#the prompts were like one to three words and I wrote quite a lot for it

[marc-spectorr]

come alive

pairing: poe dameron x reader

kiss prompt: #22 …in a rush of adrenaline

warnings: 2.0k wc. mentions of violence, shooting, weapons. curse words.

notes: thank you to the lovely anon for submitting this prompt! i decided to make this its own post bc i wrote quite a lot. also i haven't watched star wars/written for poe in a hot minute so pls be nice to me lol. hope you like it!

—

“What’s the escape plan?”

At the question, Poe shoots you an odd look that is quite concerning. “Escape plan?”

“Yeah, the escape pla—oh my god,” you say in a hushed whisper, blinking at him. “You don’t have one.”

“I don’t have one yet. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something quick and then—”

“—and then we get captured, locked up behind bars to rot or until they decide to—”

Your ramblings are cut short when Poe puts a hand over your mouth, gently shushing you. Three stormtroopers approach the stack of oversized crates, shrouded in darkness due to the absence of sun at this late hour.

You freeze and hold your breath, waiting for them to pass. Fortunately, they march right by without problem, oblivious to the fact that you two are hiding behind them.

As happy and relieved as you were when Poe first showed up to free you, you’re now back to thinking that you will die at the hands of the First Order. It’ll only be a matter of time until someone realizes their imprisoned Resistance spy has escaped. You’ll never get out of here, especially without a plan. You’re doomed.

You swallow thickly and try to distract yourself from the dread and panic clawing inside of you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating. Glancing around wildly, you need to focus on something else. Anything.

Eventually, you have no choice but to settle on having your attention on the pilot’s stupidly handsome face. You keep your eyes on him, inhaling and exhaling deeply to gather your composure. All the while, you wonder— has he always been this good-looking up close? You have never realized how pretty of a shade his dark eyes are or how much they sparkle in the low light. You’ve never seen such thick and curly hair like his, and you have the biggest urge to card your fingers through it.

“Sweetheart, hey—relax,” Poe murmurs when you grow quiet on him, his watchful gaze flickering every now and then to check your surroundings. “Breathe. We got this.”

Poe has long dropped his hand from your mouth, but it remains on your face, cupping your cheek as he assesses you for any injuries. You feel your pulse pick up a beat. You’re sure it’s mainly from the threat of danger you’ve found yourself in. Certainly not because of Poe, your good friend, and crush ever since the day you joined the Resistance.

No, it definitely cannot be that.

“Okay,” you sigh out, nodding. You take a quick glance at the perimeter yourself this time, mostly to hide away from his gaze. “Now what? We can’t stay and hide here forever.”

“You’re right,” Poe agrees. He steps closer to you, his chest brushing against your back as he scans the area with you. “My ship’s past the tree line. Best course of action is to sneak out without alerting anyone. But if things don’t go our way, we use these.”

Slipped into your hand is a blaster. You take a deep breath and tighten your fingers around the grip. You hope it doesn’t come down to a shootout between you, Poe, and the dozens of armed guards patrolling the place. Violence isn’t really your strong suit. That’s why you preferred missions that involved laying low and gathering intel. Too bad your cover got blown on this assignment.

(And yes, you are still sore about that).

“I’m a shit shot, just a heads up,” you warn Poe. You turn around and bump into him, forgetting that there’s barely any space between you. He doesn’t make an effort to step away, and surprisingly, you don’t either.

Poe’s lips curl into a smug grin. He holds up his own weapon in his hand. “And I’m very much not. See, we’re a perfect match. On a scale of 1 to 10, how’d you rate my spur-of-the-moment escape plan?”

You bite back a chuckle and shake your head. Leave it to Poe to distract you from your worries, even if it only lasts a minute. In all seriousness, you have faith in him. He can be overly cocky sometimes, but he’s smart and skillful. You’ve seen and heard what he’s capable of. There’s a reason why you and plenty of others admire the hell out of him.

“I’d give it a 7.5, mainly ’cause I trust in your confidence too much. Plus, it’s not like we have other options.”

“That’s the spirit,” Poe beams. “Sorry if I worried you about not really thinking this through earlier. Once I found out you were being held out here, I kinda just... went for it, y’know? I didn’t have time to waste. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You smile at him, ignoring how your cheeks are warming up against the crisp nighttime air. You’re touched by Poe’s statement. Grateful that you’ve crossed paths with someone like him. Who else would be this reckless and determined to dive into an impromptu rescue—or insane enough to risk their life to save yours?

The thought has your heart feeling tender, but you can’t get caught up in it at this moment. You and Poe need to make it out alive first. Fuck, now the nerves are starting to creep back in.

“Thank you. If we come back to the base both in one piece, dinner’s on me.”

“You mean when we get back,” he corrects. He holds his hand out for yours. “Deal. It’s a date. Alright, you ready?”

Poe’s question almost doesn’t register in your head after he refers to your dinner offer as a date. He doesn’t seem to be joking around. He sounds serious, and you don’t question it. You find yourself more than okay with calling it that.

Clearing your throat, you give Poe a slight nod, ready as you’ll ever be. Both of you have to get out of here alive. Your date depends on it.

Staying undetected as you move through the shadows was easy in the beginning. Few are out on patrol this evening, and when you do encounter someone, Poe manages to evade them. Surely this isn’t his first go-around at something like this.

You do your best not to allow your anxiety of getting caught to cause you to lose focus. The warmth of Poe’s hand in yours helps soothe you, an assurance that if anything goes wrong, you’re not alone.

When you spot your way out, relief floods over you. You tell yourself you’ll be home soon. That you’ll be back in your bed in no time, tucked under the covers, safe and sound. No longer would you be fearing for your life in the way you are right now.

You’re nearly there— the clearing is just within sight. Less than a hundred yards away more and…

Sirens suddenly blare. So loud that they ring in your ears and leave you disoriented for several seconds. The quiet of the night quickly descends into chaos as guards pour out from every which way. The radioed orders your ears pick up are clear and bone-chilling: they are searching for you, and if found, they want you gone permanently. 

“There you are, scum,” a trooper snarls from behind, weapon pointed at you. They’re about to pull down on the trigger, but Poe reacts much quicker. The blaster in his hand fires, and the man instantly drops to the ground.

You barely have time to process what happened when Poe grasps your hand tightly, holding onto it uncomfortably tight, but his touch is grounding. The two of you share a knowing look as the sound of distant voices and heavy footsteps grow closer.

“We gotta keep moving. Shoot anyone who’s chasing after us, got it?” He says, his voice a blur over the erratic pounding of your heart.

Poe doesn’t wait for your acknowledgment. He makes a mad dash towards the gate leading out of the compound. He wasn’t lying when he said he was not a shit shot, taking down a few men with such ease— they were no match for him.

Luck seems to be on your side tonight. The moment Poe tugs you past the gate, you run across the field and into the woodlands as fast as possible, the fastest you’ve ever moved. Your muscles are sore, and your head is dizzy. It feels like you can’t get enough air in your lungs.

Still, you run. You run and run, even if you’re starting to think that your legs will give out at any moment. You have to get as far away as you can from the place that has kept you captive. It’s your best bet if you want to survive.

Finally, Poe’s ship comes into view. He glances behind you, and you mirror his action, seeing that the guards have lost track of you in the dark. The relieved smile on your face remains for only a split-second, however. As soon as you turn your head back, you see the stormtrooper emerge from the thick bushes, aiming to shoot at an unsuspecting Poe.

It’s like everything is in slow motion. From you realizing that Poe is in imminent danger to the way you forcefully push him out of the line of fire and draw your blaster.

Adrenaline buzzes through your veins. Your chest rapidly rises and falls. You steady your hand even as it fights to tremble. Without thinking twice, you fire your weapon. The first shot narrowly misses the enemy, but the following two blasts hit them fatally, and they slump to the ground, unmoving.

Luck truly is on your side tonight.

You gasp a breath in surprise when a pair of solid arms suddenly wrap around you, your nerve endings still on high alert after all that has transpired. 

Poe’s gentle voice saying your name cuts through your foggy mind, and you meet his gaze. Your heartbeat continues to drum sharply against your ribcage as you stare at him for several moments, tracing the deep, worried lines etched on his face.

You don’t know what comes over you after. You’re unaware of what you’re doing until you’re right in the middle of it.

One second, you’re holding onto Poe—feeling some of the tension in your body seep out upon seeing that he’s okay, he’s unharmed— and the next, your lips are on his, soft and warm. Exactly the way you had imagined they would feel.

Poe doesn’t kiss you back right away; it is the only thing that snaps you out of this haze. Have you misread him all this time? He’s a major flirt, but you thought he was genuine with you. A knot of confusion and embarrassment forms in your stomach. How could you be so wrong? How could you have fucked things up?

You immediately pull away, taking a few stumbling steps back. Poe looks at you wide-eyed, mouth slightly open, but he doesn’t say a word. You glance down at your feet, not wanting to see his expression as you fumble out an apology.

“I-I’m sorry, Poe. I don’t know… I was just—”

You are interrupted when Poe lets out a breathless chuckle. He closes the short distance you had put between the two of you, his hands cupping your face, fingers stroking your cheeks ever so gently.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that. It did feel very nice, though.”

Poe’s breath fanning warm over your skin causes yours to hitch. Before you can respond, he slowly leans in and recaptures your lips in a sweet kiss. Your heart stutters and skips for a whole new reason now. Something more electrifying replaces the fight or flight sensation surging within you, making you light-headed in the best possible way.

The kiss abruptly ends at the sound of dried leaves rustling and branches snapping from different directions. You notice faraway lights becoming brighter, no doubt more stormtroopers closing in on you and Poe.

“I’d like to keep kissing you, but we gotta go,” he laughs, nodding towards the ship. “The sooner we get back, the sooner we can go on our date.”

You grin in agreement and place your hand into Poe’s hand. Being with him makes you feel alive, like you can handle almost anything the universe throws at you. You could get used to this.

“Take me home, flyboy.”

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron #oscar isaac x reader

[steddieas-shegoes]

116. “you wrote me a song?” any rating! 💕💕💕

I really thought you'd go with something so obviously smutty just based off of you breaking my brain so often, but this is such a soft prompt. I made it sweet and also a little smutty (barely) 💖

Rated M | tags: modern au, rockstar eddie, making out, light frottage, fade to black sex

🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶

Eddie being holed up in his music room for hours is normal.

That's what Steve's telling himself, at least.

But ever since the boys had been back from their tour, Eddie had been...weird.

It wasn't necessarily bad, at least not at first, but the last few days had seen Eddie being unusually quiet and withdrawn, his mind clearly elsewhere while they ate breakfast together before he disappeared for most of the day. He would appear again by dinner, usually tired, and always a bit snappy, like he didn't want to be around anyone.

Steve recognized it, but didn't quite place it until today.

He was working on a song.

Eddie was like this the last time a song wouldn't translate from his head to the instruments or the paper.

It didn't make it easier to deal with feeling so alone in their home, especially not when he'd spent a lot of the last four months alone while he was on tour.

"That's it," he said to himself as he stood up from the couch.

He walked to Eddie's music room and knocked on the door, three knocks, pause, two knocks, just like always.

Their version of 'I'm checking on you, I'm worried, let me in.'

Eddie opened the door, dark circles under his eyes.

"Break time," Steve said, grabbing Eddie's hand and pulling him from the room, ignoring the sputtering protests.

"Stevie, no. I gotta-"

"No you don't. You can come with me for a bit."

"No. You don't understand, I-"

"No, you don't understand." Steve stopped and turned to look at him, hands on his hips. "I've been mostly alone for months and I thought having you back would mean I have you back. But you've been closing yourself into that room for days now and I miss you. I miss you."

Eddie's face falls, Steve's hands fall, and they both fall into each other.

Eddie's arms are wrapping around his waist as Steve lets out a sob.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to make you miss me," Eddie whispered into his ear, kissing his temple, his jaw, his cheek. "I'm right here, love. I'm sorry."

Steve nodded, accepting the apologies, the kisses, the love he was being given. He wasn't ashamed about needing it, not anymore. Eddie made sure he never felt like he couldn't ask for the attention he wanted.

"What's got you so stressed in there?" Steve finally asked, voice muffled against Eddie's shoulder.

"C'mon, I should probably just show you," Eddie pulled away, tugging Steve back towards the music room.

Once inside, Steve was led to the couch and given a peck on the lips.

Eddie sat down at his keyboard and cracked his knuckles.

"I've been working on something since we were on tour, but I thought the reason I couldn't get further was because of my environment. But I've been home for days and it's not getting better. Every time I think I'm onto something, I lose it or it doesn't come out right or it doesn't fit with the rest," Eddie explained, gesturing wildly.

Steve watched with wide eyes. He always loved watching Eddie's passion flow through his limbs the same way it flowed through his words. It was one of the things that made him fall in love with him.

"Show me what you've got so far, then," Steve gestured for him to start playing.

Eddie wasn't one to hold back, but he hesitated now.

It only lasted a moment though, his fingers starting to flow over the keyboard and his voice starting to sing.

It was beautiful, and nothing like what Steve had expected, nothing like what Corroded Coffin normally performed.

The words were romantic, hidden behind a yearning, something Steve hadn't heard Eddie write since before they were together.

And then he sang a line that would've knocked Steve to his knees if he'd been standing.

"It's with a curse I leave you, it's with a curse I love you I can't find my way back to you tonight"

Steve immediately flashed back to one night in the middle of the tour, when Eddie had called him right after a show, something he only did when the show didn't go as well as he hoped.

He'd complained about the storms delaying their start time nearly an hour, and how Gareth was offbeat for half of a song, and how the fans didn't seem as into it as usual. And when he went to hang up, he said "I wish I could find my way back to you tonight."

Steve had been almost asleep by that point, but the sung line sparked the memory.

Steve stood and walked over to Eddie, cupping his face in his hands and swiping his thumbs across his cheeks.

"You found your way back to me now, though, baby. You always do," he said.

Eddie pulled his hands from the keyboard and pulled Steve down into his lap.

"I needed you then. I started writing this that night. Sorry it's not finished yet."

"You...you wrote this for me?" Steve asked, realizing now that there was a reason why he used that line.

Steve wasn't stupid, but sometimes he was a little slow.

"Yeah, sweetheart. I know you miss me when I'm gone, but you have no idea how much I miss you."

Steve knew, or thought he knew, that Eddie missed him. They talked every night before shows, and texted on Steve's lunch breaks and when he got off of work. But it always felt like Eddie got to stay busy enough not to think about missing him as much.

But this tour had been the first time Steve couldn't take much time off of work, only being able to attend a handful of shows throughout.

Normally, he spent more than half the tour with him.

Steve kissed him, hard.

Eddie grunted, surprised at the sudden intensity of Steve's lips on his, but didn't pull away. His hands gripped Steve's hips, leaving bruises as a reminder that Steve wouldn't actually need.

Eddie would be home with him for months now, enjoying the holidays together, visiting their friends and family as time allowed. He wouldn't have to leave for another tour until their next album was released the following year.

They had time.

But Steve's lips acted as if they only had tonight, his stomach already fluttering with need and anticipation of having those needs fulfilled.

Because Eddie would. Eddie always would.

He may not always be there, he may have to miss him, but he always got what he needed in the end.

The kissing turned messy, lips wet and spit on the corners of their mouths, desperate to keep sharing and tasting each other.

"Want you," Steve panted, bucking his hips forward so that his hard length finally got friction against Eddie's. "Please."

"Here?" Eddie asked, breathless.

"Anywhere, everywhere, doesn't matter."

"Oh my god. That's perfect!" Eddie pulled away, turning to the notepad on the sheet music stand.

Steve smacked his arm.

"I swear, Munson, if you don't focus on my extremely hard dick soon-"

"You're anywhere, everywhere But not here, not tonight"

Steve melted.

"That's good, Eds. It's really good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Steve kissed his forehead, smiling into it as he felt Eddie's shoulders relax. "Now, will you please fuck me on this bench?"

Eddie laughed and bit his shoulder.

"If you insist."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #make me write #rock star eddie munson #modern au

[cuffmeinblack]

Lost and Found

Garreth Weasley x Ominis Gaunt

Tags: explicit | modern!AU | fluff | angst | loss of virginity | homophobia | heartbreak | happy ending

5.4k words

ao3 link

Summary: A love story told in five scenes.

A/n: Inspired by this art and written for the Weasley Wednesday prompt: AU! It's been a while since I wrote Garrinis and I've missed them a whole lot. It's hard for me to write anything but fluff with these two because Ominis deserves the world and Garreth is perfect to shower him with love and happiness. Still, I managed to make myself sad writing it.

One: You Had Me At Hello

"Garreth…Garreth, you're staring again," Cora's voice came from behind him.

"Wha- oh, shit!" 

Garreth's attention returned to the drink he was making, or rather making a mess of. That was one coffee he'd have to start again, much to the chagrin of both the customer and his supervisor. 

"Garreth," Cora sighed. "You can't spend all day staring at him."

He nodded and muttered an apology,  giving the customer a friendly smile as he picked up a fresh mug, but she was too distracted herself to notice. It had been three times in as many weeks that his eyes had wandered away from his job, and instead of his world-class coffee, he'd produced a syrupy, foamy mess all over his apron. Somewhat a fitting conclusion, considering the source of his disturbance and the absolutely lewd daydreams he'd been having.

Garreth couldn't take his eyes off him—goodness knows the blond was way out of his league and would likely turn up his nose so much as utter a single word to him, but that hadn't dissuaded Garreth from indulging in his fantasies. Ones where the boy's delicate, porcelain skin blushed under his own calloused and freckled fingers. He wondered what his voice sounded like, and that thought almost cost him the second macchiato he'd been making. Thankfully, he'd torn his eyes away just in time to deliver a mediocre drink to his loyal customer. He could practically feel Cora's eyes burning into the back of his skull.

