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ywuji · 28 days

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Omg so like I want to hear your thoughts on perv!Megumi like finally after so long of Gojo teasing him for being in college for two years at this point and being single, he’s finally procured a pretty girlfriend who’s unfortunately (for her) so naive and sweet??🩷💕 Idk I got shy but I know you’ll do something good with this lol

ik i told u id post this after my wips but i started on it n i couldnt stop i liked the idea too much LOL im sorry for being so confusing D; tysm for the ask though!!! :o i rlly enjoyed writing this!!! (n don’t be shy ahjwhs you’re so lovely T_T♡)

perv!megumi !!! please i feel like he’s the type to be a pervert that’s kinda embarrassed n self aware about himself—especially bc gojo kept teasing him all those years n he was kinda just jacking off to whatever x-rated video that came up first (i feel like perv!megumi is highkey into hentai too but he’s taking that to the grave!!)

n when gets a pretty little girlfriend who acts so cute and who he loves so much, when he gets hard he can’t help but let some of that side of him slip out from time to time...

i think he’s also the type to take lots of pictures,, like pictures while you sleep, peeking through your door while you shower, in clothing store changing rooms while you change, upskirt pictures… he’ll make you his little model!! some of them you know about but some of them you don’t, he’s so lewd.

it’s not just pics of you he takes, it's some of himself too. i feel like one of the things he’d love to do to you is when you tell him to come with you to some random uni event, n he’ll randomly disappear in the middle of it, only to go to the bathroom to take pictures of his hard leaky cock to send you with some casual caption like he didn’t just do that ?!?! he’s crazy (more under the cut)

it’s not megumi’s fault he’s so in his head about you, he still just doesn’t really know how he managed to get someone as pretty and doting as you are as his.

he sometimes feels guilty for being so obsessed with you—your body clad in pretty little outfits that you show off to him with a twirl, the way you’ll always show him your shiny new sparkly nails when you get them done, how he’s always the first one you’ll pick to talk to about something new you’ve found to love—it’s all that seems to be on his mind recently.

maybe it was gojo’s accidental doing, those feelings of guilt. unintentionally planting a little growing seed of shame in him the first few times he started teasing him for not having a partner yet at his ‘big age’, borderline lecturing him with the ‘when i was your age’ stuff—maybe that was the logical reason why he felt so attached to you, the reason he couldn’t help getting fully erect even when he only saw as much as a pair of your flung-away panties lying at the edge of your bed when coming to your room one day.

but when he recalls back to those nights where you’re innocently cuddled against him, watching whatever movie, a quiet ‘megumi?’ leaving your lips as a sign to tell him you’re falling asleep, and he finds himself shifting in his seat, carefully adjusting your head to let you rest comfortably on him, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he strokes it and tells you a ‘sleep now, angel’, he knows that’s not the reason.

nevertheless, he’s always been worried about it, thoughts of ‘am i doing too much?’ or a ‘would she not like this?’ clouding his mind. but for every single thought like this he has, he’ll always have two more memories where he’s coming up to you, his sweet-faced little girlfriend, waiting for him with open arms and open heart. and to him, it means more than the world.

and as his cheerful sweetheart girlfriend, you’ve never really minded of course.

you know he’s at least a little perverted, asking to take those pictures of you trying on your new swimsuits, or bras, or skirts, or those times when he pulls out after spilling his load into you, and the first thing he does after making sure you’re okay is to go face-to-face with the trail of cum seeping out of you to snap a few photos.

honestly, you’ve gotten used to it at this point. you just take these moments, seeing what you do to him, as a way of reassuring yourself that he really does just love you that much. and he really does. really!! :(

no matter how innocent or dirty the context, he’ll let you know whenever he gets that warm little feeling in his chest.

“i-i love you,” he pants, head coming up from sucking marks on your neck, languid thrusts coming to a gentle stop as he peers up at you with flushed cheeks. it feels like he’s admitting it for the first time again.

when you stare at him with his same love-drunk look, brows furrowed and eyes pleading, whispering out an “i love you too, gumi”, he’ll pause a moment to study your expression before gently raising you further up the bed, hooking his hand under your leg and repositioning it around his waist.

he’ll drop down to press a kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder and picking up the pace again, now only determined to make you cum.

when he thinks of times like these, despite what you’re doing together, it’s innocent in his head.

a time where that’s not so much the case though is when you persuade him to come with you to some uni exhibition event, looking up at him with hopeful, doe-like eyes and as many ‘pleeeaaase, gumi’s and ‘please, guuuum’s as you could muster—cause it’s not like he could say no to that, right?

at first he put up an act of feign stubbornness. but eventually he agreed—only when he knew you’d excitedly hug him and press your soft chest to his as a thank you for it though.

he’d tour the hall with you, watching you gaze in awe at everything with your cute, simple curiosity, occasionally pointing out little things in the pieces he liked. before the artist began their talk though, he got up from his seat, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before muttering a “‘m g’na go to the bathroom.”

in an empty stall, he’ll sit atop the lid and pull down his jeans, freeing his stiffening cock from his underwear. he quietly groans as he pumps himself a few times, a slow trickle of translucent white leaking down from his tip.

he silently curses, throwing his head back, thinking about how you let him flip up your pretty skirt before you left, letting him take a peek at your cute ass in the frilly panties he bought for you.

he reaches for his phone, fumbling to send a picture of the sight to you, adding a casual caption of something like ‘hi pretty girl’ or ‘u look so pretty today, angel’.

he pauses, realising that maybe you won’t see it for a little while. he’s imagining you so obediently listening to the artist speaker to notice the ping of his notification—he enjoys that thought too, but he can’t say why.

he’s careful not to thrust up into his fist, not wanting to make too much noise, but it’s futile—he’s too hard staring at the lewd shots of you saved in his secret hidden album—the way you act so innocently, the way you have no clue what the true extent is of what you do to him. he can’t help but let a few breathy whines slip.

he won’t let himself cum though, thinking he’s too good to be letting himself release over some scrunched up, bathroom tissue when he’s got his own pretty little girlfriend waiting for him a few halls down.

he sighs. cleaning up and tucking himself back into the band of his briefs, leaving the stall and washing his hands, walking back out like nothing happened.

#ywuji #this is so long n so rambly HAHEHW #i rlly had fun writing this tho #i wld love to write more :00 #the last part is For Sure tacked onto the end but i wanted to include it bc i talked abt it alr Lol #apologies U_U #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut #fushiguro smut #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi headcanons #fushiguro headcanons #jjk smut #jjk thirsts #jjk x reader #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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lis-likes-fics · 3 months

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The Sound of His Voice

Pairings: Spencer Reid x agent!Reader Word Count: 3k words Warnings: Descriptions of crime scenes/vague gore, mentions of death and murder, standard Criminal Minds stuff, fluff otherwise... A/N: I started watching CM a while ago and now I can't stop so enjoy this. There will be more, I dunno when. (Should I be working on my months-in-progress-wips? Yes, I absolutely should. Am I? Mostly. I'm trying my best)

Morgan rubs his temple, digging his fingers into the side of his forehead as he shakes his head. Tapping his pen on the desk, he tosses down his file. “But here's what I don't get,” he says, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. “If the unsub thinks of his victims as prey, even going as far as to torture the victim, why go through all the trouble of tucking them into bed?”

Hotch looks back at the picture in his own hands, where he had been analyzing the scene for the hundredth time in search of something he missed the first hundred. He shrugs, “Tucking them in can usually indicate signs of remorse.”

JJ motions to the pictures. “Yeah, but look at this guy. Does this look remorseful to you?”

You lift a shoulder, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms. “Could be a second unsub.”

You are a relatively new addition to the team. It was your fifth case with them, but they already treated you like part of the team, like family. It was easy to sink into the ebb and flow of everything, especially when they trust your skills and instincts and let you know when you're doing something wrong so you know not to do it again.

But this case was difficult. Your unsub had a strange profile: an organized, white male, with surgical experience and the MO reminiscent of a cat. He kills men and women alike, and the only connection between his victims have been their smaller statures.

The age range itself was too wide, though there was a slight reoccurrence of ages between 25 and 35. But it was still too wide, either way, not enough to work with.

He ties up and tortures them before finally ending their lives with strangulation. He uses his bare hands to get the job done, which makes him a sexual sadist. As if that wasn't enough, he carves out the victim’s heart after death and takes it as a trophy.

He shows plenty of psychopathic characteristics, but he also fits the profile of a sociopath, so it's hard to make anything stick. His MO suggests a lack of empathy and guilt, but the bed-tucking… You always lose him with the bed-tucking…

Morgan shakes his head a little, humming. “But we already ruled out multiple unsubs,” he says. You nod gently. “Besides, if this guy is mimicking the hunting habits of a cat, he would hunt alone, wouldn't he?”

Reid’s head perks up. He points a pen in Morgan's direction as he shakes his head. “Actually, no.” He licks his lips, and he's grabbed your attention like a siren to a sailor. “It's a very common misconception that cats are loners, but it's untrue. Cats prefer the companionship of others just as much as a human being would.”

