#they are the “you were a wonderful experience” “you were everything”

[blondwhowrites]

Hi! I really like your writing and also have derealization and was wondering if you would write some fluff of matheo taking care of reader because she forgot what things she needed to to and got lost in a cycle just runin around hogwarts until he found her? you dont have to but just an idea!<3

Derealization sucks ass and it's so hard to explain too so I hope I did the experience and feeling of it justice. This is probably more like dissociation, but I tried my best <3

You strolled along the hallway, your expression blank, a far cry from your usual cheerful expression. Your mind in a constant state of discomfort between consciousness and unconsciousness, an almost painful feeling. It's a weird feeling like you're in your body but not at the same time just watching as everything happens and yet you can't remember a single thing. Dazed, you glanced around the hallway trying to remember when exactly you had managed to end up here.

"Princess?" You only hummed in response continuing like a zombie as you turned around the corner. You were trying to find something, but you couldn't remember what that something was. It wasn't until a hand grasped your shoulder did you even realize someone was calling after you.

You were slowly turned around and you blinked confused as you snapped back into awareness. "Matty?" You questioned, confused and clearly on the edge of losing it again. "Princess I've been trying to find you all day."

Mattheo looked at you with a worried expression, and in an instant, he knew that you were having one of those weird days when you were just overall out of it. That far-off look in your eyes, and it's almost like he can feel the discomfort you are going through. "Oh princess...let's get you back to the dorm okay?" He cooed, gently lacing your hand in his.

Your eyes darted around the dorm room, confused. You were in your bed with the covers over you, and you realized that you weren't in your uniform anymore but in your pajamas instead. You turned your head to see Mattheo lying down beside you, his arms wrapped around you snugly. "When did I get here?" You mumbled, trying to rack your brain for when you could've possibly walked back to your dorm. 

#bunny!reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #reader insert #slytherin boys #harry potter

[kdinjenzen]

There are aspects of fandom culture that bewilder me to a wild degree sometimes.

One of the biggest of these is “Loving/Believing A Headcanon So Much That You Treat It As Fact”

I love headcanons, have a lot of them myself, but I never push them to the point of “this is an ultimate truth and anyone else is just wrong” level of things.

And yet I see that a lot and it makes me wonder what people whom haven’t experience that particular media and are excited by these “Spoken As Truth Headcanons” feel when they start a particular series and are ultimately let down because the “Truth” turned out to be Headcanon and the Reality is so unlike what they were sold.

A recent example of this would be the insistence that Falin from Dungeon Meshi is fat.

I’d love it if she was. I’d be screaming from the rooftops at how amazing that would be.

But she’s not fat. Even in her Chimera form, she retains her skinny anime girl waist.

And, I dunno. If I hadn’t already read everything before the anime showed up and the fandom space for it exploded, I may have (at face value) believed that she could have been fat by all the posts about it and gotten really excited. Especially with how many “Falin is a perfect cosplay for fat/larger trans women” posts there are. Only to be entirely disappointed the moment I actually saw her for real.

Anyway. This is why I can never trust when someone says “it’s a queer story” or “it’s about (an important subject matter)” or “the main characters body types are so diverse” to me. I literally don’t trust blind recommendations and haven’t for over a decade now because every time I DO blindly trust it, I get hit with the “oh it was just their headcanon, not the actual text” brick and, no matter the quality, immediately drop the thing out of disappointment.

[alexanderwales]

My Very Brief Time as a Korean Rice Farmer

When my wife had been working at her company for ten years, her boss offered her a two week trip anywhere in the world she wanted to go. It was a small company, maybe thirty people, and she'd been one of the first employees, when they were even smaller.

We had wanted to go to Japan, but this was 2022, and they were still closed for COVID when we were making the plans. We decided on South Korea instead, which was my personal preference over Japan anyway (kimchi and k-dramas and the Joseon era!). I used Duolingo to learn Hangul (the script) and not all that much actual Korean.

We went to Changdeok Palace early in the morning on our second day in Seoul, getting there just before it opened. It's a huge place that's right in the city, surrounded, as most things in Seoul are, by other buildings. The Palace is actually a number of buildings built by a number of kings from the Joseon era.

Right when we came in, we were quickly approached by a guy in a blue hanbok. "Hanbok" is a word that means "traditional clothing" or something like that, so it's not actually descriptive, but it was powder blue and looked fancy. He had glasses and a slightly uneasy smile on his face, and approached us from far enough away that I had time to wonder if he was approaching us, and if he was, what he wanted.

"Excuse me, how long were you going to be here today?" he asked.

"We don't have plans," my wife said. "We were going to be here all day, long enough to see everything."

"Would you like to participate in a festival?" he asked.

We looked at each other and told him sure, and then followed him as he talked. (We passed a group of thirty children who had just been admitted with their teacher, and they seemed excited to see foreigners, so they kept yelling "Hello!" to us, which was probably the only English they knew. We waved and said "annyeonghaseyo!" back to them.)

What I thought was going on at this point was that we were getting upsold on something. I figured that we were going to see something special and extra, and then get charged for it. Whatever, we were on vacation, I was fine with that. We hadn't been in Korean long, and I thought "maybe they just station guys like this by the gate to rope people in". It was weird, but we were in a place where we didn't understand all the customs or speak the language, and my policy had been "just roll with it".

I did think it was weird that we were hoofing it across the palaces, and thought it was more weird when we went past a gate and into a place where no one else was apparently allowed. Our guide spoke good English, but when he'd been talking it had always been "the festival" or "the event" and "you'll be there most of the day" and "we'll make sure you have what you need". We were not clear on what was going on.

He mentioned that there would be a rice harvest, which I thought was weird since we were in a historical park in the middle of Seoul.

He told us that he'd give us a tour, because there wouldn't be time later, so he guided us through the Joseon-era gardens and temples. There was no one around, because that part of the grounds wasn't open until later in the day, so we got to see everything and ask whatever questions we wanted to ask, which has got to be the best possible way to experience a place. I was mostly struck by how much work it must have taken to make all this stuff and had lots of "down with the monarchy" feelings. There's a huge pond that's in the shape of the Korean peninsula, and god damn must that have taken a ton of time without a backhoe.

We were eventually taken a small place where they were setting things up, with a bunch of people milling about, and it was only then that we saw the rice: a small plot of it, no more than twenty feet to a side.

The rice was, in historical times, planted there so the king would have some understanding of what the crop yields would be like, since rice was the lifeblood of the country. It was harvested and inspected and whatnot to get some sense of the agriculture of the country, because anything that happened to the rice in these conditions was probably happening to rice all over the kingdom.

This rice harvest wasn't something that they just do with tourists every now and then, it only happens on this single day in the entire year, and me and my wife were two of the five people who would be doing it. The other three were all Korean government people of some kind.

They took us to a building and got us changed in our hanbok. "Hanbok" means "traditional clothes", and usually is associated with a nice and historical outfit, like someone in England dressing up in Regency era clothing. Here, it just meant "traditional farmer clothes".

Problem: I am six feet tall, which is quite tall for a Korean.

This woman was trying to dress me, and both because I was a bit overweight and quite tall, it was just not going well. My wife thought it was hilarious.

The other part of the kit was some orange rubber boots, which were not traditional but did prevent us from getting covered in mud. This is the most that I have ever looked like a goose.

When they were ready for us, we were handed tools to cut the rice. The ideal motion was to grab it around the base, move the hand up, then cut at the bottom. I am pretty sure that the thing we were handed was a sickle.

We got warned five or six times that they were extremely sharp, meant for slicing through the stalks of grain, and because there was a bit of a language barrier, the guy handing them to us kept nodding as he tried to make sure we understood that there was no small amount of danger.

My wife, five seconds after being handed her sickle, lunged at me with a "Hiya!" like she meant to stab me in the stomach. I jumped, five or six Koreans around us jumped, and my wife laughed and laughed. (My wife is great.)

When the photographers got there, we went into the muck and began harvesting. There were what felt like fifty photographers taking pictures of us while very loud drums played a traditional song and some people danced around us. We preened in front of the cameras, trying to take direction as best we could, and tossing the harvested rice off to the side so that two men with giant hammers could pound on it and make it into something like mochi (I think called tteok, but there was a lot of Korean happening).

After the photographers had gone, we had a little break, then were made to harvest rice in front of a group of Korean people, most of whom were, I think, either government functionaries or personalities or something. The drums were going again, I was sweating in my hanbok, and left hoping that my glasses wouldn't fall into the mud.

A third rice harvest was done for tourists, and the drums started up. I think this was the weirdest one for me, because I was a tourist on display for other tourists.

After the last of the rice was harvested, we had an interview with the largest English-speaking TV station in South Korea. All the questions were casual chit-chat questions, and I figured that only five or ten seconds would make it on air for a puff piece (which is what happened, with my wife hogging all the screen time).

When we had finally changed back into our normal clothes, we were given gifts by way of thanks, two wooden cups that we now use in the bathroom to hold toothbrushes, along with a pound of rice each (though not the stuff we'd harvested, which was made into tteok and we did get a chance to eat).

Our guide was super nice to us, answered some questions about what it's like to live in South Korea, and talked to us about places for us to visit. Over the next few days, we were able to find a few puff pieces on the internet, all in Korean.

I'm pretty sure they do this every year, always with token foreigners, and I hope some day I'm telling this story to someone and they say "oh yeah, that happened to me too".

#south korea #travel

[grimm-writings]

YIPPEE YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN can i get a scenario where chilchuck slowly falls in love with a gender fluid reader? maybe he’s confused about their presentation at first, but then finds himself attracted to their masc and fem sides :0

two sides of the same coin

…ft! chilchuck x genderfluid! reader

…tags! fluff, end of manga spoilers, implied bisexual chilchuck, the mortifying ordeal of having to explain your identity to someone not in the know

…wc! 935

…notes! this request makes me so happy, because i’m also genderfluid!!! i’ll be using primarily my own experiences with my gender here, so i hope it’s to your liking! happy pride month!!! <3 

“So, you’re… everything.”

“Yes! I guess you can say that.  Although it’s more like it varies.”  Your hands move in the air to communicate your point.  “Sometimes I’m a girl, sometimes a boy.  But I’m also sometimes both, or sometimes neither!  Or maybe I’m partially a girl and partially neither, or I’m partially a boy and partially neither.  And then, on the rare occasion, I am everything!”

You can only watch in real time as Chilchuck slowly loses brain cells.  You’d fear that he may not be able to readily accept you, same as the rest of your party.  The reaction was positive enough (though Marcille and Senshi particularly need time to adapt properly) but there’s still lingering confusion.

Chilchuck slowly nods, though you can tell he isn’t exactly grasping it yet.  “So… What am I meant to call you?”

He’s trying to keep his language respectful.  That’s more than you can say for others you came out to.  You can tell Chilchuck is trying, even if this is unfamiliar ground for him.  He might know enough about different romantic and sexual preferences, and maybe more simple means of gender transition.  Your identity is… hard to explain to someone not in the know, though.

“Just ask,” you reply.  “I might have some indicators in clothing that could help.  Like…”  You gesture towards your current outfit.  “I’m presenting pretty masculine at the moment, yeah?”

“Yeah…” You don’t miss how Chilchuck eyes you up and down.  “So I should keep an eye out for how you dress?”

“Precisely!”  You snap your fingers into a point at Chilchuck’s face.

“Don’t do that.”

You drop your hand.  “Sorry.”

Chilchuck leans back on his seat, folding his arms over his chest.  If he was being honest, this only makes his heart confused.  He was already more used to you presenting masculine throughout your dungeon crawl.  You did express occasional disdain for your current dress, but can’t do much about it.  That in of itself made him wonder if he liked guys.  Now you’re saying you’re a girl sometimes?  Or neither?  Or everything?  He can’t even imagine you in a dress without his mind screaming at him in embarrassment.

You take in Chilchuck’s expression.  Brow furrowed, clearly trying to process your explanation.  He’s definitely accepting of it, just confused.  If there was a way you can explain it better to him…

An idea flashes through your mind with an “ah!”

Chilchuck perks up at your sudden yelp, blinking.  “Something the matter?  Wh– Hey, what are you doing?!”

You had practically scampered on all fours to where your travel bags were, digging around for something.  A few seconds pass before… “GOT ONE!”

Returning to Chilchuck’s side, you hold up one of the gold coins in… someone’s possession.  The half-foot cocks an eyebrow at it.  “What’re you getting at here?”

“This coin is still the same coin when it’s flat in my hand like this,” you begin, before flipping it over.  “Or when it lands on tails.”

Chilchuck watches as you place the coin on your thumb, and flip it up into the air only to let it land randomly, 50/50 chance each time.

“I can’t control whether it lands on heads or tails.  Sometimes it does something really peculiar and stands on its side, or it’s on a slant in some way.”

You watch as the gears turn in Chilchuck’s mind.  “So you can’t really control how your gender works, sometimes you just… feel a certain way?”

“Exactly!  My dysphoria – that’s the term for feeling uncomfortable – can fluctuate, but it’s still the same coin.  It’s still…”

“It’s still you,” Chilchuck finishes, turning his head to look up at you with understanding finally brightening in his eyes.  You can’t help but fluster a little.

It’d be a while since then until you’d make it back to the surface.  Everyone is as accommodating as ever to use the right pronouns when you tell them what for.  It soon comes naturally to just let you live as you are.  It’s welcoming and warm with everyone.

A nice spring breeze blows through your skirt as you make your way down to the entrance of the forest where the feast takes place.  You can spot your party from a mile away, your boots hitting the dirt path as you run over.

“Leave some for me!”  You exclaim in greeting, causing your friends to turn their heads.  Marcille gasps in wonder as she takes in your appearance, meanwhile Izutsumi makes a small noise in surprise.

Chilchuck is stunned into silence, and you can just tell the tips of his ears are going red before he keels over and spits out his drink onto the grass.  “W-What are you wearing?!”

“A dress, Chilchuck,” you quip back, sitting in between him and Marcille.  “Laios still being harassed by Yaad and the rest?”

“Hang on, we’re not moving on from this so fast!  Let me look at you!”  Marcille adjusts herself so she can inspect your look.  “I didn’t think you’d suit a dress so well!  Where’d you get that petticoat?”

You are about to answer when Izutsumi interrupts; “you look so… different,” she relays.

A sheepish chuckle escapes you, as you turn to Chilchuck, who has since been staring at you.  He blinks once you perceive him and glances away.  “You’re still you.  It…  You look very… you. It's nice.”

You can’t help but laugh at his flustered attitude, leaning down to kiss the top of his head as he gives out to you.

You are accepted, and you are loved.  What place could possibly be better than here?

#✮ grimm's fics! #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #delicious in dungeon imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck tims imagines

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 425: New Normal

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all “and with that we conclude our final battle for better or worse!! We will now commence our slow return to the new normal, beginning with our protagonist and deuteragonist who are miraculously more or less intact, albeit exhausted and mildly traumatized. Also the words ‘more or less’ are kind of doing a lot of heavy lifting there.”

Today on BnHA: The Big 3 and Aoyama are OUT. Shinsou is IN. The Tododrama is PENDING, and the mysterious figure in the shadows is UNIDENTIFIED. Also class 1-A finally becomes class 2-A and it only took them 425 chapters and TEN LONG YEARS. Can you imagine if this series had actually run throughout their high school experience like people once expected. “THE YEAR IS 2044 AND MY HERO ACADEMIA IS FINALLY WINDING TO A CLOSE.” There’s an alternate universe somewhere where this actually happened and we were all so very, very tired.