"Take your break and go talk to him," she said, nudging him away from the counter.

"I'm not…I can't just go and talk to him…"

"Consider it a condition of your employment."

Garreth sighed, glancing back at her dark stare and crossed arms and deciding against an argument—she was deadly serious. He untied his apron and strung it over a hook in the staff room before steeling himself to do the impossible. What was wrong with him? He'd never felt this nervous around someone he found attractive before. Something about this mystery boy had his stomach in knots before he'd even come close to uttering a greeting, and when the time came that he stood in front of his table, Garreth was quite speechless.

He was even more radiant up close. The hint of blue eyes were cast down at a book as his delicate fingers traced over the…oh. There were no words on the pages, and only then did Garreth notice the white cane leaning next to the table.

Shit.

Well that certainly complicated things. Garreth was a decent looking bloke but now he had to entirely rely on his wit and charm. He was doomed. He must have stood there gaping for minutes before he summoned the courage to clear his throat.

"Er…hello," he said.

The boy continued reading, and Garreth cringed at his attempt at gaining his attention. Stepping closer to the table, he tried again, aware of Cora's scrutinising gaze on him from across the room.

"Hi! Sorry…," he mumbled.

The blond finally tilted his head towards his voice, revealing the most captivating blue eyes Garreth had ever seen. Devoid of pupils, they struck him as two swirling pools of crystal waters, icy hues with flecks of softest grey. 

"Ah, yes, of course," the boy said, pushing his empty mug to the edge of the table.

Garreth had been too busy bumbling and losing himself in his eyes like some lovesick puppy, he'd somehow given the impression of being a member of staff. Well, technically that were true, but that's not why he'd approached. He should have said something, but apparently this boy rendered him completely and utterly useless.

"Thanks!" Garreth squeaked back, taking the mug and retreating behind the counter with a furious blush and a whole heap of embarrassment.

To say he'd never seen Cora more annoyed at him would have been an overstatement, but the way her pale face pinched into a frown only heightened his unease.

"He uh…thought I was staff," he mumbled.

"Yes, I can see that," she said, staring at the mug still clutched in his hand as if it were a priceless artifact.

"I swear to God, Garreth…if you don't talk to him properly I'll fire you."

"You wouldn't. What about my loyal customers? There'd be uproar!" he replied, only half joking.

"You're not irreplaceable, especially if you can't make a simple drink in his vicinity," she said, snatching the mug away.

Her attention diverted to serve a nervous young lady who'd obviously overheard the entirely unprofessional exchange. With a groan, Garreth steeled himself to again approach the source of his distraction. He didn't have a plan, as with most things, but at least he could put right his first mistake.

"Hello again! Sorry to disturb you, I uh…well, I wanted to say hello. I'm Garreth," he said, sticking out his hand which lingered awkwardly in the air.

Of course it was, he couldn't see it. Idiot.

Garreth lowered his hand and helped himself to a spare seat opposite the boy, who's finger paused on the raised bumps of his book. Heavens above, what was it about him that made Garreth so bloody nervous? Was it the way he held himself so elegantly? Those piercing eyes that couldn't see but appeared to stare right into Garreth's soul? The blond gave off an aura of propriety—he practically oozed old money. Not Garreth's usual type, considering his own scruffiness that never seemed able to be tamed. His wild, curly copper locks were in stark contrast to the boy's slicked back mane with not a strand out of place…except that little piece that fell in front of his eyes when he bent his head…oh. Shit, he'd replied. Say something, Garreth!

"Uhhhhh…"

"I said hello, Garreth," the boy repeated with a soft, amused smile. "I'm Ominis. How can I help?"

Ominis. He had a name, which was far more than Garreth deserved so far with his poor attempt at introduction. Of course he had the voice of an angel; how could he not when everything else about him was so utterly perfect?

"I thought I'd say hello. I've noticed you in here quite a lot."

"You have?" Ominis asked, placing his hands in his lap and giving Garreth his full attention.

"Yeah…you're one of the few customers that doesn't drink coffee," Garreth chuckled.

"Ah, is that the reason? I confess I'm more of a tea drinker, but I enjoy the ambience here," he said.

"Maybe you'd enjoy coffee more if I made it for you," Garreth said, his confidence growing.

"You're certainly welcome to try," Ominis chuckled.

His soft, melodic laugh sent a tingle down Garreth's spine.

"I will, next time you're here I'll make you the best coffee you've ever tasted."

"I look forward to being converted. So, Garreth…do you do anything besides make excellent beverages?"

"Oh, yeah. I study here, this is only a part-time job. I'm guessing you're a student, too?"

"I am. English literature," he said, though he didn't seem elated at the idea. "How about you?"

"Chemistry ...oh, and I'm in a band."

He cringed inwardly, and outwardly, too—that line always sounded so cool when he told it to girls, but somehow when presenting this information to Ominis it sounded...ridiculous. Juvenile. If Ominis thought so, he didn't show it, only smiling good-naturedly.

"What music do you play?"

"Nothing you're likely to enjoy…"

"How could you possibly know what music I enjoy?"

"Well…I suppose I don't. Only that you don't exactly dress like someone who listens to punk rock," Garreth replied lamely.

"Perhaps not, but it makes very little difference to me what I look like."

"Right…of course…"

"I enjoy most music, as long as there's feeling."

Garreth almost opened his big mouth to ask if Ominis would consider letting him play for him, but was saved the embarrassment by Cora's stern voice cutting through the dreamlike haze telling him to get back to work.

"I have to get back to work. Can I…?"

Ominis handed Garreth his phone before he could even finish the sentence, and Garreth grinned as he accepted it, typing in his number whilst wondering if he'd hear from him at all. Perhaps he was simply being polite, but the eagerness Ominis had shown was hard to conceal behind good manners.

"Lovely to meet you Garreth…?" 

"Weasley. Garreth Weasley."

"I'm Ominis Gaunt."

Perhaps the name should have meant something to him, the way Ominis hesitated to say it, but all Garreth could think of for the rest of the day was the beautiful boy with the strange name.

-

Two: The Odd Couple

Ominis hadn't expected Garreth. He'd sprung out of nowhere when he least expected it, and made ripples through his otherwise stagnant life. Not just ripples, but a veritable tidal wave that dislodged Ominis from his melancholy and carried him to safer shores. One might be surprised to learn of Ominis and Garreth's relationship, but only when looking skin-deep. Apparently, their appearance was chalk and cheese, and their demeanours just as contrasting—and so, people called them odd.

Ominis disagreed wholeheartedly. 

How could they be odd if their hands fit together so perfectly? How could they be strange when Garreth never failed to bring a smile to Ominis' face? The muscles in his cheeks felt as if they had atrophied from years of non-use, until Garreth came along and provided him with much needed laughter. Ominis hadn't realised just how much he enjoyed the warmth of another body before Garreth had held him. In the space of three months, he'd learned so much about himself, by simply being around Garreth. 

And yes, he liked coffee now. But only when Garreth made it. One of his new favourite smells was the dark roast currently steaming in the mug he was cradling, the other happened to be the smell of cinammon and a hint of sulphur. Garreth's lab coat always gave off the most pungent odours after his classes, but it was still him.

Garreth was sitting on the floor of his bedroom as he often did, strumming his guitar. Today's composition was something pleasantly slow, a little sad, and terribly romantic. He could already feel the buildup of pressure behind his eyes that signalled an embarrassing show of emotion he tried hard to suppress, and the swell in his chest he so often associated with his boyfriend. He sipped his coffee and listened, allowing himself to feel anything and everything that the song's sweet melody elicited. As the last chord vibrated in the air between them, Ominis shifted on the bed and sighed, offering Garreth a soft smile.

"Beautiful," he said. “I could listen to your voice forever.”

“Hardly, but I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

The clunk of a guitar discarded against the wall preceded the warm and heavy weight of Garreth pressing between his legs, still kneeling on the floor. Warm hands encircled Ominis’s back as Garreth’s head was nestled into his thighs. Ominis smiled as he stroked those silken curls; another thing he'd not expected to enjoy quite so much. The rhythmic back and forth of his hand and the happy hums from his boyfriend let his mind wander, back to what he’d been mulling over during that rendition. Something terrifying and exciting that he craved more than anything.

Sex.

Three months was a long time to wait by anyone's standards, especially two men still riddled with teenage hormones. Garreth had been more than patient. It wasn't that Ominis didn't want to—very much the opposite. The days spent in each other's company were hard, but all the nights crammed into a single bed together were nothing short of agony. His heart yearned and his body ached for Garreth, yet so far he'd been a coward. Ominis had never been intimate with a soul; never had he allowed anyone else to touch him at his most vulnerable. It was a matter of trust to give oneself over to another completely, and whilst he trusted Garreth implicitly, Ominis had failed to gather the courage to ask for more.

Until tonight.

"Garreth?"

"Mhmmm?" he hummed happily from Ominis' lap.

"I'd like to sleep with you," Ominis said, trying to ignore his hammering heart.

"Of course. Let me just change the sheets…"

"No, I mean…"

"Oh."

No further explanation was required. Ominis felt the bed dip either side of him and Garreth's soft lips on his before he could draw another breath. His firm body pressed against him, warm and inviting under the numerous layers he wore. He'd have to dispose of those, once his hands stopped shaking. Garreth had all the restraint in the world as he peeled off Ominis' jumper, running slow kisses along his jaw, his neck, tongue finding his thumping pulse. Ominis tilted his head, so lost in his lips' caress that he hardly noticed his hands begin to unbutton Garreth's jeans or the rhythmic rocking of their hips.

Months of teasing and simmering tension had led to this moment; little wonder they were both stiff within seconds. The friction between their bodies set his body on fire, every inch restricted by these damned clothes felt like a prison when his skin burned to be pressed bare against Garreth's. His shirt was gently peeled from his shoulders and the fabric replaced by soft lips that tempted and teased. When Garreth nibbled his collarbone, Ominis lost all sense of self as he fell back on the bed and harshly shoved his own trousers down his hips. Gone was his calm, collected exterior; instead he lay bare, gasping and desperate to be touched.

"Garreth…," he sighed as the warm, gentle kisses trailed down his chest.

His muffled reply came as a hand wrapped around Ominis' cock and the most improper whimper left his lips. His world may have ended the moment he was enveloped by a warm, wet mouth. Garreth pulled salacious moans from him over and over again as his tongue flicked and swirled and whipped Ominis into a frenzy. His hands were in his hair, the sheets, grabbing anything he could as his hips bucked wildly into that amazing mouth, hitting the tight ring of muscle on more than one occasion. Garreth didn't seem to mind as he simply growled his approval whenever Ominis' cock slid down his throat. He needed to stop before he exploded right then and there, but how could he when it felt so good, so right, so utterly perfect?

"Stop, ah-! Stop, or I'll come," he managed to groan.

Garreth stirred in his lap, muffled moans vibrating against his length until his deliciously soft mouth left his cock with a pop. Ominis groaned, regretting his decision already, until Garreth's hoarse whisper filled his ears.

"Do you want to…take me, or…?"

Oh, yes. But more than anything, Ominis wanted to be on the receiving end of Garreth's touches. Underneath him, pressed into the mattress as his mouth and hands explored every inch they could reach whilst his cock buried deep inside him. He'd experimented, certainly, but his albeitly long fingers would be no substitute for what he knew Garreth sported in his trousers.

"I want you inside me."

His boyfriend growled with uncontained lust and Ominis' heart found its way into his mouth, suddenly apprehensive, nervous that Garreth might lose himself too soon. He needn't have worried—his caress was featherlight despite the heaviness of his breath and throbbing of his cock against Ominis' thigh. 

"I'm going to get some lube now, okay?" Garreth said.

Ominis nodded, listening to the rummaging in the nightstand drawer. Those strong, calloused hands spread his legs, exposing him completely, yet he felt safe. Garreth was so gentle, whispering in his ear and exchanging sloppy kisses as his fingers teased and prepared him. Ominis arched his back and wriggled his hips for more, please. Garreth sensed his impatience and gave him a long, searing kiss as his fingers retreated, and replaced them with something far larger.

"Let me know if you want me to stop," Garreth whispered.

"I will. But I won't."

"Are you ready?" 

"Yes…yes, please," Ominis gasped, surprising himself with just how pleading his tone was.

Garreth groaned into his mouth, his fingers in Ominis' hair as he pushed inside him. Fuck, it stung, but heavens above he felt incredible. He'd so far been trying to keep his audible pleasure as muted as possible, but the moan that left his lips vibrated off the walls and filled the room and surely far beyond. The last of his composure broke down as Garreth buried himself to the hilt, his hand cupping Ominis’ face as their foreheads pressed together. This was intimacy as he’d never known it; their noses brushed and soft sighs mingled in the air between them as Garreth let Ominis adjust to his size and relax around him.

“How does that feel?” Garreth murmured against his lips.

“Incredible. You’re incredible.”

Not ‘you feel incredible’, just ‘you are incredible’. Perhaps that was the closest he’d gotten to admitting his true feelings, which were both terrifying and all-consuming. 

Three months, twelve days. 

That’s how long it had taken Ominis to admit to himself that he was in love with Garreth Weasley.

-

Three: The Fall

Ominis couldn't help but smile whenever his phone read the words 'incoming call from- Garreth Weasley'. Perhaps he was a fool for falling so hard, so fast. He ought to rein in his feelings, lest he end up with a broken heart, yet Garreth was so easy to love. When Ominis was with him, he could forget the rest of the world; all of his worries, every crushing pressure that threatened to break his already fragile heart. 

Ominis was no fool—he knew how others must view him. They saw his clothes, heard his name, and immediately thought they'd sussed him out as another spoiled trust fund kid with far too much money and very little else to offer. Some days, Ominis believed them. What would he be without his family, after all? A poor blind boy with a brilliant mind, but born into a cruel world rife with discrimination. Garreth only saw the Ominis he wished that he himself could perceive. 

Ominis answered the phone the way he always did.

"Hello, sunshine."

The nickname seemed so befitting for Garreth that he found it hard to be embarrassed about it.

"Omi! Can you meet me after work? I have a surprise for you," his slightly fuzzy voice came through the speaker, no less beautiful amongst the static.

"Of course—five?"

"Yep, I'll see you then!"

"Was that all?" Ominis asked.

"I have to get back to work. Cora's on my arse to finish my break..."

"You know you could have just texted me?"

"Then I wouldn't have been able to hear your voice."

Ominis' cheeks burned as he exhaled a contained chuckle through his nose. 

"I'm glad you did. See you later."

I love you.

Instead of saying that, he hung up. Perhaps the first time shouldn't be over the phone—it should be somewhere and sometime more befitting the gravity of the words. When Ominis was curled up in Garreth's arms after spending the night together, maybe. He'd had plenty of those, yet the words hadn't materialised. No matter, there was still plenty of time. 

He had a couple of lectures to attend before meeting Garreth, but still time to pop by the library for a few much-needed books. He'd picked a challenging subject considering many of the books he'd study weren't available in braille. Some were available as audio books, and some had been miraculously made available to him by the good graces of the University—or rather, his father's heavy influence and deep pockets.

His phone vibrated in his coat as he walked the steps up to the library, and the robotic voice announced something far less desirable than a call from Garreth.

Speak of the devil…

'Incoming call from- Father.'

His gut twisted as it always did when he was forced to talk to his family. It would be unwise for him to simply ignore the call, as much as he wished to. With a great sigh, he sat down on a low brick wall and readied himself before answering the annoying buzzing with a terse greeting.

"Father. How can I help?"

"Ominis. How are you?"

As if he cared.

"I'm fine. How are you?"

As if he cared.

"Very well. I'm calling in regards to a rumour I've heard regarding your conduct."

"My conduct," Ominis stated bluntly.

"Yes, your conduct. How you conduct yourself about the University. Your company has raised some concerns."

"My my, father, if you have something to say then please be out with it," Ominis said, not sure we're his sudden confidence was coming from.

Perhaps it had bubbled up from the pit of rage in his stomach.

"You've been seen with some scruffy boy. In his dormitory, around the campus. Not only have you been indiscreet, your choice of partner leaves much to be desired."

"To whom?"

"To me, Ominis."

"And what, pray tell, is the purpose of your call?"

"You know very well. I'll not have you galavanting about with some boy like some poof."

"Ah, therein lies the problem. I am a poof."

"Despite your disappointment, you're still my son…but I will not tolerate such disrespect. I got you where you are now, boy, and I can reverse your good fortunes just as quickly. Goodbye, Ominis."

The line went dead before Ominis could spit back a retort; perhaps for the best given how furious he was—he must have been attracting quite a bit of attention. His hands were shaking such that his cane rattled on the stone pavement. Anger quickly became secondary to his fear—his father was many things, but he was not a man who issued idle threats. It didn't surprise him that he'd been keeping an eye on him whilst at University—likely under the guise of concern for his poor, blind son. Ominis knew the real reason, and his father had just made it abundantly clear with that phone call.

He must have sat on that brick wall for hours. He missed his first lecture, and decided to skip the second, retreating to his dormitory with a numb backside and an even more numb emotional state. He barely managed to get out of bed to meet Garreth after his shift. Of course he knew something was wrong with Ominis, his concern showing in the way he touched him more gently, the way his voice was softer and an octave higher. Ominis tried to put the conversation out of his mind, but how could he ignore something so life-altering? For a few hours, he put on a poor façade of contentment, whilst his mind slipped deeper into melancholy. He kissed Garreth that night as if the world was ending, and he was quite sure that it was.

