that it was his son's usurper who benefitted from it. #also I added Elizabeth Woodville to the list because Edward V himself specifically said that he trusted the governance of the country #'to the peers of the realm and the queen' as quoted by Mancini (likely relayed to him by John Argentine) #and this is supported by evidence. After Edward's death the Croyland Continuator substitutes Elizabeth's role in the council #for that of the King: 'the counsellors of the king now deceased were present with the queen' #we know Elizabeth presided over all the council's decisions and initiated proposals (the size of her son's military escort) on her own #She was clearly the one with the most authority in the council (who were described as being present with *her* not anyone else) #Hastings made demands but he couldn't enforce them at all (and was in fact worried). It was clearly Elizabeth who had that power. #She was likely going to play a very prominent role during her son's minority and imo it's problematic to assume otherwise #(Lynda Pidgeon assumes otherwise but she's based her assumption on objectively false information so I don't think we should take her #seriously)(see: she claims that EW lacked influence compared to her male relatives in royal councils when EW HERSELF WAS IN ROYAL COUNCILS) #That's not to go too far the other direction and claim EW tried to dominate and tactlessly exclude others - we know she didn't #The impression we get by this first council and by Richard's own actions indicates that she Richard and Anthony would likely #work *together* when it came to governing the realm #I do find it frustrating when people disregard the fact that based on the impression we have she would've had a very visible #and powerful role

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

writing poetry sometimes feels like you gotta cut yourself open to express it idk smear all your organs all over the page and hope somebody else reads something beautiful. is that like divination the way it's expressed in various places and things? I dunno. poetry never slides off your skin like water off a duck's back. it's from within I think. sometimes you have to tear yourself apart to get at the words and sometimes it just wells up from within and gushes out. always from somewhere deep inside. sometimes it's difficult and horrible and painful but the alternative would be worse. sometimes it's from sheer joy that must overflow into words. I think that's beautiful personally. skin splitting from joy. it happens, I think, to us all at some point. or maybe I'm just a creature of extremes. maybe that online test I did because a friend recommended it is true. it said my symptoms were high. I don't know. maybe it is true, maybe it's not. I read a book once where there was a character named Nathan Hill-and-Dale, and while I'm not nearly as extreme as he was portrayed, in my extremes, I know I'm a fairly volatile person. funny, for most people who see me IRL seem to think that I'm fairly calm. nope, I'm a volcano. watch out, even when I'm apparently calm I might blow up one way or the other. one of my residents' family members said today that I was young and bubbly and she was glad to see it because happiness is the prerogative of the young. a part of me wished I told her. I have actively tried to kill myself once; I have come extremely close to the same actions countless times including yesterday; I would sooner hurt myself than others; if I had my own choice I would simply starve. of course I didn't tell her. sometimes I think I'll never get better. at this point I would consider it a very high chance that I will either die by suicide or end up in hospital following an attempt. not now, of course. but despite my fierce love for my course it has stress associated with it and I think that it's very likely that no psych help on earth would fix my mental health enough for that not to be an option mentally in this short time. I think it's possible to recover from all of the things I struggle with. God help me, I hope it is. the real question is whether I will survive long enough to recover from them. and the answer? I know not. I was reminded of a past interaction with the boy today, where he called my name - I turned - his grandfather, a photographer, was waiting to see if he could get a decent photo, for we were at a church conference and he was trying to get photos everywhere. they were laughing. I could not help but laugh. that memory is tainted now, for he would not look at me now, let alone try to pull such a stunt again. I don't blame him. I don't blame anyone for it. I wonder what would happen if I blocked all my friends on discord; who would seek me out? part of me hopes people would, another part hopes they would not. sometimes I just want to be left alone to curl up and die. it would be easier. so much easier than living, and living, and living. I tried writing poetry just now. it felt like trying to cut myself open, I couldn't get the words out. it only made me feel rather wild. I'm desperate for change, for something. something. what is that something? I don't know. did you know I'm a sadist? I would not in a public place express the thoughts that led me to that conclusion. but I am. I wish I wasn't. there's an obvious solution to that. quick, and easy. so easy. too easy. I tried writing poetry, and then instead of writing anything coherent, I wrote this.