You lean toward him a bit across the table, watching him as he speaks, his hands moving to illustrate his words as he does. “People often think, because of their aloof nature, that they like to be left alone or actually despise the presence of other people, including their owners or other cats—which is why people believe them to be low maintenance creatures. But they are just as social as, say, a dog. Actually, it's interesting, big cats like lions, or sometimes even cheetahs, hunt in packs to take down larger prey. Domestic cats–”

“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, making a cutting motion with his hand to his neck.

Your eyes turn back to Spencer, who seems to retreat in on himself a bit as he gives an apologetic smile and a small nod. “Sorry,” he says, pulling his lips in a wide smile.

You set a hand on the table, shaking your head. “No, keep going. That was interesting.”

Spencer looks at you with these eyes that seem to shine. Your heart feels fonder, warmer, at the sight of him.

“We really don't have time to go through all of this,” Hotch says, his tone final.

“I mean,” you continue. Since joining the team, you've grown a certain affinity toward Spencer and his genius mind. Every time he's gone on his tangents, you've become enchanted by the words coming out of his mouth like he's put some sort of spell over you. You lift a shoulder, gesturing toward him. “If this guy is basing his MO off the hunting patterns of cats, we should…know everything we need to know about them, right?”

Hotch looks at you, his face hard and unreadable. You're unsure if he's considering your proposal or just trying to intimidate you. But then he sighs, his crossed arms loosening a little as he turns to Spencer.

“Reid?”

Spencer looks between you and Hotch, relenting hesitantly as he starts off slow. “Well…I was going to say domestic cats are solitary hunters but sociable creatures.” He picks up his normal speed once more, “They can be very affectionate, especially toward their owners and other cats within their households. They're also one of the only types of cats who play with their prey before killing them, which could be a reason this unsub tortures his victims so extensively in his murders.”

“Wait…” Prentiss says, catching all of your attentions. “You said ‘affectionate toward their owners’.”

“Yeah,” Spencer nods.

She waves her hands gently, “How do cats show affection for their owners?”

Spencer shrugs, “Um, bunting, purring, some scratch, sometimes they leave offerings, like dead rodents, around the house–”

“Right there!” Prentiss exclaims. “They leave offerings.”

You sit up, “The hearts.”

Hotch’s dark brows furrow. “You're saying this unsub is taking the hearts as an offering to someone else?”

Spencer thinks over that, nodding. “It's possible.”

JJ sighs. “But that still doesn't explain why we wouldn't have identified a second unsub earlier.”

Spencer holds out a hand, pointing with his pen. “Actually, it could. You see, cats also have the tendency to mimic the people they hold affection for. We might not have noticed a second MO because the submissive unsub may be mimicking the dominant one.”

“Or learning from him,” Morgan says.

“Learning?” Hotch asks.

Morgan glances around, “Well, if we're sticking so close to this cat thing, older cats often nurture the young and teach them to hunt.” He shrugs, “We could be looking at…brothers? Older and younger?”

“Or lovers,” JJ suggests. She points to a picture, the image of a chest carefully carved open to reveal a missing heart. “If the hearts are offerings, it could be a Valentine.”

“And the bed-tucking?” you ask.

Hotch picks up the picture of one of the victims, “safely” and securely tucked into bed…put to sleep. “Well, if the hearts are offerings for a lover, this unsub is sentimental. He could feel some type of sympathy or guilt for the victim and want to ‘put them to sleep’ after the torture.” He studies the image, a flash of unease behind his eyes that you know all too well. He sets it down.

“Okay, so how do we find them?” Prentiss asks, clicking her pen before setting it down to begin a definitive course of action.

Spencer points to yet another picture. “Look at these injuries. These incisions are surgical,” he clarifies. “So the dominant is a doctor or a—a veterinarian, which can be implied through his intimate knowledge of cats’ behaviors.”

“And the submissive might work under him as a nurse or an assistant,” you continue, adding on to his clever insight. He glances over at you, smiling almost giddily at your understanding.

Hotch turns to Morgan. “Do you think that's enough to work with?”

Morgan thinks for a moment, his shrug melding into a nod as he turns back to Hotch. “To fit in with the rest of the profile,” he hums, “I'd say so.”

“Okay.” Hotch nods firmly. “We'll present the profile ASAP. Morgan, get Garcia to search for any vets in the area with any records of assault charges.” He says this all while taking long strides toward the door, his red tie bouncing slightly with his movements.

Prentiss follows him with her gaze as he exits. “You think the unsub is aggressive?”

He turns briefly. “Look at the bruising on the neck. The torture alone is an indicator of anger and frustration, but the way the victim was strangled suggests force. Much more than necessary just to crush a windpipe. He's an organized killer with a lot of rage. If he moves more along the lines of a sociopath, our best guess is he's had some kind of trouble with the law at some point in his life,” he concludes. Glancing aside, he speaks again, a little more firmly. “Morgan.”

“On it,” he says, his phone already ready to contact Garcia on speed dial.

“And Reid,” Hotch says, focusing his hard stare on the younger agent.

He stiffens, straightening his back and awaiting his response. “Yes?”

There's a pause as Hotch examines him silently. With a single nod, he says, “Good work.”

He glances at you. A nod.

You nod back.

Hotch leaves in a hurry, and your gaze immediately and instinctively flicks to Spencer. He smiles at you, turning away as though he was shyly hiding that same smile.

There were two unsubs: a surgical veterinarian and his nurse. You caught them just in time, just as that knife was gleaming in the golden light of the lamps swinging above the three bodies down in the basement of the submissive unsub’s house.

And now you soared 40,000 feet above the ground with another killer put away for good.

Everyone's in their own spirit, placing you across the aisle from JJ and Spencer in their own booths, a crochet set in your lap as you continue one of your projects. Emily's eyes linger on JJ, watching the crease of her brow as she studies case files.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, setting her book to the side to shift her attention. Derek darts his eyes up from his own book, lifting his brow as he does it.

JJ looks up, breathing in and lifting her shoulder in a half shrug. “I don't know about you,” she says, “but I know that if I got an actual human heart on Valentine's Day, me and my alleged partner would have some serious issues.”

Snorts and chuckles lift from multiple places among the seats, heads shaking and attentions shifting back to their own activities.

But as soon as you hear the first lilt of Spencer's voice, like clockwork, you're a fish on a hook.

“Actually,” he begins, “if we were set back thousands of years, that would not be a very unusual occurrence.” He licks his lips quickly, “You see, Valentine's Day’s origins actually go back to a festival called Lupercal, or Lupercalia. The festival was in itself a very violent and sexually charged affair that lasted roughly three days—from the 13th to the 15th—set in Rome. Its traditions were carried out in two separate locations, firstly–”

“Alright,” JJ rises to her feet, her eyes wide in annoyance as she closes her case file in a large announcement to Spencer. “I'm getting coffee. Do you want anything?”

Spencer purses his lips, that same wide, apologetic grin covering his face as he leans back in his seat and shakes his head. “Uh, no. All good here.”

She nods, turning to walk away, “Great.”

You watch JJ leave, your eyes fall back upon Spencer, who's pulling his book back into his palms to turn his focus back on the pages. His eyes flit over the words at lightning speed, absorbing the information and moving to the next.

Taking your crochet set in your hands, you stand and plop down in JJ’s old spot. Spencer's eyes darts up to you, glancing between you and his book as you set your stuff down and readjust your yarn.

Beginning again, you nod toward him. “You were saying?”

Spencer, his eyes wide and confused and his lips parted in wonder and his cheeks a little pink, stares at you. After remembering he had to respond, he sputters in an attempt to.

“Uh, it's-it's really not that…interesting,” he mumbles, trailing off at the end as he sets his book down, his fingertips pressing against the edge of the desk between the both of you.

“Well,” you look up at him, setting your elbow on the table and tucking your first underneath your chin, “I was very interested.”

His Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. His lips form the word before it comes out of his mouth. “You were?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

Looking at him for a moment—just looking at him for a moment—you take in the pretty sight of his bewildered expression, fascination and confusion and excitement crossing his face in a flurry of emotion.

You move your elbow from the table and pick up your hook, nodding toward him before training your eyes on your work again as you await his words. “Firstly?” you prompt.

Scrambling to organize his thoughts, Spencer nods. As the words form in his brain, he smiles as he thrusts himself into another rant, speaking a little softer so as not to aggravate the rest of the team.

“Well, firstly, the uh— The-the first location was in a cave called Lupercus—named after the Roman fertility god that the celebration was dedicated to—and the second is a public meeting place called the Comitium.”

You tilt your head toward him, smiling a little. “Like the word ‘committee’.”

“Exactly like the word ‘committee’,” he beams.

Your attention, as hard as you tried to split it, becomes entirely caught up in Spencer as you forget about your project and focus your gaze entirely on him. You set your arms on the table separating you and watch as he speaks, your smile definitely too love-sick to be a hint anymore. He seems to lean in closer.

“So how did Lupercalia become Valentine's Day?” you wonder aloud.

“Well,” he starts, prompting a larger grin from you, “in the late 5th century A.D., Pope Gelasius I eliminated it and declared February 14th a day to celebrate the martyrdom of Saint Valentine instead—although it's highly unlikely he intended the day to commemorate love and passion as it is celebrated now. In fact, some modern biblical scholars warn Christians not to celebrate Valentine's Day at all, due to its Pagan roots and rituals.”