-

Four: Gone

Six months. Six months it had been since his heart was ripped out of his chest and soul torn asunder. Garreth was by nature a happy person, full of optimism, but what Ominis Gaunt's departure left behind was a husk of his former self. His friends tried their best to help, but as soon as he was alone, Garreth let the darkness take him. He'd wallow for hours, days at a time, not quite knowing if he'd feel a desire to leave his bed again.

Ominis had left without a word. His phone number went straight to voicemail. His dormitory lay empty. Garreth had asked around and been told he had deferred a year, and that he would be back in September. Garreth wasn't sure if the thought comforted him or made it worse—he still wasn't sure as the month rolled around.

Things were a little better now, thanks to Cora. His job had been a godsend, truth be told, even if he couldn't help the surreptitious glances to the table that Ominis had once frequented. All Summer break, he'd thrown himself into his part-time job, his music, his art. All the little things that made him happy, despite the gaping chasm left in his chest. True, it sometimes felt hollow when he wrote a new song when Ominis wasn't there to hear it, and the drawings he made were often of him despite his best attempts at anyone, anything else. He was trying, though, and each day got a little easier…until the start of term approached.

"Don't go looking for him, Garreth," Cora said, face set into a hard stare.

"I won't," he promised.

He wouldn't go looking, but he might happen upon him whilst walking to and from lectures. Garreth wasn't sure what he wanted—perhaps just to know that Ominis was alright. He should hate him, but so far he'd not managed to muster the feeling. The first week came and went and Garreth didn't see Ominis. He didn't see him whilst crossing the courtyard outside the English building twice a day, nor in the coffee shop when he worked. He didn't find him lingering in the library or outside on the lawn in the shade of the oak tree he loved so much. If Ominis had returned, he was a ghost.

It wasn't until a week later that Garreth finally found him. He'd not even been looking, but the cane was hard to miss when it smacked into his leg.

"Ominis," he gasped, unbelieving.

The pressure built behind his eyes and his throat constricted; his heart hammered and breath grew shallow; there was no angry outburst nor demanding of an explanation, only relief and overwhelming hurt.

"G-Garreth?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me. Sorry, I'm in your way."

"You're not. Well, you are, but I'm glad you are."

A silence grew that Garreth didn't know how to fill, only able to stare at the boy he still loved and commit every edge, every mark, every pore to memory in case he didn't see him again.

"I'm so sorry," Ominis whispered.

Ah, there were the tears that followed the words he'd wanted to hear for the past six months. Garreth was weeping in the middle of campus, and he didn't care as Ominis' arms wrapped around him, hesitant and unsure. He wanted to ask him to hold him tighter, but this moment was fragile, and Garreth couldn't run the risk of breaking the spell.

"Tell me why you left, then you never have to see me again," he managed to say through the tears.

"I told you everything in my letter, it was the truth, but…things have changed, admittedly."

"What letter?"

"What do you mean? The letter I left for you before I…"

Ominis looked panicked as Garreth looked at him through bleary eyes, rapidly blinking away the tears as he tried not to follow suit.

"I didn't get a letter. Tell me you're joking."

"Why would I joke? I left you a letter explaining why I'd left. It was cowardly of me, I should have told you…you never got it? You never knew?"

"No, I never knew."

"Garreth…"

Ominis held him tighter, then, and Garreth squeezed him back. Garreth was sure his heart would soon burst from his chest or he'd simply throw up on the ground, but he managed to ask Ominis to sit with him. They sat on the grass where they'd shared their first kiss and Ominis told him everything that the letter contained. He'd pinned it to his door, but it had been taken before Garreth had a chance to read it.

"I believed my father when he said I'd amount to nothing without him. He's told me as much since the day I'd learned to talk. So I took a gap year, hoping that…you'd forget about me."

"So we can't be together because of your homophobic arsehole of a father?" Garreth asked furiously.

Ominis winced and shook his head with a sad smile.

"No, he's no longer a problem. I regretted my decision almost immediately but I admit I was too ashamed to return. I've spent the past few months working and saving enough money to cut ties with my family."

Ominis took a shaky breath before continuing, his piercing blue eyes fixed into the distance and pricked with tears of his own.

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I want you to know that it was you who gave me the strength to finally say no to my father. You…you made me feel more than just a shadow of him."

Garreth sat in stunned silence for minutes just watching the passersby. His brain ached with the deluge of new information. Everything was raw, shocking, unbelievable. 

"Why didn't you find me and tell me?"

"Why would you want anything to do with me after I left?" Ominis asked.

"Because I love you. I love you and if I'd told you that maybe you wouldn't have left in the first place."

There it was; Garreth's heart laid bare. The truth he'd been too scared to tell Ominis before he left and spent half a year trying to deny. 

"I love you too, Garreth. I always will."

He wasn't sure if that changed things, not yet—there was too much to mull over, too much to consider. Garreth stayed silent, simply placing his hand on Ominis' in the long grass.

"Garreth?" Ominis whispered into the breeze.

"Mmm?"

"I'll spend the rest of my life trying to regain your trust, if you'll let me."

-

Five: Forever

Forgiveness and love were said to be fickle things. Ominis hadn't thought he'd deserved the former. The latter was implicitly given; Garreth owned his heart, and had done so since the day they had met. The turbulent and beautiful and incredible years ran through his mind as he stood outside the room that would change the course of his life forever. Perhaps it would have been easier for Garreth to walk down the aisle, but Ominis was loath to rob him of his first look—it was the least he could offer. They had planned every detail for themselves, unshackled from the demands of his family and bolstered by the love and support of Garreth’s.

Ominis chose to hold the arm of a dear friend as he walked, the comforting warmth that stayed the shake in his hand a much better prospect than his cane. Sebastian had been an excellent best man so far, even if his stag ‘do left a lot to be desired. All was forgiven as Ominis wrapped his fingers around his forearm and took a deep breath that didn't fill the depths of his lungs. 

“You’ve got this,” Sebastian muttered as the doors opened.

Why had they chosen such heart-wrenching music for this part? He was already fighting back tears and he’d barely stepped in the room. All Ominis could do was focus on his breathing and the tight grip he had around Sebastian's forearm. The walk was an eternity, made all the more agonising by the sobbing from Mrs Weasley, yet he finally made it to the end and was promptly scooped up into Garreth's arms. They'd not even exchanged vows and their lips were pressed together, holding each other as if the other might choose to bolt at the last second.

After that, it was all a blur. Words were said, tears were shed, and not one minute went by that Ominis' cheeks didn't hurt from smiling. He'd completely forgotten the vows he'd prepared, yet the right sentiments came spilling forth anyway. He'd told Garreth exactly what he meant to him; nothing short of his entire world. It was no secret what had transpired in their University years, yet it would only be mentioned briefly amongst the outpouring of love. The 'blip', as they called it, had shaped their relationship, their entire lives, but inevitably led them here. Ominis wouldn't change a thing, and neither would Garreth.

"You may now kiss," the registrar said to the eruption of cheers and claps.

Oh, thank God. Ominis clasped Garreth's cheeks so tightly he might have torn his head clean off his shoulders. Their first kiss as a wedded couple was quite the display, but Ominis couldn't quite bring himself to be embarrassed. It was hard to keep their mouths together amongst the grins spreading rapidly across their faces, and a clash of teeth later they pulled apart laughing and clasping hands.

Three years, eleven months. 

That's how long it had taken Ominis to make Garreth Weasley his forever.

#weasley wednesday #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #garrinis #ominis gaunt x garreth weasley #garreth weasley x ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt fanfiction #garreth weasley fanfiction

[wannab-urs]

Build Me Up, Buttercup | Professor!Joel Miller x Student!Reader

Summary: Reader confronts Dr. Miller about her grade in his class.

Warnings: Not much yet. Reader is of legal age, no less than 22 but not specified, she's about to graduate college. She’s an English major. This is grumpy x grumpy. Lots of snark, eyerolling, etc. Not-Quite-Enemies to Lovers. And no she doesn’t blow him to get a better grade! (I would, but reader is classy). 

Word Count: 1.1k

Why Do You Build Me Up

(Buttercup)

Dr. Miller’s Foundations of Architecture class was supposed to be a fun elective for you. You could learn a little more about architecture, something that has always been a mild interest for you. You like pretty buildings and you think it’s a cool subject. It’s your last semester of college and you deserve to take something fun to fill in that last elective requirement. 

You certainly were not supposed to fail the fucking class.

“He’s so rude, Cooper,”  you tell your friend. Coop looks up at you over their laptop, red curls springing in every direction and glasses sitting on the tip of their nose. They’re feigning interest while they hammer away at some graphic design assignment.

“One time he made a guy who said he liked 432 Park Ave leave the class. Like just kicked him out for the rest of the day! I mean that building is awful, but still!” Coop heaves a sigh and shuts their laptop. 

“Is this that hot professor you told me about or is it the one who always wears really weird outfits?” 

“No! The weird outfits guy is my Chaucer professor,” you choose to ignore the first half of that question. “I have words for him too, actually. He keeps-”

“Focus! Why are you failing Arc?” 

“His essays are insane! Like, this is not English class, my guy, why are you grading me so hard? I’m literally an English major! You’d think my writing would be more than acceptable for a freshman level class.” 

He had given you a D on your paper about gothic architecture. You’d chosen to write about the Santa Maria del Fiore in Italy and he took off THREE letter grades because they finished the construction in the neo-gothic style… which you had made a whole section of your paper about. It’s perfectly valid. It’s not like he really gave you much to go on. 

“Did you follow the prompt? Sometimes your brain takes you places the question didn’t exactly call for…” they give you a knowing look. 

“This isn’t a fanfic writing challenge, Coop, I can follow a damn prompt. He doesn’t give us anything to go on at all for these essays! Or for anything else, really.” 

He is the least verbose professor you have ever had. It’s honestly kind of refreshing for a man to not love the sound of his own voice, but you’re also paying him to teach you something. 

“The essay prompt was literally ‘Gothic Architecture’ and the guidelines were ‘12 pages, double spaced, due March 19th.’" You drop your voice into its lowest register, mimicking Dr. Miller's deep baritone. "And that’s what I wrote!” Someone shushes you from behind a bookshelf. You’re getting a little over excited, borderline yelling in the library about this infuriating man.

“Have you tried going to his office hours?” God why are they always so reasonable?

“Have you tried going to his office hours… No. I have not. He’s rude, remember?” 

“Just try it! What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“He could drop my paper down to an F.”

“And you could report him for unfair grading practices. Go. Shoo,” Coop starts pushing your books toward your bag. 

“Fiiiiiine,” you relent.

Twenty minutes later you find yourself standing in the doorway of his office. Dr. Miller is sitting behind a large wooden desk. It’s very neat, the only things on it a computer, a picture frame turned away from you, and a stack of books. Dr. Miller has one of the books open and is writing something in a notebook, brow furrowed and tongue poking out between his lips. 

“Dr. Miller?” you ask hesitantly. 

He doesn’t look up from his work, just lifts a hand vaguely in your direction for a second and keeps writing. You roll your eyes and look around the office. There are bookshelves lining the walls with architecture textbooks in neat rows. A few covers of Architectural Digest are framed on the wall. Is he in those?

Your eyes land back on him. He’s wearing a dark grey Fleetwood Mac shirt that looks old as hell. The collar is stretched, revealing a bit of his chest. Your eyes trace a line up the column of this throat… He has a nice neck. 

You had called him your hot professor at the beginning of the semester, regardless of how you felt about him now. There’s just something about that fluffy bed head he always has, like he couldn’t be bothered to run a comb through it. And the scruffy beard laced with grey he doesn’t seem keen on trimming. And the way his mustache frames his pouty lips. And his prominent nose that looks straight out of a painting. And okay that’s enough. 

“Dr. Miller, I need to talk to you.” 

“M’busy,” he mumbles out, still not looking up from the textbook. 

“Okay, well it’s your office hours, so technically you have to talk to me.” 

“Technically, little miss, I don’t have to do anything.”

“Excuse me? Let’s not speak to grown women like they’re children, sir.” Is he fucking for real right now?

He closes his notebook and looks at you for the first time since you walked in. Probably the first time all semester. He kind of pauses when he sees you, hopefully realizing he isn’t talking to a freshman. It wouldn’t make the little nickname okay, but it would make more sense at least. 

He looks you up and down and his jaw ticks, “Sit.” His eyes flick to the chair in front of his desk. You drop your bag on the floor and slide into the seat. “So. What can I help you with?”

You take a deep breath. “You gave me a D on my last paper.” 

He just stares at you. 

“And considering our prompt was all of 8 words, I think- I know I met the requirements and that I did a good job. It was thoroughly researched, structured well, copy and content edited, and turned in 2 days before deadline. I would like an explanation-” 

“Enough,” he cuts you off. “I don’t have to justify my gradin’ decisions to you.” 

You let out a frustrated puff of air. This man drives you insane. “Dr. Miller, I’m a senior. I took this class to fulfill an elective requirement and because I like architecture. I would like to understand what is so egregious about my writing that you would have me fail a class in my last semester of college.” 

He considers you for a moment, meeting your eyes. He lowers his brow, screws up his mouth from side to side, like he’s thinking hard about something. “I’ll reread it.” 

Not I’ll reconsider your grade, but at least it’s something. “Thank you.” You grab your bag, moving to leave, and he stops you. 

“Wait!” You pause, arching an eyebrow. “What was your name again?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. 

“Seriously? I’ve been in your class since January. Figure it out.” 

You storm out, slamming the door behind you.  

A/N: This will be my first series! I'm really excited to try some actual characterization and plot, which I've never really played around with before. Constructive criticism in my DMs is always appreciated <3

Tag List: @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @atinylittlepain, @wednesdayday, @whoiscaroline, @goldenhxurs, @northernwindd, @djarinxore, @worhols, @amanitacowboy, @silkiers, @4ueijos, @livinxdeadxgrl, @serenaxpedro, @huffle-punk, @elvn011, @thepriceofpepper, @lexic-22, @sunshinebtrfly, @strang3lov3, @virgogaia

#joel miller #joel miller fics #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller AU #Professor!Joel #Professor!Joel Miller

[hopelessdelusional]

Literally got a dream after i read this prompt, went insane, and then basically wrote a whole book

so it’s safe to say im obsessed

word count: 4K

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Bakugou Katsuki is a hero.

He is a Pro Hero, number 2 to be in fact (damn Deku). He has made a living fighting battles and saving lives, jumping off roofs and flying in the sky. He is a real life super hero, putting his life in danger. Every morning he wakes up has to prepare himself for the things he may see that day. The blood he might shed, and the people he may not be able to save. He has learned to be fearless, never finding himself nervous when jumping into the fight.

And yet, he’s never felt more terrified right now.

He met you three years ago, after quite literally crashing right into the very studio you record your music. He was battling a woman who had the ability to make and control giant vines, and apparently are explosive-proof. Todoroki almost hit him with a blast of his shitty ice, making him turn to his so called “partner” and cuss him out. However, that gave the villain the chance to grab him, and send him flying.

Bakugou soon found himself miles away from the fight, as he had to use his quirk in order not to fall to his death. But as many know, his quirk is sporadic.

That is how he crash landed into your studio.

It hurt like hell sure, but when he opened his eyes and saw you standing over him with nothing but concern in your eyes, he instantly forgot the many injuries he gained. You were breathtaking, and not like anyone he had ever interacted with. You immediately made the terrified people in the studio help him up and you found the nearest first aid kit and fixed him up as best as you could before an ambulance came.

He was dazed, but you were so kind and made small talk. Bakugou had always been one to hate any type of small talk, but he loved every word that left your mouth. You were newly moved to Japan, some sort of opportunity came to you that you couldn’t turn down (Bakugou was severely concussed so a lot of what you said was a blur).

Bakugou does remember Mina and Kaminari mentioning you, playing your music whenever he came to either of their houses. You had such a unique voice, a bit raspy that caught the attention of millions of people. Surprisingly, also caught the attention to Bakugou, as he would play it during the rare nights when he’d be cooking alone in his kitchen. Your story telling was incredible, your lyrics were anything but bland. Making music about the bad and good exes you’ve had, your friends and family, your past, and even wrote songs about random characters your beautiful mind came up with. You always made sure to use all sorts of instruments, and the notes that you compacted into your songs never ceased to amaze Bakugou’s standards.

Now he was here, sitting on a table asking you all sorts of questions about you. Maybe it was the concussion, or maybe it was just your personality but Bakugou began to get addicted to you, never wanting you to stop talking.

“Here.”

You turned away from him, your hand leaving his knee instantly making him already miss the warmth of you as you shuffled through your bag.

He watched you with curiosity (and took the chance to shamelessly check out your ass) before you turned around with a newfound grin on your face. You were holding a pen, and he cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding the excitement of this pen in your perfect hand. You walked back over to him, your perfume becoming addicting to him, and you gently grabbed his hand. You were making intense eye contact with him, and Bakugou suddenly felt…nervous? You smiled at the blush that rose on the hero’s face, before you clicked the pen and began to write something on his wrist.

Bakugou watched, feeling somewhat like a child, and once you finished and allowed him to look. He was pleasantly surprised to see your number on his arm.

His head instantly shot up, almost not believing this was happening.

“If I text this and it’s a scam, I’m gonna hunt you down.”

His gruff voice didn’t match the face he was making at you, and you threw your head back and laughed.

Once you caught your breath, you smiled at him, making him blush even more (he didn’t even know that was possible!).

“As fun as that would be, I promise that is in fact my home number. I would never trick my favorite pro hero like that.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw two paramedics walking through the door, ready to help him out of there. However, he chose to ignore them and smirk at you instead.

“Favorite eh?”