This is once again a shorter than usual reaction summary post, as opposed to my typical page-by-page liveblog. Not gonna have time to do those for a while yet most likely, but like hell am I gonna miss out on the last days of the series, so here we are.

Once again basing this off of @pikahlua’s spoiler translation summary here!

watching the eighteen inch tall Rat Principal standing at a podium overseeing this graduation ceremony is surreal in the most wonderful way. it’s like receiving your diploma from a sentient Funko Pop

I love how they established that Mic sitting there screaming at the top of his lungs is also a beloved U.A. graduation tradition, and that the senpais just roll with it while everyone else is in varying stages of trying to decide if it’s too late to transfer to another school

ngl sometimes I forget that Ochako and Toga were actually the second canonical f/f ship in this series. shoutout to Hadou and her adorable girlfriend whose name I absolutely cannot recall

absolutely wild that Horikoshi gives credit to Rat Principal for coordinating the entire disaster recovery nationwide. are you serious. the “world-famous” Principal Nezu?? you’re telling me this little capybara is effectively the secret president of Japan now or something. when does he even sleep

“the principal made great contributions to quirk morality education” is also a VERY interesting tidbit that I really want to know more about. “hey guys what if we did a better job at teaching people not to be dicks with their quirks” AND JUST LIKE THAT JAPAN WAS SAVED huzzah

“we lost many things, but we gained nothing” is both HILARIOUS and soundly depressing, but I can see what he’s trying to get at. still an odd choice for a graduation speech though. “our job is all about harm reduction, and we couldn’t even do that this time around, but in the future we hope to balance things out and maybe even get some net positive impact going!” lmao. again it’s all true, and in all honesty it’s spectacular that they managed as well as they did, all things considered. and I guess it would have been disingenuous to just ignore the reality of everything this particular school body has been through and pretend like everything is great right now. but I still can’t help feeling like there was probably a more inspiring way to get this message across lol

regardless of what he says, Aizawa 100% either bribed or threatened Rat Principal behind the scenes in order to stay with his class. and will do so again next year. he can and will keep getting away with it. he is never leaving these kids

and the sheer relief from all of them upon hearing it is all the justification he needs. these kids have four thousand nine hundred and seventeen accumulated traumas among them. they don’t need a four thousand nine hundred and eighteenth. this man is their father ffs. MINA WAS CRYING AND EVERYTHING

Kacchan watched that YouTube video about a dozen times until he managed to tie his tie all on his own with the one hand. and he did an amazing job. he’s such a model citizen now

also it looks to me like he has his right arm hidden in a sling underneath his shirt, which is interesting. if I’m not mistaken (and I very well could be, since it’s been a hot minute since I did any BnHA timeline math), the final battle took place sometime in early May, so this chapter is taking place roughly one month later. the hospital chapter took place about a week after the battle, so it’s been about 3-4 weeks since then. I really want to know what kind of shape Kacchan’s arm is in, but I guess Horikoshi will get to it when he gets to it

also, “we all gotta be together today” was a real wakeup call to me in that it gave me just an absolutely ridiculous amount of feels. just a totally unreasonable amount. and it’s like. listen, self. Kacchan has completed his character growth arc. he’s a team player and a leader who loves all his friends and they all love him in return. we’ve known this for years now. it’s an established fact. you can’t keep bursting into tears or whatever every time he shows it. this is no way to live your life. I need an intervention

anyways later this evening class 2-A is gonna have a celebratory movie night in the common room, and Kacchan is gonna fall asleep two minutes in peacefully surrounded by all his classmates, and they’re all gonna nudge each other and smile fondly and cover him with a blanket and stay up until 2am and Aizawa will have no mercy on them the following morning. it’s gonna be so wholesome you guys

(ETA: I decided to go back and have some more feels about this one tiny Kacchan panel, because apparently the four paragraphs I already wrote about it weren't enough. so the thing is, Sero's wonderment at Katsuki being out of the hospital initially read to me as half bemused awe, and half "oh boy, time to get back into our usual rhythm of antagonizing Kacchan!" but my second time around, I can't help remembering that all of Kacchan's classmates got to watch this kid getting tortured and strangled and stabbed through the heart in 4K. like, even if they were busy with their own fights at the time, there's no way they didn't see the footage later on afterwards.

and that had to have been traumatic for them. their friend literally died and was just lying there so still for so long afterwards. and him getting better and going back to his usual asskicking self later on doesn't just erase those memories, you know? especially with him having lasting, permanent damage afterward. not just his arm, even! like who even knows if his heart is going to be okay long term. when people get organ transplants they have to go on immunosuppressants afterwards because otherwise their body will try to attack the replacement organ. so I wonder how exactly it works when it's still your heart, but it's being held together by various bits and pieces of a spindly little floss man. idk, but I bet you it's still pretty rough.

anyway so long story short, I'm now reading this as one-third bemused awe, one-third joking antagonism, and one-third genuine "no seriously, is it okay for you to be here, please don't do anything to put your health at risk because we seriously cannot handle you dying on us again." and Kacchan's not even disagreeing with him lol, which has to be the most concerning thing of all. "they said it's okay if I rest." even he knows he's pushing it, but it was too important of an occasion to miss. anyway please take it easy kiddo.)

Aoyama leaving makes me sad but it makes total sense for his character after what he’s been through. he needs time to sort things out and continue down his own personal honor-regaining journey. respect

also glad to hear that it was his own choice and that both Rat Principal and Nao would have supported him if he stayed. I still to this day do not understand Naomasa’s actual level of authority lol. like, he’s supposedly a detective, and yet he seems to be personally in charge of every single important police operation, on like a national level. and he has the authority to make decisions like letting Aoyama go free. he is the law, literally

Aoyama trying to feed Deku some farewell cheese also took me out. like he just walked in there and was all “sorry everyone, I’m leaving, but I’ll still aim for the path of a hero and will one day return, don’t you worry!” and at some point in the midst of this tearful speech he made a beeline directly to Izuku and tried to give him some cheese that he apparently just had in his pocket or something. and Izuku was all “YEAH!” all solemnly but HE DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH THAT POCKET CHEESE. like he loves you and accepts you for who you are Yuuga but COME ON

at this point in the chapter it also became clear to me that Aizawa has his hair up in some sort of loosely assembled messy bun and that’s why it looks so especially flowing and gorgeous today. this is great cinema

and then AT LONG LAST, the admission of Shinsou into class 2-A. they tried everything they could to keep him out, BUT NOT EVEN THE END OF THE WORLD COULD STOP HIM. his rightful place

Ojiro’s scandalized response to hearing Fuwa refer to Aizawa as “Era-sen”, and then Fuwa subsequently revealing all of Aizawa’s secrets and Aizawa getting flustered and kicking her out, was one of the most delightful sequences I’ve read. “nooooo don’t tell them that, what the hell am I gonna threaten them with now”

Izuku has not even attempted to crack a smile since the final battle, aside from when he was frantically trying to reassure Kacchan in the hospital. I’m worried about him but also loving this a little bit, ngl. I am content to wait for you to eventually have a proper breakdown, mister Greatest Hero

also I singled him out on the whole not-smiling thing, but really this is true for just about all of them. my heart aches :(

were there really so many people freaking out over Izuku’s hair that Horikoshi felt compelled to throw in that “HEY DEKU-KUN, YOU SHAVED YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT DUE TO AN INJURY, RIGHT? BUT IT’LL GROW BACK, RIGHT!?” line in there lol. the hilarious thing is that this chapter was already in the books before 424 was released, so it means that Horikoshi anticipated the backlash ahead of time. the man knows his audience

and now for this mysterious little barefoot man randomly emerging from some rubble somewhere. who are you. fandom already thinks you’re everyone from Tenko to Hisashi lol. my personal theory is that he’s just a random citizen who’s hurt and traumatized and needs help. and unlike what happened with baby Tenko once upon a time, this young man actually will be helped by a hero in his moment of need, and it’ll be all hopeful and stuff because SOCIETY IS CHANGING FOR THE BETTER NOW HOORAY

or maybe he really is Tenko, idk. what do I know lol. don’t listen to me

lastly, Shouto out here immediately leaving U.A. after class and ruining my dreams of a class 2-A movie night. FINE THEN. GO AND BE WITH YOUR FAMILY my precious little life preserver. and I’m actually really, really excited to see what their endgame is actually, so yes, Horikoshi, bring it on please and thank you

#bnha 425 #class 1-a #wait no #class 2-a #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this whole time we were led to believe this was the story of how izuku's generation became the greatest heroes #when really it was the story of rat principal's ascent to power #he waited until there was a vacuum and then he SWEPT RIGHT IN like emperor palpatine #it's his world now and we're just living in it

[robiinurheart33]

Haha wouldn’t it be so weird if when soap was taken and brainwashed he was constantly being compared to this soldier named “ghost” haha

Anyways explicit descriptions of psychological torture and violent intrusive thoughts under the cut

He would be beaten and berated constantly. why wasn’t he stronger than ghost, why wasn’t he faster, more skilled, better, stealthier, healthier.

Ghost could’ve done better in worse conditions.

Ghost has done better in worse conditions.

Why was soap not better even after all this?

It drove him up the wall, the way he would wonder who he was, seething and bleeding by the lip. After all that he’s gone though, all that he’s endured, everything.

Why wasn’t be better? Why can he never, ever be better?

They drove his sanity to the ground, spat and kicked at it until there was nothing but a shell of who he once was, and rebuilt it to fit their ideals. Soap couldn’t remember who he was before this, before the experiments. He couldn’t think, do, say anything without being ordered to do so by someone else.

Some days, soap would pull on the thin stripe down his scalp, eager to find some semblance of control over himself, even if it were pain. He would always get punished.

“It was the only thing he can and will recognise him by.”

“Ghost likes that on you.”

It made him hate the Mohawk even more.

He hates Ghost. He was sick of it. He was done waiting. He was done being compared to. He was done with being second to him. He wanted to pull him apart limb from limb, feel the hot blood spill over his teeth and he rips his throat apart, hear the sickening crunch of his neck being twisted, feel the smooth muscle of his skin ripple and tremble in fear of the one that he was supposedly supposed to be stronger than. Soap will never, ever get anything else in his life but the pure, white-hot rage of revenge. He maybe thinks this had lingered on since he was younger, before everything. It felt like an old friend, more so than his other emotions.

His first mission.

He will be better. He will be better. He will be the best. He will be good. This might be his only shot. This is. He will be the best. He will succeed. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail.

He runs into ghost.

At first, he didn’t know who he was. Soap was in a room with a few others, guns up and masks drawn, ready to shoot anyone who tries to come into the room. They had been infiltrated, and soap wasn’t told more than that. He didn’t really need to know more. Shoot the hostiles, keep people safe. Suddenly, bullets start to rain from outside the door, and soon enough, more and more bodies start hitting the floor. Soap does not panic. He hides behind a bookshelf, waiting.

A big ass motherfucker in a skull mask walks into the room and it looks like the shadows are warping to his presence. Soap does not panic. He reaches for the knife strapped to his thigh, flicking it up and holding it ready. He waits patiently until he stalks near the bookshelf, tightening his grip on the knife. They make eye contact, and through the skull mask stained with blood, he can see jet black eyes staring at him in shock. Death incarnate. Soap does not panic.

“Joh-”

Soap quickly slips out of his hiding spot, wrapping a forearm over his neck and attempting to jab the knife right into his socket. He feels a hand grip tightly onto his forearm, and he goes weightless. All the air escapes his lungs as his back slams against the floor, his head spinning. He screams at himself to get up, fight, be better, before he hears the familiar crackle of a radio.

“Ghost, how copy?”

Ghost.

This is Ghost.

Ghost just fucking flipped him.

Soap does not panic. He does not panic but he feels a chill go down his spine as he sees red, scrambling back up onto his feet. The adrenaline starts to kick in now, and he lunges at him, ripping the radio off his vest and slamming it on the floor. He’s not completely sure why he did that, but in all fairness soap feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind, if his captors haven’t done so already. He punches Ghost, wincing slightly as his knuckle hit the cheekbone corner of his stupid skull mask. Soap starts to reach for his gun before Ghost punches back, hitting the mask clean off his face, pushing his back to the floor, one hand on his wrists. Soap starts to get really agitated now. After everything that he’s gone through, he’s still not good enough to beat ghost. He still hasn’t improved. He hasn’t gone anywhere. He makes eye contact with Ghost and is slightly taken aback when he is reflected with an equally crazed stare.

“Johnny.”

What the fuck?

Soap doesn’t say anything. Ghost’s eyes are brown, not black. Why hasn’t be killed him yet? Why isn’t Soap struggling? Ghost has blonde eyelashes.

“Where have you been?” To soap’s absolute horror, those brown eyes start to become glossy. He flinches back as if he’s been hit, and grits his teeth. No shit, he’s been here the whole time, where else is he supposed to be?

Soap surges forward and headbutts him in hopes of him letting go. He doesn’t, and it makes soap all the more dizzier, more frustrated. Why isn’t he fucking dead already? He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get his mind right.

“Johnny. Johnny.” Can he just shut the fuck up? It’s getting increasingly hard to concentrate for some reason. Shit. He feels overly exposed without the mask, feeling his body temperature rising steadily.

“Stop calling me that!” he growls out, twisting out of his grip and punching his across the face. The twisted skull mask looks almost comical out of place, but he can still see those eyes. Ghost’s hand comes to cup his cheek, and soap flinches back. His eyes look like Soap just mauled his puppy right in front of him. It makes him freeze in place, head awkwardly hovering between the floor and Ghost.

Images of blood spilling and needles, dirt and coffins fill his head, the sound of a neck snapping, gagging, screams and whimpers. Hands on him, eyes on him, never letting go. Stay. Soap snaps back into place, grabbing the mask and twisting it up, covering Ghost’s eyes. He quickly gets his other hand free and pushes ghost off him, sprinting out of the room.

“Wait-!” Is all he hears before flying down the corridor, back to safety, back to where it’s familiar, where he always is, where he always will be.

Loyalty has always been Soap’s best trait.

#wow! i hate this! #at least I’m finally getting back to writing again #my holidays are here!!! #hopefully i can write more #draw some more too #wanna expand to diff characters and I already have a wip of price pov #something that’s not ghoap lmaooo #the new soap skin and season 4 is driving me up the wall #I’m so curious about the new plot and what they’ll do #esp cause I’m pretty sure Neil kinda stopped being soap? #so I’m not sure what’s happening there #hope y’all still enjoyed this writing a bit tho #I’m still recovering from school and personal stuffs so regular scheduling should be back soon #ok no more updates stay safe guys!!! <33 #call of duty #john soap mactavish #robs ramblings #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #ghoap

[dixons-sunshine]

Yielding Isn't My Middle Name—Chapter Two | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: You and Daryl get a little bit more insight on your ambushers. The leader, Liam, is extremely suspicious, but you just can't figure out why. And to top it off, a certain secret of yours gets revealed that changes everything.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries.

Word count: 3.6k.

A/n: It's finally done. I powered through and got it done. Yay me! However, this chapter is pretty boring with limited action, but I hope y'all like this nonetheless!

Taglist: @dixons-girl89, @jupiter1700, @enlightndone, @shadowcitrine, @ddamm (comment/DM/inbox to be added!)

“I know, it's a lot to take in at first.” With a grand gesture and a big, inviting smile, Liam proudly showed off the beautiful landscape behind him, putting all of the luxuries they had on display for you and Daryl to see—well, as far as luxuries could go in a world ran by the undead. “But I promise you, as soon as you get settled into your new...” There was a slight pause before he continued. “...chambers, a wonderful life most certainly awaits you.”

