#you'll remind me of the hope and beauty in the world when i need it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dante-mightdie · 4 months

Note

Jumping aboard the 141 dog train bc woof. No need to make anything of this if you don't feel like it, just sharing my thoughts :)

Imagine reader being a show dog. I myself am picturing a Beauceron or a Red Belgian Tervuren, purely because they're just so gorgeous and striking, but feel free to imagine whatever breed you please. — Laswell finds you traipsing along the side of the road late at night, trembling from the cold and trotting in an oddly rigid manner—your head held high away from the ground and tail pointed skyward. That's weird. A high tail means confidence, but what could you possibly be confident about? And shouldn't a dog keep their head low, sniffing out their path?

She pulls over and you bound up to the car, which is another red flag for her. A lone dog out in the backroads should be a lot more cautious about random vehicles stopping right beside you, but you're only disinterested when the door opens and you see that it's only her inside.

It's then that she sees the thick, jewel-encrusted white leather collar buckled around your throat. There isn't a name or a number on it anywhere. It's purely for decoration. It's then that she also notices just how shiny your coat is, proudly wearing your healthy layer of silky fur like it was an expensive accessory.

Without the shadow of a doubt, you are a pampered little thing who is far, far away from home.

It comes as a shock to her that you're actually a hybrid, and not just some stray mutt. She only manages to get you in the car with gentle persuasion and the promise of a warm interior and some water.

Once inside, she shoots a message to Price and starts asking you questions.

"Am I correct in assuming that you're a... show dog?"

The haughtiness in your voice as you respond has Kate silently reminding herself that she was no better than whoever deserted you on the side of the road if she kicked you out.

"Tsk. Show dog. Ugh, please. I'm a consecutive eight-time international blue-ribbon champion of the World of Canines pageant. I'm a legend."

That reply is more than enough to convince Kate that silence would be much better suited for the duration of the ride. You don't agree.

"Where are we going?" You asked snappily once you realized you hadn't told her where you were going, "Why haven't you contacted my owners?"

"Sweetie—" Kate began patiently with a wry laugh, starting off with an endearment the way her wife would when she wanted to deescalate a situation "—you have zero contact information on you. I don't know who your owners are."

The incredulous look you gave her would've been funny if you hadn't been dead serious.

"What?" You all but yipped, "How on earth do you not know my owners? Actually— how on earth do you not know me?"

The thought of dumping you back into the snow for the wolves to ravage was a tempting one, but the image of Price and his boys putting you in your place was an even more satisfying one. At least, she hoped they would be able to manage you. There was also the chance that you would be so insufferable that you drove the boys to insanity, but she had seen her mutts stomach worse. She likes to think you'd make a nice little gift for them. They always loved a challenge.

She didn't bother answering you.

When you arrived at the top of a twisting path up a hillside—complaining every bit of the way about how the gravelly roads were giving you a headache and that you'd be getting eyebags soon if you didn't get your beauty rest—your nose crinkled in disgust. There were too many clashing scents that assaulted your powdered nose, having been far too accustomed to the poignant fragrances of the perfumes and potpourris you were bestowed in your vanity back at home.

"A cabin?" You sneered distastefully, huffing, "This is where you stay?"

"Nope." Laswell exited the driver's side and yanked the passenger door open, not bothering to hid her amusement when you almost fell out of the vehicle with a startled yelp. "It's where you'll be staying."

It was hard to miss the harrowed expression of dread that befell your features as those words met your perky ears.

"So until I can manage to get ahold of your owners, I suggest you behave, alright?"

She stepped back and pulled you out of the SUV—a birdlike screech of abhorrence exiting your lungs as she did.

"But in the meantime, boys, I've got you something to sharpen your teeth on."

You turned your head to locate who she was talking to, and felt your heart drop to your stomach when your gaze landed on a barrel-chested man standing proudly with a Rottweiler, Doberman, and a Rough Collie at his sides.

Your hackles stood on their ends. — I've got more to follow that's in a more sequential bullet-point style, but I'll cut it here for now bc I don't want it to get too long!

So, this post is just going to be me posting this ask. It arrived in 3 parts so i'll paste the second two parts under the 'keep reading'

@sugar-n-sweets said they'll post an edited version on their blog so please check it out :)

"This what you texted me about, Laswell?" The man asked, gesturing a finger towards you.

"Yeah, found her taking a late-night solo walk just a bit ago." Laswell readied herself to hop back into the car. "Figured you're more suited to house strays than myself."

The panic running rampant in your veins increased tenfold as you watched her slide in behind the wheel.

"No, you— you can't do this! You can't leave me here with— with them!"

Kate rubbed her temples and turned to you.

"Kid, you've got nowhere else to go. This is the only occupied property for miles, and I certainly can't take you back home to my wife. She's allergic to dogs."

A bold-faced lie. But you didn't need to know that.

You paled, looking back at the man and his dogs with wide eyes and a gaping jaw.

"This can't be happening," you muttered aloud to no one in particular but yourself.

"Sure it can," the man sang out to you as he trotted down the stoop of the porch. You didn't miss the glint in his eyes at your cowering as he approached.

"Now come on inside, love. We wouldn't want you to get sick out here."

You entered the cabin, but only to avoid that man's hand grabbing your collar when he reached out for you. You shuddered at how close he had been to grazing your precious coat. In a place like this with a mangy scent like that... only God knew where those hands had been.

You watched the man stalk off to a room down the hall, a manila folder tucked underneath his arm.

You just about shrieked when a cold, wet nose was pressed into your hip. You jumped back with your teeth bared.

"Look at tha' gait. Never seen anythin' more unnatural." The brogue was thick with the signature of Scots, rumbling from the chest of the Rough Collie as he spoke. "Y'got a name?"

Your shoulders tensed in apprehension when the question arose.

"Got a n— yes, I have a name!" You snapped irritably, "Just look at me!"

"Oh, I'm looking, alright." The Rottweiler chuffed from a distance, "Not much of a sight, if you ask me."

You could've given everyone else whiplash with how quickly you swiveled your neck to face the bemused dog.

"Excuse me?" You growled, hackles stiff and raised to their limit. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

The Scot rolled his eyes.

"If we did, ah wouldnae be askin' fer yer name." His eyes seemed to rake over your form, as if sizing you up. "What makes you so special, huh? What makes you so different from all the other mutts?"

Your eye twitched.

"Mutt?" Your voice began low, calculated and simmering in the rage that was about to boil over the edge and scald anyone standing too close. "Mutt?! I am no mutt! I am a purebred specimen of a luxury breed—"

"So you're stuck up," the Doberman snorted, sneering at you down the length of his snout. "Purebreds are only good for looking pretty. An aesthetic commodity."

The fury you felt with trying to get a word in with these dogs had your fur bristling with a type of rage that you had never before been acquainted with. "I am not stuck up! I am a consecutive eight-time international blue-ribbon ch—"

"Oh, so we've got a spoiled little whelp here, eh? Hope you don't expect us to pamper ye."

The frustrated squawk you let out hardly resembled anything that of a dog's cry. — Adjusting was not an easy feature to achieve.

As a show dog, you had no proper "domestic" life. You were a means of income—prize money. The only interaction you had with other hybrids, let alone animals, was with your competitions. So it was safe to say that things hadn't been going in your favor.

You struggled to keep up with them on their daily hikes around their property, as well as the only one who wore a leash. Even if there was no way you stood a chance at outrunning them, they found it amusing to tether you to a lead of rope and tug when you were falling behind—which was always. In order to keep a slim, show-ready figure, your owners never allotted you any more than ten minutes of a casual walk per day. If you even tried to speed it up to a slight trot, your time was cut in half. You did not have the muscle you needed to survive out here and it showed.

You were more humiliated than anything when Price had shoved you off the couch and sprayed you with a bottle, which especially irritated you because you weren't a cat! You were a dog! But fighting back was the last thing on your mind when you were struggling to find comfort on the hardwood floors while all three dogs were curled up with their Captain on his bed.

But over the past two weeks, you had more things to worry about than sore legs and a bruised ego. Since day one, these dogs had been cruel. They found joy in putting you through absolute misery time and time again, like a joke that never gets old.

Gaz made it his personal mission to inconvenience you at any available opportunity. He ate from your bowl, stepped on your tail, kicked you awake when you thought you were safe enough to take a nap—little things to just irk you in the worst way possible.

Ghost pissed you off by acting like you didn't exist half the time. He figured that since you were so accustomed to being recognized for your quote-unquote "achievements", being ignored was the equivalent of a swift kick to the gut. He was wrong. It was more like a sledgehammer to the kidneys in your case.

Soap was much more forward with his advances. He just wanted to piss you off and that was that. He would tackle you to the ground when you were outside, almost like a puppy trying to initiate playtime. He'd send you rolling into dirt, rocks, and snow—showing no interest in assisting you when you had to spend the next few hours picking dead bugs and bits of twigs from your hair. You couldn't be looking like some indecent pup when your owners came looking for you. You were raised better than that. You had a reputation and an image to uphold, and you were never one to disappoint.

And Price didn't do anything except watch with amusement as you were tormented left and right. Some handler he is.

It wasn't until the fourth week that things did began to take a turn.

There was still no word from Laswell about your owners. You'd almost thought that she'd forgotten about you, what with the radio silence regarding your situation and all.

It was a daily routine for you to wait at the front door—nose just inches away from the cold, dark wood in anticipation. It was as if you expected it to fly off the hinges and reveal your owners who you practically worshipped, arms open wide and ready to bring you back home.

You knew you'd be lucky to even get a reassuring head-pat if they found you, but the idea of their excitement at finally finding you was the one thing that kept putting you in front of that door every single morning.

Everyone noticed your behavior, but Ghost was the first to let it fully clock that even if you were in insufferable little hellion—you acted the way you did because that's what you were raised to recognize as the norm. You didn't act like this because you wanted to, you acted like this because it was expected of you, and any disconnection from these mannerisms likely resulted in punishment when you were younger.

He didn't really know what to do with that information, so he didn't do anything. — Laswell's visit the next weekend was unwarranted, but most certainly not unwelcomed.

"You still got that show dog with you, or did you leave the back door unlocked during bear season?" She asked, her stalwart tonality clashing with the joke she made.

"Rest assured, the lil' priss is alive and well, Kate," Price coolly responded as he swung his ax down onto an upright log—splitting it in half.

"Good."

"Any reason for the sudden concern, or are you just feelin' sweet today?" Price set up another log and lined up his ax.

"I found her owners."

The hatchet met the cutting stump with a deep 'thunk', the edge of the blade burying itself much further than it was intended to go.

"Really?"

Kate nodded.

"Hm. Well..." Price paused, giving the handle of the tool a harsh tug and dislodging it from the wood. "...That's good."

"I wouldn't speak so soon."

"Why's that?"

Kate extended her phone to him, where a gallery of photos was displayed on the screen. There were two people—a man and a woman—smiling brightly with a pampered pooch sitting in front of them, donning a blue ribbon, and a leather collar identical to yours.

Except, it wasn't you.

"This was from the pageant last week. The one she was supposed to compete in."

"So why isn't she?" Price inquired, scrolling through the photos and finding similar images from different angles.

"She didn't win first place in her last show." Kate took her phone back from Price. "They never told her that she lost. They just took a 'detour' on their way to the next pageant, and picked up their next dog after dropping her off on the shoulder a month ago."

"So they just..."

"Left her, yeah." Kate nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. "So, her position here may be a little more permanent than we thought."

You were raised by your owners to be the embodiment of elegance. That meant no barking, no scratching, no bouts of energy—none of it. You were so used to this way of life, ignoring your instincts, that you never had the desire to do any of those things.

But when you found out about what your owners had done—

Oh, how you wanted to raise hell.

You weren't even meant to know yet. You were simply inside as you practically always were, sitting on the rug of the living room because Price still wouldn't let you sit on the couches. You had the remote in hand, volume turned down low and closed captioning on as not to alert Soap, who was just a couple rooms down the hall.

You technically weren't supposed to be messing with the television, but today was the date of the pageant you were supposed to be competing in—the one you were supposed to win—and like hell were you going to miss it. You had memorized the listing and channel of every broadcasting service that would be airing it ages ago.

So there you were, kneeling inches away from the TV with an anxious grasp on the remote and your tail nervously stiffened behind you.

You were checking out the competition, rolling your eyes at snooty faces you recognized, mumbling about how you would've presented that strut so much better had you been there. One could only imagine your confusion when you saw a new dog. A spry, sleek-coated Irish setter with a shockingly familiar handler guiding her along.

Your jaw dropped.

That was your handler.

"No!"

You didn't care about keeping the noise down anymore. You rose to your feet in a flash. That was Sergei. Handling another dog. But that didn't make any sense. Sergei only worked for your owners, and only presented you at pageants. Had your owners fired him? Surely not—you loved him! So then why was he handling this new dog?

And why was there a new dog at all? The participation slots were full. You should know, because you took the last one, and pageants didn't take understudies in the event that a dog didn't show up. If a dog wasn't there, then they weren't there. It just counted as a forfeit.

Still in shock, you raised your hand to clutch your proverbial pearls—but when your fingers met your neck, you became acutely aware of the similarities between what you felt, and what you were seeing on the screen.

Ruffles. Jewels. Lace. Leather.

She was wearing your fucking collar.

You didn't need to see Sergei walk the Setter up to your owners after the circuit to connect the dots—nor did you need to see them slip the blue ribbon over her head, hear your owners fabricate a tale about how you were so ashamed after winning silver that you couldn't bear to compete again, and selected Dolores to take your place, or even recall how they oh-so graciously let you out of the RV to let you "stretch your legs" only hours before Laswell found you on the road. It was clear as day.

There were so many urges bubbling within you. It was confusing and pissing you off. You wanted to yell. You wanted to break things. You wanted to unleash yourself.

And because your owners weren't here to drop a phonebook on your tail as a punishment—you did.

"You fucking bitch!"

The clasp of your collar flew off and landed somewhere in the room as you ripped it from your throat. Doing so fucking hurt, but you weren't going to bother being gentle with the accessory that keyed you as property of your traitorous owners.

Soap tumbled into the room, footfalls heavy and uncoordinated from having just been crudely awoken from a midday nap. He only caught a glimpse of you storming out the back door.

He rushed to follow, ready to pounce and bury his teeth into your neck and subdue you like he had in the past, because you weren't allowed to go outside without permission, nor without the Captain.

But he froze in his tracks when he saw you in the snow, having taken on your full canine physique and tearing into your collar—or what was left of it—with reckless abandon. Pearls and gems flew every which way as you bit down on the leather hard enough to make you gag, shaking it like it was small prey with the most vicious snarl he'd ever heard come out of you.

"Lass, what's—"

The collar went flying into the air, and landed a ways into the distance, among the trees that surrounded the clearing of the cabin. You were panting as if you had just run a marathon, body trembling as you stool still. Whether it was from the cold, adrenaline, or fury—he couldn't tell.

"They lied to me!" He heard you scream.

"Who lied t'ye, lassie?"

"They never entered me into the competition— they nev—" you cut yourself off with an enraged shriek. "They already had a replacement!"

Soap couldn't tell if you were talking to him or yourself.

You were out there for a while, howling with rage while Soap apprehensively stood a few paces behind you. Your animalistic war-cries were enough for Gaz to come bounding up the hill from the cabin's lay of snowy plains below, fully alert and looking around frantically to locate the source of distress—only to discover that you were the cause of your distress. Well, somewhat.

He wanted to feel satisfied and amused when Soap filled him in on what had happened, but he just couldn't. You, a sheltered cash cow from birth, had been thrown away and replaced for some trivial mistake that you had made in you last pageant—the only thing you were good at and good for just not being enough, when you lived to appease them.

He couldn't help but feel sorry for you.

You weren't having it, though.

"No! No, you shut up!" You clambered onto your feet, pointing a finger into his chest. He was about to snap back at you, but you spoke to quick for him to overlap.

"I don't need your damn pity. I need to be a dog."

He blinked, expression faltering.

"What?"

"My entire life—" you inhaled deeply through your mouth as you roughly wiped away streaks of tears "—I have been nothing but a pretty bitch that pays the bills, and if they won't even let me have that—then it ends now."