You giggled, still holding his hand.

“Don’t get too cocky mister, or else I’ll write a mean song about you.”

His grin widened, using his other hand to lead your hand to his lips. He gently kissed it, hating how chapped his lips were, but the blush that quickly appeared on your cute cheeks made it worth it.

“I’d rather the song have another meaning.”

The two of you held eye contact, and he soaked up every second of it not ever wanting to forget what color you eyes were.

You smiled at him before you turned to the paramedics that began to replace your presence. They helped him up, and walked him over to the bed that was rolled in by another paramedic. Once he was comfortable (as comfortable as someone with many broken ribs and a concussion could be) he looked back up at you. Bakugou was annoyed to see one of the paramedics talking nervously to you, asking for an autograph. However, the jealously slowly turned into admiration as he watched you beam at the man as you excitedly signed the crinkled piece of paper he had in his pocket.

“My daughter just adores your music, she started learning guitar because of you actually! It’s truly incredible watching her play, just makes me so proud of her.”

Your lip was pouted, as you stood listening to his words. You looked so genuine, so happy that he was telling you this. Bakugou could tell this means the world to you, watching you enthusiastically hugged him. The two of you quickly made your goodbyes, and you immediately turned to look his way. Bakugou would have been embarrassed that he was caught looking at you if you hadn’t beamed at him like that. You jogged over to him, making him chuckle how eager you were to be back in his presence. Bakugou instantly grabbed your empty hand again, not a single ounce of shame for how “down bad” he was acting.

“Talk to you later?”

Your voice couldn’t have been any louder than a whisper, making sure he knew these were words only for him to hear. Bakugou grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Of course.”

Instead of one of your flashing smiles, your whole face softened and a small smile appeared on your face.

“In the meantime then, I’ll definitely be writing a song.”

That’s when Bakugou realized there was no coming back from you. He was officially obsessed, never wanting anything more than your hand in his.

Unfortunately for him, the two of you were rudely interrupted by the dumbass that got him here in the first place (not that Bakugou is complaining). Todoroki loudly coughed, making you jump and him scowl.

“I see you’re in good-“ his heterochromia eyes looked down at Bakugou and your interlocked hands, and then looked back up at Bakugou with a smirk.

“Good hands?”

Yeah, Bakugou definitely got teased for the rest of the day, and soon the rest of the week by all the people half-and-half told. But honestly? Bakugou couldn’t give two shits when had you texting him all day.

Besides, they were just jealous.

Kaminari and Mina especially lost their shit, begging for him to tell them all about you, even asking for your number. Obviously, Bakugou kindly told them to stop asking (he told them to fuck off and mind their fucking business) and soon enough the two of you began dating.

It was so easy being with someone like you. The two of you worked so well together, and you already understood the pressure of paparazzi constantly swarming you like hawks. Crazily enough, the reveal of you guys dating didn’t release until after your one year. Of course there were plenty of news articles and random fans on the internet who speculated it, but you interacted with enough people for your fans to also say you were dating them as well. Besides, the idea of you, an international singer/songwriter dating the number two hero in the world was not something that people could believe easily. But it was the truth, and people everywhere went crazy when you posted a picture of the two of you.

It was the picture of Bakugou picking you up by the waist in his kitchen. You were wearing his shirt and some random sweats because you had just gotten home from a concert the night before. Ochako was the one able to capture this beautiful moment of the couple. You had been teasing him for being able to cook but not bake, and he had enough of your jokes and simply picked you right off your feet. In the picture the both of you were smiling widely, especially Bakugou. When you posted the picture, fans analyzed the picture like crazy.

Bakugou knew he wasn’t the most well liked Pro-Hero, but the amount of people who tried to make a video showing the picture and claiming it was “obvious” that he was abusing you was a little annoying. You always reassured the blond when you caught him watching those videos, turning off his phone and climbing in his lap. His hands happily making his way on your waist as you ran your fingers through his hair while the other hand held his face gently. His eyes would close and you would whisper sweet nothings in his ear, praising him for anything and everything, sometimes even singing the songs you wrote for him.

Bakugou still remembers when the two of you were almost a year into the relationship (ten months and 6 days to be exact) and in the mist of him casually scrolling on TikTok a video of you performing at your concert popped up. He was certainly surprised to see videos already posted, since the concert had quite literally just ended. Obviously he watched the video, adoring how you talked to your fans.

“Now children, calm down so I can talk. I am not gonna talk over your borderline screaming, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna be able to sing after this if I talk like that.”

Bakugou snickered. He always loved when you were sassy and continued to watch.

“So whilst on tour, I’ve had a song stuck in my head,” the crowd went wild, probably thinking you were going to play one of your songs called “stuck in my head.” Your face lit up in realization, and you laughed at the mistake you made.

“Oh my poor babies, I’m so sorry but I am not playing that song.”

You gave your crowd an apologetic smile as they booed you. Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, upset as to why you were being booed, but continued to watch nonetheless.

“Oh my gosh get over yourself,” you rolled your eye waiting for the crowd to settle down before starting up again.

“I had like, this chorus just repeating itself over and over again. It was so annoying y’all! I felt like I was going crazy! And what made it even more annoying is that I couldn’t go to my safe place and sit down and write it cus-“

You gestured to your surroundings.

“-I’m on tour.”

The crowd went wild for longer than Bakugou liked, but you let them get it out, shaking your head like you were disappointed but the smile gave you away.

“Instead I had to settle with my oh so very empty tour bus bed, and write the song there. It was literally like, what? 3AM? And I was sitting on that bed with my guitar, notebook, and my laptop. I’m so glad I wasn’t sharing or like in a hotel because I was up until 5…”

You bent over to laugh, and the audience as well. Meanwhile, your now very grumpy boyfriend was about to close the app and text you not to do shit like that. You put on full fledge concerts for crying out loud! You should not be staying up that late just to write a goddamn song.

“And that was last night.”

The concert booed as Bakugou’s patience started to thin. What the hell were you thinking? You even texted him goodnight at like 2! Rest is very important and you need to-

“But I’m glad that I did, because I think this is my new favorite song. And I just can’t wait anymore, so is it okay if I play it for you guys?”

The crowd literally went feral. The person recording was screaming along with every goddamn person at that place. Bakugou was now fully sitting up in his bed, eager to listen to this song. He was a little hurt, he will admit. You always send him a video of the many songs that you write sporadically on this tour, and you’ve written a lot. So why didn’t you do the same thing here? What was so different about this song that he couldn’t be the first to hear it like usual?

“That sounds like a yes,” you reached for one of the many necklaces you were wearing and pulled out a very thin necklace with a familiar pendant. Bakugou immediately recognized it, as it was the one he got for you on your six month anniversary. It was one of the petals of a rose that you saved from your first date. He had it dried and put into a charm of a necklace when he noticed you getting upset that you couldn’t keep the flowers he got you. When he gave it to you, tears were falling down your face as he kissed you. That’s when he swore to himself that if he met any of your exes he wouldn’t leave without giving them a brand new scar.

You pulled it out and kissed it gently, before whispering into it.

“This is for you baby.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened, the crowd losing their minds and you started playing guitar. The two of you would make the smallest hints that you were in a relationship, but never as bold as this. Not that he was complaining.

Secretly he had been wanting to let the public know that you were dating, he wanted everyone to know you were his and he was yours. He was honestly sick of seeing people “ship” him with extras and he especially hated when the same happened to you.

He’s good for my heart but he’s bad for business

Tears me apart when he grants my wishes

All of my friends think I’ve gone crazy

But they don’t know me like my baby~

Bakugou remembers that moment like it was yesterday. His face instantly blossomed a bright blush, and his lips formed a soft smile. The crowd finally settled down after the beginning and he was able to listen to the song, closing his eyes pretending like he was there in the audience. He put the phone up to his ear and laid back down, soaking up every word and every note.

He’s good

It’s bad

The best I’ve ever had

And he’s so nice

It’s sad

He ruined all my plans

And he just makes me so crazy

I know everyone sees

He’ll be the death of me

That’s how he got here, standing in a special area in your sold out venue wearing your newest merch.

And Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.


This was the first time he had come to see your concert, because last time you toured it was when your relationship was a secret. Now, he sat nervously in his chair, his colleagues on either side of him. You had given all of them tickets, making sure they had the best seats in the house but also allowed them to not be disturbed by fans.

Bakugou was bouncing his leg, picking at his fingernails as he watched the crowd. It seemed that nobody knew they were there, everyone waiting in anticipation of your show. Your music was so diverse, everyone knew that it would contain all sorts of emotions and energies. You were the type of performer who liked to be as close to the audience as possible, you loved adding commentary to your songs during the pauses, making faces, and dancing around. You loved to have fun, and let loose. When you got the green light to plan the tour, you were practically bouncing off the walls of your now shared home. You spent three months planning it, which was a new record for you, before announcing. However, there was just one thing that Bakugou didn’t like about the tour.

He knew absolutely nothing about it. In fact, you made sure of it. Hiding your notebook, changing your laptop’s password, making sure your manager didn’t tell him shit about it. That’s why he was terrified. His partner, his very famous singer/songwriter of a soulmate was about to do the very first night of the tour in Japan and Bakugou didn’t know a thing.

That’s why Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.

Soon enough, the lights began to dim, and people started to stand up. A hush fell over the crowd as the venue blacked out, and the wrist bands on everyone’s wrists lit up.

“Holy shit it’s happening.” Kaminari whispered to Bakugou, grin spreading across his face.

Ochako, Kaminari, and Mina happily took the evening off to see you, while the rest of your invites weren’t able to. Kirishima made Bakugou promise at least one photo of the two of them after the show.

A soft hum came out of the speakers, and suddenly a spotlight appeared to reveal you standing at the very far back of the stage. The crowd went insane, and you walked down the stage.

When it came to your outfits, you always had to keep it comfortable. You loved to jump around dancing, sometimes fall to your knees dramatically. You especially loved to squat. Jumping around in that position and when you stood up you always made sure to flaunt the ass that you worked very hard on in the gym.

You came out strutting down the stage in very baggy and flowy black pants and a very cropped black long sleeve sweater that allowed you to show off the lace bra that went down to your belly button. But that wasn’t where it stopped, nor was it the best part of your outfit. To Bakugou’s surprise you were wearing boots with an obnoxiously thick heel, that were very obviously Dynamite themed.

Bakugou smirked at the sight, taking in the rest of the little details of your outfit. You wore a giant ring on your index finger that was also Dynamite inspired, as a fan gave it to you, and Bakugou could see his initials sewn into the bottom of your sweater.

You stopped at the end of the runway, pulling the microphone away from your face in a dramatic motion. You slowly looked around, taking in your crowd. A smile spread across your face, and when your gaze looked straight forward to look for Bakugou, he made sure to make little sparks from his hands to let you know he was right here. You pointed at him with the finger that had the Dynamite ring on it, and Bakugou honestly felt like it was just you and him in the stadium. You mouthed an ‘I love you’ at him, and Bakugou was now ignoring the new roar from the audience.

“You guys should get married already.” Mina whispered in Bakugou’s ear, and instead of blowing her face up, he just smiled, still looking in your direction.

“I plan on it.”

The first song you sang was one of your oldest ones, which also happened to be a much slower and sadder song. Instead of listening to the grim lyrics (not because they were bad, just because Bakugou hated to remember how bad some of your relationships were and didn’t want to get angry) the hero closed his eyes and listened to your voice. He wanted to take in his environment and all the notes you sang. The song started to drift off midway, which confused Bakugou. His eyes suddenly snapped open when he heard your newest song, which was much more upbeat. He watched you jump in the air and sing the song with much more passion than the original version. The crowd recovered quickly from the switch up and was singing along happily.

You sang a couple more of your newer and upbeat songs, making sure to add new notes to them and even belt a couple of notes to get the crowd excited. You were having so much fun, and Bakugou had never seen you look more alive. This is where you belonged, and he wanted to be right here every time watching.

There was a pause for you to sit down at the edge of the runway. You sat criss-cross, and much closer to the audience for Bakugou’s liking. He always got nervous when you reached out for a fan’s hand, scared that they would do something that could hurt you.

Thankfully, that hadn’t ever happened, and you sat very cutely waiting for the audience to quiet down so you could speak.

“Wow. We’re halfway through already? Well, I think we all know what that means…”

You cocked your head to the side, and a soft piano started to play a familiar rhythm.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between, get out your tissues. It is now time to remember why you are no longer dating your ex, and for you to be reminded that your trauma isn’t just a thing that makes you funny.”

The crowd screamed, but almost immediately stopped when you began to sing in a much softer and lower register than before. As depressing as these songs may be, Bakugou firmly believes that these types of songs bring out the best in your voice. It allows you to challenge your breath control, and truly sing with so much passion and emotion.

A couple of songs pass, and Bakugou finds you when the stage gets lit up again. You’re in the middle of the runway, standing with your head down waiting for the band to begin. As soon as the piano starts, the crowd screams and yells. This is one of your all-time most popular songs, it was the one that caught a lot of people’s attention and boosted your popularity. Funnily enough, you actually hated this song because you wrote it in high school, so Bakugou was surprised to see you preform it.

“Is this Sick of Losing Soulmates?” Ochako yelled, because of the screaming of your audience.

Bakugou turned to her and confirmed her suspicions, making Mina and Kaminari start screaming along with the audience (as they were doing the entire time).

Bakugou watched as you began to sing, and noticed how you really got into it. You added a lot more dramatic pauses before certain lines, and even speaking some of the lyrics, making it feel more like anger than sadness.

Yeah, I’m sick of losing soulmates

Won’t be alone again

I can finally see you’re as fucked up as me

So how do we begin?

At one point, you laid down on your back, reaching for the sky as you sang your heart out, and Bakugou noticed you choking up a bit at certain lyrics.

We will grow old as friends

I've promised that before, so what's one more in our grey-haired circle, waiting for the end?

Time and hearts will wear us thin

So which path will you take, 'cause we both know a break does exactly what it says on the tin

The song soon ends, and your last pose has you on your knees, head looking down at the floor. The stadium goes pitch dark, including the wrist bands, before they light up again along with your stage. Bakugou sees you wipe a tear off your cheek, and you sit there once more taking in your fans that take the chance to start chanting your name. You put your lips together, closing your eyes and putting your hands on your heart. Your eyebrows are furrowed and Bakugou can tell you’re still crying. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to go to you and hold you, wiping away your tears and replacing them with tender kisses.

You open your eyes, putting the mic back to your mouth and the audience quiets down in order to let you speak.

“Oh boy, I am so overwhelmed by emotions. I mean that was the song that started it all right?”

The crowd was still practically silent, as you’ve trained them well. You get off your knees and get into a more comfortable sitting position (criss-cross of course) and continue.

“I used to absolutely loath that song, because I wrote that when I was at my lowest. I was so sick and tired of love, having to try again over and over again. Every relationship that ended seem to break a piece of me off, and I was honestly starting to give up.”

You let out a broken chuckle, putting your free hand over your eyes momentarily before starting again.

“But then I met Katsuki, in which he literally crashed into my life.”

The crowd stayed silent, but Bakugou could tell they wanted to start screaming. You were not looking at him, and to his surprise Bakugou felt a tear run down his cheek.

“Three years of paradise. I’ve always had a fear of losing you, but it especially hits when I sing songs like that.”

There was a pause, and suddenly Bakugou felt like he was back in that studio where he met you. Staring at you and falling in love all over again.

“I love you baby, forever and always.”

Bakugou smiled, and all that fear that was with him before left. You were his and he was yours, and that’s all that he needed.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and you knew.

Bakugou Katsuki was no longer terrified.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╯

none of the songs quoted are not mine!!! the first one is “Bad for Business” by Sabrina Carpenter, and the second one is “Sick of Losing Soulmates” by dodie

i hope you enjoyed bc boy oh boy i did

literally took me 4 hours to write but i couldn’t pull myself away from the keyboard

i rlly need to start writing other characters for x readers but oh well

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou katsuki x reader #singer! reader x bakugou katsuki #sobbing #my hero academia #mha #whew #this one is a biggin #definitely got a little too into it #but oh well #i couldn’t get this out of my head so #love love love

[jadedxhearts]

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮"

original ask: "Hi jadedrrose I COMPLETELY LOVE ❤️❤️❤️❤️ the Jealousy and The Experiment you wrote for Law!!!!! They are sooo good and addicting!!!! I was wondering if I can please request Law x female reader NSFW with Dialog Prompt 1. “I’m in love with you.” Thank you"

originally posted on July 25, 2022

Please note that this is an old work and isn't representative of my current writing skills!

You’d honestly thought you’d never see this day come.

When you had began dating Law, you knew from the start that he would be very closed off at times, and it would take a lot of work to form a bond between the two of you, to trust and love one another.

Not that you doubted him, but you just didn’t expect to get this far. If anything, you doubted yourself.

Today marked the day that you’d been dating Law for a year. Really, you were quite pleased with how the last year had gone. He’d really opened up to you, and you were very happy with him. But he had yet to say those words;

“I love you.” Or something along those lines, at least.

It’s not like you were upset about that, though. Law wasn’t the most affectionate man, preferring to keep all that stuff private and only saying things when he truly meant it and was ready to say so.

So here you were, staring at yourself in the mirror of the women’s bathroom on the submarine (conveniently there were only two women, so you always had plenty of time to get ready).

You’d put on a nice dress, a satin blue one. You figured Law would like it, or at least you hoped he would.

Looking over your makeup one last time, you stepped out of the bathroom and made your way up to the outside part of the submarine.

When you walked out, you noticed that there was a table with two chairs set up, Law sitting in one of the two, some fairy lights, and the guys all bothering Law, it seemed like.