The leader's voice barely reached your ears. The whole scenario baffled you; if they wanted you to join their community, why feel the need to ambush and kidnap you? Why tie you up and throw you in the back of a van, with a sack over your head to obscure your vision, most likely as a way to ensure you didn't know what turns they took? And why wouldn't they just ask you whether or not you wanted to join the community in the first place?

A million thoughts ran with the speed of light through your mind, but there was one thing you knew for sure; you didn't trust this Liam guy, and you certainly didn't trust this community. You could immediately tell that something was off. You couldn't figure out just yet what about it unnerved you so much.

“Dave, Marco.” At the sound of their names being called, the two guys who stood beside you and Daryl perked up, their backs straightening as they regarded their leader. “Make sure that the cooks make enough food for our newest additions. And,” he began, looking at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Whether it was real or not, you didn't know yet. “Call up doctor Miller and tell him to expect two patients.”

“Why two?” one of the goons questioned. He looked at Daryl in disgust, something that irked you beyond belief. “Only the sexy lady here seems like she needs it.”

From the corner of your eye, you could clearly see Daryl tense up. To the untrained eye, they wouldn't even have noticed the way the archer's body language shifted, but you caught it. Of course you caught it. You knew Daryl better than anyone, and you knew that he was getting more pissed off by the second. One wrong move, and that man was more dead than the monster's that roamed the earth.

“Jesus, Dave,” Liam reprimanded him, clicking his tongue and shaking his head in disappointment. “You knocked the guy out with some hardcore stuff. We don't know how much of the fumes he inhaled. I don't want to take any chances. Our guests need to be properly checked out.”

Dave grumbled something under his breath, but ultimately agreed. However, right before he and the other man, who you assumed to be Marco, walked off in the direction of a small building, he stopped next to Liam and whispered something in his ear. The leader nodded before waving him off. They left and soon disappeared, and your attention quickly got drawn to the leader again.

Liam turned back to regard you and your husband. His lips formed into a tight smile, his eyes squinting with the pull of the muscles. For some reason, the action sent a shiver up your spine, and definitely not the good kind you'd experience when Daryl softly traced his fingers over your back. You had a lot to be wary of, and this Liam guy certainly didn't make a very good first impression on you or Daryl. You were sure that your husband wanted to lunge at the man and pound his face into the ground with his bare hands, and you definitely didn't blame him. You wanted to do the exact same thing.

Liam motioned to someone over your shoulder. In moments, somebody was grabbing at your shoulders and hoisting you up onto your feet. You stumbled a bit, not tumbling back to the ground only because Liam stepped forward to steady you. You instantly jerked back, moving away from his touch. You would've punched him for even thinking of touching you when he was the reason you were probably light-years away from your friends and family, but the rope tightly binding your hands stopped you from doing so.

You heard grunting coming from behind you. You spun around and saw the same goon practically manhandling your husband, forcing him up to his feet. When Daryl struggled against his hold, the man decided that punching him would be a good decision. The sight of Daryl being knocked back down to the gravel unleashed a certain protectiveness in you, and you took a warning step forward.

“You stay the fuck away from him, and keep your goddamn hands to yourself!” you yelled in anger, moving over to your husband and sinking down to your knees beside him. You thanked your lucky stars that your hands were bound in front of you and not behind your back, because it allowed you to trace your fingers over his face, searching for any bleeding. “Baby—”

“M'alrigh',” Daryl mumbled, glaring up at his attacker, his eyes alight with the fire of a thousand suns. “Asshole punches like a girl. No offense, Peach.”

You gave him a small smile. “None taken.” You helped him sit back up with a lot of effort, your hands straining against the rope and getting rope burn in the process. You clambered up onto your knees and carefully stood up, struggling to maintain your balance. Daryl followed your lead, and soon the two of you were stood in front of the leader.

Liam gazed at the two of you thoughtfully, his face unreadable. His green eyes flickered between you and Daryl for a moment too long for your liking before he readapted his smile. “Sorry about that, mate,” he began, his gaze landing on Daryl before moving over to the goon that had just attacked Daryl a few moments prior. “Peter just doesn't know how to behave himself.” The aforementioned man cowered under his leader's gaze, something you instantly picked up on and locked in the back of your mind. “Don't worry, he'll be punished appropriately.”

“Sir, please, I'm so—”

“Save it,” Liam snapped, glaring at the man harshly. “You know the rules, Peter. All actions have consequences. Those are the rules. If I ease up on you, the next person will expect me to do so and order will be disrupted.” He stopped for a few moments, simply staring at Peter with an unreadable look in his eyes. “You are dismissed. I expect you to be in my office in two hours. If you're not, well, you know what will happen.”

Whether that last part was a warning or a threat, you didn't know. However, what you did know was that for whatever reason, this Peter guy was deathly terrified of his leader. He visibly slumped and averted his eyes from everyone as he hurried away, practically bolting as if being chased by something.

Now being left alone with Liam, your eyes locked with the man's green ones. You couldn't quite place your finger on it, but there was something wrong with the man in front of you. He reminded you a lot of the Governor, the more you thought about it, but at the same time, he was different. It annoyed you to no end that you couldn't quite figure out exactly what about the green-eyed man made you feel cautious.

Well, his men ambushed and kidnapped you and your husband, so that was a pretty good place to start.

“Once again, I am so incredibly sorry about that,” Liam started, his face adapting a look of sympathy. “Peter is a rather new addition to my ‘police force’, so to speak. He hasn't quite learned that we don't resort to violence unless it's an absolute necessity.” He stopped for a second, looking at you before sighing. “Miss, I truly am sorry about what Peter did to you as well. Please excuse me for saying this again, but you do look like shit.”

You couldn't understand what this man's deal was. Merely a few minutes ago, while he was surrounded by multiple of his men, he had seemingly mocked you about the injuries you had sustained. However, now he was apologizing and being sympathetic? What was this man's motive?

“Now, Daryl and Y/N, I believe?” Liam began, successfully gaining confused and guarded looks from both you and your husband.

“How the hell do ya know tha'?” Daryl barked defensively, straightening his back to appear larger—almost as if he was facing a bear.

Liam's lips twitched up into a small wicked smirk at the archer, but he very quickly disguised it with a welcoming smile. “I know a lot of things, mate.” He shrugged his shoulders and motioned to the farmland surrounding you. “I need to know things to keep my people safe. They depend on me, you know?”

“Still doesn't answer my goddamn question,” Daryl practically growled, taking a threatening step towards the man. “How the fuck do ya know our names?”

Liam didn't falter under the Dixon man's harsh glare. If anything, he straightened his posture and met Daryl head-on, his height adding an advantage over the archer. However, having known your husband for a long time, you knew it was time to intervene before he started a fight he wouldn't be able to finish. His hands were tied and Liam had who knows how many people to back him up. The two of you were heavily outnumbered and outgunned.

“Daryl,” you called to him softly, raising your tied hands to gently grip his shoulder. “I really don't think that's the thing we should be concerned about right now. It doesn't matter if he knows our names. What matters is that we have to get the fuck out of here. We do that by playing along for now,” you mumbled into his ear, quiet enough to not alert Liam of your plan.

Daryl glared at the leader of the community for a few moments longer before stepping back, sharing a determined look with you. You gave him a small smile before turning back to Liam, regarding the green-eyed man with a strained, fake smile.

“I'm sorry about him,” you began, your voice sickeningly sweet. You were taking a page out of Carol's book—you were playing the wolf in sheep's clothing, biding your time until you and Daryl could strike back. You could only hope that your earlier outburst towards Peter wouldn't be used to call your bluff. “It's just that we weren't brought here under the friendliest circumstances. And now you know our names and it's a bit creepy. He's being wary.”

“For good reason,” Liam replied with a nod, motioning for you and Daryl to follow him. You shared a look with Daryl before following behind the man, Daryl following close behind. “You can't be sure about the dangerous pricks that are out there.”

“Ironic, ain't it?” Daryl grumbled lowly, glaring at Liam through his hair as the two of you followed behind the leader. He received a slight jab to his stomach from your elbow, and he let out a soft grunt.

“You see, that's why we built this place.” Liam walked on and motioned to the fields on his left. There were multiple people working on the crops; some watering, some picking, and some planting. You couldn't be completely sure, but you swore you saw a faint glint of metal wrapped around most of the workers' legs. Were you just out of it from the pain in your head, or were those shackles?

“Well, built is the wrong word. We found this farm back when everything first went to shit. The crops and the farmhouse were luckily still standing. We... expanded, so to speak. We built the walls to keep the flesh eaters out and built more homes on the property to house our growing population.” He stopped and turned back to you and Daryl. “I hope you don't mind, but you'll have to stay in the farm house with me for the time being. We're busy building new homes but it won't be ready for another couple of weeks, maybe months.”

“Jus' one question 'fore we decide,” Daryl began, stepping forward. “Why'd ya have to bring us here by force? Why didn't ya jus' ask us to come here instead of kidnappin' us?”

Liam stared at Daryl with a blank expression on his face. His face didn't give anything away, and it unnerved you beyond belief. However, he soon gave the two of you yet another smile. You were genuinely starting to wonder if his face was starting to hurt from the excessive amount of smiling.

“There's a reason for everything, champ. However, not everyone is allowed to know my reasonings to the things I do. That's reserved for the people I trust. But do know that I did it for your own goods. Between you and me, that entire building was surrounded by flesh eaters. You most certainly would've died without my men.”

“Wha' the hell do ya know 'bout—”

“Sir? I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but Dr Miller is ready for the new arrivals,” a small, timid woman spoke up, gaining the attention of you, Daryl and Liam.

“Ah, Mariah,” Liam spoke, nodding at her in greeting. He turned back to you and Daryl, using his hand to motion towards the woman. “Please follow her to Dr Miller. He'll make sure to patch you up and ensure you're fit and ready for tomorrow.” He walked a few steps backwards and clapped his hands twice. “Welcome to Sunny Meadows! Come meet me in the farm house once you're done.”

With that, he turned around and stalked off, leaving you and Daryl alone with the woman, Mariah. The aforementioned woman turned to look at the two of you. She was nervously fidgeting with her hands, her posture slouched and her eyes couldn't decide whether to focus on you, your husband, your wounds, the ropes tying your hands together, or the ground. You were confused by her obvious fear towards you. What people was she used to dealing with? Did she really think that you were going to hurt her?

“Please follow me,” she stammered out with a nervous squeak, turning around and speeding off into the direction of the very same building those other men, Dave and Marco, had disappeared into earlier.

You hesitantly started following her. Daryl grumbled and followed your lead, glaring at any person who dared to lock eyes with him. You had to withhold your chuckles at your husband, knowing that it was neither the time nor place for that. Under normal circumstances, you'd laugh at your husband's antics. But not now. Not when your main priority was getting the hell out of that place.

You soon arrived at the makeshift medical building. You followed her in, taking in the pure doctor-like feel of the building. If you didn't know any better and somebody had blindfolded you and brought you here, you would've believed that this was a legitimate doctor's office. But you did know better.

A man, who you presumed to be this doctor Miller character everyone was talking about, placed a syringe down on the table and gave you all inviting smiles. “Welcome!” he greeted you enthusiastically—and rather loudly, too. You winced at the sound, being painfully reminded of the incessant throbbing in your skull. “You both look rather terrible. Who should I focus on first?”

“Owen,” Mariah began in a soft voice. “If I may, maybe the woman? She took quite the beating.”

“Peter?” the doctor inquired, shaking his head and sighing when Mariah nodded. “That man has sent more patients my way than any scavenging trip accident has. I don't even know why your husband still keeps him around.”

Wait, husband? Liam was Mariah's husband? Then why was he treating her like that? Why was she so scared of him? A million different possibilities ran through your mind for the obvious fear the woman held towards her husband, and none of them were good. Daryl's ocean coloured eyes locked with your eyes. He visibly shared the same confusion as you. However, the doctor's orders caught your attention.

“Mariah, is it really necessary to have their hands tied? I can see the irritation from here. Please remove their binds.” Doctor Miller stopped for a moment, regarding you and Daryl with a thoughtful look. “Sir, ma'am, speaking from experience, please don't try to run or attack once those binds are removed. Whenever there's a new addition, the walls are very guarded. You'll be shot instantly.”

Mariah gingerly removed the ropes from your arms and tried to remove Daryl's. However, your husband flinched back at the foreign touch, making the woman confused. You simply gently pushed her aside and moved over to him, starting to untie his binds. This time, Daryl stood still, and in no time at all, his hands were freed. He rubbed his wrists, the rope burns visible.

“Alright,” the doctor started. “Ma'am, please lay down on the bed. I'll tend to you shortly. Sir, you may take a seat on that chair next to the bed while you wait.”

You looked out of the window and weighed your options. However, the doctor wasn't lying; there were multiple guards patrolling the walls in the distance. There also were guards walking up to the makeshift medical building, most likely being sent to ensure you and Daryl didn't try anything.

You had no other option. You had to continue playing along.

You slowly walked over to the bed and laid down. Daryl hesitantly plopped himself down on the chair next to the bed, his eyes darting around the room. He was clearly trying to think of an escape plan, but he wasn't succeeding.

“Alright,” Doctor Miller began, walking out of the side room and rolling a machine out with him.

You instantly knew what that machine was. “No, doctor, you can't. No, don't—”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Daryl stood up from the chair and glared at the doctor, his mind instantly assuming the worst at your reaction. “The hell is tha'?”

“Sir, please relax.” Mariah walked up to the side of the bed, grabbing a tube of some sort of gel from the drawer. “We have some new equipment we've been wanting to test out. We found this ultrasound machine yesterday. We just want to test it out and make sure it works.”

Your heart stopped beating. All at once, thoughts of your unborn baby flooded your mind. You couldn't believe that you had forgotten about the fact that you were pregnant. With everything that happened, your mind neglected to remind you of that pivotal fact. And now everyone was going to know, including your husband who you had yet to tell.

“Doc, I don't think that's a good idea,” you warned him, pleaded with him, but the man didn't listen.

“Nonsense. This'll be over before you know it. It won't hurt, I promise you.”

“Ma'am, can I lift your shirt?” Too frozen to answer her, you simply stared. Deciding for you, Mariah lifted your shirt a bit and opened the tube with the gel. “This might be a bit cold.”

The cold was the least of your worries. You had taken quite the beating. What if your baby was hurt? What if your baby was dead? What if the doctor couldn't find a heartbeat? All of those thoughts flooded your mind, so much so that you barely heard Daryl talking to the doctor.

“Why does she need'a do tha'? Can't some other chick do this?”

“I was going to ask someone to come in today to test it, but she's here now. Might as well get it out of the way.” Doctor Miller started with the exam, placing the object on your stomach and moving it around. At first, the screen didn't pick up a thing, and that made you want to cry. However, the steady thumping of a heartbeat could soon be heard, and a small figure appeared on the screen.

“Oh, wow. That's a strong heartbeat,” Doctor Owen Miller told you with a smile, the ultrasound depicting a growing baby. “Congratulations, you two.”

Your heart was attempting to jump out of your chest. It was amazing to you that the little blob on the screen would soon develop into a baby, your baby. You would pick out their name and scavenge for things for your little one, and you're sure Daryl would—

Oh, god. Daryl.

Slowly looking over to your left, you locked eyes with your husband. Instead of finding the love, affection and adoration that usually swam in his ocean coloured eyes, you found something else. You found anger, shock, worry, but above all else? You could see a renewed sense of determination in his eyes.

The archer was pissed at you for hiding your pregnancy and convincing him to let you wander beyond the walls, but he couldn't think about that. He had to get you to safety, away from these monsters. He had to keep you and your unborn baby safe.