They both stand silently, waiting for you to continue.

"Teach me how to be a dog."

—

The 141 were made up of honest men—a rare commodity in this day and age. No matter how you felt about something, you always knew the truth, and none of them hid anything about themselves unless absolutely necessary. Unfortunately for you, that mostly just entailed them openly voicing how annoying they thought you were, or how you wouldn't last a day in the wild—but they stood by their word in the following weeks, re-training you to embrace your canine urges.

It started with a bath, oddly enough. You figured the first thing they'd have you do was dive headfirst into a pile of mud, but instead you sat calmly in the tub as Price rinsed out the shampoo with the handheld showerhead.

"Have to say, you take to bathin' much better than any of my boys."

You huffed with an indifferent grumble. As a human, Price couldn't understand you in your canine form, but he'd been around hybrids long enough to get a general idea of what they try to get across. Grooming days were part of your routine. Of course you loved baths.

Sure, this tub wasn't as luxurious as the small pools your personal groomer used to lather you up in, nor did it have the elaborate tools to ensure that your coat absorbed all the nurturing properties of your expensive shampoos—but those fancy trinkets could be bought by anyone lucrative enough. Not everybody could say they had John Price's large, calloused hands scrubbing dog shampoo into their fur.

"I'm sure this isn't the salon-quality product you're used to," he mentioned as the soap foamed and bubbled up under his touch, "but it does the job. 'Fraid you won't be seein' much of name brands anymore, though."

You were apprehensive when he approached you with shears after towel-drying you off, never having anyone but Sergei trim the ends of your coat before. Your past owners liked to keep your fur long and shiny, but even you knew that such a high-maintenance coat wouldn't survive out here, so to the scissors it went.

"Don't you worry, dove," he coaxed. "Just a little off the top, yeah?"

It was odd, seeing yourself in the mirror after the chop. Price clearly knew what he was doing. You should've known from the start that he was practiced with shears, if Soap's well-tapered coat was anything to go by. He had kept some of the original length around your legs and tail, but did away with the longer areas at your neck, chest, cheeks, and underbelly.

You stared at your reflection, head tilting this way and that as you inspected your new appearance. You were still plenty fluffy with rich fur—but you didn't have those mane-like tresses that required extensive combing and conditioning to keep healthy. Less of you was hidden by your fur, and you came to notice just how lacking in muscle you really were. You'd work on that with the 141 another time, you were sure.

You didn't look like a pampered show dog anymore. You were just… a dog.

It didn't bother you as much as you thought it would.

"How'd I do?" Price smiled down at you, letting a big hand ruffle your head—ears flopping from side to side with the action. You chuffed shortly through your throat, an unsure vocalization before barking at the mirror with your tail wagging.

He laughed in that deep, rumbling fashion, "Make sure to leave five stars."

—

Next was going to be getting you to give chase and sink your teeth into something with a beating heart, but when Soap watched you stiffly trot up to the back door with your neck and ears vertical, and your snout parallel to the ground—he realized that there was much more work to be done here before he sent you off into the neck of the woods. He could leave hunting up for someone else to take care of later.

"Bonnie… what in God's name are ye dooin'?"

"I—" You cut yourself off to turn and glare at him. "I'm walking, jackass. What else?"

Soap wouldn't be caught dead admitting it aloud, but he loved the new attitude you gave him. It was still pretty much the same you would give him before, but it came off in different waves. Your voice wasn't as high-pitched, your vocabulary was less prestigious and haughty, and your responses weren't so long-winded (they always included you rambling about how your "elite" mannerisms were the result of a proper, exquisite lifestyle that Soap was too roguish and brash to ever qualify for). Your mouthy habits now consisted of sass and snark he was used to from the military, and was quite fond of with his pack.

"Ye call tha' walkin'?" He practically gawked at you, half-joking. "Nah, lass. Change of plans. Gonna teach ye how t' strut proper."

So that's how you found yourself trudging through icy mud, body trembling as you braved the chilly winds that flew over the marsh Soap had dragged you down to. You yapped in disgust as a fish swam over your paw.

"Och, haud yer weesht, hen." Soap crowed from a grassy patch of the wetlands. "Keep yer head on snug. 'S no more than a wee minnow. Willnae bite ye, ah swear."

You turned to sneer at him, ears laid flat against your head as you squinted. It turned into an eyeroll when he split his mouth into a cheeky grin.

You were trying your best not to complain. You really were. You wanted to be a dog, and if this is what it took, then so be it. Even if it meant your fur was wet up to your knees and elbows.

"Price isn't gonna be happy, you know," you barked over the howling wind.

Soap leapt from one patch to the neighboring one. "On the contrary, I think he'll be right chuffed t' see ye gettin' yer paws dirty."

"After he just washed me?"

"Especially after he just washed ya. Shows 'im that ye aren't afraid of keepin' an image anymore."

Your tongue darted out to wet your nose as you contemplated his words. The breeze was drying.

"Okay, but… why are we out here specifically?"

Soap smiled and wordlessly leapt into the marsh with you—no care for his white coat at all—making you rear your head back as the murky water splashed too close to your face for comfort.

"Glad y' asked," he boomed, the volume unnecessary with how much closer he was to you now. "Y' ever seen a dog walk normally with slippers on?"

The question caught you off guard.

"I—" you blinked at him "…no?"

"Exactly. The water has the same effect. Weighs ye down, forces you to do what's comfortable." He demonstrated what he meant as he spoke by marching through the water, bringing each paw above the surface to avoid the resistance of the liquid when he stretched it forward to take a step. He stopped to face you.

"Go on, then," he urged, "give it a try."

The sensation was awkward and disorienting when you tried to walk. Your body was moving faster than the water would allow, and your feet couldn't match the pace you demanded of them—resulting in you tripping over nothing but sheer inertia, and falling into the foggy marsh.

Soap laughed above you as you stood up—water dripping from every part of you but your head and back.

"See what I mean? You cannae be marchin' tha' fancy canter o' yours when yer up to yer knees. 'S no' a parade, lassie. Here—just follow my lead. You'll be canterin' in no time."

—

It took near to a week's worth of treading the marsh for Soap to see genuine improvement in your gait, and a couple days more of sprinting across acres of land for him to be satisfied enough with his work. Price, as you expected, wasn't super jovial to see your freshly-washed coat dripping with mud the first time around, but it wasn't anything that a a hose-down outside the cabin couldn't take care of.

You learned how to avoid getting caught on your own feet as you got better at running, and as a result, had significantly less incidents that left you wet and huffy—but today, Soap decided he was in the mood to play, and tackled you into the wetlands like the overgrown teenager he was. It ended with both of you sopping wet and out of breath.

Ghost had hauled you off of him with his maw latched onto your scruff as you rolled around in the mud with Soap's ear between your teeth. He was huffily growling that Gaz needed you back at the cabin, and snapping his jaws at Soap when the Rough Collie felt ballsy enough to playfully nip at his haunches like the sheepdog he was—speeding off before Ghost could get the bright idea of pursuing him.

You found Gaz perched on top of the cellar doors on the side of the cabin—a dark, warm spot that got direct sunlight for every waking hour of the day. You could always count on him being there.

His eyes snapped open when he heard your noisy footsteps crunching through the snow.

"There you are," he huffed impatiently. "It's about time."

You returned his attitude with equal lackluster vigor, "You could've let me know you were looking for me."

"Sent Ghost to fetch you."

"Too proud to do it yourself?"

The Doberman slid off the wooden basement doors, paws landing on the snow with an imperceptible crunch. "If I switch focus, I'll loose the trail," he bluntly stated before starting into the mouth of the forest.

These men and their need to answer in riddles. "What?" You asked in exasperated confusion.

"You hungry?"

You sighed. And so the puzzle continues.

"What are you yapping about?"

He once again ignored your question and continued talking, "Hungry or not, I'm locked on to a scent right now and you need to practice hunting."

Oh. So that's what this was about.

"I thought Ghost would be the one to teach me to hunt."

"You want him out here instead?"

"No."

Gaz scoffed out a laugh at your snark, "Don't complain, then."

"I'm not," you defended, "I just… figured he was more suited for this."

"Yeah?" Gaz hopped onto a fallen tree that blocked his path and jumped down just as quickly. "And somehow I'm not?"

You opted to crawl under the log. "No, that not what I—"

"Ah, hush. Just taking the piss." His trotting gait slowed to a strut as you caught up to his side. "I get what you mean. Simon's a big dog, and an even bigger lad. Can't really picture him doing much else, can you?"

You gave it a moment of thought before agreeing, "Yeah… no, I really can't."

"I don't blame you, but don't doubt me, either. I was a guard dog back in my service days. Hunting comes naturally."

You applied what Soap taught you as Gaz's speed picked up again, trying to match his pace. "Well, it doesn't for me," you reminded caustically, "so what am I gonna do here?"

Gaz's docked tail twitched as he nosed you in a new direction. The top of his snout came into contact with the right side of your skull and he jutted his head forward, nudging your orientation westwards. You grumbled in discontent as the gesture caught you off guard, and threatened to knock you over. You stumbled to the side—in a lowered stance as your legs splayed out more to catch yourself—and sneered up at Gaz before trying to nip at his side. He easily shifted out of your reach, which made you more irritated than you already were.

"Stop that," he gruffed. "Just come here."

You wanted to ignore him and pettily plop yourself onto the snow you stood over, but you noticed that Gaz had stopped right in front of a large bush decorated with berries a few yards ahead.

"What's this?" You asked, regaining your balance.

"Huckleberry, originally, but there's mistletoe in there. Parasitic plant… don't eat it," he warned, as if you were actually planning on doing that. He urged you forward with another nudge. "Take a sniff. Really try to pay attention to what sets it apart from other smells."

Dubiously, you did as instructed; extending your neck to brush your nose with the flora. It took a moment for your nose to recognize and separate the fragrances, but as soon as you could clearly pinpoint the sweetness of the huckleberry and the bitter poison of the mistletoe—and hone in on the scent to lead you to other plants with the same arrangements—Gaz introduced you to various other scents and repeated the process.

By the the time that the next twenty minutes had passed, you were also able to identify buttercups, pine needles, shedded fur, a quail corpse, and Ghost's territorial markers. You were satisfied enough to call it a day, but Gaz apparently had other plans.

"Stop," he suddenly commanded, his voice hushed and tentative. The suddenness of it was enough to make you obey. He crouched down low until he laid on the bank, and you followed suit. "Look."

Curious, you lifted your head to see what had demanded such stealth from him, and felt your ears perk up upon seeing a white hare just a little ways off.

"Hungry yet?"

Instinctively, your tongue laved over your chops at the prospect of a meal. Soap's energetic roughhousing was a taxing endeavor to participate in.

"Yeah."

Gaz scooted back a bit to let you take the lead. "Then it's yours. You know what to do?"

You were half-listening. "Mhm. Yeah, of course."

"Show me."

Rising from the ground slightly, you paid mind to your pose as you kept your nose low enough to the ground to pick up on its most recent scent trail—just like Gaz taught you. You missed the way he spared a quick side-eye glance to you before doing a double-take.

"You keep that stance, and a lot of critters around here are gonna get the wrong idea," he remarked warningly—but his quieted voice had a faint distinction of amusement to it.

You didn't understand what he meant until you felt a pair of hands reaching to grab your hips and lower them to the proper crouching stance, bringing your ass down so you weren't presenting your doggish cunt to the world.

"The mud does good to hide your scent, but that'll only do so much if you give yourself away like that."

You could hear the double-entendre in the way he spoke, clearly not trying to be subtle, but you opted to ignore it plus—the heat crawling up your neck—regardless. He left a firm pat to your haunches before moving back and giving you the green light to strike.

"Impress me."

—

You had improved plenty over the past few weeks with the guidance of both Soap and Gaz—regularly having races and hunting sessions until your needs were sated. Price was a little more approving of you returning caked in mud, but only when you had dried blood crusting around your mouth on that first successful hunting session with Gaz. He especially loved it when you brought something back for him, whether it be a poor squirrel or the body of a rabbit. No matter what it was, he was there to praise your success and drag his nails through your fur appreciatively. He congratulated Gaz frequently for doing so well with teaching you.

The brunt of winter was quickly approaching, and with it came flurries and changes. Changes that occupied every edge and valley of your mind, turning your morals on their heads and skewing every coherent thought you managed to procure.

You had yet to know if Ghost planned to teach you something, but if you were being honest, you couldn't care less about what you were supposed to learn now. Not when you were hiding in a corner of the old, worn down sheep stable not too far from the marsh where Soap taught you how to run, staring at the phallic-shaped icicle hanging from the windowsill and contemplating whether or not frostbite was worth a sense of relief.

You see, here—you don't sterilize hybrids. It's unethical and outlawed in most countries. So, naturally, you weren't spayed, and naturally—

You went into heat.

Now, you knew it was inevitable. Your heat was completely unavoidable, just a thing of nature—but that didn't mean you dreaded it any less.

So that's why you buried yourself in clumps of aging straw in the hayloft, internal temperature far too high to be bothered by the biting winds that nipped at your exposure.

In the past, your heats were managed with toys, medications, hormone-balancing supplements, and being locked in your room for days on end.

This was your first heat away from your owners. This was your first heat without anything to ease or shorten the experience, and being so scared about what you could potentially do during the blindness of your desperation—you ran for the hills at the first sign of an episode.

You were still well within tracking distance, not wanting to get lost and become unrecoverable, but you hoped it was far away enough for the men to get the hint that you needed to be alone.

Now, was there any actual plan? Absolutely not. You had no provisions, no protection against the elements, and you were fully aware that a heat without any external aids could last over a week. In the moment you fled, the only thing on your mind was being a safe distance away from any opportunity to make a mistake.

And as you were now, hands trembling far too much to get a proper focus on your clit and whining embarrassingly loud—your body was cursing you for doing such a thing, but your dignity was gratefully intact.

"Bonnie!"

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

You couldn't bite back your whimpering keens, but rolled over onto your stomach to bury your noises into the scratchy hay.

"Bonnie," Soap called once more, "you in here?"

You couldn't reply through your breathless pants.

"Price is askin' fer ye, lassie," his voice echoed around the open space of the barn. "Didn't like ye pullin' tha' stunt n' takin' off, y'ken."

When there was still no reply, Soap took the liberty of trailing your scent with his nose—clambering his way up the ladder when your fragrance grew stronger. The heady weight of your overpowering scent punched him in the face once he reached the hayloft.

"Where'd y— fuckin' Criosd, thoir dhomh neart."

His hips bucked forward at the smell of you, popping a stiffie in mere seconds and greedily grinding the tent in his trousers against the rung of the ladder that was level with his groin.

"Oh, bonnie— 's this why y' scampered off?"

He found himself crawling over to your prone form, beginning to shake with the restraint he was exercising. Your following whine was enough to jut his pelvis forward again—the urge so demanding that his clothed manhood sought out a tight warmth that wasn't even there, and thrust down onto the wooden planks. He paused for a moment as his body worked on its own volition, rutting against the floor a for a bit until he could reign himself in again.

"You should've just told us, baby," he cooed. "We'd be happy to help ye."

Your body registered him as not your semi-friendly acquaintance-somewhat-past rival-packmate, but as someone capable of providing you with a knot, and your back involuntarily arched at the sound of his voice approaching from behind—exposing your pink, sobbing pussy to him, and her slick tears that coated the entirety of your inner thighs and ass.

Soap couldn't even think to stop himself before he dove headfirst into your slippery cunt, his sloppy tongue immediately reaching into your channel and ladling your bittersweet grool into his mouth—swallowing you in mouthfuls and slurping you up like a thick smoothie.

Your pleading moans pierced the air, and you drove your hips back into Soap's face—to which he pressed forward even firmer and gripped the sides of your upper thighs with a painfully horny grip, using his thumbs to split you apart further and rub harshly at your red, neglected, and engorged clit.

"Hidin' out here," he began after pulling away to catch his breath, seamlessly replacing his tongue with his middle and ring finger, "ain't th' way t' handle this, bonnie."