“Tell her that she smells good?” Penguin suggested.

“Or that she’s the prettiest bear around!” Bepo chimed in.

“Bepo, you’re the only one who’s a bear…” Shachi reminded him.

“Oh, that’s right.”

“Enough! You guys are all idiots. No wonder none of you can get a girl to like you,” Law snapped.

The four then looked towards you with wide eyes upon hearing your laughter.

The three crew mates scurried away, leaving you and Law.

“We’re they giving you pointers? As if this was the first date?” You asked, still giggling.

“I guess,” Law answered. “I shouldn’t have asked them for any advice. They know nothing.”

You sat down across from him and smiled at the food laid out before you. A mix of both you and Law’s favorite dishes. Plus some wine.

“Aw, did you set this all up?”

“Most of it, yeah,” Law bashfully replied.

Your heart felt all warm and fuzzy, thinking about all the effort he went to just for you.

—

After the dinner, Law had taken you back to his room, and now you found yourself laid out on the bed, the skirt part of your dress pushed up as Law had a firm grip on your thighs, holding them apart as he licked at your soaked cunt.

“You taste better than that damn dinner those idiots made us,” Law muttered against you, moving his lips slightly up to suck at your clit.

“Mmm, Law… don’t stop,” you moaned.

“Not even to tell you how good you taste?”

“No!” You whined, pushing him back into your wetness, hands tangled in his hair.

As he continued sucking at your clit, he removed a hand from your plush thighs and began teasing you, touching your folds but not inserting his fingers at all.

“Sh-shit! Just finger me already!”

“Who’s in charge here?” Law asked, tone more stern now.

“You, Law… fuck.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, a grin on his face as he returned to what he’d been doing, only this time he did put his fingers in you.

His long fingers moved at a fast pace, and the suckling at your now swollen clit was becoming harder and making you feel like you were going to pass out.

“Fuck, Law… I’m gonna cum, fuck. D-don’t stop.”

He tried pushing his fingers in further, not stopping for a second. And when he added a third…

You let out a loud, nearly pornographic moan and let go of his hair to lay back, throwing your arms around your face.

Law pulled away from your pussy, smirking as he pulled your head up and presented his fingers in front of your mouth.

“Suck,” he demanded.

You opened your mouth and let him slide his fingers inside. His eyes never left your lips, watching the way you sucked on and lapped up all the juices on his tattooed fingers.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled his fingers away and moved to get his jeans off. He then sat up against the pillows, motioning for you to come sit on his lap.

“Want you to ride me,” he told you, arms wrapping around you as you hovered over his cock.

He leaned forward and locked lips with you, kissing you passionately as he slid his length inside you. Unable to control your moans, you let out a long one that was muffled by his lips, but you could feel him smirking at the noise.

“That’s right, ride my cock like a good little slut,” he praised you, holding you tight and continuing to kiss you. “Moan into my mouth.”

So you moved your hips faster, and moaned with every thrust. You loved the way he stretched you.

“Shit, I’m already so close,” he muttered against your lips.

“Me too,” you cried. “Law, let me cum again, please- agh.”

He angled his hips and began rubbing circles on your overstimulated clit, telling you to cum on his cock and squeeze him nice and tight.

With another lewd moan, you came for a second time, followed by Law releasing his own cum inside you.

As you pulled away, you could feel your mixed juices spilling out of your cunt and down your thighs, dripping onto Law’s lap.

You collapsed, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him gently, too tired to fully go for his lips.

He held you close, rubbing your back and helping you relax after the intimate session. As he laid there doing so, he couldn’t help but feel… strange. His heart felt full, and the sight of you right now was simply so beautiful to him.

Law knew then, he was ready to say it.

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out, interrupting the silence.

You blinked, eyes wide and you just couldn’t help but to start smiling from ear to ear.

“You… are?”

“Yes. I’m sorry it took me this long to say it, but I love you, (Name)-ya.”

So you hugged him tighter, this time planting a firm kiss onto his lips. “Don’t apologize. I don’t care if it would’ve taken you thirty years, I’d still be glad and feel the same. I love you too, Law.”

For the first time in a while, he smiled. A genuine smile. Law was glad that you’d been so patient with him. He wouldn’t regret this, loving you. Even if he was worried about losing you, he’d come to realize that it didn’t mean he couldn’t love you.

So, he decided from this moment onward that he’d always make sure to tell you how much he loves you, and to make sure you felt loved forever.

And you couldn’t be happier.

#law x reader #law x reader smut

[graysparrowao3]

Heyyooo!

I'm popping in cause i just wanted to let you i really love your stuff and miss seeing you on my dash.(why tumble timeout??) I'm sorry someone felt the need to come at you with unkindness but i bet there's a lot more people who LOVE seeing you roll across their timeline (self included). I love your writing, its super sweet and i adore how you present the characters. I do hope that person didn't dampen your spirits too much, You're a gem!

Helloooo! 💛 This was such a kind thing that you took the time to say, thank you so much. It really, really lifted my spirits and to hear that you enjoy my presence and writing is so touching (and especially as I absolutely adore all your content and posts too!). You're absolute royalty. I'm so glad to actually be able to be back in your presence and respond to you now as well!

I don't know if you remember this post, but in celebration of being freed from Tumblr jail and in gratitude for your kind words, I finally wrote you something based on this prompt. It's just a series of three short scenes but I hope you like it! I'll put it below a cut.

Summary for bonus part 4 of the Rolan, Cal, and Lia sneaking in and out for dates series: Cal and Lia are sneaking around trying to hide their romance liaisons from Rolan, who, unbeknownst to his siblings, already knows about them both...

Words: 1,174

Cal gathered up the usual stack of envelopes, scrolls, and a copy of the latest Baldur’s Mouth that filled the postbox and began to sort through them as he sauntered into the kitchen where his family was seated.  

“For the owner of Ramazith’s Tower.” Cal handed an unusual, sealed paper over, then dropped the rest of the assorted junk onto the middle of the table.

Rolan tucked the envelope quickly away.

“Love letter?” Lia teased.

“Not that it would be your business if it was.” Rolan returned the light-hearted tone.

“Just joking,” Lia leaned casually on her shoulders, “but now I’m interested.”

“Never you mind.” Rolan waved her away, taking another bite to break his fast.

“Not that you have to tell us,” Cal settled back onto the table and flipped idly through the Gazette without reading it, “but it would be nice if you found someone.”

“I’m sure it would,” Rolan mumbled, “alas, your curiosity will remain unsatisfied. I promise it is not about my personal affairs.”

“If you say so,” Cal was already distracted by one of the illustrations, dropping crumbs onto the page as he chewed. “Weird thing the other day. Could’ve sworn I was being followed.”

“How’d you figure?” Lia’s brow creased with concern as she placed her drink down.

“Pass that here,” Rolan ignored the conversation and gestured for Cal to hand him the newspaper.

“Not sure exactly. Might’ve been imagining it.” Cal grimaced as he tried to recall, “was probably nothing.”

“Worth checking, though,” his sister insisted.

“I’m sure you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.” Rolan glanced briefly over the top of the page.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “you’re probably right.”

“Rolan,” Lia pulled down the top of the paper in front of him, “think it’s worth a check – to be sure.”

He opened his mouth, then scoffed, reluctantly agreeing,

“Fine, fine, I’ll check up on it today. I’ve got more than a few favours I can call in. I’ll keep us quite safe, fear not,” he folded the newspaper and tucked it under his arm.

“Thank you, Rolan.”

When they were done and the crumbs cleared and the plates cleaned, Rolan restrained his interest long enough to nonchalantly stroll to his office. Once inside, he quickly applied an Arcane Lock to the door and hurried to the desk, eagerly taking out the envelope and opening it with rushed hands. The letter unfolded, finally the favour he’d called in had paid off. He huffed as he read – they could’ve been a little more subtle about it, at least; he wasn't supposed to have been aware of them.

Archmage Rolan – as you wished, please find below the following information regarding the individual that has been seen in the company of your brother. Stand up member of society, as far as I can tell. Boring, honestly. And not that you asked my opinion, but they did seem rather happy in each other’s presence. It was sickening.

No, I didn’t ask, Rolan thought, but he couldn’t help but smile.

Rolan sat, legs and arms crossed. Eyelids falling gently shut before he commanded them to remain open. It would be morning soon. Lia should have been back long ago. His foot tapped restlessly against the floor. Then… a sound. He leant forward in the chair, ears willing it louder. Two sets of poorly concealed footsteps lazily approaching the door outside. He exhaled. At least she was alright. A click in the lock and the door creaked open. With a quick flick of his wrist, Rolan shrouded himself in Invisibility.

An uncharacteristic giggle followed by a soft gasp of excitement. His sister stepped backwards across the threshold,

“Shh,” Lia pressing her finger delicately against her partner’s lips, “lest my brothers hear.”

Rolan raised an eyebrow.

Lia fell back in, replacing her finger with her own lips. She pulled them in close, willing them to step into the tower with her body, hands in their hair. They obliged, their hands on her, searching the edges of her corset, exploring the material tight against her sides, sitting on her hips, teasing at her waist.

Oh, Gods, no. Absolutely not.

A sudden sound caused Lia to pull away. She turned to see a heavy tome that had slammed onto the ground nearby. She crept over and looked around, finding no obvious place where it could have fallen from or been dislodged.

“Tower is Gods damned cursed.” She muttered. She returned to her lover at the door, lacing her arms around their shoulders and pulling them in for a passionate goodbye. Rolan rolled his eyes and shuffled away, grateful to find his bed.

Rolan was enjoying a glass of his favourite red and warming himself by the fireplace after a long day. Long, but rewarding. Honestly, he couldn’t have imagined better, more fulfilling days. He heard the comforting noise of two tieflings moving into the room to join him before the night called to them all.

“I thought we might,” Rolan gestured lazily with his glass, “spend some time together tomorrow evening. Games, drinks, what have you.”

“Tomorrow?” Lia stopped before she made it to a chair, her question tenser than it ought to have been.

“Does it have to be tomorrow, Rolan?” Cal exchanged an uneasy look with her.

“I suppose not, though,” Rolan took a sip of his wine and smiled indulgently into the glass; he’d let them sweat just a little, “what’s the problem with tomorrow?”

“Just…” Cal stumbled, “something else might come up.”

“Might it,” Rolan raised an amused eyebrow.

“I just mean, there was something going on, maybe. I’m not sure. Better to be free for it than not.”

“Is that so,” he took another sip, enjoying himself immensely.

“All got our secrets,” Lia crossed her arms defiantly, “don’t ask you about yours.”

“I think you’ll find you do,” Rolan waved his goblet, “all the Gods damned time, actually.”

“Fine, have it your way.” Lia said, wishing she didn’t sound as disappointed as she did.

“No, no, by all means, do have your mysterious plans tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll figure it out sooner rather than later.”

“Don’t know about that,” Cal relaxed.

“You are many things, dear brother, but a master detective is not one.”

“Is that so?” Rolan’s smug smile loosened by the wine.

“Not saying you’re not good at other things,” Cal added, quickly.

“Just that you’re not always the most insightful. That can’t be news to you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rolan swirled the claret liquid around the class, “I might have picked up a thing or two over the years.”

“Go on then,” Cal tempted him, “if we’re hiding something, what is it?”

“Let me guess,” Rolan feigned ignorance, “a friend I might disapprove of – someone from the guild, perhaps? Or perhaps an unwise game of chance in someone’s basement somewhere.”

Cal and Lia shared a cheeky look.

“Yeah,” they settled into the chairs beside him, “something like that.”

“You see,” he relaxed back, a smile of contentment on his face, “I’m sure I wouldn’t have a clue.”

#bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan bg3 #cal #lia #bg3 cal #cal bg3 #lia bg3 #bg3 lia

[pastelaspirations]

Ta-dahhhh, a drawing that took me too long. It would have taken me less time had I quit second-guessing everything and taking 3 hour breaks after fixing one line. BUT YEE, I ACTUALLY LIKE IT VERY MUCH. For once. (Also, shoutout to my fren, @paintedkinzy-88 for teaching me how mirrors work. It is a long story. Although, probably only "long" because of my habit of telling things 5k words longer than they needed to be-)

Now, long headcanon rambling alert. This drawing is like... the ungodly compilation of so many of my headcanons. I absolutely didn't need to stuff it full of things I believe to be true so wholeheartedly, but I d i d.

First headcanon: Ink can feel. He has the capacity to experience emotions, he just needs a little help to do it. So, he has to take his vials to experience something that many people don't even need to think about. However, this leads to ✧˖°.angst.✧˖°. Ink has a whole lot of self-doubt and he second-guesses his "emotions" all the time because, technically, his emotions are artificially induced. Therefore, by extension, does that make the emotions themselves artificial? This leads well into my second headcanon.

Second headcanon: Ink's vials are basically an allegory for antidepressants. Suppose someone has been depressed for a very, very long time and then they get on antidepressants. They might become really disoriented. Because, really, which version of themself is the truest form of them? The happy, upbeat version of them is strange and foreign after being depressed for so long. Is the happy version truly them, or was it the other, depressed version of themself that they spent so many years living as? So, as ya can see, the 3rd day prompt for Inktobertale fit beautifully with my headcanons. <3

Third headcanon: Ink experiences a strong wave of whatever range of emotions pertaining to a particular vial after he takes it. For example, yellow, he'd experience a strong wave of joy, happiness, euphoria, etc., and for red, anger, fury, outrage, etc. The little sticky note in the corner of the mirror is a reminder that it's easier to take all the vials together than to spread them out. If he takes them all together, he can experience each strong wave in immediate succession. It's exhausting and he nearly has everything taken out of him at the end, but the ordeal is less... awful than if he spread it out for half an hour taking them one by one. That's why the cup is there hehe-

The little pictures on the mirror represent happier times! :D Since taking his vials, or his "medicine," is such an uncomfortable experience, having pictures on his mirror to remind him of happier times and that he has people that care about him really helps. He can pluck up the courage to actually take the vials after glancing over at beloved faces. ;_;

The holiday picture actually has a funny backstory behind it; the three of them were celebrating Gyftmas together at Blue's house, but it was during a time Dream was still fairly new to uh, "modern day traditions." I headcanon Dream acts really old and after being stuck in stone for so long, is like... tragically so far behind the times. He uses old timey lingo, has a very bad habit of comparing his centuries old age to your common AU resident, and comes off as, "How do you do, fellow kids-" more often than he would like. As such, he didn't understand why you would "dress up" for the holidays. He freaking showed up in his normal attire and was baffled why Blue and Ink were dressed differently. They made a lot of fun of him. Ink got a new sketchbook that he's holding in the picture. <3

The other picture... of course has a backstory. I'm s o r r y, okay. It is a problem, I can't quit sneaking Errorink into whatever I do. That little picture is of a time they were hanging out together cuddling in the antivoid. Error wrote the little note on the picture to remind Ink that his emotions are just as real and valid as the rest of them, and that if anyone were to tell him otherwise, he'd fight 'em. He told him to slap it on his mirror as a reminder when he goes to take his "medicine." ;_; <3 Will I find a way to sneak this into a fic/make a new fic with this scene? Probably, but I'm choosing not to worry about it rn-

FINALLY. LAST HEADCANON, I'M SORRY- Some of you may have noticed the sneaky little Asriel hiding in the picture. >:) Even that has lore behind it! :D It comes from an AU I call Storetale that I made up in two minutes solely to excuse the blatant goat bro easter egg.

Storetale is set in a timeline where the monsters and humans live on the surface together in harmony. But oh noooo, one day, Asgore and Toriel died in a bad car crash, and they left poor Chara and Asriel alone. ;_; Not to worry though! Mettaton adopted the two and they both became child celebrities. But not on tv, mind you. Nooo, they became the mascots of Mettaton's extremely successful supermarket chain, MettaStore. The AU follows the two as they deal with their very odd claim to fame, as well as the fact of being children and the face of a multi-million gold supermarket franchise.

I like to headcanon that Ink likes to watch this AU because of how wacko and heartfelt it can be at times. He got the soap in the picture from that AU, branded Golden Flower Soap. I also like to think Ink introduced Error to that AU and he unironically got invested into it too because of the contrived problems it comes up with similar to Undernovela.

AND THERE. THAT IS ALL. This was just the ultimate compilation of all my headcanons into a singular drawing that no one would ever know unless I made this ungodly long post to explain each and every one in detail even though no one asked. ;_; I'm sorry for such the long post. If any of you brave souls read this far, thank you and I hope I managed to spread my headcanons further-

✧˖°.Bonus:✧˖°. Here is a version with alternate eyes 'cus I couldn't choose which one I liked more and then one without a blurred background. Now, you can see the Errorink background details more clearly if you would like :D

#inktobertale2023 #ink sans #utmv #inktobertale day 3 #ink!sans #my headcanons #star sanses #errorink #But only if ya squint #Like yeah it's right there in plain view #but the drawing itself isn't errorink cuddles #This is so wonderfully angsty I love it #Scratching the angst itch m m m m #Am I going to find a way to incorporate this drawing into a fic or compose a new one entirely #P r o b a b l y #By that same token; will I find a way to shove Storetale into a fic? #Also highly likely because I have gotten unhealthily attached to a glorified shitpost au that I made up in 2 minutes #Is it stupid? Yes. Do I love it to death? Also y e s

[waterfallofspace]

A Little Game, A Lot Of Torture. 