The doctor should've heeded your warning. The doctor never should've insisted to take an ultrasound. Because of doctor Owen Miller, Daryl Dixon was determined. Daryl Dixon was going to tear that whole place apart, and anyone who dared to lay a finger on you would meet an agonizing end.

The people of Sunny Meadows were going to pay.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐ #yielding isn't my middle name #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader smut #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you

[httpdwaekki]

breathe | y.j.

summary: when your anxiety does nothing but weigh you down, pulling you under the waves of doubt, jeongin is there to pull you back to him.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: fem!reader, descriptions of anxiety/anxious thoughts, this is based on my experience of anxiety.

a/n: hi!! me again to remind you, the lovely astraystayyh and many other wonderful writers (including myself) are writing requests for anyone that is willing to donate to her fundraiser to help people in gaza! all you have to do is donate (any amount) and send proof to one of the writers along with your request! (please do make sure you read writers rules for requests first! and be aware they have a right to say no to the request.) i hope u enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you have those days where you feel like you can’t catch your breath. like no matter how hard you try to swim to the surface, waves of dread keep pulling you under. your heart beating a few extra beats a minute, reminding you of the gnawing feeling of anxiety deep in your stomach.

the entire day you felt it. as soon as you woke up it felt like there was a weight on your chest. feeling an impending doom and the worst part? you had no idea why and what was making you feel this way.

jeongin sensed something was wrong. as soon as you woke up, you seemed; different. he couldn’t put his finger on it but he knew something was off. he didn’t ask, he figured if you wanted to talk about it, you’d tell him, as you always had before.

this time was different.

this time, it felt like the anxiety spread through your bones and into every aspect of your life. your work, your friends, and even your relationship. you felt like you were constantly waiting for something bad to happen.

because of this you didn’t want to reach out to jeongin, feeling like a burden. now, you knew, with all your heart, that if you told jeongin something was wrong, especially with your anxiety, he’d drop everything to make you feel better.

but instead, you push it down.

 and as expected, it only got worse, the weight on your chest increasing, only dragging you deeper and deeper. you wanted nothing more than to go home and have your bed swallow you whole.

and that’s exactly what you planned to do until you got home. you set your bag down, kicking off your shoes, making your way into the kitchen. you find jeongin leaning against the counter, snacking on pocky sticks, scrolling through his phone.

he hears you walk in, looking up from the bright screen. “hi noona.” he smiles, slipping the device in his pocket, placing the strawberry snack aside. he opens his arms, prompting you to fall into them. “hi bub.” you mumble into his neck. you feel him place a loving kiss to the side of your head, arms tightening around you.

“we’re gonna leave in about an hour and a half, is that okay?” your eyebrows crease in confusion, pulling away slightly to look at him. “what?” he mirrors your expression. “leave for what?” you ask

“dinner with my members tonight.” he reminds you. a look of understanding washes over your face while dread and exhaustion seep into your bones.

you had completely forgotten chan had invited you both over to hang out and have dinner. jeongin had been so excited about it all week, but in your anxious haze this morning, you had completely forgotten. “ah yeah, okay, that’s okay, just let me shower and get ready.” you smiled, pulling away.

you didn’t get far before you were pulled back into him, you hands landing on his sides to stabilize yourself. “baby, are you okay? we don’t have to go.” he asks, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitance or discomfort.

you shake your head, “i’m okay in-ah, just slipped my mind.” you place a kiss to his cheek before pulling away once more. jeongin was not convinced.

you walked into your bedroom, turning on your lamp, plugging in your phone before sitting on the bed. you felt the weight getting heavier and heavier, taking a deep breath, you lay back for a moment. taking the foxi.ny next to you in your arms, tucked into your chest.

unbeknownst to you, jeongin had followed you, he had a gut feeling. something was wrong and you weren’t telling him. he stayed around the corner, waiting until he heard your low, uneven breaths.

he takes that as his cue and walks into the dimly lit room. he finds the plush fox now pushed into your face, your hands atop it, attempting to hush your cries. what was supposed to be self-soothing ended up breaking the dam you were trying oh-so hard to keep together.

you, oblivious to the ginger boy entering, jump as you feel the bed next to you dip. “baby, what’s going on?” he asks gently, placing his hand next to your thigh. he didn’t want to touch you in case you were overstimulated but he wanted you to know he was there.

however, this just causes a new wave, this time of guilt, the negative emotions mixing together to create a nasty storm you weren’t equipped to deal with. your chest tightens as your cries intensify, unable to breathe.

you roll over towards him, grabbing his hand in the process, bringing it to your chest along with the plushie. this told jeongin he could touch you. he gives your hand a small squeeze before turning to you, placing his hand on your cheek, thumb stroking it softly.

“hey, hey, y/n, you gotta breathe for me baby.” he says urgently, yet his voice was laced with softness. you try to take a deep breath, but you can’t calm down.you shake your head, “i- i can- i can’t.” the guilt and anxiety had an iron grip on you and it doesn’t plan on letting go.

jeongin shifts, facing you, placing your hand to his chest. “yes you can agi, follow my lead, okay?” he takes deep steady breaths, making sure to keep your hand pressed to him. he was sure you could feel his heartbeat as well but he didn’t care, he just needed you to breathe.

after about a minute your breathing becomes less eratate. “there you go, good job, just like that, i got you baby.” he praises, both his thumbs simultaneously rubbing your cheek and hand. you sit up, you finally feel yourself coming back to the surface. your cries soften but never cease.

you lay your head on his shoulder, tears still running down your cheeks, pulling his hand back to you. “i’m sorry.” you cry, shaking your head. ‘i’m so-” he cuts you off. “no, none of that.” he squeezes your hand. “do not apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for.” he says, placing a kiss on your head.

he sat back, pulling you into his lap. you still had the small fox in your hand, curling it back into your chest, melting into him. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. he places a kiss to the side of your head, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you calm down.

you both sat there for a moment, just enjoying being so close with each other. jeongin eventually pulled back, keeping one hand firm on your hip to keep you steady. the other making it’s way to you soft cheek, stained with tears before he gently wipes them away.

“you gotta tell me what’s going on.” a mixture of dread and guilt washes over you, pulling you back under with ease. you look down, picking at the skin around your nails. he notices and immediately picked your head back up before his hand drops to yours.

“stop that.”

he shakes his head, bringing your hand up to place a gentle kiss to it. “please.” he whispers into your skin. “i want to help but i can’t if you won’t tell me what’s going.” he kisses your hand once more, looking into your teary eyes.

“i just wanna help you baby.” you see pure sincerity and love in his eyes, hurt hidden behind them. you nod your head, “okay.” you take a deep breath, looking up, hoping to calm down enough to speak.

after a few moments he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, “take your time, okay? deep breaths, whenever you’re ready.” you nod, rubbing the soft fabric of the plushie, soothing you enough to be able to communicate .

“i don’t know what triggered it but when i woke up this morning, i just felt like there was a weight on my chest.” you begin to explain, tears still slowly making their way down your cheeks.

“like i’m used to my anxiety, it never truly goes away or stops. but this,” you pause, shaking your head. “this just felt, so much worse.” jeongin listened to every word, rubbing the back of your hand soothingly.

“why didn't you tell me?” he asked gently. “i just felt like a burden, i didn’t want to bother you.” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. 

“ agi,” he gives your hand a shake. “look at me please.” his voice laced, with softness. you slowly look up to him, love and concern mixed a dash of hurt that lingered in his eyes. “you are never a burden to me, you understand?”

you look between his eyes, as if searching for some sort of deceit. but you find none. you nod, tears still streaming down your soft cheeks.

“no matter what is going on, where i am, nothing, you are my priority always.” this time you bring the fox up to your face sobbing into it, diving into jeongin’s chest.

he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly to him. he pulls you back into his lap, moving your face into his neck. you both stay there for what felt like hours, just basking in each other’s embrace.

suddenly the waves seemed to calm, they never cease, but now you felt like could keep your head above water and breathe. 

he places kisses to your head, hushed whispers of praises and i love yous leave his lips. you relax into his hold, wrapping your arms around him, deep breaths softly brush his skin.

eventually you pull away, leaving the fox plush between the two of you, opting to place both your hands to his cheeks. you thumbs brushing against the apples of his cheeks.

“thank you, i love you so much.” you say sincerely, looking into his boba colored eyes. he leans forward, bringing his lips to yours, bringing a hand to rest upon yours.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead to yours “you never have to thank me for them, you’re the love of my life. i’d do anything for you.” you nod, closing your eyes, still overwhelmed by emotions. 

“i feel the same in-ah.” you brush his nose with yours, before capturing his lips once more in a chaste kiss. “come on,” his arms drop to your waist before he pats your thigh. “ let’s get you changed and comfy.” you lean back, arms dropping to his shoulders, looking in his eyes once more. 

“what about dinner?” your head tilts, confused. “we’re not going?” he says, equally as confused. “i already texted chan-hyung, we’re just going to relax for the rest of the night.” he pauses.

“did you really think we would still go over after this?” he asks, shocked. your cheeks warm. suddenly feeling embarrassed, realizing how silly that was. “i guess not, but you were so excited.” you pout, feeling guilt gnawing at you once more.

“we can always have dinner another time. i promise you my members are not going anywhere.” he gives a quiet laugh. “you promise you’re not upset?” you ask, searching his eyes for any trace of dismay, but you only find love and concern.

“not at all baby,” he shakes his head, placing a quick kiss to your cheek before tapping your thigh once more. “now come on, i wanna make my baby cozy.” you giggle before carefully moving off his lap.

“do you wanna take a bath or lay down?” he asks, making his way to your closet. “will you join me in the bath?” you ask following him. he pauses what he’s doing to look at you. “do you want me to join you?” you nod, shy smile making it’s way onto your face.

“then yes i will.” he says, grabbing a comfy change of clothes and towels for the both of you. you both made your way into the ensuite, he places everything on the counter before starting the tub.

you grab the epsom salt and bubble bath bringing it to him, letting him set up the rest of the bath. “is this too hot, baby?” he asks, moving to allow you to feel the water. you shake your head. “it’s perfect bub.” you lean down, sliding your arms around him, placing a kiss on his head.

‘thank you my love,” you lay your head atop his, “i love you so much.” he reaches an arm around you, rubbing your back. “of course, anything for my sweet girl.” he turns his head up, placing a kiss to your chin.

once the bath is filled, you both strip, stepping into the bath, jeongin laying behind you. you both enjoy each other’s presence, wrapped in each others arms, making small talk until the water goes cold. 

once out of the tub, jeongin pulls the plug in the tub before helping you get dressed. you both get dressed before making your way to your shared bed where you spend the rest of the night watching movies, wrapped in each other's embrace.

a/n: yeah i got lost in the sauce again LMAO. anyway hope you enjoyed, please consider donating it's for such a good cause, we've raise $2,000 already! love you guys, drink your water, eat something and take ur meds <3.

do not repost

#i.n #yang jeongin #stray kids #skz #i.n imagine #i.n fluff #i.n fic #i.n one shot #i.n x reader #yang jeongin imagine #yang jeongin fluff #yang jeongin fic #yang jeongin one shot #yang jeongin x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids oneshot #stray kids x reader

[barbthebuilder]

This is my parting message

I gave myself time to think and talked to some people about this and I have decided to say goodbye to y'all.

Time here has been great and I loved pretty much every second of it. However, I want to focus on my real life now. Tumblr became too big of a part of my life for my comfort. Basically, I think it will be better if I quit.

I don't regret this blog. It made me very comfortable in my identity, it educated me, it made me feel loved and brave and powerful.

But it's over.

I can't thank you enough for everything you have done for me. For every like, comment, reblog, ask, tag, message and boop.

So... this is it. This is the end. This has been such a wonderful journey :')

Special thanks to:

@our-genderfluid-experience - great place to tell your story

@genderfluid-culture-iss - Bro letting people just spill the most relatable shit ever. Loving it.

@our-queer-experience - so much good info! Educated me a lot.

@hefkerut - I just want you to know you're an incredible person and I will always remember you. Like, seriously girl. I had such a blast with ya. You also always reblog the best shit?? You rock.

@genderoftoday - always provided me with content to reblog. Also, funny.

@genderfluid-info-blog - actually, such a smart person. Gives great advice and provides us with so many microlables. Mad respect.

@mxl4vrie - THANK YOU FOR THE FANART I SOMETIMES LOOK AT IT AND SMILE :DDD

@rat0

@popcorn-plots

@aegosexual-moments - you made me realize I'm aegosexual! Thanks a lot!

@alwaysprey

@sundry-whovengerslocked

@fruityracoons - dude, you were such a great support. Thanks for always checking up on me.

@frogofalltime

@foxinasuit - you actually made me realize I want to quit lmao I'm not leaving your side tho hehehe >:)

@joker1315 - always a pleasant conversation with this one! I still remember how you helped me with all that technical stuff :)

@kodiescove - learned a lot from you

@korane06

@littlemisspipebomb

@zuuriell

@crowdsourcedgender - you are doing such a good job. Keep it up! Thank you for always being a great help.

@candy8448

@baking-potato-27

@bhawk-goose - ur so funny hehehe

@banethebloodgoat

@night-rhea

@treion-is-back - I still remember you. Good luck.

@allknowingbirb

@i-am-an-arson-enthusiast

@spacewives-in-spacetime

@queen-mihai

@a-random-mooshroom - YOOOOO you were so fun to interact with!! All the best!!

@bibirb - thanks for supporting my Yellow Dog account and being one of the first followers!

@pronouncounter - count those pronouns

@pronoun-checks - keep it up!

@ghostsofchernobyl

@that-bisexual

@slender-genderfluid - okay, I have no relation to you but I think you're cool

@hijkay

@artistic-scribbles

@frogofalltime

@thegeniusidiotnstickmerchant3728 - you are so cool and so nerdy and SO WERID I am obssesed with you and I need to study you in the laboratory or put you in a maze with traps idk I will miss you sm

And many more! I'm sure I haven't tagged everyone and I'm sorry if I missed somebody :c I appreciate you regardless!!

Goodbye! May the gender euphoria be upon ya!

#genderfluid #blog info

[ashwhowrites]

May I request Robin? The reader and Robin have been sneaking around together and hooking up, but when Steve catches them together he is totally confused because he did not see that situation-ship coming due to the reader only dating boys throughout high school. Steve being a supportive friend tells them to get dressed and meet him in the living room so they can all talk out what he unfortunately (for him) witnessed. The reader and Robin finally get everything that they have wanted to get off their chest about each other and confess that they don’t want to just sneak around anymore but want to be together. Steve is just sitting there in silence but at the end is like, “wow I thought y’all were just doing it. Didn’t think y’all were actually in love.” *cough* Phoebe Buffay *cough* hahaha

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Love Phoebe❤️

Secrets and sneaking

Y/N had been down bad for Robin since they met freshman year. But she never told Robin that at first. Y/N never had experience liking a girl and it took her many years to come to the understanding of how she felt.

The things she felt for Robin, she never felt towards any boy she ever dated. With the first few guys, she figured it was because of them. But when it happened with every guy, she knew it was something with her.

With her and Robin graduating within the year, she didn't want them to head off to different states and never know what could have been.

Which led her to sneak around with Robin in bed sheets.

Robin had crushed on Y/N for years before she spoke a word on it. Robin watched her date boy after boy, pushing the idea of confessing further behind. It almost felt clear that Y/N was not interested in females at all. To Robin's prayers, something shifted and they got tangled in the sheets.

Neither brought up the conversation they needed to have. Robin was too scared to scare her off, and Y/N was scared to admit Robin was the only person she ever wanted. Robin liked girls and had liked girls. Y/N wasn't sure where she fell compared to the others.