He grinned down at you as he humped the back of your thigh, fingers pumping into you with intensity and speed as he honed in on your g-spot.

"Y' gotta embrace every instinct, hen." — Dogs were animals. By dictionary definition, they were just another subspecies occupying the Animalia kingdom. And animals, in their barest form, were just a representation of the most basic needs that presented themselves in every breathing individual.

So with learning to be a dog—you had to learn to submit to your body's every whim.

Now was as good a time as any for Ghost to pitch in on training sessions.

After Soap had ripped an orgasm from you with deft fingers, he took you from the hayloft and left a squirt-soaked pile of hay in your wake. Now back at the cabin with the Scot laying back on Price's bed after he graciously pumped his semen into you three times over, he held you full-nelson style for his best bud while Gaz relentlessly hammered his hips into yours in the same manner he had been for the past ten minutes. You came time after time again—once achieving several climaxes in the span of a minute—but even with the amount of orgasms you had been given, your body only cried out for another knot, so you were far from finished.

Your head rolled back as his girthy cock pummeled your sensitive walls, but the Doberman forced your head back up with a grip on your jaw—patting your cheek twice before he and Soap simultaneously dived down to your neck and attacked the sides of your throat.

Even as Gaz tossed his head back with a throaty groan and emptied himself inside you, he didn't stop pulsing into you with the shallow thrusts that he was able to manage with the expansion of his knot.

The entire time, he and Soap fed praises and croons into your ears, remarking how perfect you were for them, how gorgeous you looked while so cockdrunk and needing.

It was only after two more generous helpings of Gaz's sperm did his knot deflate enough for him to slip out and roll next to Soap—but you still only had enough clarity to recognize Price's large, steady hands wiping your hair from your face. Being laid down on your stomach near the foot of the bed by your prior partner, you were eye-level with his bulge, and immediately took advantage of the angle.

"Hey— woah, there!" Price grunted when you shot forward to bury your nose into his loins, tongue darting out to simply mouth at whatever was available to you. He fisted your hair and pulled you away from his pants, leaning down to plant a sweet kiss onto your forehead. "I'm flattered, but I'm just a man. I can't give you what you need right now. Maybe another time, okay? Just be a good girl for my boys right now, love."

You could only whine desperately in response—mind still too scrambled to come up with words yet. Price pulled away, and called back to another, unseen individual in the room.

"Ghost. Come n' eat."

Everything between Ghost getting on the bed and tilting your hips up to mount you from behind was a blur, but you could really only focus on how this was the first time that Ghost was touching you properly. It turned you on more than it should've.

"So you wanna be a real dog, 's that right?"

His gravelly, rumbling rasp caught you off guard, but you managed to scrawl out a whimper that resembled "yes" as his brutish cockhead grazed over the folds of your weeping pussy.

"Well, real dogs don't go hidin' away from their pack when their cunt's cryin' out for a knot."

His tone turned condescending as he wound a fist in your hair, tip nudging your slick, used entrance.

"They come crawlin' to 'em on all fours, put that tight little pussy on display, and beg to be stuffed."

He punctuated his accusation with the full sheathing of his breathtakingly dense cock into your tight snatch—the wind being punched from your lungs as you practically felt his tip emerging from your throat.

"You say you're not a mutt, but look at you now; a victim to your instincts, just like any other bitch." — The room is filled with soft moans in the early morning, a lazy Sunday never being lazier as Price sweetly pumps his thick cock into the welcoming heat of your cunt in a spooning position.

The boys have long-since departed for their routine dawn patrol, but the soft-hearted Captain provided a comforting presence as he brought you gentle pleasure—his hand smoothing over the plump swell of your gorgeously rotund stomach; brimming with the promise of a healthy, capable litter of pups in the near future.

"Y'know," you spoke, voice light and airy as John's hand traveled further south to gingerly swipe at your clitoris, "if I'd known it'd take getting knocked up to be allowed in your bed—I'd have bent over for you lot much sooner."

He languidly laughed with you, pressing his lips to the space of skin beneath your ear in tender adoration.

"Every bed in this cabin will be forever available to you. I don't care which you choose in the night—so long as you're here with us, there's nowhere else I'd rather you be."

"Can't think of anywhere better, Captain."

444 notes · View notes

withleeknow · 8 days

Note

hi lovely!! first off congrats on 1k that's so so awesome and you deserve all that + more truly :( your writing is so tender and so lovey

i would to join in on your little drabble event!!! could you do something for hanji and the song compass by the neighbourhood? that song reminds me of him so so much so i hope you get the vision!! thank you angel and have a beautiful day!! ✮⋆˙

compass.

pairing: producer!jisung x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, hurt/comfort?, fluff, swearing, arson jokes? lmao word count: 1.4k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

you're always there to help me when i'm down i'm lucky you've been keeping me around you're the star i look for every night when it's dark, you'll stick right by my side

compass - the neighbourhood

"fuck, fuck, fuck!"

the sound of jisung's verbalized frustration draws your attention to his desk and setup in the middle of room, where he's been sitting for the better part of two hours, hunched over the equipment like he often does when he's in the studio.

it's written all over his face just how upset he is that this particular piece he's working on isn't flowing right. the deep furrow between his eyebrows communicates utter displeasure. the clench of his jaw tells you he's angry, and that he's angry at himself for not being able to work through his block.

you abandon your comfortable spot on the couch in favor of pattering over to his side where he's all tensed up like an aggrieved hamster whose body can't contain the annoyance he feels. jisung can be short-tempered sometimes, but you know how to handle him in moments like this.

sliding a hand over his back, you say, "take a little break with me."

he huffs out a breath, eyes still focused on his laptop screen. "i can't afford a break. chan hyung expects this to be done in two days."

"so it's in two whole days. you can leave it for fifteen minutes, it won't kill you."

"but i still have to rework the first verse and figure out what in the fucking hell this second verse is-"

"han jisung," you scold him lightly, to which he instantly shuts up and peers up at you with his big eyes, immediately apologetic when he recognizes his harsh language.

"sorry," he mumbles, "i'm just stressed."

"which is why you need a break. you're not doing anyone any good just sitting here and trying to make your laptop explode with your eyes."

he lets out a pathetic-sounding mewl but he follows you to the couch regardless. jisung knows you're right because you always are. you're the more level headed between the two of you, whereas he's the one who lets his emotions get the better of him sometimes.

before, he would often succumb to his negative feelings. it's hard to keep his cool when nothing seems to go right and there's a deadline on his ass. he'd get so frustrated with his work that sometimes, he would delete whole tracks off his drive only to instantly regret it and spiral even more. he'd take it out on the people around him with his grumpy attitude and misplaced pettiness.

when jisung is overwhelmed, he tends to spin out in all directions. he splinters and drowns in a sea of his own making, constantly being pushed away further and further from shore because he doesn't know how to anchor himself, how to hold on so he wouldn't drift far away. his solution to soothe his anger has always been to give into it, to rip whole pages from notebooks and lock himself in his studio for hours on end until he could plow through the stubborn creative block. it'd often leave him exhausted - emotionally and physically so - and in no better state than he started out with.

jisung accepted this a long time ago - that his way of dealing with his emotions wasn't very healthy, but it was the only way he knew.

that is, until you popped into his world and taught him that people can be lifelines too. falling upon him like a wish that he never realized he was making his whole life.

"what's the matter, baby?" you ask, prompting him to air out his grievances as he lays his head on your chest while you card your fingers through his soft curls. he leans into you instantly, a long sigh escaping his pouty lips. jisung's got a lot of pride, and he would rather die before admitting to anyone that he loves to be babied by you behind closed doors.

he knows the question is just your way of getting him to verbalize all of his pent-up frustration, and not because you're eager to help him traipse through his mind palace and solve whatever dilemma he's having with the track. let's be honest, you never really have a clue what he's talking about, but it helps that you're keen on listening to him even though you can't offer him any valuable insight. more than you could ever know, it does wonders for jisung, just being able to untangle his thoughts and release the mess in his mind.

he could simply just talk to chan, sure, or any of his other friends who work in the industry. but again, his pride is an awful thing sometimes.

you never make him feel like he has prove himself to earn your love and attention, though. around you, jisung feels enough as he is. there's never been any need to toughen up in your presence.

"i just... i can't work with this track. nothing is flowing right. i hate everything i come up with." he rambles on about the things that plague his mind; topline this and beats that - they're really just words to you. you weren't blessed with the same genius in music that jisung was, so you just listen until he's done, until he concludes his tangent with a groan as he nuzzles further into the comfort of your warmth.

"you said that the last time, you know?"

"said what?"

"that everything sucks and you hate it."

"because everything sucks," he whines again, his eyebrows knitted together as he adorns a petulant pout. "and i hate it."

as you play with his fluffy hair, you feel him lean into your touch like it's the very thing that will bring him clarity. in a way, it does. your gentle touch may not give him the answer he needs, but it quiets the static in his mind, drowns out the continuous buzzing that muddles his brain.

"you're too hard on yourself," you say, to which jisung just huffs out a breath in disagreement. "i'm serious. you say this every time but it all still works out in the end. you're so smart, and talented. you shouldn't forget that."

his frown only deepens in response to your words. he knows you're right; things have always turned out fine before. trust the process and all that shit, but he's hot-headed and impatient sometimes, and he doesn't want to endure the stress that often comes with the process. he just wants to get to the finish line.

then, you continue, "remember 13?"

"what about 13?"

"you didn't like it at first either. you were so dramatic about it. but you sucked it up and finished it anyway. you made a hit and nobody could stop talking it. i believe in you. you just need to believe in yourself too."

in complete silence except for the sound of your steady heartbeat in his ears, jisung keeps laying on top of you like a weighted blanket, soaking up your words as a flower would in warm sunlight. of course he remembers 13 and the day he let you listen to the song for the first time. you'd nearly burst into tears in the middle of this studio, pressing kisses all over his face while you gushed over how proud you were of him.

"damn you," he mutters after a while. "why do you have to be so rational?"

"someone's gotta be. if i wasn't here, you probably would've ripped all your hair out, set your keyboard on fire and ran off into the woods."

he shoots up instantly, propping himself on two elbows as he glares at you even though you've got a valid point. it's not that far-fetched of a scenario.

"what?" you tilt your head with a coy smile. "am i wrong?"

jisung stares at you for a quick minute, and it's that very smile you're wearing that mitigates his frustrations and dulls his urge to sabotage his work out of self-inflicted anger. he says nothing at all, just leans down quickly to give you a kiss full of appreciation, despite the way there was a frown tugging on his eyebrows only seconds prior.

"you good now?" you ask, the words coming out a little muffled against his mouth.

if it's with you, then he is. you're the anchor that helps him part his stormy seas. you're the compass that always guides him home. he really doesn't know where he'd be without you, or how he'd manage in times like these if you're not by his side to ground him.

"always good with you around."

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #han x reader #han jisung fluff #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagines #han jisung x you #stray kids #han jisung

223 notes · View notes

bitchy-craft · 6 months

Text

A Love Letter From Your Future Spouse | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out about a love letter that your future spouse wrote. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterpost > Questions > Paid Readings

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

To My Beloved [Name],

As the sun sets and the stars fill the sky, my thoughts are consumed by one person— you. Words alone cannot express the depth of emotions that surge within me whenever I think of you. You have become the center of my universe, the reason behind my smiles, and the beating of my heart.

From the very beginning, you captured my attention with your grace, intelligence, and compassion. Your mere presence illuminates the darkest corners of my soul, bringing forth a love that grows stronger with every passing day. Your gentle touch and the sound of your laughter are etched in my memory, comforting me even in your absence.

In your arms, I have found a sanctuary—a place where I feel safe, accepted, and cherished for who I truly am. Your love has shown me the beauty of vulnerability, the power of trust, and the profound joy of a genuine connection. With you, I can be my authentic self, unafraid and unreserved.

My beloved, every moment we share is a treasure to be cherished. From stolen glances to whispered secrets, our bond deepens, weaving our lives together in a tapestry of love. You have become an irreplaceable part of me, and I cannot imagine a future without your love by my side.

Today, tomorrow, and for all the days to come, I promise to stand by your side through thick and thin. I will hold your dreams as dearly as my own and support you in every endeavor. Together, we will conquer the world, hand in hand, and build a love that withstands the tests of time.

With all my love and devotion,

[Future Spouse]

Pile 2:

My Dearest [Name],

I find myself constantly amazed by the depth of emotions you awaken within me. From the moment our paths intertwined, my life took on a new meaning, and my heart found its true home in you. The love we share is a gift I treasure above all else, and I cannot imagine a life without your presence.

In your embrace, I find a sense of belonging that surpasses any words or gestures. Your touch sends shivers down my spine, igniting a fire that burns passionately within me. With you, I feel a connection that reaches beyond the physical realm—a connection of souls that is rare and beautiful.

You have seen me at my best and my worst, yet your love remains unwavering. You have embraced my flaws and imperfections, loving every part of me unconditionally. Your acceptance has allowed me to grow and blossom into a better version of myself, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Every day spent with you is a new adventure, filled with laughter, shared dreams, and a love that knows no boundaries. We have weathered storms together, emerging stronger and more resilient each time. Our love is built on a foundation of trust, respect, and a deep understanding of one another.

My love, I promise to nurture our relationship with care and devotion. I will be there to lift you up in times of doubt, to provide solace when you need it, and to celebrate the triumphs we achieve as a team. Together, we can conquer any obstacle and create a future filled with love, happiness, and endless possibilities.

As the seasons change and years pass, my love for you only grows deeper. I am grateful for the memories we have created and excited for the moments that lie ahead. You are my forever, my soulmate, and with you, I have found a love that surpasses all expectations.

With all the love in my heart,

[Future Spouse]

Pile 3:

As I sit here, pen in hand, trying to capture the depth of my feelings for you, words seem to fall short. Yet, I cannot let another day pass without expressing the immense love I hold in my heart for you. You are the person who has touched my soul in ways I never thought possible.

From the moment our eyes first met, a spark ignited within me, and it has only grown stronger with time. Your smile, your laughter, the way your eyes light up when you talk about your passions—every aspect of you fascinates and captivates me. Your presence alone brings warmth and joy to my life.

In your arms, I find solace and comfort, knowing that I am loved unconditionally. Your love has transformed me, opening my heart to a world of possibilities. You have shown me the true meaning of happiness and taught me to embrace every moment, cherishing the beauty of our shared journey.

When we are apart, I yearn for your touch, your voice, and the way you make me feel alive. Every second spent away from you feels like an eternity, and I find myself counting down the minutes until we can be together again. You are the missing piece that completes me, and I am forever grateful to have you by my side.

My love, I promise to cherish and protect what we have built together. I vow to support your dreams, to be your rock when life gets tough, and to celebrate your victories with unwavering enthusiasm. Together, we can conquer any obstacle and create a love story that will stand the test of time.

With all the love in my heart and soul,

[Future Spouse]

491 notes · View notes

yanderehsr · 6 months

Note

Hope you have a wonderful day and remember to take breaks every now and then! 😴

Unto the request, can I please request yandere high cloud quintet (Jingliu, Jing Yuan,Blade and Imbibitor Lunae) finding out that Baiheng had a descendant before she perished, that descended being the reader who bears a striking resemblance to her. I can just see the 4 of them being obsessed and overprotective of the reader.

-I just recently watched the cutscene for Jingliu’s companion quest and its so top tier

3 hours is plenty of sleep, sometimes I even get 4🥴

And I knoooow, that cutscene was truly top tier😆

Hope you'll enjoy😁

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Jingliu: Baiheng was her biggest regret, and now that she sees you who not only is her descendant but also look just like her, how could she help herself but to feel protective against you, and not only that but to possess you as well.

Jingliu's Mara-Struck mind makes her even more possessive over you, she can't help but fall into instincts around you even with her high resistance against the mara. She knows it's wrong, horrible of her even, but she has to admit, you look so pretty when you cry for her.