The one in which G/ojo has been a bit of a (loveable) prick, so his friends decide to hold a little contest to see who can get him back the best. Contest rules? Whoever makes him sneeze the most in one attempt wins, you can’t get his help, you can only use one method. Let the games begin! (Do I have requests I should be working on instead? Yes. Was this idea haunting my every waking hour until I finally agreed to write it? Also yes. I promise I’ll get back to requests tomorrow &lt;;3) Takes a minute to get into heavy snz stuff, but hopefully it's still enjoyable! (credits to @snzdreams for the breathtaking headcanon that even talking about sneezing gets G/ojo going, and I hope it’s okay that I borrowed your genius to use in this <3 and doubly hope it's okay that I tagged you in it <33) Also I want to clarify: while they were all in the same class in highschool, this is set post-graduation, imagining a future where they all still hang out. (AU technically I guess haha~) Just making it clear, everyone in this story is meant to be an adult. Picture early 20’s. Characters: G/eto, S/hoko, and G/ojo. Plus a bit of S/atosugu Word Count: 4.1k (whoops-)

(References to swearing in case anyone doesn't like that!)

~~~~~~~

The rules were agreed upon the day before, Geto insisting that they needed to be clear.

Rule #1: You only get one attempt. If you fail, or he manages to avoid/subdue the attempt, it’s over. You don’t get a second try. If you get subpar results, same as before, no second tries. Amendment added by Shoko: number of sneezes only counts from the first couple minutes. If said attempt results in sneezing for the rest of the day, those are not to be counted.

Rule #2: Gojo is not to be informed of this, or asked for assistance of any kind. You cannot ask him for a list of what makes him most sneezy, you must use your knowledge of him to come up with your own methodology. 

And finally, Rule #3: You can only use one method. Said ‘method’ can include multiple inducing tools, so long as they’re considered one ‘attempt’. Ie. Multiple scented candles at once, or a bouquet of flowers are both considered one method. However, flowers and candles at the same time would be considered two. Amendment added by Geto: Helping him along with words doesn’t count as a method, and is therefore fair play. 

With those in place, Geto and Shoko got to work, each with an idea in mind. 

In order to not taint results the attempts will be held three days apart to give Gojo’s nose time to get back to baseline before the next attempt begins. Shoko is up first. Let the games begin! 

~~ Shoko’s Attempt ~~

‘I’m at a disadvantage. I know Gojo, he’s my friend, they both are, but I’ll never know him the way Geto does. He’ll always know more of Gojo’s quirks, especially since they’re so obviously in love. They both deny it, but the looks they share when they think no one can see tells a different story. If not dating, the feeling is at least mutual.’ 

Shoko pauses her musing, letting a smile take over as she waves to the boys, starting her approach with a hand in her bag. ‘Always together, even when I’m not around. I know they care for me, but the bond they share will always be one step deeper.’ Despite this, she has a plan. Earlier she wrote out a list of what she remembers Gojo showing reactions to in the past, eliminating anything less than a full attack. 

‘He’s quite sensitive, it doesn’t take much to set him off, but getting an actual fit from him is a touch more rare. Normally he has quite the exaggerated buildups, long and hitchy, which he makes a lot of noise about, but the actual sneezing is minimal. At least, compared to the results I’m looking for. No, I need something more than a simple sensitivity. If it was Geto I’d blow smoke in his face, but that’d only prompt a minor reaction out of Gojo.’ 

“Hiya Shoko, take a seat! Geto here was just sharing the mochi he bought!”

“I bought it for myself, you just stole half when my back was turned.” 

“Come on, we both know if you put something sweet in front of me I’m gonna eat it.” 

Shoko seats herself next to Gojo, sharing a glance with Geto when he’s distracted by the sweets once more. A darker tone dips into Gojo’s voice as he lets his sunglasses fall so Geto can see his eyes, a mischievous haze clouding them. 

“You knew the risks, now you pay the price.”

“The price being my mochi?”

“Exactly! Now you’re catching on~.”

With that, Gojo grabs another one, laughter bubbling out as Geto attempts, and fails, to smack his hand away. However, before he can pop it in his mouth, he freezes, hand inches from his face. His breath catches, nose twitching. Shoko finds Geto’s eyes darting over to her, and she offers a slight shake of the head. ‘Nope, not my attempt, this is all him.’ Geto starts to speak, eyes flickering back over to Gojo.

“You alri-” 

“heHh-! hah’adJSHhh’iew-! hep’gshh’iew-!”

“Blessings.” 

“Guhhh- thank you.”

Shoko takes her turn to speak, eager to ascertain any possible advantages. ‘If he’s sick his nose will be extra sensitive, and I may be able to cinch this win. Especially given Geto needing to wait three days, ideally the window of sensitivity will have passed.’ 

“Feeling okay?” 

“Indeed. This is just the price I must pay for being so talented- huEH’djZShh’uu-! I can't be perfect in every aspect, that would just be unfair!”

“Come again?”

Geto rolls his eyes, gesturing to the sky as he turns his gaze back to Shoko once more. Gojo meanwhile wipes a few tears from his cheeks, groaning lightly at the quickly increasing watery nature of his eyes. 

“He’s just allergic to the sun.” 

“I am not allergic- I’m just a tad sensitive to bright lights. Christ this is annoying.”

“Was the mochi really worth it?”

“Suguru Geto, don’t you talk like that! Mochi is always worth it!”

The eagerness has quickly faded out, Shoko letting an airy sigh press out between her pursed lips. ‘Right, I did know about this. I believe it’s called a photic sneeze response? He’s had it for as long as I’ve known him, though I believe he said it’s gotten worse the more he wears those glasses. Blocking out the light so much of the time only adds to his sensitivity when it inevitably breaks through. However, it causes very few sneezes, he said the main issue is his eyes watering.’

“If you touch the last piece I’m making you buy me a new one.”

“Aw- that’s not faiiiir!” 

“Boys, boys, let’s not fight. I have a better solution.”

With that, Shoko swipes the last piece, grinning at the complaints from the guys as she places it against her tongue, savouring the sweet taste. Her mind dips back to her plan as Gojo starts to whine about being hungry again. 

‘He’s incredibly sensitive, even the mention of sneezing is enough to get his nose itchy. Describing how much it must tickle is fair game, but on its own, pretty ineffective. He’s annoyingly good at holding back when he wants to be, so if he catches on that sneezing is what I want, he’ll do everything in his power not to. I just need him to think I’m teasing him for his reaction, can’t let him read deeper into my motives.’ 

“Shoko?” 

“Hm?”

Her name pulls her back into the conversation, both Geto and Gojo watching her closely, a lopsided grin spreading across Gojo’s mouth. ‘Oh, I’m going to enjoy wiping that smug look off his pretty-boy face.’  Gojo speaks up again, Geto’s eyes following her movements as she casually lets her hand dip back into her bag. 

“I was asking if you’d want to come with us to the mall, DiverCity specifically? I’ve been craving chocolates that they sell at one of the stores for days.” 

“Funny you mention it, I was just thinking about that place earlier. I’d love to come, but I have an assignment. Next time though, yeah?”

“Aw fiiiine, but Geto, you’re still coming, right?”

“Sure, why not. I could use a few things.” 

Shoko tunes out again, hand tightening around a bottle as she lets a smirk spread across her face. ‘Funny he mentions the mall, seeing as that’s exactly where I got my method from.’ The last time they’d gone together she’d been showing him around a store he’d never been to before. It specializes in calming methods, and given how stressful being a Jujutsu sorcerer can be, she finds herself drawn there often.

An employee next to them had been showing a few people a new pillow spray, and as soon as they’d spritzed it, Gojo had been bent over into his arm with a rapid fit. She’d had to drag him out of the store. ‘Quite embarrassing at the time, especially given how whiny he can get during an attack, but now? Now I’ll get to use that spray to get payback.’ 

“Hey, Gojo.”

She cuts into their conversation with ease, used to interrupting them. ‘With those two, someone is always talking. If you wait for a pause, you’ll never get a word in.’ Gojo turns to her with a curious look, across the blanket Geto mimics it, a hint of something deeper flashing through his eyes. She gives him a quick nod, smirk quickly spreading across his face as he attempts to cover it. 

“You know how I’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping recently? I found a new spray that has been really helping. I thought you might want to have a look at it, I know you sometimes struggle with insomnia too.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you, yeah show me- show me- show me!” 

‘Kind isn’t quite the word I’d use, but I appreciate your excitement anyways.’ Pulling it from her bag, she’s unsurprised at the lack of recognition in his eyes. He’s never been one for cataloging irrelevant information, and for some reason he’d decided keeping a list of everything that sets him off was irrelevant.

Taking off the cap, she gives him an open smile, before spraying it right in front of his face. ‘Can’t risk actually hitting him, that would be too suspicious, but I want it to get as close to his nose as possible.’ The result, much to her delight, is instantaneous. 

“hhaHhHH-! Wh- whAhht- what kind of sp- spra… sprayisthat… heH’gnDZShh’uuhh-!”

“Something wrong?”

“I think I’m- eH’GNDZSHh’uu-! I think- heHASIhh’oo-! ah’gehhzshh’iew-!”

“Are you okay?” 

Geto’s watching carefully, Shoko’s sure he’s keeping count in his head. Still, needing Gojo to believe her facade, she offers sympathy, pulling a travel pack of tissues out of her bag. ‘Tissues that just so happen to be sprayed with the allergen. Still only counts as one method, according to the rules.’

“Y- yeah- hAgzshh’uu-! knDzshh’iee-! Oh, scus- scuseme- heHhh-!”

“Here, take these, you sound like you need them.”

“Th… thhhehHh- thank you- hH’GUHzshh’oo-! aiYISHH’oo-! aHH’DNGZSHh’uu-! Oh god…” 

“Blessings, Gojo.”

Finally speaking up, Geto catches Shoko’s eye and mouths ‘nine’. She shoots back a whispered ‘so far’, catching a smile in response. Gojo’s too busy tearing into the pack of tissues to notice any of this, bringing one to his nose as he gets a pause in the sneezing. He manages to blow, breathing a sigh of relief, instantly cut short by an itchy inhale. 

“heAHh-! hH’DnZShh’uu-! AYISHH’oo-! KETZSHHH’oo-! What the- henGT-! ainGT’shoo-!”

“Blessings indeed, Gojo. Are you alright?”

“The ti- tihhhckle- heH’kNGDT-! haAHh-! eh’dnZZShh’oo-! Scuse me- the tickle got wo- wo… worse… I’m… I’m gonna… heHh-!” 

Shoko smirks as the tears start pooling in Gojo’s eyes, his nose quivering as it starts to flush a brilliant shade of pink. ‘Time to implement phase two: suggestions. Just gotta be careful not to tip my hand. He’s attempting to stifle, which will only help, it only makes the tickle stronger.’

“You must be allergic to the spray, I’m so sorry, I had no idea!”

“heH-! hh’gndJSHH’uu-! AIYShhh’iew-! heH’DJZSHh’uu-!”

“Oh, bless you. Sounds really itchy, are yo-” 

“hH’DJEZSHh’aa-! Sh- Shoko- waaitt… ahh’keTShh’oo-!” 

“-you feeling it? The burning sensation-” 

“eh’GnDJZSH’aahh-! hAHh’inGKt-!”

“-filling your sinuses? Like a feather, gen-"

“nGEHT’choo-! hePt’choo-! eNgEHP’choo-!”

“-gently brushing the inside of your nose?” 

“heAIISHH’uhh-! eh’GdJZShh’uu-! I need… I’m gonna… I can’t…!”

Geto gives her a pointed look, lightly tapping his wrist. ‘Time’s almost up, time for the home stretch. Gotta make sure I get one last fit outta him. I know exactly what to say.’ Gojo’s nose is pressed into his wrist, trembling with allergic need as the tears keep flowing down his cheeks, seemingly making the tickle even worse as they brush up against the edges of his nose.

“I’m so sorry, Gojo. If I’d have known you were this allergic I never would have sprayed it so close to your nose! I mean, the droplets must have just floated through the air, gently landing on your skin, right on the tip of your nose-”

“Cru- Cruel Shoko- hEH’EDZSHH’uu-! eh’KTZSHhh’aa-! aiYISHH-keATzhh’oo-!” 

With that, Shoko meets Geto’s eyes one last time, mouthing ‘how many?’, quite satisfied by the ‘thirty-two’ she receives in return. Her satisfaction only rises as Gojo ducks into his arm with another tightly stifled burst, Geto raising an eyebrow at the display.

“hH’KNGt’choo-! iNGt’choo-! hah’DNGt’choo-!”

“Blessings, Gojo.”

“Snff- Thank you, Geto. Guhhh… I’m gonna be itc- itchy… hh’GNZshh’iew-! for the rest of the day.” 

Shoko pulls the tissues from Gojo’s lap while his focus is aimed towards Geto, replacing them with a second pack from her bag. ‘As fun as it is to watch you suffer, my attempt is over, no need to prolong the exposure. This reaction is gonna last for most of the day anyways.’ 

“Blow again, it might help dispel some of the allergen.”

“Yeah, good- eh’aISHH’uu-! good idea. Ya know, that may help you sleep, but I’m- heHh-! hEZSHHH’aa-! I’m getting the vague notion it wouldn’t do the same for me.” 

Geto laughs, a smile tearing through Gojo’s itchy face at the sound, Shoko soon joining in. ‘Always one step removed, just outside the joke, but that’s okay. At least for now, I’m in on the joke while Gojo isn’t. I can live with that.’

Final Results: Thirty-Two (32) sneezes from Shoko’s Attempt. Method Use/Application: Linen spray Gojo is allergic to, sprayed in front of face/on tissues presented to him. Sneezy talk was also implemented, increasing success. 

~~ Geto’s Attempt ~~

‘Shoko’s try yielded better results then I was counting on. I may know more about Gojo but some facts escape even my grasp. I had no idea he was so allergic to that spray. However, that wasn’t what set her apart, it’s her cunning. She explained to me after that she sprayed it on the tissues. Truly genius, I would’ve never thought of that.’ 

This time it’s Geto’s turn to approach the duo, eyes closing as he smiles, Gojo giving a shout and Shoko putting out her cigarette. ‘I guess she doesn’t want to be called out for interference. It’s no matter, I don’t plan on letting anything distract me from my attempt. I didn’t have to think long about what to use, just how to best utilize it.’ 

“Geto! Shoko was just telling me about a new type of chocolate she saw the other day! Can we go buy some? Pleaaaase? Pretty please?”

“You still owe me for the last pack I bought you.”

“Aw, come on, you know you wannaaa~! You don’t wanna deny me of my happiness, do you?”

“You can have happiness without chocolates, Gojo.”

“How could you say such things?”

Gojo lets a pout spread over his face, lightly huffing as he leans his head against Geto’s shoulder. ‘Dramatic as always. Though, I guess that’s the reason we came up with this little challenge in the first place. One I’m sure to win with what I have planned.’ His mind starts to drift back to the first time he got to witness Gojo and lavender in the same room. 

They’d been in a meeting together, the higher ups needing something Geto can’t recall now. It’s not of importance, even at the time it was one of the last things on his mind. Front and center was Gojo’s losing battle against the vase of lavender sitting almost mocking him on the table.

Normally, should the situation call for it, Gojo could hold off an allergy attack for hours, or at least upwards of twenty minutes. However, against the lavender he lasted no more than three, needing to leave the room just after seven because he was no longer able to form full words between the sneezing. The higher ups had been quite irritated, but today it would serve Geto well.

“Earth to Geto? Suuuguruuu? You there?”

“Huh?”

“Jeez, what is it with you two lately? Did I miss something, or is it just ‘stare off into the abyss with a smile creeping at your mouth’ season?”

“Sorry, I was just reminiscing.”

“Any particular memory you want to share, Geto?”

Shoko offers, eyes flashing with mischief as Geto sends a dark look in her direction, quickly replaced by a smile as she playfully sticks out her tongue.

“Not at the moment.”

“Oh, I know! Why don’t we play ‘share your favourite memory of Gojo’!” 

“Yeah, no.”

“Aw Shoko, you’re no fun.”

Geto chuckles, ruffling Gojo’s hair as he gazes up from behind his sunglasses. ‘Just placing the lavender near him wouldn’t work. He could either leave the area, or the attack might not surpass thirty-two. The reason it had such a severe effect in the meeting was likely do to the pollen having a chance to gather in that tiny room.’

“Gojo, I have a gift for you.”

“A gift? You shouldn’t have!” 

“Well if you don’t want i-”

“Hey, woah-woah-woah- of course I want it-!”

Reaching into his bag, Geto starts to set his plan in motion. ‘My best chance is getting some form of lavender where I can get it near his nose, close enough for the pollen to have a chance to float around him, but not obvious enough that he’ll just avoid it. I think this is the perfect solution.’

Making direct eye contact with Shoko, Geto sends her a message clearly. ‘My attempt is about to begin, get ready’. His hands grip around the present, placing it gently on Gojo’s head, fighting a smirk at the joy filling Gojo’s eyes.

“A flower crown!?” 

“Yes. You showed me how to make them a while back, and so I made this one myself. I thought you might appreciate it-”

“Suguru… I love it! What kind of flowers are these?”

“Mostly sakura, though I did add a few other plants I found in the area to tie it together.” 

‘If I just used lavender he’d simply take it off when he started sneezing. However, given that it’s not a type of flower he’s allergic to, it won’t be his first thought. Because of that, he’ll be too focused on sneezing to worry about removing it, letting the hidden lavender keep sending wafts of pollen down into his face. Plus, I made sure the sakura was quite pollen soaked. He’s not allergic, but with his nose already being set off from the lavender, the sickly sweet smell is sure to prompt a few extra sneezes.’  

“It’s bea- hEHh-! Oh, scuse me. It’s beautiful.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just thou- ahHh-! Hehh… thought I was… o- oh… I am…. I’m- hH’DjZEShh’oo-!”

“Blessings, Satoru.” 

“iHh’kETChh’uu-! S- sorry I… eH’DtjZSh’iew-! hEh’kezzchh-aiyshhh’aa-knGT’choo-!”

“And again.” 

A glance over to Shoko tells Geto she’s keeping track, fingers tapping against the railing she’s leaning on with every sneeze. Gojo lets out a faint whine, hand coming up to scrub at his nose as tears start dripping from his eyes.

“hH’GNt’choo-! ehH-! Ohfuck- hH’NGT-EINGT-nNGT-knDT’choo-! aINGT’choo-! hAH’DJZSHHEW-!”

“Christ, Satoru, bless you.”

“knngT-! aIghNT’choo-! hH’YEZSHH’aa-! AIYShh’oo-! neH’GEDT’choo-!”

Geto risks another look at Shoko, barely containing his smirk at the dumbfounded expression she’s wearing as Gojo frantically fans his face. ‘I haven’t even started talking about the tickle yet. He’s more allergic than I remembered. I almost feel bad…’ His thoughts are cut off by Gojo pressing his rapidly twitching nose into Geto’s shoulder, hitching against the fabric of his shirt. ‘And that’s why it’s only almost.’

“henGT’choo-! hH’DEHgnT’choo-!”

“You should stop that, you’re not-”

“heH’KNDTZSHH’uhh-! ihh’GNXXZT’choo-!”

“-gonna be able to catch a breath.”

“You- you’re right… Suguru it- it tihhhhckles… hEaHh-! AIYZSZHH’uu-! kuh’MMZSHH’aa-!”