Robin had a similar fear. She was terrified Y/N was experimenting and testing out the waters. Robin was the first girl she was intimate with and Robin didn't want to be used and tossed aside.

Admitting to each other seemed too much. So they slept together and didn't ask any questions. Robin wondered if Y/N was interested in anyone else and Y/N wondered the same. It was an endless cycle of circles, spinning and spinning without an end.

It was a cycle they planned to be on for life because at least it was together.

~~~

Steve always showed up at Robin's unannounced. Her parents were never home and somehow Robin became his best friend, and only best friend over the age of sixteen.

He didn't think of why Robin's door was closed and he didn't think of why he probably should have knocked. He flung the door open and the story on his tongue faded away as his eyes registered what he was seeing.

Y/N was on top of Robin's body, straddling her lap as their lips were locked. Both girls were in their bras and pants, their shirts tossed mindlessly to the floor. Robin's hands were on Y/N's ass and Y/N's hands were in Robin's hair.

Steve could barely believe what he saw. It wasn't a shock that Robin was with a girl. It was a shock that Y/N was with a girl.

"WHAT IS THIS!" Steve screamed, his hands flinging around in the air as his eyes were wide with shock.

Both girls screamed and pulled apart. Robin held the blanket up to their chests, covering the naked skin from Steve's eyes.

"Steve! Get out of here!" Robin said she could feel her skin burning with embarrassment.

"Oh no, you two get dressed and meet me downstairs." He said, his hand on his hip as he closed the door. "And don't think you two can jump right back in. You got 3 minutes!"

~

"Do you want to tell me what I just walked in on?" Steve asked

He stood in front of them as they sat side by side on the couch

"Something that isn't any of your business." Robin snapped

"Rob," Y/N said but Robin didn't care

"No, what we do is none of his business. I'm in the privacy of my own home and I can do what I want with who I want."

"When you make dumb decisions, that is when it becomes my business!" Steve argued

"Dumb?" Robin said as she stood up

They both glared at each other as Y/N remained on the couch

"You know messing around with her is a bad idea," Steve said, trying to keep his voice low

Robin rolled her eyes and scoffed

"Why is it bad?" Y/N asked as she stood up. She was a little hurt by the comment

"It's just...you had never been with a girl before. You've only been with guys and I don't think Robin should get tangled in that." Steve explained

"I'm not tangled in anything! I am well aware of what I'm doing," Robin fought

"Oh, you do?" Steve asked

"I do"

"Oh, you do now?"

"That's what I said dingus"

"Alright, so what are you guys doing?" Steve asked, his hands on his hips as he looked at the two girls.

"Having fun?" Y/N answered, but her tone was unsure. She looked at Robin

"Yeah having fun!" Robin agreed

"Oh fun! No one ever gets hurt when it's just for fun." Steve said as he rolled his eyes.

"No one is gonna get hurt, we both know how we feel and having fun," Y/N cut in

"Oh? So you know she has feelings for you?" Steve asked, his eyes on Y/N

"STEVE!" Robin yelled as she pushed him. She covered her face in horror

"She what?" Y/N asked as she looked over to Robin

"OH! Look at that, you aren't on the same page after all." Steve declared as he clapped his hands.

"That was not your place," Robin said through clenched teeth as she uncovered her face

"Since when?" Y/N asked, she grasped Robin's arm to turn her around

Now they were face-to-face

"Maybe like tenth grade?" Robin shrugged, "But you were always so focused on boys that I figured it was a shot in the dark so I never said anything!"

"Why didn't you after we..." she trailed off as she looked over to Steve, "Um got together." She finished as she looked back at Robin.

"I was scared. I didn't want to know if it was a mistake or not"

"Robin, you would never be a mistake," Y/N said softly, she stepped forward and placed her hands on Robin's cheeks. "I was scared too, that's why I never said anything."

"What were you scared to say?" Robin asked. Her breathing got caught in her lungs at the way Y/N held her face. How close she stood and how deep she was looking into her eyes.

"That I've been thinking about you every day since freshman year. That I've had these feelings for you that I never felt with a boy. That I think I fell in love with you." She confessed

Robin felt her heart race at her words. A big smile reached her face.

"I think I love you too," Robin admitted

They went silent as they looked at each other. Not noticing that they were leaning closer to each other. Just a second away from their lips touching...

“wow, I thought y’all were just doing it. Didn’t think y’all were actually in love.” Steve's voice cut through the moment.

Both Robin and Y/N rolled their eyes as they looked over at him.

"Oh right! My cue to go," Steve said, pretending to tip-toe out of the room.

"He's an idiot," Robin said as he walked out of her house

"Smart enough to see we were idiots," Y/N said

"He doesn't need to know that," Robin laughed. Her laughter died as she bit her lip.

"So uh...did you maybe want to go on a date?" Her voice was nervous as she stuttered.

"Absolutely," Y/N smiled as she leaned in

Steve forever took credit for them officially being together. It was even part of his best-man speech.

#robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley fluff x reader #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley requests #ashwhowrites #robin buckley angst x female reader #robin buckley angst

[megamindsecretlair]

Burn For You

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, kissing, smut. PIV, oral (fem and male receiving), fingering (female receiving).

Summary: Coming back to LA from college was like coming back to an alternate universe. So many part of the hood were equally familiar and completely foreign to you. However, the one thing that hadn't changed much is Franklin Saint. Or so you thought. He walks with a cane now and is no longer the sweet boy you've nursed a crush on your whole life. After spending a day with him, you invite him back to your house after a few confessions leaves you hungry for him.

Word Count: 7,145k

AO3 Link

A/N: I....did not think this would turn out so long LOL. This is a very sweet ask from @kaaliyahsierra, thank you for trusting me with this, lovely! Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii @kaaliyahsierra @pinkpantheris @blackelysian @sugrcookiiee @hihellogoodbyebruh @softimgyu @neawarren @harmshake @iv0rysoap @ciaqui @amethyst09 @nworbaij @nerdieforpedro @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics

Damn, the neighborhood had really changed. As you drove through the old haunts of Compton, you looked around at the busted places, plazas full of thugs, homeless on every corner. And it seemed like the gangs had increased their activity. There was a boy on every corner.

Coming back from college, this almost felt like a nightmare. Like you stepped off of a crazy Scooby Doo type of town. Where everything and nothing felt familiar. Was this the cost of leaving? Not feeling you belong anymore?

“Girl, cheer up! It’s not all bad,” your friend, Tucky, said. You may have mentioned how shocked you were once or four times. 

She proceeded to tell you all the ways that LA was still the same. There were still bad little kids scrambling to get home before the streetlights came on. There were still cop cars and helicopters lulling people to sleep. There were still the hot ass summers.

You put on a brave face and nodded. You didn’t want to spend your last few weeks here being miserable or grumpy. You came to unwind a bit from college before starting your job at the bank. It wasn’t the first thing you wanted to do, but it paid well enough and you were inside a building all day. Even during hot summers.

Tucky drove to your parents’ house and you couldn’t help looking at all the different ways drugs, crime, and poverty was slowly melting LA right before your eyes. You could only shake your head at it. 

Tucky pulled into your driveway and helped with your bags. Inevitably, your eyes searched across the street for Franklin Saint. Having grown up in the neighborhood, you used to run with him and the crew. You used to chase each other around the lawns, rode bikes, got into all kinds of trouble as kids. 

Franklin was the first to go away to college. He set the bar for everyone, but not everyone was able to meet it. Melody was set to go as well, just like you, but you never learned why she didn’t.

It was silly to look for Franklin. The odds that he was still living at home with his mom were slim. It was just that…well…you still carried a torch for him. A huge one. So huge it felt like it would crush you most days. He was the measuring stick by which you judged every guy at college.

Eventually, you stopped trying and learned to like the guys around you. At every corner, they fell short. They weren’t tall enough, broad enough, dark enough, smart enough, or funny enough. You ended up losing your virginity to one of them. Bad experience all around. You thought that it’d be magical or heavenly like all those books you read or shows you watched. 

It was nothing but a disappointing seven minutes. You vowed never to try again unless you were absolutely certain about the guy. And it never happened. Because none of them were Franklin.

As you were lost staring at his front door, Franklin emerged from his house. He limped with a cane and you lurched forward as if you could do something about it. Why did he have a cane? He was too damn young for a cane.

He still looked good though. He wore a wine colored polo shirt buttoned to the top, dark jeans, and sneakers. From where you could see him, it looked like his hair grew out as well. He walked with the surety of being mature. Gone was the sweet boy who you used to make up excuses to go see at Cho’s. 

Tucky came out of your house. You turned to her. “What the hell is Franklin doing with a cane?” You asked.

Tucky looked across the street at Franklin, who stood in his doorway talking to his mom, Cissy. “We didn’t know if we should tell you…Melody shot Franklin,” Tucky said. 

“She what?” You practically screamed.

Melody shot Franklin? Too many questions ran through your mind. That girl was as in love with Franklin as you were. What the hell could have happened in four years? And why the hell didn’t your friends tell you anything? Not even your parents?

That seemed like pretty huge fucking news to not share with somebody. Tucky knew how long you carried the torch for Franklin. She knew that you felt horrible liking the same man as Melody. How crushed you were when it seemed like he was more into her and not you. How could she not tell you?

“You were off at college and we all kinda promised to let you enjoy it. What good would it have done to tell you he got shot? You would’ve just run back here,” Tucky said.

“That was my decision to make,” you said.

“No, it wasn’t. You have a chance to get out of this shit. Not everyone does. So no, it wasn’t up to you to decide to let the hood drag you back into this shit. The first chance you get, move out of the neighborhood and don’t come back.” Tucky grabbed your last bag from the car and took off inside your house.

You rubbed your head. All these conflicting emotions were giving you a headache. The hot LA sun beat down on you with the briefest glimpse at a breeze. You looked once more to Franklin’s house. He was facing you and then he waved.

You gasped. You didn’t actually think he’d see you though you made no move to hide. You waved back. Franklin kissed Cissy on the cheek and then limped down the steps. You thought he was going to head to his car out front, but he continued past it. Crossing the street.

Your heartbeat sped up. Your lips trembled. You weren’t expecting to talk to him right now. You had no idea what your breath smelled like or how you looked. You wore petal pushers, a yellow tank, and flip flops. Not exactly queen of sexy at the moment. There was nothing for it as Franklin got closer.

“What are you doing back here?” Franklin asked. He approached you and then swallowed you up into a big, deep hug. The kind that made you melt against him, like he was soaking up every negative thought you had. 

“All done with college,” you said with a grin. 

“Four years went by that fast? Damn,” he said. He got a faraway look in his eye before he smiled at you. 

“College did good for you?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Wasn’t without some problems. I sure missed everyone here though,” you said. 

“Everyone?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes and fought a smile. Franklin was the only one who could put you back at ease. Like four years was just a thought in your head. You were transported back to the good old days of high school. Franklin, still young and sweet, the gang together. You did hear about Kevin’s passing though. It had been too hard to make it back home to see everyone. You were still reeling from the fact that Tucky kept so much from you.

“Yes, that includes you Franklin Saint,” you said.

Franklin chuckled. “You know, to this day, you’re the only one who calls me by my full government name,” he said. 

“It’s a good strong name. Why not use the whole thing?” You asked.

“‘Cause I’m not in trouble,” he said. 

You crossed your arms and leaned on Tucky’s car. The afternoon sun already made it hot to the touch, so you could feel the heat through your pants. Still, you leaned on it and looked at Franklin. “I’m happy I ran into you,” you told him. 

“Me too. Glad I got to see you. How ya been?” He asked.

You caught him up on nonsense about what you studied at school, the friends you made, and the food you tried. Tucky came outside while you were in the middle of talking. She said hi to Franklin and told you that her mom paged her, she needed to get back to watch her siblings.

“I thought we had all day to hang out together,” you said.

Tucky rolled her eyes. “I did too. My brother was supposed to watch them but Mama said she don’t trust him as far as she can throw him. I’ll try to get over tomorrow. It depends if she work a double shift,” Tucky said. She hugged you bye and then waved to Franklin. She got in the car so you moved onto your front lawn to let her pass.

She drove down the street, leaving you without anything to do today. Your parents were on a mini vacation up to Santa Barbara at the moment. Just you and the house for a few days before they got back. What the hell were you going to do now?

“You hungry?” Franklin asked.

“Huh?” You heard what he said, you just needed a moment for your mind to process it. He repeated his question and you nodded. 

“Yeah, I can eat,” you said. You were hungry enough to eat a fuckin’ cow. Between the flight into LAX, cruising around with Tucky, and everything she revealed, you were starving. You had wanted to stop at In and Out, but Tucky wanted to unload your stuff first. Too many instances of people getting robbed in broad daylight.

“Lock up the house, I’ll take you to get some Fatburger,” he said. 

“Are you sure? You don’t have anything to do today?” You asked. 

Franklin smiled. “Not anymore,” he said. 

You walked backwards from him with your hands in your pockets so he wouldn’t see how fucking giddy you were. That you got to spend some time with Franklin Saint. Alone. None of the crew with you. 

You’d been alone with him before throughout the years. Times where everyone else split but you two lived close to each other so you could linger a bit longer. Melody, with her cop dad, had to be home way before the streetlights came on. She usually initiated the great departure. Kevin and Leon would go next and then there was just you and Franklin.

There had been many times where it felt like it could lead to something more. But you were too chicken to say what was on your mind. To let him know that you were feeling him. And if he turned you down, at least you’d know and you’d stop guessing and torturing yourself. But then your feelings would be out there. And if he did turn you down, you’d still have to be around him after. 

You turned and went to get your purse, making sure your wallet was inside. You locked up the house and then walked with Franklin to his car. He was able to move pretty well with the cane. You wondered about the shooting and his recovery, wondered how he felt getting shot by the one girl you swore would end up with Franklin. 

He opened the passenger side for you and you smiled at him as you got in. He limped to the front seat, getting in, and then peeling away from the curb. He was a careful driver, following all of the laws and not speeding too much. It was LA. Everyone sped. And those who didn’t were tourists and people who just moved here.

You talked about nothing important, asking Franklin what he’d been up to since you last seen him. He was vague about his work, but mentioned that he was trying to get into real estate. That was what he and his mom were trying to do together, but it was slow going because of people like her old boss. 

Making it to Fatburger, Franklin got out of the car first. He told you not to move while he came around and opened the door for you. “You don’t have to do that, Franklin Saint,” you told him.

“I want to do it.” He smiled and took your hand. You must have gotten off in an alternate LA. An alternate universe. One in which you were holding hands with Franklin Saint and he was about to buy you a burger. 

You ordered and while you waited for the food, you pestered him with questions. “I guess I never thought you’d go into real estate like your mom,” you said.

He shrugged. “All these investors and white dudes come into our hoods to make money off of our backs. They leave the places like shitholes and then get mad when people want something better. If they can do it, I can do it better,” he said. 

You smiled. If nothing else, at least that same fire in him never went out. “My mom and I own an apartment block not too far from here actually,” he said.

“Wait, really? What’s the rent like?” You asked.

“You trynna move out already? You just got back,” he said.

Your orders were called so Franklin grabbed them. You made your way back to his car, leaning on the hood while you dug into your burger. You moaned at the first taste of it. What you loved about Fatburger was that it tasted just like someone whipped it up in your kitchen. A hood staple. Nothing fancy about it.

“I had four years without my parents down my back about everything. There’s no way I can stay in that house for too long,” you said.

“I can show you one of the empty units if you want,” he said. 

“Yes! Please,” you said. It’d be a bit awkward paying Franklin and his mom for a place to stay. But fuck. Anything had to be better than being back under your parents’ roof. They were sweet, truly, but even while away at college, they refused to see you as an adult. You needed out, as soon as possible. 

You fell into a comfortable silence as you ate your food. The sun was finally starting to lose some of its heat. Honking cars, slamming brakes, and helicopters made for a chaotic song in the background as you looked around. 

Finished with your food, you threw out everything in the nearest trash can. When you approached Franklin again, he caught you about the waist and pulled you closer.