"Don't move, don't make me repeat myself... Baiheng would be disgusted with what I'm doing to you, but I can't find myself to care right now, you're mine and you will need to accept this"

Jing Yuan: He knows about you, he always had known about you as well, you are his secret, something he wouldn't even share with the rest of High-Cloud Quintet, you look so much like Baiheng that it's ridiculous. He has known you for so long that he doesn't even see Baiheng when he looks at you, he instead thinks Baiheng looks like you instead.

Jing Yuan hides you away from the world, what happened to Baiheng will not happen to you as well, you are locked away at his home, he treats you like you're above him, probably due to his guilt about Baiheng, he will guard you, you are safe with him and nothing will ever befall you, least of all death.

"It's almost uncanny how much you look like her... *sigh* Anyways, what do you want for dinner today, I'm cooking"

Blade: He doesn't see you as a descendant, no he thinks you are Baiheng, nothing can convince him otherwise. He never adresses you by your name, he always calls you Baiheng cus that's who you are, he thinks you have just lost your memories but that's okay, he will always be around to remind you of who you are.

Blade calls you that so many times that you may believe him yourself, I mean how can you know about what you have forgotten, and reincarnation is a thing that happens so maybe you really are Baiheng. Blade doesn't care what you think you are, all that is important is that Baiheng is back and you are all his.

"I am so sorry Baiheng for the past... but you are here now... yo-you make me feel whole and alive again, never leave my side ever again, okay"

Imbibitor Lunae: When Dan Heng is like this he starts to remember his past life a bit more clearly but there is one thing he can remember a bit clearer then others, he can remember Baiheng's face, and in turn he recognizes your face as soon as he sees you. Imbibitor Lunae knows that this isn't Baiheng but he still went to talk with you, you looked just like her, he couldn't help himself.

Imbibitor Lunae finds you to be a joy to talk to, not only that but he finds you beautiful as well, a look he has only caught in his dreams now stood before him, he can't help but fall, and he falls deep and hard... he wonders if he can convince you to join the express, otherwise he might need to use... unpleasant ways to get you onboard.

"You look heavenly, like a deity... isn't the view from the express lovely, I hope you'll get used to it, you will be seeing it a lot in the future"

#yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere male #yandere female #yandere jingliu #yandere jingliu x reader #yandere jing yuan #yandere jing yuan x reader #yandere blade #yandere blade x reader #yandere imbibitor lunae #yandere imbibitor lunae x reader

529 notes · View notes

teyamsatan · 10 months

Text

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕍𝕀𝕀: 𝕄𝕒𝕪𝕓𝕖 𝕎𝕖'𝕧𝕖 ℍ𝕒𝕕 𝔼𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: You and Neteyam finally confront each other, after a seven year war that left you broken and bruised.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death, confrontation, admission of feelings), smut, strong language.

wc: 7k words

a/n: we're almost at the end, besties. i want to say a massive thank you for being patient with me, i have struggled with writer's block for a while now, and my life is incredibly hectic at the moment, but thank you for continuing to inspire me to write this story that has come to mean so much to me :(. i hope you enjoy this chapter, that i once again somehow feel weirdly insecure about hahaha, and i hope you'll find it was worth the wait. also this is only mildly proof read bc i am exhausted and i need to sleep ;((( i'll come back to it in the morning i promise x (also pls someone comment on the fact in the photo vi's looking up and he's looking down cause you know - rise and fall together and all)

pls don't forget to leave a comment or a reblog and tell me your thoughts, i loveee to hear from you so much!

na'vi compendium: txepvi - spark, oare - moon, nawm - great, syä - bitter, tanhì - bioluminescent freckle, tewng - loincloth, tsakarem - tsa'hik in training, yawne - beloved

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

I carved my name into your ribcage We talked of lands away from this cage

"Dad always talks about Earth as if it was a dying hole, but... I don't know."

Neteyam's head was positioned snugly in your lap as you both stared intently at the sky, trying to make sense of the shapes of clouds, and the way they passed you by like birds in the night sky, never to be seen again, just a memento of the present and how every moment was unique and precious, and needed to be cherished. You both loved doing that, in between practice sessions, or before, or after, a way to ground you and remind you there's still beauty in this world outside of what you were being taught, of how everything was in preparation for a grisly reality you both struggled to come to terms with.

"Yes?"

"The little videos we've seen, of the movies and shows Norm and Max and the other humans like to watch... and the books they make us read during English lessons and the music... it doesn't seem that bad, you know? It seems they were happy, and... good. It seemed they lived for more than just fighting and greed, more than this."

You thought about it for a while. He was right. Humans were... beautiful, in their own ways. They had love and heart and soul in a way you never thought possible - it seemed there was always beauty to be found even in the darkest of corners, even in the most unsightly of places, and that gave you hope.

"I want to be more than this, too."

Your eyes snapped from the sky to him, and his eyes met yours, boring into you with a vehemence that almost scared you. When he rose from his spot, he faced you, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath fanning over you, and your heart stumbled in your chest at the proximity and the way his smile always managed to take your breath away.

"I want to know more than this. I will learn, and I will work hard, and I will fight, but Vi, one day, you and me, we'll be free of this. Free to do whatever we want, free to spend our days like the humans in the movies, just happy and ourselves. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Yes. I'd like that."

You said, don't fret love, someday I'll be my own man, I'll be free Oh, but darling, did you mean Darling, did you mean free from me?

“O’i’en…” your voice was hoarse and barely there, a croaking whisper you hardly recognised as your own, but still there. You were still here, and at least for that, you were grateful. Because there was more to your life. So much more you wanted to do and see, so much you felt you were made for and deserved, so much you still have to repent and atone for. Your mind was scrambled with visions of your past, so many of them you’ve lost count, the continuous onslaught barely ceasing as you woke, and you still felt like in a liminal state of being, not quite dead, but not quite alive, either. In those dreams, images of your old Neteyam were intertwined with his face now, much colder, much wiser, somehow even more beautiful, and confessions of “I love you” mingled with hushed whispers of “why is she not awake yet?” and commotion beyond your understanding. You needed answers. The battle, that now felt like a lifetime away to you, also somehow felt like it had just finished, and you rose from your spot with only one thought in mind: Oare was hurt. She was shot, and you needed to find her.

You wondered if it was fate, or Eywa's doing, that O'i'en was the first person you ran into, even as you were trying to avoid any semblance of another soul, the guilt and sadness mingling in you with flashes of worst-case scenarios, ones in which your distracted mind led to deaths that you will forever carry on your shoulders, that you will forever blame yourself for, that you were sure other people would, too, ones which you were too scared to prove and too spent to disprove, so you settled for ignorance and denial, at least until you found your ikran.

"Oh, Eywa, you're alive!" you were taken aback by his surprise, and by his pure, unadulterated relief and happiness as his eyes found your form, limping and bruised, with bloodied and torn garments and yet still... alive. You didn’t think O’i’en would ever want to see you again, much less acknowledge you or talk to you, but here he was, running, as much as he could, the gash in his leg preventing him from any true momentum, but still, he ran to you and enveloped you in a big hug, that you couldn’t help but reciprocate, melting into his all-too-familiar touch that’s always felt comforting and safe, and never bruising or cold.

You sighed as your mind, much as it always did, brought to its forefront another face, another body, another man that never ceased to pull you out of the moment and into whatever fantasy your mind concocted to replace reality with. As you tightened your arms around him, your palms flat against his back, you noticed your fingers being coated in warm liquid, and the feel of it, as well as the smell of metal that hit you immediately after, made you gasp and break the embrace, using whatever force you had to turn him around and inspect the wound you knew had to be bad enough, if so much blood was pouring out of it, but still couldn’t help be shocked when you were proven right.

“Fuck, your back…”

“I know… I haven’t had the chance to go see the healers yet.”

“You haven’t ha- are you serious right now? Come, let’s go now.” You almost forgot about the your plan to avoid people, too concerned for the ugly looking gash pulsating blood that trickled down his toned back, until it soaked in his soiled tewng. He didn’t let you move him, instead taking your wrists in his hand and holding you still.

“You look like you’re about to collapse, how are you still so bossy? Besides… there’s people who need it more than me.” The purple twinge in his cheeks let you know this wasn’t quite the truth. Not the whole truth. O’i’en was the most selfless person you’ve ever met, and yet, this wasn’t the whole truth. You looked tired and broken, scared and forlorn, and yet, with all your might, you tried to contort your face into something you hoped resembled the way Jake would raise the hairs above his eyes in a clearly disapproving expression, and while you lacked the most important aspect of that whole stare, it clearly worked, because he winced and broke the look you shared, choosing a spot on the ground instead.

“After… everything, I just didn’t know if I could…or should… go get help from the Tsa’hik. It feels like everywhere I look, you follow. I knew you were hurt as well, and I didn’t know if I could handle seeing you like that, or seeing you at all. But now that you’re here, I realise… I’m just happy you’re alive.”

You smiled, a small feat that felt like the hardest task you’ve ever been assigned, but still, you were glad to know there was still something salvageable about your relationship with the man you once thought you’d spent the rest of your life with.

“Come, sit. I’ll clean the wound myself.”

“You shouldn’t-“ He stopped when he noticed your look. You were too tired to be trifled with, and he was smart enough to know that.

You promised home, the kind I'd never known But here we are, skin and flesh and beating hearts And I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing wrong

You worked in silence, as much as you could, the thoughts spiralling in your head, worse with each passing second, and although you didn’t want to ask, you knew you couldn’t avoid it any longer, not when he looked so sad and despondent, not when the gash in his back spoke to a battle fiercer than you wanted to picture, not when you couldn’t help wonder if it was all on you. With a sigh, you spoke, and watched as he went rigid with every word uttered.

“What happened, O’i’en?”

“What do you remember?”

“Nothing. I remember falling… i remember Oare getting shot.” You wince at the memory, at how it was your unsteady, tired, distracted mind that made her a vulnerable target.

“Nothing else.”

O'i'en's whole body stiffened, and your hand stilled midair, shivers pulsating in your body as dread enveloped it.

“What. Happened. O’i’en?”

"After you fell... the battle... took a turn for the worse. A lot of Na'vi died, a lot of our mounts died, too..."

"The Olo'eyktan and Tsakarem tried their best, we all did, but without you and Neteyam..."

The guilt that was big enough to almost crumble you into a mess of sobs and broken shards on the ground dulled just for a moment while his words rang in your ears, echoing until they clicked, until you made sense of their meaning.

"Neteyam...? Where was Neteyam, why wasn't he fighting?"

His body turns to face you again, his barely patched-up wound forgotten in the moment that felt ever-lasting, but not like how time stands still as you're enveloped in a kiss, but like a nightmare you can't escape from, where a moment lasts hours, where every scream is expelled in slow-motion and the monsters get closer and closer with each breath that gets lodged in your dry, hoarse throat.

"He tried to catch you, but couldn't. I think he took you back to the village. He didn't return after. They say..."

"They say he hasn't left your tent since. We've all been working, trying to get everyone back, ready for the funeral, but he... he never left the Tsa'hik's tent."

"You're wrong." What he was saying made no sense. Neteyam has done nothing but wish for your demise ever since you were both nothing more than mere children. His hatred never diminished through time, and neither did yours. You both despised each other more and more each day, with every year passed, with every instance in which neither of you relented or found it in you to be better and take the high road. This whole ordeal, this whole nightmare that only started when you woke up, it was his fault. The fact that so many people died, that you were in this state, that Oare.... fuck. Oare.

“Where are you going? You need to take it easy.”

“I need to find her. I need to make sure she’s ok, she’s probably in pain and suffering and I should be the-“

You stop when you notice his grieving grimace, his eyes fixed on the ground, tears falling at his feet, that you followed from his eyes to their demise as they splattered on the ground, the droplets hitting your ankles in the process.

“No.”

Silence. Dead silence. Death silence. Silence that you couldn’t help fill with a crescendo of denial, louder and higher pitched with every new attempt.

“No, please. Tell me you’re wrong.”

“I saw her… in the lineup.”

“The lineup?”

“Of all the dead… dead animals and na’vi. So many of them, i lost count. She was there… I’m so sorry.”

Your tears mingled with his own as they collapsed on your feet and on the grass, and you forgot for a second of your rule - no crying in front of people. You forgot this as you forgot everything else, even your own name pushed from your memory as it was flooded instead with images of her, of your sister, that you loved so much, that you cherished deeply, that you thought you’d be able to for the rest of your life, that you were now told was gone, taken from you, in spite of you… because of you.

“No…Oare, no…”

“She’s with Eywa now… I’m so sorry.”

You said, "Let's make ourselves our very own brigade, this love our shield, our blade" Oh, but darling do you see the cuts from which I bleed? It's me you've slain

"Have you seen her? Have you seen syä?"

"What do you mean, Lo'ak?"

"She's gone, bro. She's not in grandmother's tent anymore."

Neteyam felt the blood drain from his face and settle at the soles of his feet, trickling through and into the ground, until he was so empty he felt faint, he felt like he would never be the same again. So many emotions tried him, from ecstatic relief that he couldn’t even explain to himself, at the fact that you were awake, and well enough to walk, to paralysing fear that overwhelmed him, at the fact you were out in your state, that you were gone Eywa knows where, at the fact he’s now going to have to face you and talk to you.

Too many things have changed in such a short amount of time, so many things he couldn’t make sense of or understand, too many revelations and the possibility of more, of the truth, that Neteyam dreaded. A lose-lose situation, his dad would call it - either he confronted you and you told him his father misunderstood, that it wasn’t true, that you too loved him the way he loved you, which meant the last seven years of both your lives, everything you have put each other through would have been for nothing, or his father was right, and having a confirmation of your lack of feelings, which is what he thought fuelled your actions all these years, which was a truth he avoided knowing for a fact for so long, and that might be too hard to bear after all.

“We have to find her, grandma said she shouldn’t be walking around.”

“I know where she is.”

He’s always known where you were when you wanted to be alone. He’s always known because it’s a place that used to be his, his secret spot, his uncharted paradise. A place that he showed to you when you were both children, and that became a safe heaven for the both of you in time, that you took from him after your unfortunate fallout. Just one more thing you ended up taking from him in time. He couldn’t have returned to this place anyway, not with all the memories of you that plagued it, that might as well have been enclosed in a room stuck in a past that he never wanted to revisit.

It took him no time at all to find you, his mind disassociating from the walk, until it was like he blinked and he was there, in the clearing that he dreaded coming to, where the last time he came, he took it too far, the memory of the words that you spat at each other, the way his anger physically manifested itself for the first time in his life, the way he lost control of his emotions and his temper, it was all so ugly and unsightly, it hurt him even thinking about it.

Your back was turned to him as you lay on the edge of the lake, one leg dangling mindlessly in the water, and Neteyam’s heart dropped to his stomach at the sight of you - your hunched shoulders, so far removed from the awe-inspiring, empowered stance you normally displayed to people. Your tail was thrashing furiously from side to side, ears pushed flat against your head that rested on your bent knee, braided hair tousled and unkept as it fell over your face, shielding you from view. Neteyam didn’t even know whether he should speak - if there was still a voice in his throat that could push sounds out, and as he tried, he heard nothing, the only sound in his ears one of muffled, panted breaths and thunderous, erratic heartbeats, that somehow drowned everything else out.

"Leave."

Neteyam ignored your words, all of his senses focused on your voice, on the sniffles that accompanied it, and what they represented. Neteyam has seen you cry only a couple times in all the time he's known you, and not once since your fallout. He was sure you would have rather swallowed a poisoned knife's blade than show weakness in front of him. He gulped audibly when he realised that if you did, that means you knew... if you did, there was no escaping the wrath that was currently embedded in your soul, that he wasn't sure would ever leave you again.

“Why are you here? You should be resting.”

He heard you scoff, bitterness laced through your voice that normally was sweet as a yovo fruit on a summer day, that now felt spoilt, like it had been left rotting on the ground, with no one the wiser.

“Since when do you care about my wellbeing, huh? Last thing I knew I could be dead in a ditch and you’d probably throw a party and dance over my grave. Leave me be, I don't want to deal with you right now.”

"Txepvi... Just co-"

"Don't you dare call me that. You have long forsaken the right to call me that. Just fucking leave, Neteyam."