You hum, your eyes taking glances at the stretch of his skin over his fingers and the way they move when he speaks.

“Do you celebrate Valentine's Day?” you ask gently, speaking slowly.

His hands fall back down to his lap, and he shakes his head as he straightens his posture a bit. “Well…I don't usually have anyone to celebrate it with, so… No, not really.”

Feeling the shyness slipping into your veins, you set your hands on the table and let your fingers slowly inch toward him, staring at them inside of his eyes. You don't want to see the rejection if it lives there, in his eyes.

You speak slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “Would you like to have someone to celebrate it with?”

He swallows thickly, letting one hand lift onto the table, still close to him but building up courage to maybe meet you in the middle. “Like…” he clears his throat quietly. “Like you?”

You offer a right smile, finally flicking your eyes up to meet his and feeling giddy at the light blush on his cheeks, the nervous wideness of his gaze. “I promise no actual hearts.”

You watch him, and again…his eyes, his Adam's apple, his cheeks, his lips. “Uh…yeah,” he stutters. “Yeah, sure. I'll be your…your Valentine.”

You smile, a wide smile that splits your face in two. Spencer's own grin follows suit. Looking past you, he catches the eyes of Derek, who smirks and offers a cheesy thumbs up, proud of him for securing you as he did.

His gaze falls back to you when you begin to speak, your voice just as song-ish to him as his is to you. You're both equally as infatuated as the other. “You know,” you trail off slowly, “supposedly, Saint Valentine might be so commonly associated with our day of love because there are rumors that he used to perform secret weddings against the wishes of the authorities in the third century.”

He nods slowly, his brows furrowed slightly. “Yes, that's right…” Licking his bottom lip, he speaks again. “You already knew all that stuff about Lupercalia, didn't you?”

You smile, your face squished a bit as you raise your hands and close your thumb and forefinger close together. “Maybe a little,” you whisper. But then you shrug and just keep looking at him. “But I like listening to you talk.”

Spencer suddenly doesn't think you're real, but he isn't about to question it if you aren't. There's someone who enjoys his tangents. He isn't going to jeopardize that.

“Oh,” is all he says.

With your crocheting long forgotten, you lean forward on the table and give him every ounce of attention in your mind. With a fond smile on your lips and a twinkle in your eye, you rest your chin on your folded hands. “You should tell me about…” you pause, thinking, before you smile curls even more, “bees.”

His brows lift as he nods. “Okay, well,” he starts, “did you know the first civilization to practice widespread, organized beekeeping was the Ancient Egyptians, who began beekeeping around 2,500 BCE?”

Your brows lift in fascination. You shake your head, “No, I didn't.”

His smile grows. “Well…”

For the remainder of the flight, Spencer talks and talks and talks, his voice quiet and meant solely for you as he talks about whatever you want: bees and wine and marbles and Halloween. He keeps smiling at you, as you keep smiling at him. Somewhere along the way, he officially asks you on a date, and you both get off the jet together to get a cup of coffee.

You love the way he talks.

Criminal Minds taglist: ... Tag yourself here...

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

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syoddeye · 16 days

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reading recs

received an anon the other day that requested fic recs of all ratings, here's a big list of some of my favorites! definitely not exhaustive, definitely forgot people, and i am so sorry in advance for that. please mind the tags on these fics.

SNAFU by @adnauseum11

I've posted about SNAFU before. This is one of my comfort series. Excellent characterization of a retired John Price, navigating a relationship with one of his oldest friends.

Heavy Weighs the Crown by @sentientcave

Newer series, very yummy so far. I love Charlie's characterization of the 141 in this universe, and their writing is delectable.

Rugby AU by @sentientcave

Another banger from Charlie. Reader Ripper is also yummy. Something to snack on. To quote: "I don't know anything about Rugby tbh this is just vibes and thots. Something somethin elaborate rituals."

Nobody by @391780

My gateway fic into Nikto. Without giving anything away, every chapter sends me into a short spiral. The most recent chapters have done heinous (affectionate) things to my brain.

Ursa Major by @the-californicationist

Have you ever been to Alaska? Ever wanted to visit? Honestly, read this fic and let Cali transport you there. Her ability to set the scene and bring it to life is un-fucking-matched. Doc (Reader) is a smart, confident reader-insert that feels like a real person.

Binders and Boyfriends by @pfhwrittes

Trans 141 and Trans Reader supremacy. Another comfort series from the wonderful Parker. Everything listed here is wonderful, but I have a major soft spot for P's Gaz-centric works.

Housemate!Gaz by @pfhwrittes

First, in this house, we hate Reader's roommate. Second, we are Widget fans. Third, could you fucking imagine opening the door and your new roommate was Kyle motherfucking Garrick? I'd faint.

Call of The Jurassic by @stuffireadandenjoy

Another newer series that put me on the edge of my seat. When I first saw that Tats was giving us my favorite fellas and putting them in Jurassic Park, ooooooh, I knew we were going to be spoiled rotten.

Wrong Number Right Day by @stuffireadandenjoy

"Kyle gets a wrong number text but decides to be a little generous that day." Reader's living the dream. Text Kyle Garrick and get cash money for rent? Very excited for more of this.

Price of Pegging by @gemmahale

Pegging and John Price. I could stop there, but I won't. Gemma nails the depiction of a submissive Captain Price. She also captures the dynamic of a couple trying something new extremely well, that gave me some fluffy feelings.

All of Gemma’s WIPs by @gemmahale

I've had the absolute privilege to read some previews of Gemma's work and the WORK and the DETAIL and the CHARACTERS are chef's kiss. Delicious. It's so difficult to pick just one. I love the Feywilds. Useful Girl. Call of the Wild. Do yourself a favor and spend some time in the tags.

Offer Me His Hunger by @kaadaaan

Something about a 141-er and a single mom that's gonna do it for me every time. In Offer Me His Hunger, it's Johnny, and Reader has no idea what she's in for. Jesus Christ, Kadan writes one of my favorite Johnnys, and really nails that obsessive and calculating streak.

The Space in Between by @391780

You will laugh, you will cry, you will love and hate mafia boss!John Price. Reader crosses paths with John and the 141, and gets caught in their wake. Early writes some of the best Reader characters of all time, and this one's no different. This story will get under your skin so fast, in the best way.

The Arrangement by @391780

Speaking of Early, this is THE gateway drug to her work, in my humble opinion. One of the first COD fics I ever read and converted me into being a Price girlie. Sugar Daddy Price x a cute, smart, and fucking funny Reader. Also one of my favorite characterizations of Simon of all time.

Club 141 by @greatstormcat

BDSM and the 141 make a Sy very happy. Reader starts off with a fake ass dom and is quickly properly introduced to BDSM culture with the fellas. Really solid group dynamics. Make sure you read that Price x Ghost post for a good fucking time.

Lamb to the Slaughter by @ohbo-ohno

Probably one of my favorite Ghoap fics of all time. The way my jaw was on the floor for the majority of this should've sent me to the emergency room. It's brutal, it's horrifying, and fuck me running, I loved it, start to finish.

The Pit by @peachesofteal

First, the nightmare of getting into an accident in the winter. Second, having Ghost and Soap find you. Oh boy, The Pit is peak Ghoap manipulation. When I got to the end, I just sat in silence. Stunned. It was amazing.

Eyes Wide, Tongue Tied by tippytulip (if you're on here, pls lmk!)

Another early COD fic for me. A thrill ride with a whip-smart Reader AND it's set in the Midwest. Those are two ways into my heart. The relationship between Reader and Price isn't an easy one, and he gives her a dozen and a half reasons to dislike him. Another ride of a fic, with great action scenes and group dynamics.

Trapper, Keeper by @tinypandacakes

A König fic that makes me screech no less than ten times per chapter. Panda writes a fucking scary König and it blows my mind. So much of it is subtle and manipulative, with few outright (so far, it's ongoing!) examples. I get a knot in my stomach every time I read and I LOVE IT.

DOG by Danceofthesevenveils

Another König fic that features a pathetic loser König, who is also one of the scariest motherfuckers I've ever read. The use of text messages underscores the creepy vibes, and a great vehicle for the Reader x König dynamic early on.

Desire Paths by @ceilidho

Manipulative best friend Johnny, you are iconic to me. Ceilidh writes some of the best nasty Johnny fic out there, but Desire Paths has my heart. Another ending that had me gasping.

Take Me Home, Country Road by @ceilidho

Cowboy Price, take me awayyyyyy. A fantastic Western AU focused on a Reader with a secret and a Sheriff Price that'll make you sit up straighter. Ceilidh captures John's voice so clearly, I can hear it when I read. That porch scene is seared into my brain in the best way.

Tender is the Flesh by @crashtestbunny

Do you like scary Simon? Do you like feeling unsettling and turned on? *slams table* Do I have the fic for you! Connie's butcher!Simon makes my blood run both hot and cold. "Oh she’s a stunner." lives in my head rent free. Also the apron tie bit.

Pornstar!AU by @shotmrmiller

Warning, if you don't smoke, you might start after reading Toni's porn AU. I love this depiction of Ghost, his control and his care. AND there's a threesome bit with Ghost x Reader x Price. It's what dreams are made of.