Gojo’s voice is muffled from the congestion already seeping through the cracks, and Geto feels a pang of guilt tear at his heart. It’s quickly replaced by something calmer as Gojo aims the next fit at Geto’s chest, flower crown shaking lightly as he ducks his head, only releasing more pollen. ‘Sorry Satoru, but this is well deserved. Time for a little power of suggestion.’ 

“aH’GnZH’euu-! hehHh-! hH’MMZSHHH’oo-!” 

“Blessings. Those sound quite itchy-” 

“emmpffshh’oo-! hEPT’choo-! ehP’choo-!”

“-don’t they? Something bothering your sensitive-” 

“hHMPPT’choo-! AInGT’choo-! S- Suguru- hNGT’choo-! heH’KDZGT’choo-!”

“-nose? I bet it’s tickling something awful, isn’t it?” 

Meeting Gojo’s watery eyes, Geto lets himself slip right into stage three of his plan, time quickly running out. ‘Knowing him, he should be sensitive enough by now that just the word sneeze will set him off. Let’s try to get a handful more. I believe I’ll win anyways, but better safe than sorry.’

“eNGXXT’choo-!”

“Don’t you just-” 

“hepDT’choo-!”

“-have to…”

“hAhHh-!”

“Sneeze so badly?”

“hAH’ADJZSHH’uu-! keTSCHH’aa-! AIYZSHH’uhh-!”

“Blessings again for those sneezes.”

“I kn- know what…. Ohgod- hEH’EDZSHHEW-! guhhH’DNZSHH’oo-! I know what you’re doing.”

“Doing? I’m simply blessing you as you sneeze.”

“AIYZSHH’oo-! hH’GNkZSHH’uhh-!”

Taking pity on him as Shoko mouths ‘time’s up’, Geto pulls the crown from Gojo’s hair, tossing it to the side as the sneezy man ducks into his arm for another fit. ‘Whoops… maybe I should have removed it a bit sooner…’

“iNGt’choo-! heASHH’oo-! kEtCSHh-aizshh-kezZSHH’uu-!”

“Bless you Satoru…”

“You- hEHnGT’choo-! Sound quite gui- guilty- eh’knSHH’uhh-! Guilty, Suguru. Why ever could- hh’gEZSHH’aa-! Christ… Could that be? Wouldn’t have any-hNGSHH’iew-! Anything to do with my having two allergy attacks in the past four days, would it?” 

Geto’s eyes snap to the floor, a warm tint starting to spread across his cheeks, Shoko chuckling as she lightly pats Gojo’s back, letting her eyes close with a slight huff.

“I think he’s caught us, Geto.” 

“I believe so.” 

“hNNSCHh’iew-! Would someone care to explain to me what’s going on exactly?”

“Of course, but first we should probably get you some allergy medication. There was lavender in the flower crown.”

Gojo’s watery glare meets Geto, his mouth hanging open. ‘Probably less from shock and more for the sake of breathing. I doubt much is flowing through his sinuses right about now.’ Geto can’t help but smile at the sight, pink nose vibrating as Gojo attempts to end the attack by pinching it shut, tears streaming from his gorgeous eyes. ‘If he wasn’t so miserable, I’d want to see this side of him more often, he’s quite adorable like this.’

“I want to be mad bu- knDJZSSH’uu-! But I proooobably deserved this.”

Laughter erupts from the group, Shoko nearly falling over as it bursts from her chest, Geto pulling Gojo closer as they start walking back into the school, explaining the competition to a still sneezing Gojo.

Shoko leads them to her office where she keeps a stash of medications for situations like this. ‘Well, not exactly like this,’ Geto chuckles to himself, ‘I doubt there’s even been a situation quite like this one. Oh, that reminds me-’

“Say, Shoko, I did win, didn’t I? Even not counting-”

“hHNGTshh’aa-!”

“-the bonus ones?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It’s not like I stood a chance in the first place, you two obviously know more about each other.”

“Actually, I didn’t know he was allergic to that spray. That was all you.”

“Huh, really? Interesting. Oh- I guess you want to know the numbers?”

Geto flashes a smile, eyes wrinkling as Gojo whips around with another small fit aimed at the floor. He nods at Shoko, murmuring a blessing against Gojo’s hair as he convulses. 

“heh’gnZSHhh’oo-! eh’kshhh’iew-! heHh-! hAH’DTZShhh’uu-!”

“Again, not counting the extras, you rang in at forty-two. Exactly ten more than mine, surprisingly enough.”

“Oh Christ, that wasn’t counting the ones I- hH’gnZZShh’aa-! I’m still doing?”

A blush spreads across Gojo’s face, one of the strongest sorcerers in the Jujutsu world apparently not immune to embarrassment. Shoko offers a laugh in response, rummaging through her desk until she finds a blister pack, handing it over. Geto grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, passing it to Gojo with another blessing, lightly cupping his face for just a second.

“I saw that, ya know.” 

This time both men blush, Shoka rolling her eyes playfully, then throwing a box of tissues at Geto. Gojo hastily yanks out a handful, blowing his nose with a deep groan before sniffling into the pile.

“Clean him up, will ya? It’s been a long day, I’m headed home.”

“hH’AieZSHH’uu-!”

“Let’s play again some time, shall we, Shoko?”

“Yes, let’s. Next time I’ll beat you for sure.”

“hAH’ZASHH’oo-! How ‘bout next time it’s a free for all? I’d like a little chance for revenge.”

“This was the revenge, Satoru. Ours.”

“Oh fine, but you two owe me some chocolates! Oh- oh, and mochi!” 

Shoko smacks Gojo upside the head as Geto lets a laugh burst from his chest, the other two soon joining in harmony.

The world outside may be a dangerous place for a Jujutsu sorcerer, and the three of them aren’t immune to the stress, but right here, right now, they’re just three friends sharing a laugh.

Final Results: Forty-Two (42) sneezes from Geto’s Attempt. Method Use/Application: Lavender hidden in a flower crown already dripping with sakura pollen. Also used suggestibility, increasing success with sneezy talk.

#waterfallwrites #is this way too long? yes. have i not slept enough to be writing this much? also yes. #am i posting it anyways bc i loved writing it and the concept was so fun to me? yes #anyways thank you to anyone who bothers to read this #and i hope you enjoy!!! #snz #snzkink #snzfic #j/jk #g/ojo #g/eto #s/atosugu

[mcflymemes]

MURDER, SHE WROTE PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the television show

suppose you tell me what happened here last night.

i'm looking for motive.

back home, we have a saying. flowers that bloom too quickly are fair game for a late frost.

i don't want to alarm you, but something very sinister is going on here.

all right. we come to an understanding, or one of us doesn't leave here alive.

there are three things you can never have enough of in life: chocolate, friends, and the theatre.

a good guest is like halley's comet. seen and enjoyed seldom and briefly.

you can never nudge the moral compass far from its true north without losing something vital.

i've gotta talk to you.

half the country had reason to kill him.

they do say a new experience broadens the mind.

it's a job requirement.

lie down, dear. lie down. it's a dream, that's all.

that is a marvelously interesting recipe.

send me a copy of the book when it's finished?

you always do, don't you?

you must do quite well.

it's hard to know yourself.

were we ever that innocent?

uh, there's just one slight problem.

there will be two house seats waiting for you the next time you're in town.

in our business... you never know.

i was bored out of my mind.

you are trouble.

now you wait right here.

would you do me the honor of dining with me this evening?

time for you to get back to work.

out for some early morning air?

it's hard to know yourself, let alone another person.

not funny, friend.

funny thing about having your name in lights. when the power fails, you learn a lot about yourself and your "friends."

three more paragraphs and i can go to bed.

the party tonight? we're coming as our favorite fictional character.

i doubt that any of us despised him enough to kill him.

that's what you're all thinking, isn't it?

what's wrong with this phone?

who ever heard of framing someone with the wrong gun?

at least... i don't think i did.

well, how about a toast for later?

how soon can you get down here?

i don't know. i haven't made up my mind yet.

is that you?

look, it's an interesting puzzle. i'll give it a try.

i've got the name of a very good lawyer.

they've told me absolutely nothing about you.

i'm so sorry. i should have told you.

you haven't got a thing to wear.

you have my word on it.

i do believe you're offering me a job.

don't you go to the movies?

you've been seeing too many stephen king movies.

rudeness does not become you.

people do seem to enjoy it.

just as i suspected. when under stress, the english always head for the teapot.

i'm not used to being refused.

i haven't read any of them.

permit me the pleasure of educating you.

television is your business, not mine.

i don't usually give advice, but in this case, i say... go for it.

you must be a real book lover!

how good of you to come.

is there anything else you need?

they asked if maybe you wouldn't mind bending the truth just a little.

yeah, that's nice... but no thanks.

hey, isn't that something.

that isn't what i meant at all.

there's not much to tell.

now i may be wrong... but frankly, i doubt it.

we didn't have much in common.

i'm sorry honey, but we're just dying in here.

help is on the way!

i can be very persuasive.

how about a pair of pants?

i sure know how to pick 'em, don't i?

how could i refuse?

why don't you take some advice?

i haven't eaten a thing since breakfast.

slander can be an expensive indulgence.

#rp starters #rp memes #rp prompt #rp meme #rp musings #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme #askbox meme #ask memes #rp asks #ask meme #inbox meme #inbox prompts #inbox prompt #rp inbox meme #sentence starter #sentence starter prompt #sentence starters #mcflymemes #murder she wrote

[holdmytesseract]

Ok, here's one of like three ideas I had for your Lyric Drabble Fest!

Lyric: "And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming Or the moment of truth in your lies When everything feels like the movies Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive"

from "Iris" by the GooGoo Dolls

I think it may be a good angsty prompt for a Tom fic! (esp the lyric about life being like the movies) But, like I say, you'll probably get more. :)

a/n: Ahhh, first of all... I am so so sorry @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 that it took me sooo long to write your drabbles. 🥺 You've been one of the first who send me a request... I feel so bad... 🥺 I really hope you're not mad at me... 🥺 And I also really hope that you like what I wrote. ☺️ I love this song! 🥰

Warnings: this is quite sad... mentions of breakup, divorce, angst, nevertheless there's a bit fluff, dad!Tommy

Word Count: 1030

Tagging: @lulubelle814 @km-ffluv @eleniblue @muddyorbs @loz-3 @vbecker10 @jennyggggrrr @mochie85 @chantsdemarins @peaches1958 @multifandom-worlds @fictive-sl0th @loki-laufeyson-1054 @lovingchoices14 @simping-for-marvel @stupidthoughtsinwriting @vanilla-daydreaming @lou12346789 @lady-rose-moon @evelyn-kingsley @the-princess-of-loki @acefeather2002

Lyric-Drabble-Mania Masterlist

Based on this song:

Nightmare Turned Reality

Tom walked over to his big kitchen counter; two glasses with one of the finest bourbon whiskeys in hands. With a soft thud, he placed one of the glasses on the counter, in front of his best friend, who sat on one of the bar stools. "There you go." He said, sitting down beside Benedict with his own glass in hands. "Thanks, mate." The dark-haired Brit took a small sip of the alcohol, tasting the flavour on his tongue. "So... It's final?" Benedict asked rueful, actually not wanting to ask this question - but he had to. Tom swallowed hard, took a big sip of the bourbon, but nodded meekly. "It's final, yes. We..." He had to take a deep breath, in order to control his upcoming emotions. "Y/N and I, we... We're getting divorced, yes. If everything goes by plan, we are going to sign the papers in two weeks." Ben had to swallow as well now.

He had seen it; witnessed it... Tom's and your relationship going downhill. You and him were such a sweet, wonderful couple. Five, almost six years everything had been dreamlike. Sure, there were arguments and fights, but that was normal. Every couple went through that. It couldn't always be sunshine and rainbows. You were so in love; the both of you never thinking that you could fall out of love again... But it happened. Neither you, nor Tom could mark the beginning of the end. It just... Was there one day.

Perhaps everything went too fast... Marrying barely after two years... Having a baby after one year... Maybe that was it. Or perhaps it was the publicity and the fact that Tom was famous. You weren't - which wasn't a problem at all. You were not even close to the film industry. You were a hairdresser - and the most beautiful woman in the- Tom shook his head. It was over. You often told him it was a lot for you to handle. The press, the publicity, the fame... Maybe it was too much in the end.

"Tom... Evie. What..." The actor's best friend started, swallowing hard. "What is going to happen with-" "Daddy?" As if on cue, Benedict got interrupted by said little girl. Evie stood in the door frame of the living room, rubbing her eyes with one hand and clutching her way too big stuffed animal - a koala against her chest with the other arm. She was dressed in her violet nightie; actually, supposed to be asleep this late. Tom could see a few dried tears on her cheeks and the redness of her eyes. He had a guess... "Hey, baby girl." He cooed, immediately getting up from the bar stool and walking over to her. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" "Had a nightmare, daddy." She snivelled, causing his heart to break for his daughter. Nightmares were cruel sometimes. "Oh no, I'm so sorry this happened to you." Tom immediately picked her up in his arms and exchanged a look with his friend, who nodded with a soft, sad smile. The two friends didn't need words to communicate. "C'mon, sweetie... I'm going to tuck you in again, okay?" Evie nodded against his shoulder. "Mhm."

Tom carried his daughter back in her nursery, where he sat down on her bed, still cradling her in his arms. Of course, she was way too big for his arms and lap now, but still. It gave her the feeling of safety and comfort. "What was the nightmare about, baby girl? Can you remember?" "Mhm." She mumbled and readjusted herself in her father's lap, snuggling close against his chest, blonde-brown curls bobbing. She had the same hair like her dad when he was younger. "Do you want to talk about it?" Another nod from the small girl. "You and mommy were shouting at each other." Evie started, causing a cold shiver to run down Tom's spine. "It was so loud and frightening, I covered my ears and sat in the corner, crying. Then you said you didn't love mommy anymore, a-and that you are going to leave. I-I was so afraid that you are going to leave me, daddy." Tom swallowed hard; his heart breaking completely now. Unbeknownst to his daughter wasn't her dream just a nightmare... It was reality. How... How on earth should he or you ever tell her? It would hurt her so bad. Hence, it already did...

Tom squeezed his eyes shut, deciding to focusing on the here and now. "First of all..." He started, cuddling his frightened daughter even closer. "Daddy is never going to leave you, okay? Never." "Promise?" Evie mumbled, holding onto her father for dear life. "Yes. I promise. You are the most precious thing in my life. I can't live without you, baby girl." To underline his words, Tom pressed a firm kiss on the top of her head. "Secondly... It was just a dream, sweetie. It's all in your little head. A dream can't harm you." He hated himself for lying to his daughter, but what choice did he have? Telling her and making a little girl's nightmares come true? No, he couldn't do this. He didn't have the heart to do this. The Brit's heart started to bleed even more, clenching with pain. Yeah, you bleed just to know, you're alive, Tom thought, fighting the tears so hard. "I'm here, okay? You don't have to be afraid." Evie didn't answer, just tried to be as close to her dad as possible. "Can you stay until I sleep in again?" "Of course, sweetie. Just let me say goodbye to uncle Ben, okay?" "Okay."

Tom quickly left the nursery again to explain the situation to his best friend. Ben understood, of course, and left right away. After that, Tom crawled into the way too small bed for the tall man, and enveloped his daughter, giving her again the feeling of safety. "That okay, sweetie?" "Uh.Huh."

Evie had been long asleep again, when Tom still laid inside the bed, eyes wide opened, glued to the unicorn night light. He couldn't sleep; the guilt of lying to his daughter eating him up inside. Why was life so cruel sometimes?

#tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagines #tom hiddleston drabble

[vicsy]

hello my love 🤍🤍🤍🤍 for the 150 prompts, i’m going to give you three, so you can choose whichever it is that inspires you the most.

16 / 51 / 121

I LOVE YOUUUU 🥰

HELLO SOL MY DEAR

you were probably looking for something more... sweet or happy but I am an evil lil mouse so. It's not what you expected, I think, but I still hope it's good!

Prompt 121. My friends get annoyed by how much I talk about you sometimes. Piarles, 959 words.

tw for themes of grief and loss, character death BUT NOT REALLY (you know how I am) + slight supernatural elements. again, it's me.

“My friends get annoyed by how much I talk about you sometimes,” Charles laughs breathily, lit up by the setting sun. 

He is telling the truth. It's hard not to want to be friends with Charles, thus he has many. Charisma, natural charm, you name it; everyone falls for him. It's inadvertent, like Titanic meeting its fate with the iceberg. And it's safe, the warm flock of people Charles calls friends, surrounding him with love and understanding, exhibiting just a dose of healthy jealousy whenever they catch him gushing about Pierre too much. They tease him, it's normal; it's what friends do.

They also ask a lot of questions. 

“You know,” Charles carries on, smiling, splaying his palm over the grass beneath him. It's soft and a bit damp; last night it poured like hell. “They always say, 'Pierre this, Pierre that, when will we get to meet your wonderful boyfriend, Charles?' Maybe they think I just like to keep you a secret from them. That I don't like to share.”

Charles' friends, great as they are, would never survive the PDA. Pierre's hand around his waist, staking his claim; sitting too close and seeking constant proximity no matter the crowd; tugging Charles for an innocent kiss that would turn into anything but. He sought it out as much as Pierre did. Seemed like they breathed in unison, so attuned to each other. Out on the streets or under the covers; Charles felt like the world was filled with magic, real and tangible, and he could taste it in every kiss.

His smile dims. 

Pierre was his; he was Pierre's. Hand in lovable hand, as if someone wrote it into the threads of the universe and tied two ends together, so they'd meet halfway. Fall in love, whatever that was. 

A tragedy, that's what it was.

“I wish they knew you,” he whispers, not in anger. He'd let it go like a sky lantern, up to the sky Charles doesn't lift his eyes to no more. “Most of them would've loved you. Though, I think, you'd tire them too quickly by taking photos of literally everything. And with your jokes. But this would be their problem, honestly.”

Jokes. Charles isn't good at them. His attempt at one falls through the cracks in his soul, ones he can't mend. Tears start to fill the empty spaces  instead, overflowing. Charles can't quite wash the salt from his hands anymore.

Time was never enough. They were never enough. He has it all in vivid details, stashed into the abandoned corners of his mind where it's only Pierre Pierre Pierre; all that's left of him secured as long as Charles draws breath. Each of them hurts, lacerates him from the insides, makes him choke on the memories alone, questioning if it's still worth it. 