He felt anger pricking at him like a dagger he was all too familiar with, that was dull and middling, but whose sting still hurt if pushed into his skin at the correct angle, in the right spot, where he was weak.

"I'm not leaving until you get back to the tent. Tsa'hik's orders." That was a lie, but one he felt at liberty to make, since it was quite certain his grandmother would want you back resting, and not galavanting in the woods, with a wound that almost killed you, that made you easy prey for the apex predators lurking in the thick foliage.

I didn't obliterate these walls for you to come and raid my home And here you are right next to me Ironically, I've never felt more alone

“Why did you stay with me?”

Whatever anger he had immediately dissipated like droplets water of a hot day, replaced by the same fear that was plaguing him early, that not even the adrenaline coursing through his veins could overpower. What was he supposed to say? It's not like he had an answer to give you - he couldn't even conceptualise it for himself, much less put it into words that would make sense, that would ever satisfy your morbid curiosity.

“Answer me, Neteyam.”

“I don’t know.”

You rose from your spot on the edge of the lake, and when you turned to face him and your eyes locked, his breath lodged in his throat. You looked anguished, sadder than he's ever seen you, puffy eyes so red, it scared him, cheeks purple and stained, and swollen, wet lips opened to accommodate the heaved breaths and quiet sobs that you tried your hardest to push down, so that he wouldn't see.

It was too late, now. He could see. He could see it all, and it scared him, what you were doing to him, these feelings that were rushing down with enough force to make him buckle under their weight, just like a waterfall that crashed into the river below, warping it with its power.

“No, we’re not doing this shit anymore. My ikran is dead. People are dead, Neteyam. All because of us, because this stupid war, that you caused. That you started. I’m done with the games, and the mystery, and your stupid mouth staying shut. You don’t know? Figure it out. Now.”

I fell for you faster than I fell apart And I guess I'm the one to blame for letting myself fall too hard

"I don't fucking know, OK? I just needed to - fuck. I needed to make sure you'll live."

"Why?! Why the fuck would you care if I live or die? Why? You haven't cared for more than half our lives, and now, when you would have been more useful on the battlefield, when you could have prevented this mess that you caused to begin with, now you want to play the fucking hero?"

“That I started? Are you hearing yourself right now? I wasn’t the one that pushed, and pushed, and pushed until whatever thread it was that still bound us together turned from wool to steel and snapped, yawne. You made it your life purpose to ruin mine, at every turn, in every way imaginable, for years. I did nothing to you, damn it. I just stopped talking to you. I didn’t hurt you, or purposefully tried to make you ache or suffer, I tried to keep my mouth shut and go about my life, without infringing on yours. I didn’t do anything to hurt you, for fuck’s sa-“

“You keeping your mouth shut and going about your life as if your life wasn’t impermeably connected to mine was what fucking hurt me, Neteyam! You saying nothing, doing nothing, acting like I didn’t exist, like I was just a toy you outgrew, that was worse than anything I could have ever fucking done to you, don’t you understand that? Do you understand that you abandoned me? Me, Neteyam, the person who was always there for you, the person who always had your back. Your best friend, your confidant, your training buddy, your sister. I was everything to you, and you just acted like that meant nothing at all."

"It meant everything! And my father fucking ruined it, and you ruined it. You ruined it, and I'll never, ever forgive you." the intensity behind his eyes, glistening with unshed tears that reflected the rays of the sun hitting his golden irises, the ones that put stars to shame and brought you to your knees, scared you. You came here to cry, and let it out. You came here to mourn. You didn't expect this. Didn't want this. But, for the first time in years, Neteyam was talking to you. Neteyam was telling you truths buried deep within his soul, deep behind walls you've tried to climb and pierce through longer than you wanted to admit to, and given the little crack of light you saw shine through, you knew you couldn't let this opportunity pass you by.

"What do you mean?"

He looked tired, you realised faintly. It was true... he did stay with you. His face was sunken and caved in, dark purple bags under his eyes, and you traced the tears that brightened his tanhì momentarily, as they caressed his skin, before falling down his neck.

"Tell me it's not true, what you said to him all those years ago. Tell me he didn't hear you right. That he misunderstood."

"Who?"

"My dad. I heard him... telling my grandmother that you'd never want to mate with me. Or be Tsa'hik. He said you said that. Tell me he was wrong. Tell me I was wrong for believing him. Tell me I was an idiot for not coming to you sooner, for shutting you out of my life. For letting this break me. Please."

Shock stilled you in your spot, replacing blood with current that electrified every ounce of your being. What? After all this time, so much time that kids were born and grew up, time in which you watched Tuk go from barely a babe to a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, beautiful girl, time in which you gained and lost your ikran, in which you gained a family and lost the future you thought you were always made for, next to the person you thought you'd always have your back... so much time has passed, and to hear it, the reason, was so unbelievable it didn't feel like it was real. You thought about the conversation that he was referring to, that you had with Jake in what feels like a completely life to the one you were currently living. He did ask you, and you did say...

"He wasn't wrong."

I ripped my heart out and put it in your hands in hopes that we'd put up a fight How paradoxical, since now all I can think about is when will we stop trying

You watched as the intensity on his face was decimated in an instant, his eyes blank and distant as all life seemed to drain from them as you spoke words that you spat without truly even thinking about it. Oare's death, still so fresh in your mind, hurt so much, made every fibre of your being scream in agony, and this new revelation, of the reason of her death being attributed to something you said as a little kid in passing, that he overheard and never bothered to fact-check, made what little sanity you had left to evaporate and what remained was a bitter precipitate of fury and pain, that you wanted him to feel, that you needed to inflict.

"This is why Oare's dead? This is why so many people are dead, because of one comment I made to your father seven years ago in passing? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Your teeth were bared as you spoke, and the emptiness behind his eyes was replaced with furious anger as he listened, as he realised you had no intention of putting his mind or heart at ease, as you realised he didn't deserve it. Not after everything that's happened, not after the way your soul crashed and imploded inside your body at the guilt that ate you alive, that churned and ground your bones into fine dust, guilt that will never, ever leave you.

“I was just a fucking child, don’t you understand that? Do you understand how insane it is to punish me for something that happened when I was just twelve years old?!"

“Well, you know what? I was also just twelve years old! And I loved you, Vi.” The break in his voice hurt you, like a shard of glass plunged in the soft of your skin, and you looked down to try to see if blood was coming out of the wound that wasn't there. There was nothing. Just emptiness, like the vast chasm that separated you, that always will, no matter the fact he was so close to you, you could feel his breath over your face, your scent in your nostrils, his glistening eyes big as planets, eyes you could get lost in easily, you could fall into as easily as falling asleep.

Seeing the unshed tears once more made tears gather in your own. The nickname, that you haven’t heard in all these years, that felt like a relic from a life long forgotten, long forsaken, knocked the air out of you, just as much as his vulnerability, that you weren’t used to seeing anymore did.

“I fucking loved you. You were everything to me. And you broke me.”

“I had to watch you prove me right every day of my life. Watched as you fought every day to push me away from my own family, and my own dad, who obviously always found you better than me. Watched as you moved on, with no issue, and dated Na’vi after Na’vi, letting them touch you and kiss you, knowing I could see it, in practice, where I always was, I- “

“You fucking did the same thing! You pushed me away, you never talked to me. You abandoned me, without as much as a goodbye. Without any explanation. You fucked girls anywhere I could see, behind my tent, so I could hear you. You chose them all so they bore no resemblance to me, so I could know how much you hated me, every time I saw their faces. You ruined my relationship with the one person who loved me, who was good for me. You fu-"

All you do is blindside me, it's hard to be brave But when the night cuts into the day, it's your love I crave I must've thanked my lucky stars too much They left me sitting in too much dust

Your sentence was cut short by a pair of lips crashing into yours, soft and desperate, clinging on to you like his fingers were wrapped tightly around your throat, like if letting go was unimaginable, like it was too painful to envision. In your dreams, Neteyam's lips were bruising and calloused and cold, and no matter how fiercely you wanted to protest, no matter how much you hated yourself for it, they were the only lips you ever dreamt about. And yet right now, they were nothing like you imagined, nothing like you feared, and despite the hurt, and the pain and the anguish and the anger, despite it all, you couldn't help reciprocating, couldn't help the moan the left you as his other hand found your hips, holding you impossibly closer, while your own hands found the back of his neck and his hair, that you tugged on until he growled. When he broke the kiss and looked at you, hunger and ache clear in his bright eyes, that looked more black than yellow as his hand found your jaw, that he lifted to tilt your head back, pushing his thumb past your lips so you'd keep quiet, you let out a small whimper, and watched as his pupils dilated even more, almost overtaking his beautiful, molten irises.

"Just...Stop talking."

His lips found the place on your jaw where his fingers just were, and the feeling of him on you burned like molten lava, and you push your head back, giving him access to all of you. Your mind felt numb - a battle within itself as it was trying to come to terms with all the crushing emotions that were fighting for dominion over your thoughts and your soul, each one more devastating than the last - from the guilt that you knew would plague you for the rest of your life, that you didn’t think you’d ever be able to overcome, to the grief of losing your spirit sister, to confusion over what you were doing, over wondering if this was a mistake, to the sadness at Neteyam’s confession and the knowledge he loved you, and you pushed him away without meaning to, to earth-shattering anger at the realisation that this whole ordeal started over nothing and could have been solved if he only ever talked to you and finally, to the hatred that still blossomed, even after all this time, and finally, the desire, pure, unadulterated desire to have him, to be owned, to know what it feels like to be wholly his. You didn’t know which one would win, but you could only hope there’ll still be something left of you when the battle found its victor in the midst of all the chaos.

He was rough as he pushed you until you tipped backwards, but his caress was gentle as he caught you and made sure you weren't hurt as your body hit the damp, soft grass. When he spread your legs and kneeled in between them, you knew you whatever ounce of self-restraint you had was swiftly thrown out the window, and you knew the relief you'd get to feel once he was done with you would be worth the regret in the morning - at least, it felt so right now. His fingers dug into your thighs as they massaged upwards, from your shins to your hips, and when both his thumbs caressed the sensitive spot at the edge of your loincloth, your breath hitched in your throat, silently begging him for more, hoping he wouldn't make you say words out loud you could never take back.

As if he could hear your thoughts, he spoke, his hands stilling on the knot of your tewng.

"Tell me you want this. I need to know you want this, or I stop."

You hissed at him, conflicted beyond words and reason, because no, of course you didn't. But yes, you did. Of course you did.

"I hate you. I fucking hate you, Neteyam."

At your words, his hands dropped from your hips and in an instant, he was on top of you, his gaze stopping the breath in your lungs as he looked at you, his hand gripping your throat once more, the aggressive gesture at odds with the softness in his eyes and the way he was caressing your jaw in barely-there touches with his thumb.

"I hate you more. So much more. I still need an answer, yawne."

You stared daggers at him, and refused to talk, but as you wrapped your fingers around his cummerbund and pulled him in, until his lips met yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongues, throbbing deep in you at the way he moaned in your mouth, you knew words were meaningless, and words couldn't convey the feelings that tormented you, anyway. You reached for his tewng and masterfully unwrapped it, feeling his cock spring free and slap against your abdomen, and the weight of it made you gasp, a smirk erupting from his face in response.

You needed him. You needed him to numb the pain the he created, that you created, you needed the emptiness that came from being filled to the brim, the fleeting peace that would come with the high that you knew he could provide, because it hurt. It all hurt, and you couldn't stand it. You reached your hand and wrapped your fingers around his length, your slick leaving a wet patch in the fabric, that was increasing in size by the second, just at the thought of how he'd feel stretching you out. He let out a small groan at the way you were caressing him, running your thumb over the slit, smearing the precum that was leaking, that you felt a sudden urge to taste.

"F-fuck!"

"Take off my tewng, Neteyam."

"For once in your life, you will not get to dictate how this goes."

Despite his words, he listened, and you winced at the weight of his body being lifted off you, instantly missing the contact and comfort it provided. But he wasn't gone long, as he removed your clothes, and you tried not too think of how good his gaze felt on you, how empowering the desire in his eyes as he took you in, how he had to lick his lips and swallow audibly, as if he was a starved man in a desert, and you were his fata morgana.

He took no time in attaching himself to you again, the thick head of his cock prodding at your entrance, and the velvety feel of him against your folds involuntarily makes you shut your eyes closed and your head push back, need heightening at the way he starts licking and sucking at your breast, leaving purple marks in the wake of his lips and tongue, that you want on every inch of you, that you wanted to cum on as he made your knees buckle and your vision spot.

His face finds a home in the crook of your neck as he slides inside you, taking his time to feel you, every inch of your walls, as they stretched to accommodate for his size, and it feels so good, too good, his cock in you, his tail around your thigh, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin, or gripping at your waist, his breath on your neck, his teeth sinking in you so he could stop himself from telling you all the confessions bubbling in his chest, all the ways it's all making sense to him now, that he's never hated you, he's just hated not having you, not being able to call you his. Still, as he bottoms out in you, he can't help some of them from spilling out, the dam of his heart slowly coming apart at the seams.

"It had to be someone who had no resemblance to you. It had to, Vi. Don't you understand? Because any time I looked at anyone, I saw you in them. Their eyes, or lips, their tanhì or stripes, even the smallest similarity killed me, reminded me how much I hate you, how much I want to, how much I don't. I've wanted to hate you so much, I tried so hard, but you were in every dream, in every fantasy, you haunted me my whole life."

You did understand. You understood too well. That's why you chose O'i'en. Because he was nothing like the Neteyam you came to know in the years you became an adult. Because his touch was warm and made you feel nothing. Because his eyes bore no resemblance to his, the glimmer of amber nothing like the green flickers that felt like were Eywa's inspiration for the forest that surrounded you; O'i'en's tanhì were scattered like light through the leaves and branches of the trees, unlike Neteyam's, which were like the star dust that created all life in the Universe, that shone brighter than any light post, that shone so brightly, they led you home every night when you were young.

The tears gathered in your eyes as he started a steady pace of his hips, conflicting feelings tugging at the string of your already broken and torn apart heart, whose heart beats felt dragging and echoing, different to the two sounds you were used to, instead pulsating three syllables throughout your whole body, enveloping you and taking over your mind, forcing you to come to terms with issues you thought you buried so deeply, you'd never have to see again.

I hate you. I love you. I hate you. I love you. I hate you, I hate you....

I love you.

"Neteyam..."

"I know. You're doing so well for me. So well. Fuck, you feel so, so good."

You moan at his words, the desire bubbling inside of you quickly reaching heights you wouldn't mind falling from, being pushed from, so you could feel the euphoria that came along with falling, without having to worry about the inevitable crash that would follow, at least not right now.

"I can feel you squeezing me. Come for me, yawne. I need to feel you come all over my cock."

For the first time since he's called you that, the term of endearment didn't feel ironic or facetious, and for once in your life, you had no problem obeying his orders - when you came, you came violently, legs shaking and back arched, whimpers and moans pushing past your lips unrestrained, and the sounds made his cock twitch inside of you, his own orgasm so close he could taste it. He lets you ride your high fully before pulling out of you, thick ropes of iridescent cum painting your abdomen and chest, that, in your fucked out mind, you almost wish painted your still-throbbing walls instead.

You know all my dreams, you were one, so it seemed And I love you but with you, it's heartache I breathe You gave it your all, just with everything you took from me

It was almost... domestic, the way he was asleep peacefully next to you, his breath so steady and deep, and so relaxed, it almost sounded like purring, his strong, muscular arms holding you close as you lay on your back, looking at the stars, bright, blurry orbs through the distorted lens of your tears, that couldn't stop falling, no matter how much you willed them away. The crash did come eventually, in the few hours since, and it felt like it broke all your bones in the process.

"You and me, we're meant to rise and fall together."

Those words, that became the overarching theme of your relationship, words that you never realised when you spoke them as a child that you would both take so literally, rang in your ears like a broken record your mind could no longer turn off. You were right, all those years ago. Even back then, you knew. You and Neteyam did rise together. From children to adults, from pupils to teachers, from toy soldiers to hardened warriors, rose you did, until you were so high up, the air was thin and suffocating. But nothing compared to your penchant for falling. You fell hard, from grace, from cloud nine, for the other's other schemes and plots, for your own compulsions, obsessions and greedy desires, and mostly, for each other. Your relationship was fire and ice, it was everything and nothing all at once, a war you fought and a war you lost, a war in which innocents had to die and lives were lost, a war you were finally tired of.