#sy fic recs #fic recs #once again i will say the COD fandom is SPOILED FOR CHOICE #so much talent

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Dirty Work 37

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: wowee, it's snowing here a lot.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Loki… Mr. Laufeyson doesn’t linger. As you lay in a sheen of foggy afterglow, he dresses and mutters to himself. You want to ask him to stay. To tell him it’s okay but you’re scared he might say no. So you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him button his shirt.

“We both require a good night’s rest to contend with my family,” he says.

You nod and sit up, sliding your legs beneath the blankets. He looks up as you do and a line creases in his forehead. His worry makes you worry. You’re starting to get the feeling that something bad is looming.

“In the morning,” he avows before he turns away. “You will not emerge until I fetch you.”

“Yes, Loki,” you answer.

He stops at the doors and lowers his head, “here, behind these walls, I am Loki, beyond, Mr. Laufeyson. Understand, pet?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you murmur.

He pulls open the door and steps out swiftly. The mechanism clicks into place and you fall back onto the pillows. You deflate beneath the downy duvet and close your eyes. He confuses you. One moment, he’s all over you, all-consuming and insatiable, the next he’s distant and icy to the touch.

You hug the top of the blanket and cling to his lingering warmth. Your thighs tingle and your core plucks as you clench, thinking of how his fingers delved deep into you. Why couldn’t he stay? You could have done more. You think you’re ready to.

It’s never what you want. You will await his signal and as always, you will take his lead. That is better. His words ring in your head from that fateful day, ‘obey and serve my every need and you will have all you ever longed for.’

What do you long for? That question follows you into your subconscious. You sink into the void, the knot of anxiety bound around your chest. Visions of rich greenery and fluttering petals fill your head, birds winging and critters chirping all around. The magical garden is a shrine of rosy sunlight.

Your mind builds a paradise and all at once, it falls around you. Your eyes roll open as you float back to the surface. Your lashes stick together as you blink and groan. It’s early, too early. Dawn paints a violet hue across the room. You lift your head and search around. Something must have woken you but there’s nothing but shadows.

You drop your head back down and groan. You turn onto your side and curl up, tucking a hand under the pillow. You squeeze your eyes shut, reaching for the last dregs of drowsiness. Your head swirls as you feel yourself descending again.

You’re brought back again. This time, you catch the noise. Your ears prick and you lift yourself to look over at the door, a gentle scuffing on the other side.

What’s happening?

You squint, your vision dulled in the lowlight. You sit up and push back the blankets as you sidle to the end of the bed. You see a black spot beneath the doors, darker than the rest of the slatted shadow. It moves. There’s someone out there.

The bed creaks as you bend your legs over the edge. Who could it be? Mr. Laufeyson?

A tap on the wood makes you flinch. The handle wiggles but doesn’t press down. Your heart thumps in your chest. A whisper comes through, “pet…”

Your spine goes rigid. Pet? It must be Mr. Laufeyson, but why doesn’t he just let himself in? You don’t recall locking the door before you went to sleep. You get up and creep forward.

“Pet, let me in,” the whisper is sandy and low. Is it really him? Who else would it be?

You unzip your bag in the dark and pick out a nightgown from the bottom, jostling the rest of the clothes. You slip it over your head and rub your eyes. You shiver as the air is cooled in the darkness.

You near the door and grab the handle so it stills. There’s tension as you twist it. It releases and unlatches easily. The lock is not in place. You pull it open a crack and squeak at the large, looming silhouette on the other side.

“Ah, pet, you’re awake,” Thor rasps.

“What–” you gulp, “what are you doing?”

“You didn’t come say hello,” he drawls, “so, hello, pet.”

You blink at him and push on the door. He slaps his hand against it, the wood shaking between you. You know he’s much strong, you can’t close him out.

“What is the matter?”

“Nothing, I– I’m trying to sleep,” you eke out. If Laufeyson knew…

“You are funny, pet,” he chuckles.

“Please, go, I’ll see you in the morning–”

“But I am here now,” he jerks the door, just a little, just a statement: he can open it if he wants.

“Why?”

“Why?” He huffs, “you haven’t very good manners, pet. My brother has trained you poorly–”

“Please leave me alone,” you beg, jittering. Just the mention of his brother has your heart in your throat. He said to avoid Thor but what do you do when he seeks you out.

‘To the right of your door…’ you pluck the words from your memory and shudder.

“I just want to talk,” he edges the door in another inch and you stumble back.

You spin and run to the wall, pounding on it with your fists. You must seem crazy but you don’t care. You hit it over and over, “Mr. Laufeyson! Mr. Laufeyson!”

You’re wrench back as a large hand frames the back of your neck. Thor turns you and claps his other hand over your mouth, hushing you. You whimper as you shrink in his shadow.

“What are you doing? I’ve only come to talk–”

You wriggle and put both your hands around his wrist. It’s so thick, neither hand can fit all the way around. You kick out as he keeps you pinned to the wall.

“Haven’t I been nice to you?” He growls, “so why do you treat me as a villain, little maid…” he leans in, “perhaps because your thoughts have corrupted me, hm? Naughty little maid.”

His voice lightens playfully as he tilts your head up. You squirm as your hand slides down his forearm. Your other swings out to hit his chest.

“What do you think I’d do? If I am so evil, what could I do?” He taunts as he pulls you from the wall. He drags you towards the bed, “what have you done, eh?” He says as he edges towards the bed, “you’ve already made a mess.”

He throws you back onto the rumpled duvet and you squeak. You push yourself up on your elbows and bring your heels onto the mattress. You push yourself back as he looms over you.

“Aren’t you supposed to take care of messes, little maid?” He bends and puts his hands on the bed, snarling through his teeth. He catches your ankle and pulls your leg straight, tugging you down to your back as you yipe. “Let’s make a mess–”

He grunts and suddenly staggers, releasing you as a dark blur crashes into him. He hits the night table and sends the lamp to the floor. He deflects Mr. Laufeyson as he charges again and they tangle each other up in their arms.

“You beast,” Laufeyson hisses, “get out!”

“Ah, brother, lovely to see you here,” Thor chuckles, “we were only just talking about you–”

“Shut up!” Laufeyson snaps, hooking his leg around his brothers.

“Don’t be so… dramatic,” Thor heaves as they struggle, pulling back and forth as each tries to overturn the other, “I was only getting to know her–”

“Get out!” Laufeyson repeats, “or I will truly be dramatic. Let mother see the cretin you truly are–”

“Speak for yourself–”

“Get!” You throw out your foot and kick Thor’s shoulder, immediately regretting it as he barely reacts. You scurry back and hug your legs.

“Aye, little maid,” Thor sounds amused, “isn’t that cute?”

“Brother, I tell you one last time–”

Thor cracks his elbow into Laufeyson’s ribs. The slimmer man lets go with a wheeze but doesn’t falter long as he slides between the burly blond and the bed. He coughs out another warning, “go.”

“I’m going,” Thor says lightly, “you always were so serious, brother.”

He waves off Laufeyson and steps away, sending you a look through the rising dim. You cower and watch him stalk away. Mr. Laufeyson follows and swiftly shuts him out, turning the lock with a loud click.

You push yourself to the edge of the bed and lower yourself to the floor. You pick up the lamp and straighten the table. You flip the switch and the light radiates around you. You turn to Mr. Laufeyson as he holds his ribs and scowls, slumping back towards you.

“Are you alright?” You ask as you rush towards him, “Mr. Laufeyson…” you reach to touch him but think better of it, retracting your hands to fold your arms over your chest, “I… Thank you.”

He sniffs and sits on the side of the bed. He pushes back his dark hair and winces. You hover before him nervously, shaking like a hummingbird.

“You did well… calling for me,” he says quietly, “that was very good, pet.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I thought it was you knocking. I didn’t mean to–”

“I said, you did well,” he interjects as he outstretches his arms, beckoning you closer. He touches your upper arms and draws you straight, “are you alright?”

You quiver and nod, “I think…”

“Good, good,” He pulls you closer and leans forward to kiss your forehead, “I will sleep here then. Just until the morning comes.”

✨

Mr. Laufeyson leaves as you dress for the day. He bids you to lock the door behind him. He’s been silent but not in his usual way. Pensive but not dour. You put on a poppy red blouse with a brown skirt.

You ready out of habit, your mind still trapped in the night's events. First, Laufeyson and the wonderful way he made you feel. Then Thor and the horror he brought into your room. It almost feels like a bad dream.

You go to the door but don’t emerge. What if Thor is waiting? You shudder as you think of what he would’ve done if you hadn’t called for Mr. Laufeyson. If you hadn’t been heard.

The door shakes as a tap rattles you from your trance, “darling,” Frigga calls through, “are you awake?”

You inhale deeply, throat tight, and unlock the door. You pull it open and force a smile, “yes, I was just… about to come out.”

“Wonderful,” she trills, “we are having tea in the garden.”

“Oh?”

“Come,” she takes your hand, “after tea,” she drags you out as you pull the door closed with your other hand, “we will go into town and get a few things for the celebration. Flowers, as I said. And perhaps a new outfit.”

“Okay,” you agree meekly.

“Did you sleep well?” She asks as you get to the stairs, “you are quiet.”