#tw suicide #tw suicidal ideation #tw sh #personal #puddleglum hours #tried writing poetry and the very act of trying made me desperately want to harm. i think i'll break my streak today. all the things have #been so bad today. not so much the individual things as they all stack up together. almost the worst most constant dysphoria ive ever #experienced. coincided with eating new stuff which was scary. weighed myself yesterday on dad's recommendation and found out i *believed* #id gained like more than double what i *did*. feel so disgustingly fat and heavy tho why can't i just stop eating. why is everyone #prolonging my existence. serious question. this includes myself. whats the good. im tired but not. and oh so disgusted with myself. #weak. stupid. failing. only a fool talks like this. oh but don't worry im safe. safe enough anyhow. oh look nothing's real that explains #something. but i am safe. aint me as gonna commit suicide today. don't worry about me. im ignorin my friend who's worried about me bc she #has her own struggles. im not gonna ad to them at this point. selfish enough i am already. ive been choking on disgust all day even through #my jubilation over reaching a fourteen day streak. funny i literally don't care now. gonna break it. unless i'm too coward to do otherwise. #i ought. i ought to do other things too. i don't know how long i can keep on going like this. pray for me.

[cool-as-steel]

my father brought us all nice lunch but unfortunately I got to The Part in a book that I forgot had really rather sickening necromancy in it and now I am feeling much less joyed by my chicken katsu

#ramblings #the captain's library #still reading elemental masters - now I remember what else got me quite so scared reading unnatural issue the first time #this IS definitely one of the better books in the series for sheer Ominous Dread Of Incoming History though #there is the looming shadow of the first world war all through the first two thirds but there's other stuff to be worried about so it Creep #and then suddenly there's this delightful ratcheting Oh Shit Oh Fuck Oh Shit Oh Fuck Something Is About To Happen #and then it HAPPENS. and also simultaneously you get the most uncomfy bit of necromancy in All of the books in the series #it's a combination of the purposelessness and the carelessness and the - well I can only call it inhumanity #the people involved could have done the same work just as well had they been allowed to remain living humans but the necromancer simply #does not Care about the fact that they're People. and he kills them and leaves them to rot upright (still working!) just because he can #and he's not even living there for them to be working For him! #well yeah back on track I still think peter almsley would never marry a woman but otherwise the book is pretty good as these go #I really must get around to doing some kind of rating of my own opinions on all of the elemental masters books I've read so far #reserved for the cat was not so interesting that I bothered with a review and steadfast retreads the same ideas much better #and the progression of What The Author Thinks About Women's Role In Things from serpent's shadow to jolene is Quite interesting

[oyasleepy]

mm . mmmm. social media

#oyaspeaky #ahve been doing some thinking abt the state of things & my own stances. on what i wanna do #twitter has become such a shitshow that i barely look at it. bc it's a nightmare! and it's always been shit for my mental health anyway! #but also almost all of the ppl close 2 me use it as their main thing and it kinda feels lonely & bad to miss 99.9% of the things they post . #i just want to ahve fun and play toys with people but i know if i get active on twitter again ill have a breakdown within a week #bc im bad at limiting myself when i do certain things..... #tumblr & deviantart have always kinda been the sites tht feel most like Home to me #but pretty much everyone i care abt ditched dA due to eclipse! & so did i! the site's kind of a trashfire now! #this is mostly rambling at this point i am just. sorting my thoughts <3 #the bottom line is i kinda feel a lil isolated from things and i worry that translates to others' perspectives as me not caring #i do care !! i just mostly live here bc otherwise id die #this post has no point but. ive been tryin to Blog a bit more. so heres a Blogging

[beelzzzebub]

the only thing getting me through is the thought that i don't have physics lab next week