You and Neteyam rose and fell together, over and over again, your whole lives. A twisted carousel that wouldn't stop until one of you jumped off it, and with Oare's death, and the shame that followed it, you finally realised it had to be you.

In the early hours of the morning, after a quick wash in the cold lake, you found your way back to the village and straight to the Tsa'hik's tent. You were happy to see her, and nervous to talk, but you knew the quicker you got it out, the quicker it would be over. So with a deep breath, you spoke your piece, and hoped she'd listen.

“Ma Tsa’hik. I’m here to ask you to let me out of this arrangement. Please. I can’t do this, not with Neteyam. I’m done.”

Oh, my love Is this the end for us? Maybe we've had enough

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif@randxmthxughts @xreadersstuff @sirezaya @kimberlyshailany-blog @gyuventure @jujudsmyst @kikookii @nxptury @nonniesworld @koing-slvt @bakugouswaif @isnt-itstrange @tpwkforevermore @alahamums @tallulah477 @gknj9495@aquamarine001 @itssomeonereading @yumimak@sweetbread-m@eqgroil @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @juneonhoth @yagirlheree @jackiehollanderr @legendarynoodlebowl @iameatingmyhair @justasimps-blog@hannabanana-09 @xylianasblog @misscaller06 @yeosxxx @myh3artttt @teyamsbitch@musicownsme @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @zoetrope1997 @itsmy-alteregohere @ntymavtr @curlszx88 @maki-z @riatesullironalite @baahsaama @luna-salem @teyamtesuli @koing-slvt @call-me-doll-face @puresirius-things @saturniac @call-me-doll-face @dreaming-of-the-reality @whorefortim

(sorry if i missed anyone this list is getting so longgg)

589 notes · View notes

foxy-eva · 1 year

Text

Careful Whisper

Summary: It's very hard to keep quiet when Spencer visits you in your hotel room at night

Request: Could you write a Spencer Reid x reader smut where they're in a hotel while they're on a case and Spencer teases the reader because of how cock drunk she is and that if she gets any louder, the whole team will hear

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) Dom!Spencer, Sub!Reader, secret relationship, use of nicknames (sir, sweet/good girl), possessiveness, teasing, edging/orgasm control, praise kink, fingering, oral (both receiving), unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

Spencer announced his presence with two firm knocks against your hotel room door. You had already expected him to show up within minutes after texting him how much you missed him. A tingling sensation spread through your stomach as you walked over to the door in nothing but a set of purple lingerie.

When you swung open the door, you found Spencer staring at you like deer caught in headlights. It took him a split second to react and check the hallway to make sure nobody saw him (and more importantly, you).

"Are you out of your mind?" He whispered while entering your room.

With a wide grin you playfully replied, "Not yet."

Stepping closer to you, he let his fingertips ghost over the exposed skin of your arms.

"So that's what you meant when you said you missed me," he chuckled. "What if anyone had seen you like this?"

"Jealous, Dr. Reid?” You snickered while swinging your arms around his neck. “Don't worry, it's for your eyes only."

"Yeah, I sure hope so," he whispered against your lips. "You're mine."

There was no need to agree with words, your lips told him everything he needed to know. With more urgency than he had expected, you deepened the kiss within moments of your lips meeting. As tongues brushed over one another, he walked you over to the edge of the bed.

With gentle but purposeful hands he pushed you down to sit on the edge of the mattress, lingering in a standing position in front of you while he began to undo the buttons of his shirt. You noticed how he licked his lips as his eyes traced the seam of your underwear.

"You look beautiful," he cooed when he met your eyes once more.

"It's all for you, Spencer."

The quiet gasp that escaped his throat at you using his first name was not unnoted. You watched as his cheeks took on a rosy shade while he brushed off his shirt. Your sight followed his hands as they began undoing his belt. The visible outline of his growing hardness made it obvious how excited Spencer was getting.

"If you want to stop or do something else, you'll tell me, okay?" He reminded you.

"Yes, I will," you reassured him.

"The usual rules apply but I have an additional one: You have to stay quiet."

Recent encounters have shown that this could in fact be a problem. You already had a hunch of what his answer would be but you still needed to know, "What if I don't?"

"First of all, I won't allow you to finish," he told you. "And secondly, you'll have to explain to the team what exactly was going on in your room."

Leaning down to kiss your lips, you almost lost yourself in the sensation of finally having him close to you after days of only being focussed on work.

"You still want to continue?" He mumbled against your lips.

Nothing in this world could have made you say no to the man in front of you. He had the ability to help you forget everything around you. Whenever you were with him, it was just the two of you in your own little world. That was exactly what you needed right then, so naturally you replied with, "Yes."

He rid himself of his pants before tracing your jaw with his fingertips. You looked up at him in awe as he stared down at you, the warm amber of his irises almost completely swallowed by his pupils. It was clear by his look what was about to happen but you still needed him to say what he wanted from you.

Tentatively you let your hands make contact with his hips, tracing his skin with the tips of your fingers. He let his thumb wander from your jaw to your lips, brushing over them before pressing against them to push them apart. Without a second thought you wrapped your lips around his finger, your tongue swirling around it until a groan escaped his throat.

From the corner of your eyes you noticed how painfully hard he was getting but you didn't dare to let your sight drop to his length yet. You knew how much Spencer liked to take his time with you, no matter how desperately you wanted to finally experience all of him.

"Since I know how difficult it is for you to stay quiet…" he cooed while removing his thumb from your mouth. "How about you practice following my rule by keeping your mouth busy for now."

"Yes, sir," you breathed as he stepped closer.

Him standing in front of you with his serious demeanor while you sat in on the bed almost seemed intimidating. It wasn't for you, though, because you knew how much Spencer had to trust you to let you see this side of him.

He was just as vulnerable in that moment as you were, if not a little more. It made you grateful to know you were the only person he'd let worship him like this, a comforting warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of that.

One of your hands moved from his hip to his erection, gentle fingers wrapping around it to feel his silken skin. Although you could have spent hours looking at his body, you made sure to lock eyes with him when your lips softly kissed his leaking tip. Slowly you opened your mouth to let him in, your tongue pressing against the vein on the underside of his hardness.

"Fuck," he sighed. "You look so good with my cock in your mouth."

After being with him for several weeks now, you knew exactly what he enjoyed. As you moved your mouth along his shaft, you kept your eyes on his face to see all his reactions to your ministrations. It was obvious that he had trouble keeping quiet himself, the mewls falling from his lips spurring you further on.

Before he lost himself in the pleasure completely, he grabbed ahold of your face to implicitly tell you to stop. Slower than he had expected, you removed your lips from his length, making him tremble when they brushed over his sensitive tip. His thumb wiped over your chin to remove the saliva from your face.

"My sweet girl, you have no idea what you do to me," he confessed.

"I might have a hunch," you giggled and noticed him raising his eyebrows at you, so with a playful tone you added, "Sir."

Spencer couldn't stop the grin from forming on his face. Once he got his composure back, he joined you on bed, placing his lips on yours as you lay down with him hovering above you.

When Spencer kissed you then, it felt as if you were merging into each other. As greedy hands roamed over one another’s skin, it became impossible to tell where your body ended and his began. There was no distance to be found between the two of you as tongues joined each other in a familiar dance. It was hard to keep the sounds of your excitement to yourself but they were muffled by his mouth on yours anyway.

With one swift motion, Spencer shifted his position to separate your thighs with his leg, pressing it firmly against the lace of your dampening underwear. Although some friction would have been welcome, you didn’t dare to grind your hips against his thigh yet, unsure if you’d be able to keep quiet.

Spencer’s lips left your mouth to explore your neck instead while one of his hands cupped your breast. The lace of your bra was flimsy and only added to the friction of his thumb rubbing over your hardening peak. When Spencer started nipping on the sensitive skin of your pulse point while carefully pinching your nipple, there was no way for you to hold back a loud moan from escaping your throat.

In an instant he stopped what he was doing and sat up between your legs instead. The smug grin on his face gave away the teasing mood he was in. It was clear then that this was going to be a very long and exciting night.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed a half-sincere apology.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Are you really?”

“I can’t help it when you make me feel so good,” you snickered.

Leaning over your body once more, he found your ear and whispered, “You’ll have to be a good girl for me tonight. Can you do that?”

"Yes, sir."

He kissed down your neck and over your shoulder while he reached behind your back to unclasp your bra.

"It's a shame, you know," he mumbled against your body as he kissed along your collarbone. "You look so pretty wearing this but it is getting in the way."

You moved with him to remove the fabric, already getting impatient to feel his touch without any barriers. His lips found your breasts, caressing the softness of your body while you focussed on not making a sound. He took his time to explore every curve and dip of your body with his mouth and hands as he moved further down.

When he kissed along the seam of your panties, your body started to quiver and you felt him smile against your skin. He sat up between your legs to let his sight wander over your figure, smirking when he discovered the soaked lace between your legs.

He took his time to hook his fingers under the waistband of your panties to pull them down your legs. When you opened your thighs for him, his sight lingered at your glistening core. He let his fingertips brush along your slit before parting your folds to cover them with your arousal. You bit down on your lower lip to hinder a moan from escaping when he started circling your most sensitive spot.

"So wet," he groaned. "All for me."

"I'm yours, Spencer," you whispered.

Both of you noticed you slipping up with his name but neither of you cared. In fact, it made Spencer smile to hear his first name after the words I'm yours. It made it so much clearer that you really meant what you said.

He lay down between your legs to explore your center with his mouth. Almost instantly you started rocking against his face, having him swing his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. With practiced motions he let his tongue glide over the nub of your crevice, making it more difficult to keep the sounds of your pleasure from falling from your lips with every second passing.

Spencer was relentless in bringing you closer to your breaking point. When you dared to look down at him to find his face buried between your legs, his eyes closed as he obviously found pleasure in tasting you, a desperate moan escaped your throat.

His eyes shot open to find yours as he stopped what he was doing.

"Careful," he warned you.

"Please don't stop," you whimpered. "I'm sorry, sir."

Right before he continued, he hissed, "Consider this a warning."

His mouth became ruthless as he started again, well aware that what he was doing was almost getting too much. Your whole body squirmed, everything he did being overwhelming and not enough at the same time. It was getting impossible for you to not make any sounds but Spencer was willing to let your occasional mewls and whimpers slide.

Right before you entered a state of pure bliss, Spencer stopped what he was doing and sat up between your legs once more. The expression on your face could only be described as desperate when he found your eyes. It wasn't unusual for him to take his time with you, teasing you until he was sure you couldn't take it anymore.

That still didn't change the fact that it felt like the sweetest torture every single time.

"Sir…," you whined, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Teasing you is just so much fun," he chuckled as he lay down beside you.

Capturing your lips in a kiss, he let you taste yourself on his tongue. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, every single fiber of your being burning for his touch. One of his hands slid down your body to make contact with your heat once more.

There was zero resistance from your body when he let two of his fingers enter you. The moment they were inside you, your walls clung tightly around them as if to not let them go anytime soon. Slowly he started pushing into you, making you dance along the edge of ecstasy within moments.

His lips never left yours while he worked his hand against your center. It didn't take long for his whole palm to be covered with your essence while the pressure in your core became almost unbearable.

You leaned back to look at him with half-lidded eyes. Your cheeks were heated and your chest was heaving while you stayed focussed to not let the sounds of your pleasure come out. He smiled at you when he noticed the state you were in.

"Please, sir," you pleaded. "I need you inside me."

He chuckled at your desperation but was willing to give you what you want. "You know I can't refuse you anything when you beg for it."

He propped himself up on one hand as he hovered you. His other hand reached between your bodies to let his hardness make contact with your folds. He covered himself in your arousal, teasing you some more before slowly pushing into you. When he had fully entered you, his hand brushed over your cheek and you leaned into his touch.

"You're doing so good for me," he praised you.

Aware that it wouldn't take long for you to climax with all the built up tension, he started his thrusts teasingly slowly. You knew how much excitement Spencer received from being in complete control over your pleasure. It was always worth it in the end. You trusted him to take good care of you.

When he began pushing into you harder, your whole body shook and you bit your lips once more to hinder your moans from escaping. It was hard to keep looking at him but seeing how he struggled to not get lost in the sensation himself was worth it. He was breathing heavily when a smirk formed on his face.

"My sweet girl, is it getting too much for you?" He teased.

You were already too far gone to answer him, completely lost in the sensation of being one with him. With a firm grip he got ahold of your jaw to get your full attention.

He stopped his movements and demanded, "Answer me."

It took you a few seconds to find your words, muttering, "It feels too good."

"What exactly?"

You tried to grind your hips against his to feel him again as you breathed, "Your cock… inside me."

With a ruthless pace he started thrusting into you. You were sure he already knew the answer when he asked, "Like this?"

"Yes," you sighed.

"Look at how well you take me," he purred and you followed his sight down to where your bodies were joined. "You were made for me."

It was impossible for you to answer him then as you entered the state of pure bliss. Despite all your effort, a quiet moan fell from your lips.

"Stay quiet," he reminded you and kissed you to make sure that you would.

All the tension from dancing along the edge for so long was released as you finally found relief.

Your walls were still pulsing around his hardness when he praised you, "Good girl."

It didn't take long for him to fall apart as well. You felt him twitching inside you as he shared his warmth with you before collapsing into your arms. You swung your limbs around him to keep him as close as possible while he evened out his breathing in the crook of your neck.

Both of your hearts were thumping hard against their confines as if they were trying to touch as well. When Spencer had caught his breath again, he showered your face with countless little pecks, making you giggle at his silly display of affection.

Before he found your lips, he brushed a few stray hairs out of your face and whispered, "You did so well for me. I am so proud of you."

His praise made your heart swell as a comforting warmth spread through your body. When it became inevitable, Spencer got up from the bed to disappear in the bathroom for a moment. He came back with a damp towel and started cleaning you up.

"Are you feeling okay?" He wondered when he lay back down beside you.

You found your home inside his arms, your head resting on his chest to listen to the steady sounds of his heartbeat.

"Yeah," You mumbled. "I'm just exhausted."

His fingertips wandered over your back in soothing motions. There was no way to tell how much time passed as the two of you enjoyed each other's company in comfortable silence. It was easy to find rest inside his arms but you already knew what he would say after a few moments.

"I'm sorry, I have to go back to my room before I fall asleep."

Propping yourself up, you locked eyes with him, confessing, "I don't want you to leave."

To your surprise he said, "Okay, I'll stay then."

With raised eyebrows you questioned, "Really? What if the team sees you leaving my room in the morning?"

"Then so be it. I'm okay with the whole world knowing that you're mine."

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @spookydrreid @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @s4r4hsblog @sebs-oxygen @reidsmilf @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @airconsbeswag @conniesanchor @jordierama @reaux02 @ellamaianderson @cynbx @feltonswifesworld87 @snowsnow27 @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @l-e-n-a

Tumblr might be hiding some posts from you! Learn how to change this setting here so you can see all of my stories.

Join my taglist here

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

headcanonenthusiast · 4 months

Text

Alex Keller x chubby reader headcanons

Guess who's back with a 3rd Alex post in 3 days? These headcanons will be entirely SFW, focusing on a chubbier, gender-neutral reader, because Lord do we need more headcanons on this man, especially with chubby readers 🥲

Just a quick reminder that y'all are beautiful, no matter your weight 💙

Enjoy!

-Ik I mentioned this in my NSFW Alex headcanons, but that one (obviously) was more sexual. But, he will still force you in front of a mirror, even in a non-sexual context, arms hugging you from behind while he whispers in your ear about how beautiful/handsome you are.

-His fingers trail on each and every stretch-mark, observing them with pure delight.

-And if you dare to complain about them, he's shutting that right down.

-"What do you mean you don't like 'em? They make you look like a tiger, and everyone loves tigers."

-"Yeah, but tigers aren't chubby."