“Fine,” you answer.

“Yes, I do find it difficult to sleep in new places,” she hums, “well, we only want you to feel at home so do let me know if I can do anything.”

You press your lips together and nod. Could you ask her to make Thor leave you alone? Or to make Mr. Laufeyson a little less stormy? No, but you suppose you could ask for some chamomile before bed.

She takes you through the grand foyer and into the next room, winding around to the elaborate dining room and the back entryway that opens onto an equally awe-inspiring veranda. The railings are wrapped in ivy and flowers, marble pots on plinths hold bunches of gardenia and the big square table at the center has four chairs on either side. Much too big for the meagre party at it.

As you approach, you see Mr. Laufeyson’s shoulders, straight and stiff as he grips the armrests. He glares across at Thor who smiles dopily at the sky. As you get closer, his eyes find you and you wilt down. Frigga draws you onward as Odin stands from the table to offer you the chair beside him.

“There she is,” he says, “come, sit.”

You obey, claiming the seat to his right as Frigga skirts around to take his right. Laufeyson sits along the side just to your own right and leans forward as you wiggle in the chair. He gives you a look and you bow your head slightly.

“What do you like? Milk? Sugar? Honey?” Odin offers as he pours a cup and places it on a saucer before you.

“Just milk,” you answer.

Thor puts his arm on the table as you feel him watching you. Laufeyson clears his throat but his brother doesn’t acknowledge him. You look down at the tea as it clouds with dairy.

“Isn’t this nice?” Thor booms, “I apologise, I was errant yesterday and hadn’t a moment to welcome you.”

You flinch and Laufeyson squeezes the armrest tighter, bristling visibly.

“Now,” Odin sits back, “boys, this is a special week for your mother. She’s working hard, you will not ruin this.”

“Wouldn’t dare think of it,” Thor puffs, “I was only being polite and welcoming the little maid.”

Little maid… the words make you recoil.

“Little maid?” Odin echoes, “don’t be so demeaning. She has a name or perhaps she should call you the big oaf.”

Thor tilts his head and snorts, peering between you and his father. “Forgive me, I thought that’s what she was.”

“Regardless, she is a person and a guest. You will remember your manners,” Odin reproaches.

“Yes, father,” Thor utters dryly and receives a sigh in return.

“Oh, let’s not spoil such a lovely day,” Frigga chimes, “isn’t it so nice to be all together ag–”

“Ugh, must the sun shine so goddamn bright,” the silty voice undergirds Frigga’s chirp. You look over as Hela struts in, a large pair of geometric sunglasses over her eyes, “remind me next time not to finish the bottle.”

“Hel,” Odin greets curtly as Frigga blinks in surprise.

“When did you arrive?” Frigga asks, “Hilde didn’t say.”

“I slept in my car,” Hela answers and struts to the table, sitting next to Laufeyson, “well, I woke up there, at least.”

“Oh my,” Frigga mutters.

“I got here early though,” Hela preens, “when’s that ever happened, mother? And all for Walpurgisnacht, though I guess Midsommar is some time off.”

“Yes, very timely,” Frigga agrees softly, “well, you can come along with us to town. You’ve always had a keen eye.”

“Oh, I may,” Hela smirks, “who is us?”

Frigga looks at you and you give a tiny wave. Hela grins and takes off her sunglasses, winking at you, “I almost didn’t notice the little mouse. Well, I think I shall join you.” She squints and shades her face before putting the glasses back in place, “tell me we have some breakfast wine.”

“Have some tea,” Odin insists, “and a bit of decency.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

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exhuastedpigeon · 5 months

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Helllllo and welcome to my new Weekly Fic Recs!

This first one is going to be a little long since I’m going to rec my favourite fics that I’ve read so far in November. I’ll likely post a list weekly moving forward (probably Friday or Saturday) and will tag them as ‘Han’s Buddie Recs’ and 'Han's Weekly Fic Recs'

These fics are in order of longest to shortest and are separated into newly read, reread, and wips! Anything in italics is a comment from me.

Newly Read

and here, too, am i by Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars Teen || 41.1k Six months into their marriage, Eddie is still struggling to decide whether or not he wants more kids, when he knows Buck does. The universe may not scream, but it certainly talks.

I don’t have much else to say about this fic besides ‘it’s extremely great’

Tick Tick Boom by ChasetheWindTouchtheSky Teen || 30.4k Buck decides he doesn’t need therapy, reverts to some bad habits, and explodes. Or, the Breakdown Fic.

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by withmeornotatall/@chronicowboy Mature || 21.9k Buck gets reckless, eddie gets angry, they talk in all the wrong ways, and the universe decides to intervene

Divorce 2.0 era.

All The Work That Needs To Be Done by trysetmeonfire/@try-set-me-on-fireTeen || 14.6k Bobby dies. Eddie worries. Life goes on.

This fic made me cry on multiple occasions, reader beware that it will probably make you cry too. It’s beautiful.

Sixth time's the charm by CorgiQueen14/@corgiqueen14 Teen || 14.2k The mid-lawsuit time loop fic that you didn't know you needed.

I’m a hoe for a time loop

you had to kill me (it killed you just the same) by MonsterRae1/@monsterrae1Explicit || 12.4k The Hire to Kill Au. Buck's a hired assassin sent after Eddie, instead, he ends up falling in love.

Got Weird by Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars Explicit || 10.5k Shortly after Buck and Natalia break up, Eddie gets tipsy and makes a rather forward move. Then immediately panics (not that Eddie panics, of course) and backpedals. Eddie spirals, Buck is confused. Lots of spontaneous kissing ensues.

The idiots in love tag was invited for this specific fic, I swear.

I wanna spend my forever like that by wikiangela/@wikiangela General || 8.6k Eddie catches a cold and stubbornly denies he's sick, while a fondly exasperated Buck is trying to take care of him.

Something Dumb to Do by glorious_spoon/@glorious-spoon Explicit || 8.5k Buck and Eddie try something out together.

These men are idiots and it’s perfect and VERY hot.

i'd swim to your call on my phone by heartbeatdiaz/@loserdiaz Teen || 8.5k Buck's daughter keeps calling 9-1-1 for help with her homework, Eddie is smitten and apparently 9-1-1 works better than Tinder

What's Died Will Never Stay Dead by HMSLusitania/@hmslusitania Teen || 6.5k The immortal firefam AU no one asked for.

Yet another Buddie banger from a ship that sank in 1915.

swinging for the fences by inbetweenthestacks/@organizedstardust Teen || 6.4k Buck takes Eddie to a baseball game.

This is the first baseball/baseball adjacent fic I’ve read in the Buddie fandom that made my baseball obsessed heart very happy. You don’t have to care about baseball to like it though!The line “Is baseball just…math?” made me actually laugh out loud because.. Yeah baseball kind of is math.

if you go down in the woods today by oklahoma/@malewifediazTeen || 6.3k “Oh, oh. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you.” Buck grips Bobby’s hands as he goes down to the ground, looking up at Eddie with hot fire in his big blue eyes. “You’re gonna owe me so many blowjobs when I wake up. D’you hear me, Eddie Diaz? You owe me so bad.”

They’re so goofy with each other in this and it feels so true to the characters and show. A delight!

kiss and make up by 42hrb Explicit || 3.3k Instead of being soft and sweet or adrenaline fueled and filled with love and thanks that they're both alive, their first kiss comes in the middle of a fight in Eddie’s living room.

shameless self promo, but I loved writing this fic so here it is on my own rec list :)

if this love is pain (let's hurt tonight) by HungryHungryHippo/@hippolotamus Teen || 3.2k After Chris leaves for college Buck mysteriously disappears. Five years later he finally returns with some answers.

Honestly... it's perfect

let heart hold true by lecornergirl/@clusterbuck Teen || 2.4k Eddie comes out to christopher. things snowball from there.

nicknames, supernova similes and the family we make by thewolvesof1998/@thewolvesof1998 General || 800 words Bobby and Athena meet Buck and Eddie's new baby girl.

Reread

like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts/@shitouttabuckExplicit || 51k Evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

I wish I was lying when I say I’ve read this fic 4 times since it came out, but I’m not. It’s so damn good.

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston/@ebjameston Teen || 40.9k The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind.

I can’t find the worlds to tell you how much I love this fucking fic. It’s so good. It might actually be perfect.

of bake sales and overdue realizations by brewrosemilk/@gayhoediaz Teen || 4.8k Eddie doesn’t notice it until it becomes a thing that happens even when it’s just him and Buck, without Chris anywhere near them - but even then, he doesn’t find it strange, or give it much thought. Buck is the one who starts ending their phone calls with a quick ‘love you’ but it doesn't take long before Eddie does the same, often beating him to it.

WIPs

Maybe More Than I Should by Leslie_Knope Mature || 30k || ¾ chapters complete Eddie caught sight of the man leaning against the side of his desk and immediately wanted to retreat to the relative safety of the hallway, back in time when he lived happily not knowing that Mr. Buckley was apparently some kind of male model masquerading as a third-grade teacher.