To find the answers from an endless void of the universe was futile. Even Charles' stubbornness couldn't bend the laws the life abides to.

All the magic gone, all the color, all the laughter; and Pierre's touch remains like a phantom pain, an ache that's ever-present. Not a year gone by, but for Charles it's an eternity of walking several planes of hell. What took Pierre, he doesn't know; why, he doesn't know. He'd screamed enough but no one answered until silence sank its teeth into him, subduing, all fight seeping away from him like sand in the hourglass.

His grief, Charles wouldn't share, keeping it his prized possession. To the outside world, Pierre still subsists. He is out there, he is, and sometimes Charles can feel him, feel his presence just out of reach, out of the corner of his eye. And he talks about Pierre, keeps him alive with what little flame is valiantly smoldering inside. Fools himself with practiced ease, coming up with reasons to why Pierre isn't home yet, why he hasn't gone to sleep next to Charles yet; why he's missing such an important day. 

“Happy Birthday, Calamar,” he wipes his tears, mustering a wobbly smile. Fishes Pierre's beloved cross from underneath his t-shirt and places a kiss on its glimmering shape, then spares another to his fingertips, pressing them to the headstone; into the name etched there forevermore. His lips still taste like the memory of it. “I miss you every day in my heart.”

Charles doesn't see, when he peels himself from the ground, unsteady and off-kilter, like the first time every single time; he doesn't see, as he walks on a narrow cobbled path, counting his steps, knowing exactly how many it takes to get back to the parking lot. A shadow cowering among the trees, slinking behind an angel statue cut from glorious, black marble. Charles never lets himself turn and look back, afraid to unravel at the thought of leaving Pierre again and again where he's tied to a place, the soil as his home.

But if Charles would find it in himself to throw a careless glance, grief-laden and hollowed, he'd spot that shadow dead on, lurking and waiting, a flash of blue tracking Charles' movements; he'd have trouble recognizing him but there would be no doubt. And if he would divert his course back to where one half of his heart is buried, looking into the distorted figure of a shadow, black like a starless sky, staring back at him, an abyss calling out his name.

Then, Charles would feel the goosebumps strewn across his skin, a shiver lingering in his bones.

Then, he would hear a whisper carried by the wind, a rumble of a voice; a knock on his door from the beyond. 

Soon.

Then, a scratch of claws against cold stone; nothing yet set in it. 

Soon I'll crawl back into your arms, cheri.

#vicsy writes #EHEHHEHEHEHEHHE SORRY THIS IS HALF-BAKED #BUT I HAD A VISION #piarles #piarles fic #duquesademiel #tw death #BUT NOT REALLY #asks #pierre gasly #charles leclerc #pierre/charles

[sroloc--elbisivni]

bunnyguard reflection

in the spirit of 'fuckit it's my own blog i can be sappy if i want to' as well as 'this took a year and 78k and i get to keep talking about it for at least one more day' now and here is the time and place for personal yap that did not go in the last author's note.

preliminarily speaking, i had this concept in mind before I'd finished either the usagi yojimbo comics OR watching Rise. i spent so much of both of those series fishing out little moments and choices by leo and usagi that made me go 'oh my god i NEED these guys to meet, i need to watch them bounce off each other.' I kept collecting snips of ideas, and dialogue, and encounters that never quite all panned out or fit together because this was just so much fun for me to play in. I had a lot of wanting to turn this into a real story but no concrete frame to build it on, and then in january i saw the year of the otp prompts go by. and went 'oh haha that looks fun.' it was even the year of the rabbit. and then i went 'oh!! what if i did VIGNETTES for these!!' and then less than three days later the Battle Nexus as political element of the Hidden City, complete with connections to the very different other iteration of it that we'd seen, fell into place and suddenly this silly little whim was an actual big project staring me down with an ambitious goal in mind, and I had no idea if I could pull it off.

structuring it as a month by month thing was something i'd never done before. it forced me to wait to find out what would happen, to keep building to something that didn't exist yet, to lay down the track while I was driving the train. and at the same time, it gave me space to grow, to practice putting together a beginning, middle, and end every month. and it gave me something to look forward to, and the excitement of dropping in threads that wouldn't pay off for months, and watching as it went to see what the audience reaction would be. were people getting out of it the things i wanted to give them? was i hitting the notes i wanted? i had the sketch of the year, but i was still learning what was going to happen until the moment the last word hit the page. plot and character choices, but also big thematic stuff! i described November's fic as 'the ten of swords' to Space and then went 'wait a fucking second' and realized that I could draw a connection, in order, between each fic and a numerical card of tarot's suit of swords. (mostly one-to-one --october straddles 9-10, and December loops us back around to the Ace of swords, for new beginnings.) i couldn't have done that on purpose. if i'd had that thought in january i would have gone 'no that's too pretentious and too hard' and avoided it.

also!! this has been a year of my life!! over the course of this series, i've had four different living situations (that lasted longer than a week), two different jobs, and gone back to school. i had to change meds, which was an anxious ordeal in 'am i even going to be able to focus on anything now?' the cat that was purring on my lap while i worked on the first few months has now passed away. this fic kept me company on the flight for my move to a different continent. it kept me sane in the middle of a very stressful summer. it's helped me meet and get closer to some really cool people. i can FEEL how it's made me a stronger writer.

and on top of all that: i am deeply, genuinely, truly proud of this series. i'm glad i wrote it. i'm amazed at how it's turned out. i can see things i would change if i did it over, but i'm glad i won't be. i'm glad this is the way it exists. and i am utterly blown away that there are people who told me they were looking forward to it every month, that they've been following it since the beginning, that they like what i've done with this place. this is the longest-term project i've ever done. it's the most words i've ever put into a single narrative. i can't believe it's never going on my wip rotation again. whadda hell.

i have no idea if i'll ever do anything like this again. i hope it won't be anytime soon--there are other things i want to do in the meantime. but god, am i glad i did it.

#sroloc babbles #fic talk #bunnyguard

[evilwriter37]

Warning, you reblogged an ask game, and I’m about to go ham.

1, 4, 8, 13, 21, 22, 24, 26, 31, 32, 35, 48, 50, and 71

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multichapter fics?

That's a hard one, because I've written quite a lot of both. One-shots do make up the majority of my fic library though, so I'll go with one-shots.

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Anywhere and everywhere. @ashleybenlove is also super great for inspiration! Prompts are good, rewatching episodes, listening to music, pulling from a personal experience... It's like I never run out!

8. Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

Hm, usually I want to say the beginning. I'm very good at beginnings and first lines. Middles are fun, but can drag sometimes in the process, and endings are difficult to get just right.

13. What's a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

Change your font when editing. It makes your brain look at the story differently and pick up on mistakes you probably wouldn't have seen with the original font you wrote in.

21. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

I think so. I've done sort-of-collabs with @mdoodlerfandomart and those were always incredibly fun! But those were the kind where one person writes one half of the story and the other writes the second half. I wonder if I'd be able to collaborate with another writer where we could write on the same document at the same time. Maybe I can do one with you, @lifblogs? Like on a Good Omens one?

22. Are there certain types of writing you won't do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc.)

Mm, there is a lot I will write. It's probably longer than the list of things I won't write. I'll write from virtually anyone's perspective. I don't really write poetry, though I could see how it could be fun in fanfic form! I explore all sorts of genres in fanfic and write things I probably wouldn't write in original fic. Like, when it comes to realistic fiction in original work? Ew, no! Realistic fiction like modern AUs and such in fanfic? That works just fine for me.

24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

"Cut out sex scenes and filler. They're not necessary to the story or character development."

Okay, sure. Fuck off.

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Infernal Fascination for sure. 3 years, lots of harassment, but also lots of praise and fun. Yeah, that was wild for sure.

31. Do you start with the characters or the plot when writing?

Hm, I think plot maybe? I develop a plot based around the characters though, so maybe both.

32. Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

@howtowhumpyourhiccup @fictionalnormalcy @lilliths-httyd-blog @ashleybenlove @thedragon-and-hisboy (No, I could not keep it to just 3).

35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?

That villains are human too. You can portray them as a monster, but the monstrous is human. Villains will be much easier to write and more fun and fleshed out when you treat them like human beings. (Unless of course, your villain is an eldritch horror of some kind.)

48. What do you look for in a beta?

I don't use a beta, but I think I would look for someone who is understanding of my writing style and sensitive about my RSD.

50. How long is your longest fic?

Infernal Fascination: 470k words.

71. When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, etc.?

I make an outline with notes at the top of the page about times, dates, characters, etc. My outlines are usually just bulleted list of the events that will happen within the story. I try to keep my outlines and notes in one document so that I don't have too many documents and confuse myself.

Get to Know Your Fic Writer

#asks #lifblogs #fanfic asks

[koinotame]

\o/

hi! it's me, nana / koinotame!

if you're wondering why i went inactive and then deleted, my mental health kind of (really) tanked... and i ended up deleting my blog in a fit.

it's getting better bit by bit though! and i've been wanting to get back into writing (and talking abt my unhinged/yan ideas i can't really talk to anyone else abt), so. here i am! for now, at least

as for my previously posted writing, there's some good news and some bad news: the bad news is that everything i wrote directly into tumblr (99% of snippets, a lot of ask answers, most exact content warnings, etc) is gone. the slightly less bad news is that iirc there were very very few posts of mine that weren't reblogged by anyone at all, so they're probably still out there? feel free to send them my way if you find any and i'll rb them. @/midnight-remembrance also has reblogged a couple of them! there's a couple snippets i have saved in some places, so i might repost those on my own as i find them, but there's very few of those. the good news is that anything longer (proper writing — oneshots, hcs, yan alphabet responses and so on, prompt responses, etc) is safely backed up where i originally wrote it! some of it is also on my ao3, which is the same username. feel free to send me asks about any you'd like to see again and i'll repost them! i might not post them if i feel too embarrassed about/wish i hadn't posted them, and i might rewrite/heavily edit some of them, but i think there's only a handful that fall into the former category and none of them were particularly popular. either way, no harm in asking!

as for some other updates: i'm a little divided on whether i want to keep posting explicit nsfw or not so we'll see. i might just keep it out of main tags. idk yet. regardless of what decision i make, this blog is still strictly 18+ and that will not be changing. since we can reply from sideblogs now, this is a sideblog and not my main now. why? sometimes i prefer to check up on a blog frequently instead of following them for a couple of reasons, but this felt very awkward when they were following me. so this being a sideblog relieves a bit of that stress. if this makes it sound like i have severe brain worms, it's because i do. to that effect though, if we interact every so often feel free to consider us mutuals regardless of whether or not i'm actually following you =w=b tbh i.............. am not really into genshin anymore. i might post about it here and there but i just Do Not (really) Care about it anymore. scara aside to some degree i also have no clue what's going on post inazuma lol whatever projects or commitments to writing or etc i had made beforehand. i forgot all of them so just pretend that never happened ok? ok i'll also probably be posting more sparsely, but we'll see! and (this is obviously the most important bit) i have no clue where i put the mika edit so we're back to my og classic pfp. the header scales terribly and is temporary, please ignore that too

all that aside, as a treat for anyone who sees this in time,

*roughly 6/22 done, but fairly quick to write. roughly one paragraph per character (sneak peek line: "it's not too hard to be discreet with his unique magic when someone really deserves to fall face down a flight of stairs. or three. oopsie. odd they don't remember it, huh? well, he had nothing to do with that.") **more realistic isn't quite the right word(s)... probably won't post this one to the main tags regardless. won't be doing all of the characters (only important/relevant ones) and won't be writing more about/expanding on, so this one is just like. a one off experiment sort of thing. overall less violent than most takes on the au + leans a bit (or lot, depending on how you look at it) more on the religious aspect of self aware aus. i wrote a couple paragraphs a while ago, then rewrote them, but i'll only finish/post them if there's interest for it (sneak peek line: "aether has deluded himself and cast You aside entirely on his own—and when You finally grace them with Your real presence, zhongli is certain aether will be the first to fall from Your grace.")

i have one other new thing immediately ready for posting that'll get posted in a couple of days but that one's pretty silly

#koinotame #and hi to the three people that found this blog before i posted this o/ #long post #i ended up writing a lot. ehem. #<- the type to always have trouble getting essays down to the max word limit #if nobody ends up seeing this. well. it'll be here still when i post some actual writing #q

[black-cat-aoife]

Tagged by @kathastrophen

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

somehow I need to write words before typing the number 55 because otherwise this very functioning website fucks up the formatting

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

77,339

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Sad Cops The last ones were for Blind Ermittelt, Detective Anna, Endeavour and Polizeiruf Frankfurt.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

In Which Everybody Regrets Their Life Choices (Daredevil)

The Tale of the Beautiful Professor (Guardian)

Tee Mit Folgen (Tatort Berlin)

Adam, Vincent und die Eule (Polizeiruf Frankfurt)

A Sickbed Visitor (Society of Gentlemen)

OK, technically there's another Daredevil Fic on 2, but it's a collection of shorter fills for a prompt meme so does that count?

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. I try to respond to all but occasionally fall in the "Oh yeah I will do that later" trap where I...y'know...don't do it.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I had a whole paragraph here, about how I don't usually write Angst and wanted to name a few sort-of-angsty ones, and then I remembered, that I did in fact write Never To Be Told which is very angsty.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

A lot, but Look Not Into My Eyes has a veeeery sappy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

None yet

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Well, if you equate "crazy" with "nobody but me wrote it" then it's my Ein Fall For Zwei/Tatort Saarbrücken Crossover. But honestly: a crossover between two crime shows that feature abusive dads whose heads make sudden contact with blunt instruments and the resulting fallout from that is not particularly crazy. I also have this idea for a Blind Ermittelt/Allmen one, but as it's so often the case that's all vibes, no plot so far.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I once wanted to, and we even discussed some plot ideas, but then I got ghosted

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Yeah, Niko/Alex caught me like few others, but I also always will have a soft spot for Till/Felix

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Currently, I'm having a really hard time with my Alex & Sophie pre-canon fic, because it requires writing Alex shortly after the attack, and I am not sure if I can do that.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm quite good at character-voices, both in dialogue and when internal-monologuing

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Getting from one scene to the next. Also in dialogues the right amount of surrounding description. I tend to start off with a screenplay, and then turn it into character says one sentence, followed by three paragraphs of description.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I hate it. Either your POV character understands what is said, and then you can tell the audience what is being said, or they don't, and then you just write "they were talking in XY." Don't make me use Google Translate to understand your fic. And don't make me read phrases like heiße schokolade mit gepeitschter creme, because your foreign language knowledge also comes from Google Translate. (That is an example from an actually published book, but my feelings on that transcend the fanfic/pubfic barrier, and I also read enough bullshit in fanfic).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter. As in write-write. I don't think I ever wrote down any of the Sailor Moon self insert I made up.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Hmm I wrote A Sickbed Visitor with me as the target audience in mind, and considering that, I am quite happy that it also ended up being reasonably popular. Because this is the fanfiction for a romance series that doesn't feature one of the main couples but the friendship between two halves of different couples. (Yeah. Having fun writing something is nice. Validation is also nice)

And Es Wird Wieder ein Sommer is well...it's not the same, because it is an Alex/Niko fic, and I always meant it to be one, but it's also about Laura and her relationship with those two and that was lots of fun to think about and write.

No pressure tag for @cricrithings and @tatzelwyrm

#about aoife #on writing