“Stay out with me,” he said.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. This was so surreal. And unfortunately, you weren’t cool enough to go with the flow. “Franklin Saint, what are you doing?” You asked.

“I really did miss you,” he said. 

You licked your lips. If only this man knew…knew about the many times you spent awake, dreaming about him. Wondering about him. Daydreaming about him. He had no idea. 

“But this…” you said, letting the sentence dangle. You were still too nervous to be out with it. To go on and say what you meant. 

Franklin chuckled and gripped your hips a little tighter. He interlocked his fingers behind your back. “A lot has changed. A lot of bad shit. I got some scars. Thank you for not asking about the cane, by the way.”

You smiled. You did want to ask about it, but Franklin was entitled to tell you about it or not. Tucky was wrong. People were responsible for their own informed decisions. You didn’t have a right to demand information from Franklin. 

“But what’s never changed was how I felt about you,” he said. He looked at you while he said. Everything in you told you to believe it. To cherish it. To hold it in your heart and never let it go.

“Stop playing,” you told him, laughing to diffuse the sudden too tense situation. You tried pulling out of his arms, but he held on tight. 

“I’ve done a lot of shit. Regretted a lot. One of my biggest regrets was never telling you how I felt in high school,” he said.

Your lips parted on a quiet gasp. “In high school? You were on Melody,” you said. 

He winced as you said her name. You wondered about which memories those conjured up for him. You may not feel right asking him, but you would definitely ask Tucky the next time you hung out with her. You had been too out of the loop. 

“I liked you. But it never seemed like you liked me back and I was too nervous to ask. When you left for college…all I could think was that I should’ve kissed you,” he said. 

Today was a day for revelations it seemed. You stared, open mouthed at Franklin. Your head emptied of every thought except that…Franklin Saint liked you back. Been liking you since high school. And he was the nervous one? He was the one that wasn’t sure about your feelings? 

“Franklin Saint…I’ve had a crush on you since we first met,” you told him. 

“You have?” Franklin asked. He smiled. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” 

You shrugged. You licked your lips, so dry in the face of everything you kept locked down for years. Practically a decade at this point. You rehearsed what you would ever say to Franklin if you had the chance. That rehearsal did nothing for you at the moment since you couldn’t remember a single sentence. 

“It felt like you were more into Mel. She was my friend too and I saw the way she looked at you…” 

There were plenty of times that you caught them looking at each other when they thought everyone else weren’t looking. You thought they would have ended up together by now. Mel on her first kid at least. 

Hearing that she was the one to shoot him was still odd to you. There was so much you were missing.

“I did like Mel. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t. But I think Mel was safer,” he said. 

You looked up at him. Night was fast approaching. The lot lights were starting to come on, bathing Franklin in a pale glow. His eyes darkened in the shadow of the light but this up close, you could see him. Really see him. 

“Mel lived right next door. She had a cop for a dad. I knew who she was inside and out. Or I did,” he said. “But you…you scared me.”

“I scared you?” 

Franklin nodded. “You’ve always been special. Always saw the world better than I ever did. I thought if I told you, if I kept you here selfishly…I’d never forgive myself,” he said. 

“Think mighty high of yourself to think I would stay home from college for you,” you said. You smirked to let him know that you were teasing. But only a little. You probably would have found a college closer to home if it meant that you got to be with Franklin Saint. 

Your feelings weren’t one sided. All these years. Wasted. Gone. All the nights spent dreaming about a life with Franklin. Those could have been nights spent on the phone talking to him. 

“Not that. You deserved to live your life without worrying about me. Or anyone from the neighborhood,” he said with a smile. That damn smile. No matter what he did, he always had the same smile. The kind that warmed you down to your toes. 

“What about what I wanted? You don’t know what I would’ve done had you told me sooner,” you said. 

Franklin nodded. “I’ll live with that. At least you went to college guilt free,” he said. 

You sighed and leaned your head on his chest. You breathed in his beautiful clean scent. Felt his strong arms around you. His long legs pressed against yours. This. This was your dream. To be wrapped up in his arms and forgot the world existed. 

You pulled back and looked at him. “Take me home?” You asked, a shy smile on your face. This was the boldest thing you’d ever done in your life. Your stomach rebelled, screaming that this was too much for you.

But it wasn’t. He would make sure of that. Franklin Saint was always goofy, kind, and sweet. Four years and whatever went down for him couldn’t change that completely. Couldn’t change him. 

“Are you sure? I’m not pressuring you into anything, I swear,” he said. 

You placed a hand over his heart to calm him down. “I’m very sure,” you said. You hoped you sounded calm. This was what you had been dreaming about as soon as you were old enough to recognize that he was a very attractive boy and made your stomach feel funny. You dreamed about kissing him, getting naked with him, and feeling him move inside of you. 

It was so close for the taking. All you had to do was reach out. And be honest. Speak up for once in your damn life and grab what you want instead of waiting for divine intervention. Like you were going to trip and land on his dick somehow. No. You wanted him. And you wanted him now.

“If anything, it feels like I’m pressuring you.” 

Franklin smiled and then leaned down to press his lips against yours. It was nothing like what you imagined. It was so much better. His lips were soft, but forceful as he took control and kissed you like two lovers reunited after decades apart. 

He stole the breath from your lungs as he swept his tongue inside, exploring your mouth. He sucked on your bottom lip, awakening an ache deep in your lower belly. You sighed and gasped against his mouth, loving the expert way he kissed. He Kissed, with a capital K. The kind that turned you into a giant puddle. 

His hands migrated from your lower back to your ass, cupping it in his big hands. You moaned against his mouth, a little embarrassed to make such a sound. Franklin didn’t miss a beat, continuing to kiss your socks off. Well, if you were wearing any.

He pulled back slowly. Both of you were out of breath. You blinked a few times, clearing the lusty daze, before looking into his eyes. “You still sure? You can say no,” he said.

You smiled and pecked him on the lips. “Franklin Saint, take me home now,” you said. 

Franklin chuckled and released you. You shivered from the onset of a chill in the air. It was still muggy out, hot enough to know you won’t get any type of cool relief tonight from a fan. Franklin opened your door first and then got into the driver’s seat.

He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it, before pulling out of the gravel parking lot and headed back to Compton. This type of night, right after rush hour, it didn’t take long to make it back to your house.

Franklin pulled into the driveway and opened your door. You climbed out with a goofy grin on your face. Both of you had been too excited to do much talking. Your hand had been on his thigh the entire ride home. 

Franklin told you about all the ways he knew that he liked you. Like in high school, you wore a specific pair of pants that really made your ass stand out. Or when you’d call him by his full name and he felt it in his chest. The way he’d get excited to see you at any function you all hung out together.

You told him about all the times he’d been sweet to you. When you would work on the same project for school or he’d walk you and Mel home. You were across the street so he’d drop you off first and you had to stare out of the window while he walked Mel home. You didn’t tell him that part. But you did tell him that you always hoped he’d ask you to one of the school dances until you learned that he wasn’t much for dancing. 

Now that you were at your place, you were completely turned on. Desire rippled through you like waves of heat off of asphalt. The crush that you lovingly tended to these long years burst free. Now, you were just desperate to get him underneath you. Or on top of you. You’d take him any way he wanted to give it to you.

Franklin kept up with you as you went up to your front door and unlocked it. Tucky dumped your things unceremoniously in the living room. You turned on the light with a giggle, moving things out of the way so that you could pass through without falling on anything.

Franklin chuckled with you, closing and locking the door behind you. He looked too inviting standing in the doorway of your house. He’d been inside before, everybody in the group had, but that was different.

Now, you were both adults. Now you were about to do adult things in your house. Your mom would clutch her pearls if she ever knew. 

You smiled at Franklin. He smiled back. He limped closer, somehow making that sexy as well. He looked more distinguished than broken. Like the cane was a prop. A way to make people think he was weak when he wasn’t. 

He took your hand and led you to your bedroom, knowing the way from memory alone. He didn’t turn on any more lights until he got to your room. Thank god you took down anything embarrassing from your childhood days. Now, the walls were a bit bland since you took down some posters. 

You had planned on replacing it, but you didn’t spend long summers back home. You ended up finding a part time job in college, something to give you some spending money while your parents helped with school as best as they were able. 

Franklin closed your door and then led you by the hand to your bed. He smiled as he pushed you to sit down. He leaned his cane against the corner of your bed and then moved to kneel. 

“You don’t have to–”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me,” Franklin said. He grimaced but knelt down, moving in between your legs. Now, you were looking down at him slightly. He pulled you into a sweet, burning kiss that warmed you from the inside out.

As you kissed, his hands began exploring under your shirt. He found the edges and slowly lifted your shirt, warm fingers touching your cold skin. You shivered from the heat of him. The taste of him. You could get drunk from his kisses alone.

There was only the sound of your kissing and breathing, the window closed to the outside world. You were the only two people in existence at the moment. The only two who mattered. You felt like pinching yourself. Never, never, ever in your wildest dreams did you think that you’d be here with Franklin Saint.

You kissed for hours, or it could have been minutes, before Franklin pushed your shirt up and off. His calloused thumbs flicked over your sensitive nipples and you moaned. “Fuck, that feels so good,” you said.

“You feel so good,” Franklin said. He moved his lips down the side of your jaw, down your neck, and to your chest. He took one nipple into his mouth, suckling it to the point of pain. That pain morphed into something dangerously delicious in your lower belly, pooling desire in your panties. 

You leaned back on your bed, giving him more access to your chest. His other hand continued to roll your other nipple between his fingers, giving you too much stimulation at once. You were squirming, fidgeting, moaning with pleasure. This was how your first time should have been. It should have been with Franklin Saint.

Franklin switched nipples, giving the other the same attention he lavished on the first. Cool air in the room hit the first nipple, making it bead up. You needed some friction. You rubbed your legs against his chest, needing him way closer than what he was. 

Franklin looked up at you from suckling on your nipple. “What you need?” He asked.

“You. I need you,” you cried. 

Franklin leaned back from suckling on you and you cried from the lack of contact. He pulled his polo shirt over his head, tossing it onto the ground to join yours. Your eyes looked over his wonderful body. The dark, smooth skin of his chest. The powerful, ripped arms. Franklin was still skinny, but he seemed to have lost the vestiges of boyhood. He was a man, through and through. Lean, honed, and sculpted.

He kissed down your belly. You giggled as he found a few ticklish spots. You ought to feel embarrassed. After all, this was Franklin Saint. The same boy who saw you get sick after eating too much ice cream when you were younger.

But this felt too right. Too destined. Like you were always on a collision course with him and it was only a matter of time before you ended up in this exact position. At the mercy of his loving hands and heavenly mouth. 

He moved to undo your pants and he helped you wiggle out of them. You had to lay back and lift your hips in order to get everything off. Franklin grabbed your knees and gently pulled your legs back open, getting a good, long look at your glistening pussy.

Fuck, you felt yourself getting wetter just from seeing the way his eyes got bigger. Like he was a starving man staring down a feast fit for a king. He bit his lip as he trailed a finger through your wetness. You hissed. That contact alone was enough to send you through the roof.

You watched his face as his fingers explored your pussy. Nudging your pussy lips apart, he gathered up enough of your essence to soak his finger. Then he pushed his finger inside of you. You gasped, leaning back on your hands to keep you from just falling back and losing your marbles.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathed. 

“More, Franklin Saint. Please,” you moaned.

Franklin continued to go slow, moving his eyes from your pussy and to your eyes. He smirked as he fingered you, getting you so wet you were dizzy with arousal. Your skin sizzled. You panted, eyes starting to cross. Just when you thought you were going to go over the edge, Franklin slowed his finger. 

You groaned, looking down at him. He smirked as he withdrew his finger altogether. You pouted, ready to complain when he painted your nipples with your essence. He stared at you while he leaned up on his knees and suckled your titties back into his mouth. He alternated between the two.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. You brought one of your hands to the back of his neck, pushing him down onto your nipple. He chuckled and used his free hand to play with your clit. You jerked, moaning in your room without abandon. You were free to be as loud as you wanted. 

You wanted him to hear you. To hear how well he was treating you. Because if you had your say, you would do this every night. Open yourself to him as often as you wanted. It was more than sexual. You knew this man inside and out. You knew his quirks, his habits. Why he smiled or why he smirked. You knew what made him sad and what made him happy. You knew which foods he liked and which sweets made him grin like a kid. You knew him on a deep level and it was enough to make you tear up. 

Franklin licked the last of your arousal from your nipples and pulled his finger back out of you. He brought his wet finger up to your lips. “Suck,” he commanded.

You opened your mouth and sucked on his finger. It was so filthy, it made your pussy clench. You never thought much about tasting yourself. But when he demanded, you jumped to obey. You moaned around his finger, swirling your tongue like you wanted to do around his dick. 

As if he sensed the direction of your thoughts, his eyes narrowed and a sexy grin spread across his face. He winked at you before pulling you into a sweet kiss. You sighed, melting into him. 

“Lay down,” he said.

You did as you were told, laying on your back completely and getting comfortable. Franklin shifted on the floor, grunting a bit. You felt guilty for him being on his knees for so long, but he made no indication that he was in serious pain. And you didn’t want to ruin this moment by babying him.

He hooked his arms under your knees and yanked you closer to the edge of the bed. You yelped and giggled in response. “I could have moved,” you told him.

“I would have asked,” he said.

You giggled some more, lifting your head to look at him. You gave him a look and all he did was wink once more. He kissed your thighs, looking at you while you did so. Everywhere his lips touched, your thighs tingled. You licked your lips, watching his sexy display before you.

The way his fingers pushed into your plushy thighs. The way he alternated nibbling and kissing your legs, moving closer and closer to the wet center of you. You rolled your hips as he finally put his face where you needed him most.

You were close, you could feel it. You just needed his lips on you. Everywhere on you. Franklin blew a cool breath of air across your heated core and you moaned. He dropped his head and began to lick you.

“Fuck, fuck,” you moaned. You weren’t prepared for how well his mouth would feel on you. Suckling and licking on your clit. Your hand flew to his mini afro, pulling at him like a wild animal. You made all kinds of guttural, primal noises as he seemed to sense exactly what you needed.

He listened to every sigh you made, every moan you uttered. He paid attention to when you got quiet and when you were screeching with pleasure. Incoherent words fell from your lips as he ate you out. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” he moaned into you. 

He brought one hand up to cup your titty. Your hand found his and you interlocked your fingers. Whether it was that extra connection or the slow way he teased your clit, you were finally screaming through an orgasm. Light and fire exploded behind your eyelids as you came, so consumed by the raging inferno that you couldn’t see or hear anything. Your mind was lost to the intense pleasure you received from Franklin. 

Your hand clutched his as you came and came, waves upon waves of fire licking up your body. You released his hand in increments, slowly returning to your body. Pools of sweat gathered in your chest, neck, and back. Your heart was beating a thousand miles per minute. 

Franklin moaned as he dragged his lips away from your pussy. You made an entire mess on your bed, but fuck it. Well fucking worth it.

Franklin climbed to his feet, hovering over you with a self-satisfied smirk. “You good?” He asked.

“So, so good,” you said and grinned. You got up slowly from your bed, standing up and stepping close to him. He lifted his eyebrow at you.

You smirked at him as you undid his belt and pulled his pants down. You dropped down to your knees, staring into his dark, beautiful eyes as you did so. He grinned. 

“And I thought there could be nothin’ sexier than that ass,” he said.