#i actually enjoy the work honestly #but the time constraint for getting things done is so anxiety inducing #it always makes me feel so inferior to everyone else #it's just always new stuff to me #and i take longer than everyone else to work through stuff #and it's hard for me to get stuff done #especially when it's new material #and because we're always given such broad and confusing directions #it makes me feel so stupid but i just wish that instructors could give more in depth and specific instructions #because otherwise it'll take me like five times as long as everyone else to figure out what we're actually supposed to be doing #and even then i'll be extra worried that i haven't got the right idea #even when i'm listening to or reading instructions i have to go over it several times before i understand #i need time for the words to become more than just symbols and sounds #and then i need time to connect their meaning to the context of what i'm doing #it's incredibly frustrating and demoralizing #and i know i'm smart and capable #i always end up doing well #i'm at an 'academically challenging institution' and i know i got in here on my own merit #hell i graduated as a valedictorian with the highest test scores in my high school #but still somehow every time i sit in a space next to other people #i feel infinitely small and worthless

[kelpiemomma]

i really need to draw khan and emmet hanging out bc they would be such buddies. ingo hates how quickly they bonded bc khan took one look at emmet, at how excited emmet is to battle, and seemed to Immediately like him (it only bc khan had already bonded w ingo, but like hell will he ever admit that. that proves he has emotions! he has to hide those.) khan & emmet battling each other. khan takes over for ingo sometimes on the multi trains except he and emmet get so into battles that they need a chaperone to keep them from getting too rowdy bc somehow (???) they've managed to destroy a couple of train cars??? khan challenges the subway himself (he battles using himself but also his pokemon. he'd rather battle using himself, but ingo and emmet get awfully concerned when he faints so he stops doing it so much). khan and emmet discuss battle tactics (khan insists "offense is the best defense" and "go balls to the walls immediately on attack" and emmet argues for better strategizing and well rounded move pools) and help each other train, offering suggestions and tips and "hey, let's try this maneuver" or "i think it would be better if you did this move first".

not that they don't enjoy an off day, but they definitely bonded well over battles.

#khan a. #just some thoughts #ingo is a little jealous over just how quick khan seemed to take to emmet but khan saw how ingo behaved around his brother and knew #he didn't have to worry. he based his reaction off ingo. not that he still liked emmet immediately (he didn't even immediately like akari- #he's been burned too many times to so quickly and willingly open his heart like that) but while it took him at least a year to go from #dubiously tolerating ingo for akari to hanging out with ingo with the excuse of 'having nothing better to do' and even longer to say #'yeah these are my people and i will protect them' (bc admitting he likes them?? that he loves that they love him?? that he would #keep them safe at the cost of his own life without hesitation? oh he'll admit he'll protect them but he would not say out loud #just how far he'd go to protect them.) it took him a few weeks to go from eyeballing emmet still suspiciously to going out of his way #to engage emmet in conversation and approach him. ofc he still approached emmet by way of 'i saw your battle. try me >:)' and challenging #him. but he wasn't threatening to kill him or anything. akari saw how khan watched ingo for his cues tho (bc she was doing the same thing. #that may have been her dad's brother but he was still just a stranger to her. she's been hurt by enough strangers.) #and she thinks its funny that ingo will grumble and complain about khan not threatening emmet like he'd threatened ingo in the beginning #(when khans not around ofc) but won't say it to his face. ingo is an Adult. he's Above Tthat. he's NOT jealous and upset that this #feral bastard has left him behind for a new treat (his OWN TWIN.) nevermind that khan will turn down emmet if ingo has a task for him #and that khan still drops in for dinner with them (drops everything if ingo invites him (through akari) for dinner). #ingo is still khan's preferred twin (unintentional human pack instinct & dog instinct bonding to ingo) but #he's glad that emmet exists as well. he's privately glad the twins exist and that ingo ended up in hisui and that nana yeeted him to arceus #bc what a sad & pathetic existence he'd have otherwise had. fighting w nana and getting his mind wiped. arguing w customers. #he'd have stagnated until he self destructed. #ANYWAY. i love my OC and the family he accidentally got himself inserted into.