-"They can be. And when they are, they're extra cute."

-Probably proceeds to show you this pic as well

-Your belly has become his personal pillow.

-Its also almost like a stress ball to him, too. He'll softly knead at it like dough when y'all are cuddling, pressing kisses to the skin and tickling you with his facial hair.

-When he gets home from a particularly long deployment, all he wants to do is just bury his face in your belly and forget about life for a while.

-Will also ask for pictures of your tummy while he's away. Tells you how much he can't wait to come home and cuddle with you.

-"That belly is the perfect pillow for me, baby. Can't wait to get home and fall asleep on you ❤"

-Absolutely doesn't take anyone shaming you for your body. He probably gets more pissed than you do, but he isn't super confrontational. As much as he'd like to knock the person out, he doesn't, and just leads you away instead.

-If those harsh words get to you, he'll drag you back to the mirror and gently ask you to tell him the specific things you don't like about your body. Then, he'll caress and compliment whatever you point out.

-"What do you mean your thighs are too big? They're literally the softest things in the world. You're nothing short of a warm, cozy pillow, baby. My pillow."

-Also has an obsession with your thighs. Please let him kiss and squeeze them, he'll probably never be happy again if you don't.

-Can't stop touching your stomach. He's also obsessed with that.

-He'll make you feel like the most beautiful/handsome person in the world just with his words, which are always sincere.

-"Hope you know that you've got the best smile, baby doll."

-If you're at a stage in your life where you actually want to lose weight, he hopes you do it for yourself and noone else.

-Always reassures you that he'll love you no matter what you look like.

-"I don't care what you look like, baby. You'll look amazing no matter what you do."

-Will actually help you work-out if you wanna try it. Always there to encourage you and honestly just sees it as more time spent with his wonderful partner.

-Also, he'll only be wearing a thin white shirt and gray shorts while exercising. Do with that what you will 🤭

-Goes clothes shopping with you a lot.

-If you find clothes that you really like but they don't fit, he'll rub your shoulder comfortingly while searching the racks for another size.

-And if the store barely has anything that fits you? He's fuming about it on the way home and then tries to see if he can get you something customized to fit you.

-Enjoys bathing with you just so he has an excuse to touch at and clean your body. Rubs soap all over your tummy and makes sure it's all nice and clean so he can fall asleep on it later.

-Picks you up constantly and grins when it makes you giggle.

-Once when you were especially sleepy and he made breakfast, he simply just scooped you up, carried you to the dining table and grabbed you a plate. You were definitely 100% awake after that.

-His lap is always avaliable for you to sit on.

-Sometimes pouts when you don't sit on it and looks at you with the saddest eyes until you do.

-"Aw, is my lap not comfy enough for you, dolly?"

-And if you insist you'll crush him, he looks at you like you have 5 heads.

-"Thats the craziest thing I've ever heard. Come on, love. Get your pretty/handsome ass over here."

-Pats his thigh when he wants you on his lap, too. His arms immediately wrap around you when you sit on him, giving you a hug so tight it takes your breath away for a sec.

-Never allows a negative word about yourself fall from your mouth.

-"Don't say that, baby. It's not true. Not at all."

-"I wish it wasn't so hard for you to see yourself from my perspective. You're amazing, sweetheart. Always have been and always will be."

-Would absolutely be a wonderful partner overall, no matter your body type or background. Alex genuinely couldn't care less about what you looked like, and would totally throw compliments at you so much you'd get flustered.

Let's gooo another one done! I'm sure y'all can probably tell that I'm chubbier myself, and as such I'm here to provide for my fellow chubby readers out there with content on this wonderful man 🙏

Feel free to leave requests on who I should do next!

#alex keller #alex keller x f!reader #alex keller headcanons #alex keller cod #alex keller x reader #alex keller x male reader #alex keller x y/n #alex keller x you #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty #this man is so fine #im here to provide for my fellow chubby readers

143 notes · View notes

unique-high · 5 months

Note

bada x ladybounce reader plss

a/n: wasn't really sure what to do here but I hope you still like it.

Mention of sex.

LOVER

The afternoon sun spilling from the cream paper thin curtains warms your face waking you up. Blinking a couple times and rubbing your eyes you look next to you at the sleeping woman. She's lightly snoring, her dark hair hiding her face. Cuss words quickly slip past your lips.

This wasn't supposed to happen again.

Sleeping with Bada was supposed to be a onetime thing. But she has a way with words that make you melt, and she gets you into your bed. Bada, she shows you that sex isn't just about fucking and rushing. That sex could be beautiful when it's the right person slowly taking their time with you and loving every inch of you.

So you stare at her. Carefully moving hair her from her face. A tiny smile tug at your lips. The feeling in your heart felt nice, like flowers blooming in the spring. You hadn't felt this way in a long time. Yet a sleeping Bada made you feel like this.

She moves in, snuggling her face against yours. She's half asleep but knew she needed to wake up soon to get to practice. Bada lays there for a moment breathing in your scent. It's mixture of something calming and nostalgic; it reminds her of a time when she was a little girl and she would run through the cool summer rain or cuddling up with her mom in her still-warm bed.

“Hey, you.” Bada whispered.

Part of you wish she would sneak out while you were still sleeping. Bada never did. Sometimes she would be up before you cooking your breakfast while swaying her hips to some Beyoncé song.

“Hey.” you said. “Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave to?”

Bada softly groaned, pouting a bit. “Yes. But you're warm and the bed is so so warm I don't wanna leave.”

“Get up.” You poked at her bare stomach making her laugh and roll out of your bed.

“Can I come by tonight?” she asks.

“The girls will be over tonight. We're having a small party for Biggy. But you can come by once they leave. I'll text you.”

You sit up in bed, pulling your sheet up to your bare chest. Bada nods walking around your bedroom naked, collecting her clothes that were scattered across your bedroom floor.

“Still haven't told your girls about us?” Bada asked as she struggled to get her legs into her jeans.

There was nothing to tell. You and Bada were only friends with benefits, sort of. So what would you be telling your lady bounce members? Hey, Bada and I are sex buddies' surprise.

“You and I aren't... Dating so I haven't.”

Bada grabs her shirt next pulling it over her head. She walks over to the bed sitting on the edge where your feet are.

“I, um, wanted to talk to you about that,” Bada said.

She loved sex with you, and the brief conversations that would come after when you were both sleepy and sweet talk turned into funny laughter and soon snoring.

“About what?” You asked.

“I want us to go beyond sex.” she said. “Like I want to take you on dates, and sing along with you to your favorite songs.”

“Dates?” you laughed. “and singing to my favorite song? Don't be all lover girl on me, Bada.”

Bada looks at you. “What if I want to love you?”

“I'll say you're crazy.”

Your last relationship taught you how hard you were to love. That not anybody would want to put up with you. Bada takes your hand running her thumb over your knuckles.

“Then call me crazy, y/n.” Bada smiles. “I'm not perfect either, you know. But I will love you like you're the most perfect person in the freaking world.”

“Bada, I don't want to be loved like I'm this most perfect person in the world. I want my flaws to be loved and seen.”

“If you'll allow me to, I can do that.” Bada said.

“I'm not that easy to love, though.”

“And who is? It's just about having the right person there for you who will love you like you're the easiest person to love. And that's what I will try to do for you, y/n.”

That's all you ever wanted was for someone to try for you.

#bada lee x y/n #bada lee x you #bada lee imagine #bada lee x reader #bada lee #bada lee request #bada lee fanfic #bada lee scenario #fanfic

184 notes · View notes

gentlebeardsbarngrill · 27 days

Text

04/03/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys; Nathan; Rachel; David; Samba/BTS; Vote for OFMD on GLAAD; Watch Parties; Watch Party Polls; Pirate Experts; Uncle Ed; Fan Spotlight; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

= Rhys Darby =

Looks like Rhys is taking a page from Taika's book and doing some advertising this week!

Src: Rhys' IG, Rosie's IG

= Nathan Foad =

Love's Labor Lost

Nathan will be playing Costard in Love's Labor Lost! ROYAL SHAKESPEARE THEATRE STRATFORD-UPON-AVON11 APR - 18 MAY 2024 More info!

= Rachel House =

Rachel's new movie The Mountain has been selected for the Sydney Film Festival 2024!

Src: Rachel's IG

= David Jenkins =

Chaos Dad saying what we're all thinking.

Src: David Jenkins' IG

= Samba Schutte =

More BTS from Samba! This time improvising from the Revenge crews!

Tumblr Link to the Vid / Src: Samba's IG

== Vote for OFMD on GLADD! ==

Hey crew! GLAAD is opening up Fan Favorites for their May 11th ceremony! Let's see if we can't get OFMD one of those awards! Requires an email, and it's not in the inital dropdown, you'll need to add Other.

Please Vote! Img Src: Irene Adler's IG

== Active Watch Parties ==

Taskmaster NZ Series 1 Watch Party with @saveofmdcrewmates! When: April 3-12 (W,F, Su -2 eps each) Time: 11 am PT/ 2pm ET/ 7pm BST Where to watch: YouTube, TVNZ, Channel 4

Twitter Hashtags:

#Quartermaster

#OurFlagMeansDeath

#Taskmaster

== Poll Going on for Watch Parties ==

Twitter Poll going on by @iamadequate1 regarding two questions:

Should WP start times be the same for Europe and the US?

Is it useful for each WP to have its own separate hashtag?

Please vote when you get a chance if you use twitter. Full Thread

== Pirate Experts ==

== Uncle Ed ==

Some of you may have been seeing the theme of "uncle edward" going around and if you're wondering what it is-- well look no further! @eddiepeaches had a really great post (which is where it originated), please check it out!

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Tonight's Cast Card is Abshir! Good to see Devon Stewart getting some love! Thank you @melvisik!

= Big Gay Energy Podcast =

This weeks episode features an interview with Vico Ortiz!

Where to Watch: Big Gay Energy Youtube

Where to Listen: BGEPod

Big Gay Podcast Patreon!

== Love Notes ==

Evening/Morning m'dears. Hopefully today was a bit easier! We got quite a few crumbs of bts / script info today and lots and lots of Rhys which certainly raised some people's spirits.

I just wanted to send a reminder out today that lovelies, you are so much more than what others think of you. You are so much more than what you think of yourself even most days. You are such an inspiration, and you've been doing a really amazing job, even if you've had bad days. I'm sure you're tired of hearing that, but that's too bad because I'm gonna keep saying it until you get it in your beautiful brain that you are doing great. So many things are going on, and everyday, bad or good, you are getting through them. If someone was unkind to you today, I'm so sorry, and I hope they haven't made you feel too down on yourself. If they did, just know, you are a force to be reckoned with. They can be spiteful and hateful, but you are a wonderful force that keeps on kicking ass.

You deserve kindness in this world, no matter what, you hear me?

No matter what.

You're doing great, so give yourself a big ol hug for me and the rest of the crew, and know you are an absolute gem. <3 You're gonna get there, wherever you're trying to go. Keep going!

Love Notes Image Src: @ BethEvans IG.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Don't ask me what theme this is 👀

Taika Gif Courtesy of @darkinerry Darby Gif Courtesy of @wastingyourgum

#ofmd #daily ofmd recap #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #daily ofmd recaps #our flag means death #rhys darby #taika waititi #rosie carnahan darby #save ofmd #long live ofmd #samba schutte #david jenkins #chaos dad #rachel house #nathan foad #watch party

85 notes · View notes

munchmemes · 4 months

Text

florence + the machine lyrics, high as hope edition

A SIDE

❛ i'm so high, i can see an angel. ❜ ❛ i hear your heart beating in your chest. ❜ ❛ the world slows 'till there's nothing left. ❜ ❛ in those heavy days in june when love became an act of defiance. ❜ ❛ hold onto each other. ❜ ❛ you were broken-hearted and the world was, too. ❜ ❛ i was beginning to lose my grip. i always held it loosely but this time i admit, i felt it really start to slip. ❜ ❛ at seventeen, i started to starve myself. ❜ ❛ i thought that love was a kind of emptiness. ❜ ❛ at least, i understood then the hunger i felt & i didn't have to call it loneliness. ❜ ❛ we all have a hunger. ❜ ❛ don't let it get you down, you're the best thing i've seen. ❜ ❛ we never found the answer but we knew one thing. ❜ ❛ in that pink dress, they're gonna crucify me. ❜ ❛ how could anything bad ever happen to you? ❜ ❛ you make a fool of death with your beauty. ❜ ❛ i thought that love was in the drugs. ❜ ❛ the more i took, the more it took away and i could never get enough. ❜ ❛ for a moment, i forgot to worry. ❜ ❛ i thought it doesn't get better than this. ❜ ❛ there can be nothing better than this. ❜ ❛ the world is at your fingertips. ❜ ❛ everything i ever did was just another way to scream your name. over and over and over again. ❜ ❛ i want a space to watch things grow. ❜ ❛ did i dream too big? do i have to let it go? ❜ ❛ what if one day there is no such thing as snow? ❜ ❛ i don't know anything. except that green is so green. ❜ ❛ there's a special kind of sadness that seems to come with spring. ❜ ❛ you need a big god. big enough to hold your love. ❜ ❛ you keep me up at night but to my messages, you do not reply. ❜ ❛ you know i still like you the most. ❜ ❛ you'll always be my favourite ghost. ❜ ❛ sometimes i think it's getting better and then it gets much worse. ❜ ❛ is it just part of the process? jesus christ, it hurts. ❜ ❛ though i know i should know better, i can make this work. ❜ ❛ shower your affection, let it rain on me. ❜ ❛ are you deeply sleeping or are you still awake? ❜ ❛ a good friend told me you've been staying out so late. ❜ ❛ be careful, my darling. be careful what it takes. ❜ ❛ from what i've seen so far, the good ones always seem to break. ❜ ❛ i can feel your anger from way across the sea. ❜ ❛ i was kissing strangers, i was causing such a scene. ❜ ❛ oh, the heart, it hides such unimaginable things. ❜ ❛ i want you so badly but you could be anyone. ❜ ❛ hold me down, i'm so tired now. ❜ ❛ leave me where i lie. ❜ ❛ i feel like i'm about to fall, the room begins to sway. ❜ ❛ i can hear the sirens but i cannot walk away. ❜ ❛ i thought i was flying but maybe i'm dying tonight. ❜

B SIDE

❛ i'm sorry i ruined your birthday. ❜ ❛ i guess i could go back, try and make my parents proud. ❜ ❛ i don't think it would be too long before i'm drunk again. ❜ ❛ this is the only thing i've ever had any faith in. ❜ ❛ [NAME], i don't say it enough. you are so loved. ❜ ❛ all the walls were melting and there were mermaids everywhere. hearts flew from my hands and i could see people's feelings. ❜ ❛ and you, you were the one i treated the worst. only because you loved me the most. ❜ ❛ we haven't spoken in a long time. i think about it sometimes. ❜ ❛ i don't know who i was back then and i hope and hope i would never treat anyone like that again. ❜ ❛ oh [NAME], you've always been my north star. ❜ ❛ i have to tell you something, i'm still afraid of the dark. ❜ ❛ do you understand that with every seed you sow you make this cold world beautiful? ❜ ❛ you told me all doors are open to the believer. ❜ ❛ i believe her. ❜ ❛ how's that working out for you, honey? do you feel loved? ❜ ❛ i drink too much coffee and i think of you often. ❜ ❛ are you afraid? 'cause i'm terrified. ❜ ❛ you remind me that it's such a wonderful thing to love. ❜ ❛ i believe in you and in our hearts we know the truth. ❜ ❛ i believe in love and the darker it gets, the more i do. ❜ ❛ it's just too much, i cannot get you close enough. ❜ ❛ a hundred arms, a hundred years, you can always find me here. ❜ ❛ lord, don't let me break this, let me hold it lightly. ❜ ❛ we have no need to fight. we raise our voices and let our hearts take flight. ❜ ❛ my held breath fills the room with love. ❜ ❛ it hurts in ways i can't describe. ❜ ❛ my heart bends and breaks so many, many times and is born again with each sunrise. ❜ ❛ we're sorry, we thought you didn't care. ❜ ❛ how does it feel now you've scratched that itch? ❜ ❛ hubris is a bitch. ❜ ❛ i feel nervous in a way that can't be named. ❜ ❛ we're a family pulled from a flood. ❜ ❛ it was so far to fall but it didn't hurt at all. ❜ ❛ i've always been in love with you. could you tell it from the moment that i met you? ❜ ❛ they told me that they loved me then ghosted me again. ❜ ❛ the older i get i find that happiness is an extremely uneventful subject. ❜ ❛ i must confess, i did it all for myself. ❜ ❛ the loneliness never left me. i always took it with me. ❜ ❛ the loneliness never left me. i always took it with me but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company. ❜ ❛ no chorus will come in. no ballad will be written. it will be entirely forgotten. ❜ ❛ and if tomorrow it's all over, at least we had it for a moment. ❜ ❛ things seem so unstable but for a moment we were able to be still. ❜ ❛ this will be entirely forgotten. ❜