You giggled. His dick was hard and thick in all the right places. You palmed him. He was so smooth and hard as steel. It amazed you. The feeling of him. You explored his balls as well, so heavy already. It made you ache just thinking of him filling you up. Just a fantasy though, you did not want babies.

You pushed for him to sit and then you scooted in between his legs. You took him into your mouth and Franklin hissed, his hand coming around your neck. He didn’t stop you, so you started to work on him, swirling your tongue around his thick tip.

He moaned, throwing his head back as you sucked his dick, tasting beads of precum as it leaked into your mouth. You played with his balls as well, using your hands to grip the base of his shaft. You let some saliva drip out of your mouth so that you could coat his dick and make it easier to slide your hands.

Every dirty thought or fantasy poured out of you, sucking him exactly as you had in your mind over the years. Every which way you thought to take him, you did. Bobbing your head up and down or massaging his balls just right. You hoped this would lead to more, but if it didn’t, you wanted to give him a night he wouldn’t forget. A night you would always remember over and over again.

“Fuck, baby,” Franklin moaned. You tried to pay attention to his words and actions like he did for you. But this blow job was more about you. You didn’t think you were one for sucking someone off like this, but fuck. Sucking Franklin Saint off did something to you. Turned you feral. 

You slurped his dick, lewd sucking noises filling the room and mixed with his soft pleas and curses. He shifted his hips, moving them so that he was meeting your strokes in the middle. You sucked him down further, trying to fit more into your mouth without gagging. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he moaned. You kept going. The goal was to make him cum. To make him feel good. To find pleasure in your mouth like you found with his mouth on you. He tried tapping your shoulder but you only continued, looking up into his eyes with a silent dare.

You wanted him to cum in your mouth. He looked at you and cursed as his dick twitched and released hot pulses of cum. You swallowed him down as he continued to release a thick load into your mouth. 

He cursed again and again as you swallowed each and every drop. Franklin fell back onto the bed with a sigh and you slowly released his dick. He twitched, sensitive from a powerful orgasm. 

You climbed onto the bed, snuggling into him. He panted and huffed. “Stole my damn soul,” he said in between breaths. “Give it back.”

You laughed, loudly, at his corny ass. “No refunds,” you told him and kissed his cheek. He turned his head and kissed you, tongue exploring your mouth. You sucked on his bottom lip and he groaned. 

The kiss grew more passionate. Like you were both starving for each other and one hit wasn’t enough. He moved to climb on top of you but hissed with pain instead of desire. You broke the kiss and then pushed him until he was at the head of the bed, cushioned by your pillows.

You climbed off of the bed, finding his pants, his wallet, and then pulling out a condom. You opened the foil package, rolling it into his hardened dick. And that was just from kissing you. You grinned at him as you rolled it on, all the way down to the base. Then you pinched the top to give him some room. 

You climbed onto the bed while he watched you with a soft look on his face. You blew him a kiss as you climbed onto him, trying not to hurt him.

“You won’t hurt me,” he said.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you said. And it was so true. So deeply true that you just wanted to make him happy. Make him feel nothing but peace in your presence. Make it worth taking a chance on you.

You lifted off of the bed and then guided him inside of your body. It took a few tries but you finally got him lined up just right. He helped steady you as you sunk down onto his dick. You both shared a moan. 

Fuck. He felt so good stretching you that you closed your eyes and savored the feeling. The raw feeling of him inside of you and beneath you. His strong hands around your waist and back, steadying you. 

You weren’t always good on top, but you made the effort to last as long as possible. You stayed on your knees, not athletic enough to properly bounce on his dick. You did your best though, moving so that you weren’t grinding on him, you were genuinely riding him. 

You watched Franklin’s face, the drops of sweat sliding down the smooth planes of his face. He looked so damn good. From his hair to the goatee on his face. You planted your hands on his thighs, leaning back a bit and took him in deeper at this angle. You continued to bounce and moan, titties flying everywhere.

Franklin quickly solved that, grabbing your titties in his hands and leaning forward to suckle on your nipples while you rode him.

“Feel so good, so good,” you moaned.

“Fuck, ride me so well,” Franklin moaned.

Your nails dug into his bare shoulders as you continued to chase the orgasm that was just out of reach. You felt it, getting closer and closer, making your body turn to mush with desire. You clutched Franklin to you as the orgasm finally rippled through you. 

A few pumps later, Franklin joined you, roaring out his pleasure as you felt him twitch and jerk inside of you. Your body bowed as his twitching touched a deep part of you. You moaned and collapsed on top of him. 

You panted a few times then tried to move, not wanting to crush the poor man. But Franklin tightened his hold on you, bringing his arms to wrap around you.

“Stay just like this,” he whispered softly.

“Franklin Saint,” you muttered, smiling against his damp skin. You licked his chest and felt him shudder beneath you.

“Don’t play with me,” Franklin warned. You turned your head towards him and smiled, giving him a sweet kiss.

“Long overdo,” you said sleepily.

“Way too fuckin’ long,” he said. He kissed the top of your head. He eventually did slip out of you and took off the condom, but you were too wrapped up in each other to want to move. You stayed up until the sky brightened outside, talking and laughing with him until you both drifted off to sleep.

Whew! Need some more Franklin??? The Secret Franklin Saint Files

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Franklin Saint Files #Franklin Saint x Black!reader #Franklin Saint x Black reader #x Black reader #Franklin Saint x Fem!reader #Franklin Saint x Fem reader #x Fem reader #Franklin Saint x plus size reader #Franklin Saint smut #Franklin Saint fanfic #Franklin Saint fan fic #Franklin Saint fanfiction #Franklin Saint fan fiction #Franklin Saint x reader #Snowfall #Snowfall fanfic #Snowfall smut #Snowfall fan fic #Snowfall fan fiction #Snowfall fanfiction

[sailormarijuanera]

𝓽𝓸𝓳𝓲'𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓭 (𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮)

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝐹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒽𝓁𝓎 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒹, 𝓎𝑜𝓊’𝓋𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓁𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝓈. 𝐼𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊’𝓋𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑒𝒾𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎-𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 “𝓅𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓀” 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈 𝒶 𝒹𝒶𝓎. 𝒬𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓆𝓊𝒶𝓁𝒾𝒻𝒾𝑒𝒹, 𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓇.

“𝒩𝑜, 𝐼 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒻𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃,” you said. You took a sip from your iced coffee right as you reached the elevator, you clicked “Up” and braced yourself. Everytime you stopped, it took you a moment to register whether he was still behind you or not. He was so quiet it was almost disturbing, considering how built he was. A fact that you couldn’t help but (crudely) point out when you first met and you were insanely thankful that he cracked a smile instead of rolled his eyes.

Sure enough, you heard the high-pitched ping! that came from his phone. Your assistant was still on with you, recounting the meeting she’d sat in while you were on your flight. You were following along just enough to know when you should respond, but honestly it was hard to focus. You could just barely make out his form out of the corner of your eye. You were so tempted to look, but you didn’t want to reveal any true curiosity. The staring and the flirting was fun, as long as nothing ever actually happened, because then things would get awkward. Or more likely than not, he just wasn’t as smooth as he pretended to be. Men tend to get too much of the benefit of the doubt as it is. In your experience, the most muscular guys were the least fun in bed, anyway.

The elevator doors opened and suddenly every person in the building had business of the utmost importance. The swarm of suits and briefcases annoyed you more than anything, but the subtle reaction of your bodyguard surprised you. His posture didn’t change because it didn’t need to. As if everyone had just become aware of his presence, they made small sidesteps away from him. By the time you both made it onto the elevator, Sandra’s voice chirped in your ear and everything else was annoying, again.

“Okay, she responded. “She says Tuesday works, and is asking how you like your grass?” Your assistant tried her best to convey the message as it read, but the confusion was apparent in her voice. You fought back the smile that wanted to follow the image in your head: your best friend gesturing to an absurd amount of pre-rolls on one table, then to another littered with bongs of every size.

“You can tell her it should be clipped, clumped, and potted upon arrival. That’s very important, Sandra. Is there anything else?” The doors opened and three more sardines were packed into the can. Everyone made space, awkwardly shuffling against the sides. You tried to do the same, raising your cup to your chest, tucking your elbows into yourself, and moving back. You couldn’t even take a full step before a pair of hands grabbed you. His grip was on your elbows and was somehow incredibly sturdy. For a split second, you wondered if this elevator had a decorative statue you’d missed and just backed into, then you heard him speak for the first time in two hours.

“Careful, sweetheart.”

There were a lot of emotions that came with that. First, your thighs clenched together because his voice was so deep and smooth, then you were annoyed because he sounded way too happy and also he called you sweetheart. Very unprofessional.

You tried to pull away and almost crashed into the person in front of you, so you opted to just stay still. His hands pulled away. Sandra had been talking for maybe a minute but you hadn’t heard a word she said. You were so much closer to him than you’d ever planned to be. Your ass was fully pressed into his crotch, and any movement to readjust simply made the contact more … intimate. Even so, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, trying anything to create at least a sliver of space between you, but that may have been too much movement. The sudden pressure from his hands on your hips was startling, thankfully all that escaped you was a small gasp.

“Stay still,” Toji said. His voice was low and strained, this time. Your face flushed hot and suddenly you wanted nothing more than for the elevator to plummet down all thirty-something floors.

Throughout all of this, your phone was still dutifully pressed against your ear. You realize not more than ten seconds have gone by, and you immediately think that’s not correct. You’ve been in this elevator for hours, you were sure of it.

The lights flickered once, twice, then a sudden lurch in the machine had it moving again. There was a collective sigh from nearly everyone, strangers comforting and assuring each other’s safety. Then there was you. Face hot, hands clammy, clutching at coffee and purse. Toji’s hands finally fell away from your hips, silent as ever. Not another word was exchanged in the elevator.

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x female reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk

[privatehousesanatomy]

hi this is a very controversial topic in the house md fandom i feel like and i'm going to speak on it. feel free to agree or disagree in the comments and reblogs, but truthfully i don't think anything you can say can or will change my view point.

that being said - house was never the "bad guy". is he a great guy? absolutely not. he's deeply flawed and i can understand why a lot of people hate him. it's hard to like somebody when all you're seeing is what's on the surface. he's cold, abrasive, mean, and an entire list of other words i could use to describe house but that's not the point of this post.

i can guarantee that there is not a single person on this planet that could go through even a quarter of the shit that house has gone through and still say that they're not miserable. you cannot expect someone to go through hell and not come out of it a changed person, and you cannot get upset with a person who's gone through hell and is bitter because of it.

let's start with his childhood. it's always been kinda up in the air just how abusive house's father was - the only real instances we were ever given detailing the abuse was ice baths, being made to sleep in the yard, and being given the silent treatment, which are all absolutely horrible things to do to child, however his childhood wasn't something that was ever touched on a whole lot. house even admits that there were good times, and a lot of people overlook that fact. a lot of y'all aren't willing to accept that people can have good memories of their abusers - that's how they become abusers in the first place. especially in terms of abusive relationships - there had to be good memories before the bad ones could be made. we don't know how john house was in terms of how he spoke about his son to other people. he could have described his son as his pride and joy to the general public but behind closed doors shamed house for not being more like him. having a tainted relationship with a parental figure is damaging and it's really no wonder why house grew up with such a skewed perspective on the concept of unconditional love.

chronic pain is a whole other issue. he was forced into a medical procedure against his will and regardless of whether or not it saved his life, it was still a direct violation of his bodily autonomy and to make it worse, the person that did it to him ending up abandoning him when he became too much of a burden. chronic pain is already hard enough to deal with. i deal with it myself and i completely understand why house gets the way he gets when he's in pain. to the rest of the world, they watch him function and think that the pain can't be that bad, and it's the same shit i experience in my own daily life. the pain is incredibly overstimulating at times and despite how good we might be at pretending that it's not, we're suffering inside.

another thing that doesn't help is how many people remind house on a daily basis how horrible he is and how they're worse off for knowing him. do you honestly expect him to start acting like everything is all sunshine and rainbows when people are practically telling him he's better off dead? that the world would be a better place if he wasn't in it? he is the way he is because everything in his life has proven to him that for some god forsaken reason, the universe is working against him and the only way for it to not hurt him is for him to become an isolated, antisocial individual. can't get hurt if you don't let anyone in, right?

while i'm here, i'm also going to touch on instances in the show that he gets blamed for. amber's death and chase getting stabbed were not his fault. everyone wants to sit here and blame him but there's no blame to put on him. with amber, he specifically called looking for wilson. he told amber to find wilson and send him. amber came anyway. it wasn't her fault either. it was no one's fault but the guy that drove into the bus. house risked his life to try and save amber's, and yeah she died but it wasn't his fault.

and with chase getting stabbed, that wasn't house's fault either. house might have taken the blame for it because if the blame has to be pinned on someone, might as well be him, right? but you can't blame him for either situation.

idk maybe im yapping too much and maybe none of this makes sense but it makes sense to me

#house md #hatecrimes md #hugh laurie #gregory house #greg house

[burningfudge]

Ultimates (2024) #1

OHMYGODDD Ultimates #1 was fantastic! I have so many thoughts that I had to turn it into a post lol.

Poor Steve 😂 I'm very interested to see Steve's journey, though, because he's now the captain of a country that doesn't exist. How is he going to navigate that? I'm also looking forward to Steve and Tony's dynamic in this universe because Tony's a kid, which changes things a lot. He's a kid with the burden of the world on his shoulders, trying to undo everything that the Maker did, and Steve knows that as well. Plus, if they know about all the events on Earth-616, they also know about Civil War. I hope it's brought into the conversation soon.

NOOO IS CAROL DEAD?? MY GIRL This is brutal as a Captain Marvel and Hawkeye fan. Spider-Man is thriving for now (surprising, I know), but Carol is probably dead, and Clint has given up being Hawkeye. But even Spider-Man was near rejection as Peter was thinking about giving up until his daughter convinced him to be Spider-Man. The Maker really fucked up this universe, huh. I'd love for a certain archer to find the uniform and take up the Hawkeye mantle and then Clint to get inspired by Kate in this universe. I think it'd be a fun twist, especially since Tony also mentioned that they can find near-perfect substitutes. He eventually realized his mistake later on the issue, but I really do think Kate could have a big role to play.

Hehe, a fun little wink to Tony eventually becoming Kang the Conquerer.

This version of Tony is so interesting to me because he’s a kid, and making him the center of all this works very well because of it, especially his relationships with Reed and Steve. Reed is more pragmatic and cold, while Steve is idealistic, and seeing both of them influence Tony is fantastic. Tony himself is more idealistic than his 616 version because he’s much younger. Steve grounds the two and makes Tony and Reed understand that whatever they're doing isn't an experiment but a revolution.

While I love all the other characters, the standout in this issue for me was Hank Pym, which I didn't expect. He knows what kind of person he turned to be on Earth-616 and he doesn't want to turn out that way. I think that's a very compelling story arc.

Ahh, I love this. What Steve says is right; Hank can choose to be different. It's also interesting if we compare Peter and Hank because, in Ultimate Spider-Man, we're told that Peter always felt that something was missing from his life, and then he learned the truth about what the Maker did and became Spider-Man, which fulfilled his life. On the other hand, Hank was happy running an extermination business with his wife. (How Janet went from rich heiress to this is also something I'm wondering). Hank was happy, but now he's being told he was supposed to become Ant-Man, create Ultron, and hit his wife, whom he loves more than anything. I felt bad for him, honestly.