This fic is an absolutely TREAT

#Han's Weekly Fic Recs #Han's Buddie Recs #Buddie #buddie fic rec #911 #buddie 911 #buddie 9-1-1 #buddie rec list #rec list #fic rec

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kozachenko · 7 days

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Ok the WIP I posted a little while ago is no loner a WIP yipeeeeeee I am so tired of looking at this drawing.

Artist's Notes:

THIS DRAWING IS FINALLY DONE YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

Ok so this drawing was a WIP that I had had sitting around for a while, and so because I wanted to do a test run with the new face style I'm trying out, I decided to pick it back up again. Now you may notice that compared to the other version of the WIP, the shading is different, and that's because I had to change all of it to match the light source of the moon, which was.... not exactly fun (especially cuz I stayed up late at night to finish this which was tiring), but it was worth it because I am a lot happier with the shading now. Also, when I initially redid the shading on the white trim of her outfit, I ended up making them look like indiscreet white blobs that just looked... bad, so I had to fix that and I think it looks a lot better.

My favourite parts of this drawing have to be the face and the hair, though I'm not surprised about how much I like the hair since hair is my favourite thing to draw. Also the wolf, I really like how the wolf turned out, since I also love drawing animals from time to time. I also like how the background turned out.

Also, Enoko's design was a hit hard to get right, and I decided to add the white trim separating her shirt and skirt mainly because I didn't like how abruptly it changed in the original design. Also, for some reason her dress makes me think of 1800s-y southern/western clothes, which has given me the headcanon that Saki gave her these clothes when they first met. Makes me wanna draw the two of them together in very western styled clothes, I think it would be cute. I also changed up some of the colours on her original design to fit in more with the palette that I was going for with this piece. Also, I like how her tails turned out, mainly because when I was working on some of the sketch for this I tried to make them smaller, but they didn't look right so I just went "fuck it" and made them big and poofy. Also drawing her wolf ears was fun, I like drawing simplified wolf ears like that. Overall, I'd say I did a good job incorporating elements (like the bear trap hands, the tails, the gem) in a way that didn't feel like they were out of place in the piece (something I was concerned about with Enoko's design).

All in all, I wouldn't call this my best work, but I do like a lot of aspects of it. I've also noticed that I'm kinda getting a bit frustrated with certain parts of my style like the lighting (mainly the lighting), so I think I wanna try and branch back into that more painterly style that I started out with when I first started posting here while still mixing in some elements of my lineless style. Also, I need to get better with my colour values, mainly just for clarity since I kinda think that's where this drawing falls flat a little.

#touhou project #art #fanart #touhou fanart #touhou 19 #enoko mitsugashira #東方project #東方

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the-family-business-83 · 11 months

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Unexpected Calling – Part I

Masterlist - WIP

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: A world class contract killer finds an envelope at his dead drop. Inside are $23.42 in short change and a letter handwritten by a 9-year old girl.

Type: Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader's daughter (platonic obviously), Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: fluff, action, slight angst, might get smutty but idk yet

Warnings: Be prepared for some adult language! Nothing too crazy in this first part though, we're just getting started so that's my only warning for now.

Word count: 1.6k

Send me an ask to let me know if you wanna be added to/removed from the taglist!!

This post was Beta'd by @mariekoukie6661. Thanks a million!

A/N: Thought I'd throw my hand at a prompted fic! Hope you guys like it, I'll add a chapter directory and update as needed as the next parts are posted. So stay tuned 👀 Text dividers made by @firefly-graphics <3

Every morning is always the same when you're paid to kill. He'd been trying to be better about the whole actual killing part lately, but that didn't change his morning routine very much. He woke up to the sound of his alarm clock going off—yes, he still used one. If you asked for his reasoning, he'd tell you it's because it's less complicated and you can always count on it to work because it simply stayed plugged into the wall; in the event that the power went out? It had batteries for backup power, and you can't find that kind of peace of mind with just the alarms on your phone. He's still an old soul, sue him. He woke up at 6:45 am, on the dot, every morning without fail that way so it was rather effective.

After the blaring sound of his trusty alarm clock came the process of forcing himself out of bed and cleaning up for the day; shaving if necessary, freshening up, getting dressed, the works. This was generally when he'd change his appearance should the need arise, as well. But he didn't need to do that this morning and so he flicked the light to the bathroom off as he left the room when he was finished, heading out to his kitchen thereafter. The next step? Food. It was always 7 am sharp by the time he got done with his wakeup process, the only time that changed being when he added any extra steps in the bathroom. And breakfast was always simple: a cup of hot black coffee, sliced avocado, and bread toasted to perfection with an egg over medium to be dipped in. And it never failed to be a pleasant way to start his morning, usually followed closely after by a session of watching the morning news. He found it a good way to see what was going on in the area and across the country so he could plan accordingly.

If he didn't have a job, which by chance was the case today, he'd generally find any sort of quiet way to spend the rest of his morning; reading a book, cleaning up all his weapons, or a walk in the park if he felt like it. Today, he felt like it. And it was mostly peaceful, if you excluded the grating sound of car horns, tires squealing, and buses chuffing past. And of course, if you chose to ignore the rumbling from the subway, the people shouting either in their urgency to get to work or just simply because they were an ass, then it was really utterly plain and quiet to walk through Central Park. By this point Bucky had truly gotten used to it. He supposed in some ways it wasn't too much different from his home in the past. But that didn't mean he liked to spend too much time there anyway. So long as he got out and went back home just in time, he could skip the gradeschoolers and dog walkers that came around for the afternoon.

There had been nothing unusual about his day so far, and he liked that. He liked the rhythm of it all, and how it always went according to his carefully curated schedule. He began the process of unlocking his apartment door after making his way up to his floor, and pushed it open to take a step inside. Crunch.

What the helll...?

Bucky frowned as, seemingly, something sat under his boot and crinkled where he'd stepped, making the same sound again as he carefully pried his foot off. The poor, crisply folded, paper envelope that had earlier been slotted through his dead-drop, suffered a dirt-covered footprint but aside from that, it seemed harmless and intact as he picked it up to inspect it. A curious thing to find when you hardly get mail aside from the bills. What was even more curious was the contents within it, feeling a bit lumpy and—quite frankly—heavy for a letter-sized envelope. He closed the door behind himself with one hand, locking it once again out of habit while the other kept hold of the envelope. Moments later he flicked out a switchblade to slice it open revealing not only a handwritten letter but also $23.42.....Exactly. All in small change.

It was quite honestly the oddest thing he'd seen or received to date, and that was including the number of quite-literal backstabs he'd received, numerous other maiming injuries, and the odd encounters he’d had with a talking raccoon, tree, and robot...man…thing. To name a few. That was also including the number of odd jobs he'd been offered and peculiar payment methods he'd been given. Never had he come across such a specific payment with a letter that….upon further inspection….looked as though its penman couldn't be much older than 9 years old, at most.

'Dear mister,

My name is Rosie Jones. I am 9 yeers old. My mommy says you're vary good at helping people. Well, I need your help. Mommy also said you like to be paid for helping, so I broke my piggy bank open so you wood help us. Mommy doesn't know yet thoe, so please don't tell her.

My mommy dissuhpeered disappeered last night. She told me to hide and I did but now I can't find her and so I need your help mister becuz you're really good at finding people too, mommy said so. Please please help me find my mommy, I don't know what to do mister.

– Rosie'

"You've gotta be shitting me." He muttered to himself. The first question Bucky had, quite honestly, was how did this little girl even know who he was? Or where he lived? Not many people did, if any, truth be told. If they did? They were usually dead within minutes. It was one of many reasons that kept his renowned status intact. But here he was, sitting at his own table, with proof that some little girl knew both of those things. Frowning down at the paper and envelope of change, the assassin ran his hand back through his dark brown hair momentarily, processing what he'd just read. On one hand, it could be an elaborate trap. By all rights he had to assume it, considering the nature of the letter and the fact that a little girl of all people had written it. But on the other hand, there was a certain dedication there that he simply couldn't ignore. And some part of him couldn't help but at least look into it. So moments later, the man was pulling out his laptop and began searching for answers, anything that could give this little girl's story any sort of credit.

Much to his surprise? It checked out. Every last bit of it. There was a mother, connected to the Rosie Jones in question, who had gone missing under rather mysterious circumstances. "I'll be damned, mystery kiddo."

'Y/N Jones, aged 37, a single mother, was nowhere to be found the next morning after reports came in that a struggle and silenced gunshots were heard from the house that night.'

He probably could have gotten away with just keeping the money and letting it go. It was some little kid somewhere hoping for someone to hear her plea, he could get away with it. But it was that name…. he'd seen it before, he knew he had. In all fairness though, he really only remembered faces exceptionally well. Names didn't matter in the long run, names didn't tell him who he was shooting within a crowd of people. So why did it keep nagging at the back of his mind?...

Spoiler alert: he shouldn't have went digging. He should have just left it alone. But he had always been a curious mind and he was nothing if not thorough on top of that. Popping open the top to his bottle of whiskey, Bucky carefully poured out a favorable portion into a glass tumbler, before letting it down onto the counter as he heard an agreeable noise coming from his laptop to signal it had finished its task. Glancing over his shoulder, he sipped on his drink as he made his way back over to the table, having waited for what seemed like an hour to get the information he wanted. And the minute he looked at the screen was the very same minute he regretted it.

He knew that face.