#rp meme #rp starters #sentence starters #lyrics rp starters #lyrics starters #lyrics rp meme #roleplay meme #lyrics meme #ask meme #tag memes

106 notes · View notes

jongbross · 9 months

Note

A headcanon with Exo:

How would they express their feelings for the reader?

a/n: thank you for requesting <3 i did this thinking about love languages, i hope it's okay!

minseok:

acts of service.

minseok has a beautiful way with words, but most of the times he gets awkward to say them out loud, so he learned his love language is acts of service. whenever he sees you're feeling down, he'll do something nice for you, so more often than not you'll get home to him cleaning up the house, finishing that task you've been trying to do for weeks but work just wouldn't let you, or all dressed up waiting for you so he can take you out and treat you with a nice meal.

he always says "i love you" at the end of a phone call or before leaving, but more than that, he tends to show you he loves you through his acts.

junmyeon:

gifts.

i know we all (fans and members) joke about junmyeon being rich and spending all his money as he wants, but somehow he learned that giving gifts is also a love language.

don't get me wrong, he doesn't think he can win people over with that. but if you see and like a nice little pair of earrings, what's the matter with him buying it for you? if you complain to him that you're having a shitty day, is really that bad for him to buy you your favorite desert and get it delivered at your work? if you're the love of his life, the one he's sure he wants to spend the eternity with, can't he buy a new house for the two of you where you can start a family together?

think about it...

yixing:

physical touch.

zhang yixing is one of the softest boys out there. he has a busy schedule and he always puts work first, so sometimes he can't be around you as much as he'd want. so whenever he has some time to spend with you, believe me - he'll be all over you. he will kiss you every chance he have, hug you even if all you're doing is brushing your teeth, lean on your shoulder while you're watching your favorite show.

yixing always makes you feel loved, wanted. he's forever grateful for all the support you give him, for all the times you let him go with a smile on your face because he needed to persue his dreams. he may write a few songs about the way he feels about you, but he rather show you through his touch.

baekhyun:

quality time.

baekhyun knows exactly what he wants and how he wants, so he has confessed to you before. but the funny thing you've realized is, baekhyun is so full of love but has been hurt so many times, that he tries not to talk about his feelings a lot - he's lowkey scared it will all happen again if he wear them on his sleeve.

so, to always remind you how much he loves you and how he cares about you, he learned to just spend some time with you. and it's so natural to him, to turn off the world and just focus on you, give you his full attention; watching your every move, listening to your every word, doing whatever makes you happy - always with a smile on his lips and eyes overflowing with tenderness.

jongdae:

words of affirmation.

have you seen jongdae? he's the walking form of words of affirmation. he is always reminding you how amazing you are, how he's grateful for all the things you do for him, how he knows you're capable of anything you want.

he might not be the one to give you the best birthday gift ever, for an example, but he will always be the one to make you cry at his beautiful words. he might not always be around when you need a hug, but he's always just a call away whenever you're facing some trouble and needs someone to tell you "i love you" and "i believe in you" - and jongdae does, from the bottom of his heart.

chanyeol:

acts of service & physical thouch.

chanyeol is a mix of both, i think. he's the human definition of a golden retriever, i swear! whenever you're sad or need some reassurance, chanyeol hugs you and pulls you closer to his chest because he solemly believe - but won't ever admit it - that how much he loves you emanates from his body and it can heal you.

apart from that, he also likes to shows you that he loves you through his actions rather than words, so don't be surprised if you ever come home and oh, that photo you two took together last month on a trip is now hanging on your wall. (:

kyungsoo:

acts of service.

if you think kyungsoo isn't good with his words, you're right. he has some trouble talking about his feelings, so very early on his life he learned that he can show gratitude and love through his actions. he tends to care for those around him, especially the ones who has done a lot for him too, so of course it wouldn't be different with you.

you also realized this as soon as you two got together. it isn't unusual for kyungsoo to only smile and nod when you tell him you love him, followed by either him bringing you food because you're so busy with work or letting you sleep till noon even though it's his day off and you were supposed to be together - you deserve that rest and he worries about your health because he loves you, so it's okay.

jongin:

physical touch.

there's a very specific moment in one of superm's lives that jongin holds baekhyun's fingers and keeps playing with them for such a long time... that's how he acts with you too.

jongin does say he loves you, very often actually, but you feel that everytime he touches you - which he also does a lot. he's always touching you somehow, from pulling you close everytime he laughs to just touching shoulders while watching something on the couch. he needs that warmth, he craves that from his lover, and he can only hope that it's enough to show you that hey, he's so in love with you (spoiler alert: it is more than enough).

sehun:

gifts.

poor baby doesn't know how to show love. perhaps, since he's not only exo's maknae but also the youngest from his family, he has always been spoiled and showered with love in so many ways that he doesn't know how to pay back. the only way he gets to do it, and that's also a little bit of junmyeon's fault, is through gift giving.

sehun showers you with gifts every chance he gets. anything you want, name it and it's yours - or don't name it, because sehun learned how to read you so everytime you see something, check the price and be like "hm, that's too expansive" DO NOT be fooled, give sehun barely two weeks and the thing you wanted it's on your hands. he'll spoil you rotten if you let him, but don't blame him, it's his way to say "i love you so much, thank you for taking care of me".

310 notes · View notes

catgirlbussy · 10 months

Text

im gonna do a lil sadpost, as a treat. if u dun wanna read that or interact or anything there's no harm done <3 it kinda feels nice sayin stuff into the void tbh, cause i know as i look out ill always see myself at minimum, and im still thankful. im alive. if someone can relate or whatever then thats a neat bonus ★

I'm not super sure how to formulate these thoughts, cause lots of it is just incompressible /feeling/. I've been on HRT for close to two years now, and modifying my internal physical landscape alongside the work I put in with the ways I've learned sharing benefit so far, like therapy and self-directed exploration of my emotions and the simple but vital practice of being more open with others about how I'm feeling, has uncovered a lot.

It's been overwhelmingly positive in so many ways. I don't have any regrets for starting this set of changes, even with full knowledge of the difficulties I've had rise as a result and that more are on the horizon, and also full awareness in that I will need to continue putting in the *good* work to care for myself and learn how to navigate the parts in my mind I'd kept hidden or obscured for so long. It's not /bad/, I feel so grateful to have this opportunity at all and I feel bounteous joys in this trove of beautiful experiences that, up 'till not too long ago, I never thought I'd be able to experience -- though I absolutely still dreamed of having them so vividly.

I have a lot of good graces in my life re: my transition. In a lot of ways I feel I've been exceedingly lucky. Canada has its fair share of problems without a doubt, but I also know full well there are a lot more places on our planet where it's much more difficult to be openly trans, let alone dangerous or lethal. I don't take that as an opportunity to rest, either, because having cracks forming in the firmament, letting in light to my dream of a world where trans experiences are accepted (and to note most thoroughly, I'm learning more of a lot of cultures in days gone by, /including some aspects of my own heritage/, having extended gender representations ingrained in their societal norms, some as far even to revere the dynamic and unique experience of existing beyond the gender binary in whatever way they saw as such) for **everyone** spurs in me an even deeper and impassioned drive to work in the ways I'm able to foster communication and connection while rebuking hostility so more and more beautiful, valid trans folks can experience respite and respect and safety as well.

I'm not wanting necessarily to change minds and upend the posture of society with this particular post, though, and so I hope you'll forgive me in my expressing my small, localised set of emotions in this moment. At the root of everything I experience I'm starting to get better at reminding myself that I'm a valid *individual person* in addition to being a contributor in the push for good and kindness for all.

It's probably telling that I feel the need to offer ~4 paragraphs as a disclaimer that I spend time learning about the global scale and am effortful in enacting progress there before just getting on with what I'm even feeling sad about. I don't see myself as a holy martyr for being nervous about expressing myself, but it seems more and more common evidently rather than by my hypothesis alone that many trans individuals would get by prior to exploring their gendered identity with burgeoning self-acceptance with a marked self-exclusionary behaviour when it came to opening themselves to emotional experience, regardless of any given instance being gendered or not. Until it becomes unmanageable, it feels easier to lock away senses of joy, sadness, etc. cause you can keep gettin on by in a sort of functional state and you tell yourself thats enough.

This is far from the worst thing I've come across so far, but I am feeling confused and the confusion is unique in its own way to the extent that I'm not even able to pin down how I /feel/ about feeling it. At its heart I can't seem to muster the right formulation of words to explain to others these particular experiences I'm having in my transition. Painting in broad strokes can be such disservice to the nuance for any individual's cluster of experiences, but tumblr if anything *for me* has brought much happiness in finding threads of commonality with others. Stark contrasts to my feelings of loneliness and seclusion from the world around me give me so much hope. I'm writing this partly in hopes that there is another one of those threads people might appreciate seeing. I do more than my fair share of journaling, but this one feels special and worth sharing right now, and so decadently I write these words for a community beyond myself.

To be blunted, perhaps I might phrase it by saying 'i feel sad about being happy.' It's that sort of absurdist perspective that helps me wrap my head around it a little better with how little sense it makes to my normal machinations. I'm not sad that I am having these new and thrilling experiences of adding or or changing parts of myself to live in the way I best see fit for who I am, but I feel sad because I don't know how to.

I get locked up at the slightest things. Someone compliments my nails, and its so hard to communicate efficiently the impossibly depthed importance this literally surficial act has for me. They aren't even painted well, but I painted them /myself/, I felt catharsis in exploring my love of artistic expression in the choice of colours, I rode high on the thrill of watching this new skill form in my own hands. The coat is uneven and I can't quite keep myself from getting knicks in places as they dry yet and I'm still practicing the nail care associated with maintaining healthy and resilient nails, but if I can be so bold to say, god forbid women do anything.

This person obviously wasn't chastising me for partaking in a traditionally "femininely-associated act", let alone that so thoroughly most things people take for gendered in no way innately are, the whole binary supposition is a damned myth. But because of how I was brought up and the mindset I was taught to have before I fought to think for myself instead, this was a joy I'd always admired but felt I was abhorrent for wanting to partake in. Absolutely anyone who feels otherwise can irrevocably go fuck themselves if they aren't willing to examine the falsity of the foundational thoughts they 'think' they have leading them to ever want someone to abstain from such a viscerally unobstructive and innocuous form of self exploration and creativity bexause it's "for girls". This goes for anything. For anyone. Idc who you are or what label you wanna use at any given moment, go explore. Live life. God fuck do we need people to just experience joy in some ways so we aren't so incorrigible and hostile towards eachother.

But you don't stop whoever took 15 seconds out of their say to mention to you they like the colour and wanted you to know to discurse at length upon the structural bastardisation of who people are allowed to be, cause more than any of that I just want to feel happy about it.

I literally stutter out whatever form of thanks my malformed emotionally-communicative faculties can muster in this surprise and try not to start sobbing in the grocery store aisle or whatever. It's so /good/, and it's so frustrating that I don't even know how to just process and appreciate that it is.

I was so much an absentee in my own bodied self that I could not fathom an understanding of what gender euphoria was until it snuck up smashed me in the teeth. I didn't have any basis of understanding for what it was really like to be happy about some part of myself.

Despite my loneliness I have still had the experiences of friendships, people caring about me, and relationships where a partner genuinely appreciated parts of me, physical, mental, emotional, whatever. More now than ever I am having those experiences as I learn to come out of my cloister inside my head. But this time I'm not just numb to everything. Sure, as I'm learning to not just be unilaterally numb until my bastion of self-isolation fails and I break there is abundance of pain, but the pain I honestly prefer. It's more vivid than it's ever been before, but I can benchmark that I'm still alive by its contrast to neutrality. It's familiar, and my mechanisms of clutching my emotions into my soul can still carry me forward as I try to figure things out. But fuck me is it ever hard to have a happy experience and not know how to communicate that it tore my sense of stability in those moments to shreds. To lose the composure that carried me for so many years because someone sought to share something with me they thought I'd appreciate because they care about me feels so counterproductive to just enjoying the absolute gift that experience is.

Abstractly, as I'm wont to do to a remarkably self-apparent fault, I can tell myself that these things take time. Human emotion is so complex, and its panoply of shifting lights glinting as the facets move their positioning relative to the light of being alive is what drives me to do art, and it always has been, contradictory so fully to my desire to lock everything away. I can't circumnavigate multiple decades of trauma and be free and unfettered in my senses in an instant just because I'm aware it's possible. And so I try so fucking hard not to just sit down and cry in that grocery store aisle, cause it hurts so bad to be happy.

How dare I find glints of good in the polluted landscape we live in. But that mindset helps nothing. People striving to live amidst turmoil is what makes life worth living. There will always be strife, but there will always be the possibility for hope alongside it.

Without fail, each night I'll self-soothe myself into a mode of somewhat-restfulness imagining what it would be like to trust myself enough to be imperfect and let someone hold me. It's the only thing I do anymore. It even backfires sometimes and I just waking-dream my way through countless blissful scenarios about what it would be like if that cute girl I've been starting to become friends with mentioned she wanted to hold my hand for hours until the sun comes up and I know I won't have any sleep at all. It's so goddamn worth it. I revel in it, because at least in the theatre of my mind I can find small ways of letting myself feel those joys. They aren't really happening. It's my own hand rubbing a thumb gently along my collarbone in a faux affection. But it's the only way I've found that's not so obstructively blinding in intensity for me to practice what it would be like to be close to others.

I still lose my sense of self so often. I find bruises from where I bumped into things and wholesale didn't notice until the tiredness sets in and I can't autonomously ignore how sore I am. I dive effortlessly into the placid waters of dissociation when someone gives me a hug, despite that being what I have dreamed of for so many years during my self-imposed isolation. Someone tells me they like an art piece I've made and I stopper any sense of pride or appreciation for their kind words despite pouring however much time channeling my slowly uncoiling understanding of reality into every particle of it and wishing that my experiences could convey any amount of any feeling whatsoever to another living being with the entirely selfish act of wanting that I feel like I had a real connection.

I can't get by with chainsmoking and shelf-set pain medications and blind ignorance any more. I can't ignore how badly I want to feel. I am figuring it out instant by instant and it scares me horribly. One day my yearnings for closeness will be actualised because I'll be ready to open when they come. My selfsense-extracted mutterings of the hypothetical joys of being pressed down into sheets and kissed because someone deigned to gift me with attention for they hold appreciation of this newly forming, ill-configured, but ultimately revelatory feminine self I'm becoming will no longer be fiction and prose but the rawness of experience that I, once, and then more, can lose myself into without terror thay I'm inadequate and never truly worth it. Someone will touch my breasts and love me for loving them myself and I'll give in to the annihilating instant where I am no longer a sense of self but just am. This body is not me but my, and I will scrape and fight however I can muster to live vicariously thru it because that is what I am meant to do by being here alive at all. If anything ever again I want to feel what love is like.

I'm not even reading this back to see if it conveys properly let alone makes sense at all. I'm exhausted and in so much pain. If you read this, thanks, and, if you can, go hug someone you love today.

#acceptance #love #kindness #affection #expression #long post #tldr #hope #trans #transgender #trans femme #trans girl #transition #hrt #hormones #mtf #pride #self love

240 notes · View notes