616 Tony should say this to his father, too lol. But this part is probably my favorite part of the issue because of the insight it gives us into Tony's mind, who is the center of the new Ultimate universe. As I've mentioned many times, Tony is a teenager in a world run by fascists, a world that his father was complicit in making. He's angry at Howard, but he also loves him. I think an argument could be made about Tony representing today's generation that's also dealing with the effects of (poor) decisions made by our parents and grandparents, and feeling the anger from it. "It's quite a mess you made, Dad. And now we have to clean it up. What choice do we have?" "If there's any hope of fixing things...it won't be enough to be as good as the heroes of that simpler world. We'll have to be better. I don't know what that looks like yet. But we're going to figure it out." "You were the smartest man in the world. You should've known better. And that is failure.”

#ultimates #tony stark #steve rogers #hank pym #janet van dyne #reed richards #carol danvers #clint barton #iron lad #captain america #ant man #the wasp #doctor doom #captain marvel #hawkeye #iron man #mister fantastic #marvel comics #ultimates 2024 #marvel ultimates #earth 6160

[foundress0fnothing]

As always, for @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk. It has been such a joy to write this for you, and I apologize that it took me so long to finish it (hence the awkward timing of a New Year's Eve ending in...June). Thank you for being along for the ride and for being such a wonderful giftee! I'm so glad this experience has allowed me to get to know you better. 🥰💕

Read on AO3 or below the cut. If you’d like to start from the beginning, click here.

31 December 1918, 11:30pm

Nesta left the party early.

She didn’t think anyone would care—there was enough festivity and cheer suffusing the Archeron ballroom that, even if someone did notice her absence, they would shrug it off and quickly be whisked back into the exuberance of the evening.

And why not? They had everything to celebrate. England was victorious, soldiers had returned to their families in time for Christmas, and—most importantly—the war was over.

For most.

Nesta knew that better than anyone.

There were still some men for whom the war was ongoing, those who lingered in Somerville and hospitals like it across the country. They spent their days convalescing and trying to get well again. Some of them never would—that was the unspoken reality that the nurses knew would be the case with a few of these final patients who were permanently injured by the war in mind or body or both.

There were other men who had lost someone close to them—a brother or a friend or a lover—and for them too, the war would never quite be over. A part of them would always be buried in the mud of the trenches that stretched across the continent.

And then there was Nesta, left in a kind of limbo wondering what became of Captain Davies. She read and reread his final letter to her as if she could use it to will him back into her life, but nothing came of it.

She had tried to find out what had happened to him, but his name didn’t appear on any injury roster or official MIA registry, and even using Sr. Clotho’s influence as the head of the hospital to press higher ups for any information or to send out a search party had gone nowhere. Once, despairingly, she had looked for him on the list of the dead that was published. But there was nothing. It was as if he had simply disappeared one day, taking Nesta’s heart with him.

She swiped at her eyes as she climbed the stairs to her room, cursing herself for falling in love with a soldier. Because she knew, she knew, that this would be what happened. Why should she expect otherwise? This wasn’t one of her romance novels.

As she reached the landing to the upper floors of the manor that housed the bedrooms, Nesta looked around to make sure that no one was there to witness her flight from the ballroom that had grown oppressive under the weight of others’ celebration and joy. She had made sure that Elain and Feyre were in the ballroom when she left. She had no worries that Elain was doing her duty as a host, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to see Feyre up on this floor having escaped the confines of the ballroom to sit precariously on the roof in her nice clothes and gaze up at the stars.

But she needn’t have worried. Feyre had been arguing with a smug-looking man, and Elain had been dancing with someone whose vibrant auburn hair marked him as one of the Vanserras, a distant neighbouring family. Gwyn and Emerie had been occupied with other guests as well, chatting in a small group with a beautiful dark haired man and a blonde woman in a red dress. Nesta didn’t recognize either of them, but she assumed they were people Elain had met in her fundraising groups and charity events.

She didn’t much care anyway; she didn’t have the energy to laugh and dance and drink champagne until midnight. She just wanted to go to bed.

Satisfied that she was alone, Nesta walked down the hall to the door of her room and shut it quickly behind her.

She could still hear the noise of the party downstairs—the low hum of conversation with occasional bouts of laughter, the music of the band, the click of glasses against each other—but it was softer now and infinitely more tolerable.

Nesta sagged against the doorframe, allowing herself to relax and drop stiffly pleasant armour that had carried her through the night. There was no one to perform for anymore. They could ring in the New Year without her—they’d be better for it anyway. She wasn’t sure she had any hope worth offering. The past held too much of her heart.

Reaching up to the crown braid on top of her head, she began pulling pins out of it, letting them hit the ground one by one with small metallic dings. She would clean them up in the morning. The pressure in her head lessened as the braid fell down her back and she began unravelling it until her golden brown waves draped loosely around her shoulders.

She didn’t bother removing her dress yet. It was one of her favourites—blue with a navy and silver floral overlay that brought out the colour of her eyes—and it was comfortable enough to spend a few more minutes in as she tried to settle her thoughts and aching heart. She still felt stifled from the party, and so she took a few purposeful steps and crossed over to the small balcony at the far side of her room and threw open the door. Fresh air flooded in, bitingly cold for the sheer sleeves and open neck of her dress, but she didn’t really mind it. It was grounding, albeit in a painfully clarifying way.

Before she could take a step outside, however, there was a gentle knock at her door. Nesta groaned. Had Feyre or Elain spied her sneaking upstairs and followed her up to pressure her to come back down? Or worse, had Gwyn or Emerie noticed and come to make sure she was okay?

Another knock sounded, and Nesta sighed, resigning herself to whatever barrage she was about to face. Crossing the room again, Nesta opened the door. And froze.

For he stood before her, wearing a black dress coat with a grey cravat that would be appropriate for a New Year’s Eve ball. One arm was in a sling, and his face bore scars that hadn’t been there two years ago.

“Hello, Nurse Nes.” His face broke into a wry grin, reminiscent in so many ways of their first interactions at Somerville.

“Cassian.” She choked on his name, and her hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to stop any sobs from breaking through.

His eyes softened.“Hi there, sweetheart.”

Nesta shook her head and moved her hand down to her throat, which still felt tight. “Don’t call me that,” she whispered, not trusting herself to speak any louder.

Chuckling lightly, he lifted his free hand to cup her face and said, “Are we still pretending that you don’t like my nicknames?”

She pushed his hand away and glowered at him, hands now on her hips. The shock of seeing him alive faded as irritation took its place. “Well? Where were you? Why didn’t you write?”

“Oh, did you miss me?”

“Cassian.” Her voice was firm as she said his name this time. She didn’t want flirting and teasing. She wanted answers.

“Nes—”

“Why. Didn’t. You. Write.” She punctuated each word with a hard poke to his chest.

Cassian rubbed his chest and sighed. “It’s not a happy story.”

“Good.”

Cassian nodded, almost to himself. He then gestured to the interior of Nesta’s room where there was a small breakfast table with chairs set up in a corner. “May we sit?”

Nesta nodded and moved to allow him inside. The balcony door was still open, but she didn’t make any move to shut it, settling instead at the table. Finding out what happened felt too pressing to wait another moment.

“There was a battle,” Cassain started as he followed her to the table and lowered himself into a chair across from her. “Things were…bad.” He hesitated as he spoke, and Nesta could see that he was weighing what to tell her and what things could stay buried for now. “They had moved our unit to France, and we were told that we were to bridge the Sambre-Oise Canal. It should have been easy, after everything. Push forward, bridge the Canal, and hold it as we waited for reinforcements.”

He stopped speaking for a moment, and Nesta sat in silence with him, laying a hand gently on his arm.

“But,” he continued after a few beats, “it was…hell. I had spent the last few months in Passchendaele, but the fact that the scale was smaller here almost made it worse. It was as if the chaos of battle had been muted. I heard every gunshot, saw every one of my men who fell. And I couldn’t do anything about it. We couldn’t retreat, but we couldn’t push forward either. The battalion was penned in by the river to one side of us and the Germans to the other.”

“I was shot,” he said, and Nesta closed her eyes for a moment, a sharp ache shooting through her at the confirmation of what the sling around his arm indicated.

“Same arm as last time.” He grimaced, perhaps remembering the amount of time he had spent healing from the injury before. “Closer to my heart, this time, though. I fell, and then a grenade went off near me, I think. Or one of my soldiers accidentally kicked me in the head as he fled. I don’t know.”

“I woke up a week ago in a hospital bed. Not Sommerville, obviously. But somewhere in France. My identification had fallen off of me at some point, and with the chaos of the end of the war, they had no way to identify me until I woke up and could name myself. My brothers had tried to push the generals to find out what had happened when I disappeared, but the Canal battle was such hell, and,” he said with a shrug, “the army decided it would be a waste of resources to track down every missing soldier.”

He paused again after that, caught in the memory, and looked down at his lap. “The nurses told me I was lucky to be alive. I had stayed half-buried in the mud of the Canal for at least a day before the battle had settled enough for one of our mortuary crews to come through and pull bodies out for burial. That’s when they found me. They took me to a hospital when they realised I was still breathing.”

He raised his gaze to look at Nesta. “And now I’m here.”

“Cassian—I…” Nesta trailed off, not sure what to say in the face of all the suffering he had endured, but she kept her hand on his arm. He was here. He had made it out alive.

His eyes were bright and rueful as he laid his free hand overtop hers. “I came as soon as I could, Nesta.”

She sniffed, even as she silently savoured the size and rugged warmth of his hand. “You could have just sent a letter.”

“And miss the storied Archeron New Year’s Eve ball? Never.” He smiled roguishly, waggling his eyebrows. “Besides, this way got me an invitation into your bedroom.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at him and ignored her body’s reaction to what he was implying. “That is entirely inappropriate.”

He was unrepentant. “You’re the one who invited me in.”

Before she could snap back at him, however, they heard muffled whoops from the ballroom downstairs. Nesta realised that it must be close to midnight. Suddenly, ringing in the New Year didn’t feel quite so bleak anymore.

She stood, and held a hand out to him wordlessly. He took it without question, and they walked outside and onto the balcony until they reached the railing. Nesta looked out into the garden. It had started to gently snow, and the grounds were covered with a light dusting that seemed to glow golden in the light of the party below them. For a moment, she let herself simply enjoy the view, holding Cassian’s hand tightly in hers. He was here.

“Twenty…nineteen…eighteen…” A chant counting down to midnight began faintly, and Nesta looked up at Cassian. “Dance with me.”

He took a step back without letting go of her hand, and bowed over it slightly, smiling. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

He led her into an easy waltz. The snow still swirled around them, but Nesta didn’t feel the cold anymore. Cassian was warm and solid and real, and she allowed herself to melt into the comforting strength of his arms.

As the countdown reached one and a cheer rose up from those in the ballroom, Cassian pulled Nesta in closer. “Happy New Year, Nurse Archeron.”

She grinned softly and then raised herself on her toes to brush a kiss against his lips. “Happy New Year, Captain Davies.”

—————————————————————————

A (very) few notes on the historical elements of this chapter:

- I’ve taken Cassian’s story of his injury from the life of Wilfred Owen, one of the most famous WWI poets. Owen died during the battle at the Sambre-Oise Canal, a week before the end of the war. I’ve shifted the timeline of the battle for the purposes of this story, so it happens in July rather than November.

- I was going to have the band play “Auld Lang Syne,” but although it had been played and sung at Scottish Hogmanay celebrations for years, it didn’t become widely popular until 1929, so I didn’t include it here.

- The descriptions of Nesta’s and Cassian’s clothes are loosely based on some of Mary’s and Matthew’s clothes.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #ww1 au #nesta archeron #cassian acotar #nesta x cassian

[tired-fandom-ndn]

man your post about the weight the touden party treats death with reminded me to watch the latest dungeon meshi episode and im lowkey inconsolable. anime doesn't make me cry often but i actually sobbed. that episode is BRUTAL and so perfectly constructed with the context of what's gonna happen later.

and just. thinking about how it is probably the healer of a group who has a large part in setting the "tone" of how Big of a Deal death is, since they're the ones resurrecting people. how in namari's group it is in fact specifically the party cleric/resurrector who's using her as a meat shield.

and how the touden party's treatment of death as a last resort probably isn't just due to everyone treating the lives of the party with weight and value. it's probably also due to marcille treating her party members' death as something to be avoided at all costs, even though she has the power to reverse it.

now im also thinking about how chilchuck's formative experience of adventuring was being used as disposable bait, and how that combined with the unusual weight the touden party places on preserving life probably informs his choice to stay with the party.

....and ALSO thinking about how that's definitely something that makes SENSHI more comfortable with the party, given his aversion to magic

thinking about how izutsumi was clearly viewed as disposal, fitted with a curse that would kill her if she ran away. how she didn't join the other ninjas in risking their lives to fight falin. unlike them, she didn't want to die even knowing she could be revived — or perhaps she didn't trust that she would be.

how the last words falin leaves laios with before the teleportation spell are that she wants him to live.

man,

[context]

Yes yes yes you get it exactly once again!!

It's so interesting how the healer absolutely controls how casually their party treats death and revival and the contrast between the Touden and Tonsu party I think is a really deliberate example, especially since you have Namari going from a party with a healer who is TERRIFIED of death and sees revival as a last resort to a healer who literally uses her as a meat shield, even when she's clearly scared and unhappy with that. She lectured Kaka and Kiki about the unreliability of revival and the risk of it not succeeding, I wonder if she received that same lecture from Marcille when they were still adventuring together?

With Marcille, there's this constant terror of death, the intimate knowledge that it IS coming and eventually there'll be nothing she can do to prevent it. Revival works in the dungeon most of the time, but what if it doesn't? What if it fails? And I think that every time she sees one of her loved ones die, she's faced with both the fear of revival not working AND a reminder that one day, her loved ones WILL die and there is nothing in the world she can do to prevent it. I bet her dreams are haunted by their few deaths every single night.

And with Chilchuck, who seems to be constantly battling against parties to get half-foots treated seriously and not as disposable fodder, the Touden party probably feels like an oasis in the desert to him. Yes, they're annoying and weird, but they also genuinely respect him and don't throw him around as something disposable. With the exception of Senshi, they also seem to leave him the hell alone while he's working, trying their best not to accidentally set off traps that could hurt or kill him. Their treatment of him, aside from Marcille and Senshi treating him like a kid, is probably a good basis for what he wants for ALL half-foots.

Senshi being distrustful of magic and especially of revival magic finding a party that heavily relies on magic while refusing to depend on it to solve everything, especially death. . . That's really good, ngl. I wonder how many adventuring parties he saw go through the dungeon treating themselves and each other as disposable, and how many times he saw revival magic fail from the sidelines. . . Something to think more about.

And Izutsumi!! Yes!! Oh my god, the idea of her not being revived if she'd died is so tragic but it makes so much sense, like they essentially had a bomb collar on her, why would they waste the time, magic, and energy on a revival? I could see her dying in that battle and Tade being the only person to argue for her to be revived, but even then, I think Maizuru would shut her down immediately and Tade would just. Quietly accept it because what else could she do? She's barely treated any better. So joining the Touden party, where Izutsumi isn't expected to die for them no matter what and where no one is disposable, was probably the first time ever where she didn't constantly feel the threat of death looming over her, even in the deepest and most dangerous parts of the dungeon.

Falin, using her very last moments to send her loved ones to safety even while being intimately aware that the chance of them finding and reviving her were slim to none. . . I love her.

#palant1r #dungeon meshi