He knew it like the back of his hand almost, he knew it the same way he knew the taste of bourbon or the sound of a .22 magnum. That was the face of Y/N Y/L/N and it was a face he had been trying to forget for years now. But most of all he knew it was a mistake to have even touched this with a ten-foot pole. Because now he had a target, he knew what the target looked like, and he had been paid in- well, maybe not-so-full, but in 9-year-old currency $23.42 was basically a million dollars considering it was all her savings.

In short?

He had to do it now.

He knew that. And it damn near made him groan at the prospect. Because this was going to be a long-ass job, and if he was going to ensure the rescue of that little girl's mother, then he needed to ensure that child's safety. The less leverage the 'enemy' had, the easier his job was. So as he sighed out, "Damnitall, this better be fuckin worth it kid," the hundred year old assassin finished off his drink and went about packing his things to take on a job that he never asked for, but knew damn well he was stuck with until it was over.

But at least if he had to go through with this, he was going to be damn sure he did it right, that was for sure.

Taglist: If you weren't tagged it's because I couldn't get it to tag you or I didn't know which account was yours – @aingealcethlenn @deaan @idabbleincrazy @impala-1979 @kadet-jb @myinconnelly2 @princessmisery666 @rosedemica @tvdspngirl314 @darsynia @buckys-zomdoll @cookingglitterfairy @emilyshurley @fictionalabyss @jotink78 @mariekoukie6661 @manawhaat @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @scarletwinchester84 @sorenmarie87 @until-theend-oftheline @starryeyes2000 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @betweengalaxies2 @focusonspn

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bettsfic · 7 months

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hi betts!

i’ve been a fan of yours for years now (training wheels is one of my favorite stories— not just fics. stories— ever, and i really admire your style. as a writer myself, i want to ask how you’re able to keep your motivation up to complete your projects? i feel like i start out so motivated when i fall in love with an idea, but once that fevered haze fades, it’s almost impossible for me to get the motivation i need to write. i have a few wips that i feel so guilty about not finishing/not wanting to finish/wanting to finish but being unable to get the inspiration to. so, in short, how do you maintain the motivation to finish your wips?

thank you so much! i'm glad to hear it; training wheels is still very dear to me.

first, if you want a step by step guide to finishing your wips, i wrote a tutorial earlier this year in my newsletter.

also as i've said elsewhere, i believe it's more important to follow your inspiration and interest where it takes you even if it means not finishing things. one of the reasons i love fanfic is because it's the only genre i can think of where you get to read unfinished works and be present during the writing of them.

but you asked about *my* motivation to finish things, and i'll say it's taken me a long time to build the endurance necessary not only to complete big projects but also complete them to my satisfaction. in my experience, the better you are at finishing things, the worse you become at starting them, and so whereas i used to have a million wips and ideas happening at once, now i can see the ridiculous endeavor ahead of me and pick my battles more knowledgeably.

also, i don't finish everything, especially not right away. sometimes i sit years on a story before i eventually come back to it. but i've found that it's inevitable that when i put something down that i care about, i'll come back around to it when i'm ready. it's not something i have to force. my attention and interest bounces around all over the place but the things i love, i love forever. so i'll always come back around to them.

most importantly--and this is really very important--i lie to myself.

here are the two main lies i tell myself:

"this is the best thing i've ever written," and

"i'm almost done."

being a little delusional is a huge benefit as a writer. if you're too honest with yourself nothing can get done. but i've always had a natural talent for convincing myself of things that aren't true and although that's gotten me in a lot of trouble in all other aspects of my life, in writing it keeps me just far enough away from reality that i can finish things.

the process is something like this:

vague story idea!

will probably be very small, the shortest story i have ever written in fact

begin writing

feels good, feels organic

no no that's not right, bad vibes

start over

ohhh i see what i'm trying to do

outline the tiniest, easiest outline i have ever made. five bullet points. this happens, and then this and this, and the story ends. EASY

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

definitely tomorrow, almost done

check word count. 25k. uh oh

doesn't matter, almost done. have *checks* four out of five bullet points to go

write write write

five point bullet outline no longer effective

re-outline. five points turns into five pages. uh oh

check word count. 60k. big yikes

but! almost done! will finish tomorrow, probably

write write write

get stuck? how? but the outline...

the outline is ineffective. re-outline.

check word count. 100k. :(

almost done :)

a plot knot arises. spend six hours staring at a wall to undo the plot knot

plot knot is more insidious than expected. open new document. start over

*now* i'm almost done

rewrite, restructure, reorganize

check word count. 20k. :(

write write write

check word count. 200k. :((

weeks-long fugue state during which i am god

awaken to filthy apartment. i have not eaten a vegetable in many days. i have not seen the sun.

eat a broccoli

go outside

am i living? am i truly living? is this all life is? am i loved? am i worth loving?

return to safety of fictional world to avoid existential despair

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

so it's really less about motivation to finish and more about motivation to chase down an increasingly elusive feeling of joy through immersion into worlds of my own making and control. it's way easier to run away from something than toward it.

#writing advice #motivation #process #listen i'm not saying i have a healthy relationship with writing #if you can do it healthier than i do that's what i recommend

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laurfilijames · 3 months

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All week I told myself that on Sunday, I was going to write all day.

I opened my laptop up for the first time in two weeks. I haven't written a word since I finished editing Expensive and tried for over an hour to work on my series Like My Dreams.

I thought about it all week and have been so eager to continue it, only the words won't come.

I know it's not for lack of passion or wanting to; I think about this story (and all the other ones) constantly.

I've been trying to deny some feelings for a while, or chalk it up to getting too much in my own head, but today it's come down heavier than ever and what is ultimately responsible for blocking my creativity and turning my love for my stories from thoughts into actual sentences.

I'm lonely.

I've never felt so alone.

The Charlie fandom seems to be relatively non existent, or just extremely quiet.

I have no space. No where I fit in.

I'm on the outskirts, trying to find a spot, constantly seeing if there is a way I can have a place for my ideas, stories, and even friendship, and have it hold some value to the others I'm around.

The more I post on here, the less I feel seen.

Engagement on this platform has reduced drastically across the board, and it's effecting so many artists.

It's not about numbers. I'm sure some of you are probably thinking "your last fic has over 100 notes". Yeah. It does. Almost all of those notes are likes, and more than half the reblogs are my own.

What I'm seeking is engagement. Conversation. A likeness and kinship started by a common interest that blooms into simple conversations and thoughts shared.

Comparison is a bitch. I see so many people living the Tumblr life I wish to have. Asks, comments, reblogs of teasers and moodboards for upcoming fics screaming of excitement and praise and how eager they are to read it. People dropping everything they're doing to read the latest chapter of their friend's new fic.

I realize the many reasons why I'm in a different position than they are, but lately it's been screaming at me louder than ever that I'm lacking something meaningful or whatever I'm doing on here isn't enough.

I've tried creating a buzz around my stories. I am aware that most of the time I write for unpopular characters with a smaller fan base, so I set the bar lower but am still left feeling inadequate even when I write for the popular ones. Whenever I've shared snippets of WIPs in hopes to gain some excitement from my readers, it falls short. Usually it'll inspire me to keep going, to write better than ever and make this next fic The Best One that makes me so happy and excited to get out. (For Charlie, I'll say, and write something I'm so unbelievably proud of) and then sometimes it makes me wonder if I should bother continuing at all.

I know I am not owed anything by anyone and no one is obligated to read or comment or anything of the sort, and I am beyond grateful for the comments and support I do receive, and the friendships I've made, old and new.

I'm not exactly sure what I'm getting at here, I just needed to write it down and "talk" it out.

I've been battling the decision to continue writing but not share it. I don't want that to happen, because as much as I write these stories for myself, a lot of the fun of it comes from being able to share it with all of you.

Nothing dramatic is happening. I'm not leaving, and I will be writing again because I'm not at all done with what I have to say about these characters, I just felt this needed to be said and already feel a little lighter by sharing it.

Write your stories, comment on your favourite fics, scream with your mutuals about a photo or gif that inspired something in you, tell your writer friends and writers you've never spoken to but love their stories just how much you do... I promise it makes more of an impact than you know. 💗

#personal

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meowz3rzparty · 23 days

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An updated Wip for the doctor masacrik fanfic ‼️

*You don’t know what happened, you couldn’t remember who you were, where you were, hell you couldn’t even remember your past. You woke up in a hospital, inside a patient room.you were in a hospital gown,nothing else. You were confused and scared. You had no clue what was happening of course you’d be frightened.*

*your whole body hurt as you sat up slowly. You looked down at your legs to see stitches going up your right leg, the area around the stitches being bruised and slightly red. It was so confusing and panic inducing. Eyes wide and aware as you looked around when you felt something on your head. You couldn’t see what it was though, but luckily there was a mirror in sight and you could slightly see into it. Seeing the cat looking ears sown onto the base of your head, also noticing a cat like tail sown onto your lower back.*

*But like I said, you couldn’t remember anything and had no clue if those had always been there on not. The only clue you would’ve had is how the stitches look. However you didn’t know what healed stitches look like, and even if you did I doubt you’d remember.*

“What the fuck..? W-why can’t I remember anything…?” *You stammered out quietly. You were trying to calm down by taking deep breathes except the stress of not being able to remember anything was making you anxious and scared. As you breathed heavily your eyes paced around the room and noted an iv tube inserted into your forearm. As you took notice of it you decided it would be a good idea to try and get it out and go ask someone for help. Your hand reached for the iv tube that was probably being used to give your body medicine, you grabbed it a gently started to mess with it trying to get it out*

“Ah your awake. Stop playing with your iv though..” *you hear a stern voice say suddenly,flinching slightly at the unexpected voice. Eyes darted to look over at the door frame of the room to see a tall figure, you couldnt quite make out who it was because it was quite dark. The ‘figure’ stepped into the room. A tall doctor, with strawberry pink hair that was short and slicked back, teal eyes glaring over at you. His style of clothes was… questionable. A mint teal button up top with a white hospital coat over it with his name tag on, “Doctor Masacrik”. Ah so that’s his name. His shorts were a maroon colour as he had heart covered stocking under them… interesting fashion choice.*

“W-what am I doing here..?! Why cant I remember anything-? Who even are you..!?” *you faltered out as your eyes were glued on this mystery doctor. Doctor masacrik looked down at you in amusement and mockery as you spoke frantically.. *

“Calm down.. Im Doctor masacrik, and your my new experiment, don’t worry though, I won’t hurt you.. yet” *he remarked as he started walking closer to you, you were confused but there was a feeling of comfort you got from him, it felt oddly comforting but stern, like he wouldn’t be afraid to get rid of you if you made the slightest mistake.* “oh, and don’t try and take these off” *he mentioned the ears* “their sown on, they won’t come off no matter how hard you pull or tug..” *his words were menacing.. making you want to cower up..*

“Your name is (users name)..” *he said as he leaned forward and grabbed your chin with his hand, lifting your head up to eye level..* “such a pretty pet.. I’m surprised you survived, you lost quite a lot of blood during surgery..” You looked up at him, confused but you felt a bit more safer now.. for some reason he brought a sense of peacefulnesses to you.*

“(Users Name)..? That’s my name-?” You asked quietly as his hand was on your chin still, his eyes examining you.*

“Yup, that’s your name~ now.. stand up I need to check if your legs still work..” *he said that as if he had done something to your legs, before her took a few steps back from you. It felt confusing but you had no one else at this point so you just listened to him, slowly crawling out of the hospital bed and stood up. You noticed your legs felt numb and were slightly hurting. He crouched down slightly so he could look at your legs closer up. He had made the muscle in your legs weaker so you couldn’t escape from him..*

“Good good, doesn’t look like I made them to weak.. we wouldn’t want you to be completely useless now would we (users name)…~? Does it feel weird or does it hurt…?” *he questioned mockingly as his hands moved up your legs.

“I-i feel weak.. but it doesn’t hurt..” *you trembled out softly as your eyes looked down at him.* “ that’s good.” *he said as he stood up and looked at you before his slender cold hand petted the ears on your head.. you couldn’t really feel it because it wasn’t an original part of your body but I felt comforting to an extent.* “sit back down, I’ll be back in bit..” *he said, his voice suddenly turning more stern and demanding

#fanfic #ao3 #doctor masacrik #dr masacrik #pyschology #meow meow #rahhhh #blog #writing #writers on tumblr #nursecore #SoundCloud

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lilbeanz · 27 days

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Hello! Not an ask, just wanted to say I adore your content; you're so skilled. I came across your art first, and the drama of even the smallest panel; I'd been eyeing JoDT & sequels for awhile because it was a WIP, but I caved and binged bks1-4 in about three days. I reread the "Eat your heart out Pureblood society" scene at least once a day, thank you for that, superb execution. I also really liked, in the first book, the interactions between Malfoy & Harry, and the very gradual "well, he's our friend now." The development of their friendship has done a great job of re-defining the characters and their relationships. The series feels like its own thing, and the fact that Ginny never even had the diary in book 2 only cemented that. I've really appreciated the deviation from Draco-the-tortured-hero/Draco-making-amends (which I also love to read). Horrors of the Heir was a great twist and really put the whole series in another tier, tbh. CoS was like, my least favorite of the series as a kid (alongside GoF, which has grown on me as I read fanfic) and your version of bk 2 easily established the micro-obsession of your series for me. Also, Crabbe & Goyle?? "They're actually really good friends"?? "Just to see if we feel anything"?? Adorable. Obsessed.

tldr; Your rewrite of the series is incredibly unique, and I admire how you've really taken the series and made it something completely fun and new and modern 💜💜💜

Looking forward to the rest. Thank you for sharing!

AaaAaaAaaHhhHhhHh?!??!?!

This is such a lovely comment, I can't even -- I -- I'm --

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you're enjoying the series so far! It really has been such a challenging, fun project!

I adored writing the "Eat Your Heart Out" scene. People tend to forget that Draco Malfoy is canonically *very* dramatic when he wants to be. Yes, he can be sulky and scheming, but he also shouts taunts across the courtyard, and puts on scenes to make older students laugh at Harry’s expense, even going so far as to dress up as a Dementor to make his "rival" lose in Quidditch.

The Horror of the Heir was such an experience for me as the author, because CoS is my favourite book from the series (weird, ik) and looking back, I sort of realise I could’ve squeezed in so much more. But last May, 45k was a HUGE amount of words for me! And now I'm churning out 100k like nobody's business 💀

✨️Growth✨️

And speaking of growth, the reason I had Draco take Tom Riddle’s diary was purely because of growth. It would've taken him far longer to change as a person if he hadn't taken Ginny's place. A pivotal character development moment, as he reflects on his upbringing etc...

Crabbe and Goyle generally get overlooked in the fandom, and it really bugs me. Vince dies canonically, yes, but I absolutely love it when fic writers incorporate Greg as an actual character in post-war fics, and acknowledge that Vince was Draco’s friend.

It's always Blaise, Pansy, and Theo because they're intelligent and societies definition of "attractive." I mean, each to their own of course, but I could write an entire essay on the injustice I feel for Crabbe and Goyle!

And then, of course, the development of Draco’s relationship with the Golden Trio, specifically Harry. Just -- Ugh-- these silly kids make me so unhinged!😂

It wouldn't be all sunshine and rainbows to begin with. Of course it wouldn't. It's a rocky start, with bumps along the way (and more big bumps to come), but I really do love the way I have progressed their relationship, and I'm not even gonna be humble about it! I really do love my own fic!!!

All this to say, thank you so much!!! I realise fix-its are a very popular type of fic to write, but I really do try to keep it as fresh and unique as possible, so the fact that I really am able to give my readers an experience means the world to me💖

#lovely lovely people #asks and replies #jodt #journal of dreadful things #lilbeanz #💖💖💖💖

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always-wool-gathering · 8 months

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Starting a new crafting adventure (mostly knitting, some crochet), thought it might be fun to document.

I came across this concept called the ✨Gideon Method✨. (I always see it in my head with capitals and sparkles because I firmly believe it is going to revolutionise my life and get all my WIPs magically finished. I always feel this way about ✨Methods✨, I'm convinced that one day I will find the ultimate strategy to make my life run smoothly. Realistically, the way to think about this is that it will be fun for a while and maybe help me to get some stuff finished before I lose interest in it. This parenthetical remark is getting out of hand.)

So, anyway, the ✨Gideon Method✨. The idea is that I pick up to 5 projects and work on them alternately in 12 hour sprints. When something is finished, and only then, I am allowed to replace its spot in the rotation with either something new or another WIP.

I currently have 13 works in progress. One of them I will be finishing before I commence the ✨Method✨, because it has to be done before an October birthday. One of my 5 slots will be occupied by a new cast on, because that has to be done by Christmas. So overall, I will still have 13 WIPs. (Also, I just ordered yarn for Stephen West's MKAL, which starts on 5th October. So, um, 14 WIPs. That one is going to have to operate outside of the ✨Method✨, because otherwise I won't keep up with the clues. So I'm kind of sabotaging myself before I begin. But never mind!)

I have chosen the following 5 projects:

1. A Christmas stocking for my offspring

2. Socks for my Grannie (It is deeply tedious to knit the pattern she likes, but I love her a lot, so once a year I make another pair.)

3. My Sevrine Cardigan (Most favourite and beloved project, currently, but also I'm about to enter sleeve island.)

4. Bi Mitts (I believe this is my oldest project. It has been languishing since Pride 2019.)

5. Kaleidoscope Blanket (This one is crochet, and it has so many parts and so many ends! . I fully expect to be working on this for the rest of my life.)

I'm thinking I'll try to make posts with pictures before and after each 12 hour sprint, and see what I can accomplish by the end of the year. (At which point. Well. I came across this other thing called ❇️The 12 Cast Ons❇️...)

#✨Gideon Method✨#knitblr #craftblr #crochetblr #yarnblr #knitting #crochet

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lorenfinch · 11 months

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Introduction

Hello! Very recently I found out about the existence of writeblr, and since I am currently working on a book series and trying to get the word out about it I thought I'd make a sideblog for it!

My name is Loren, and my full pen name is Loren Finch. I'm 24 at the time of writing this (though my birthday is less than a month away), I like to primarily use he/they, though I still go by she/her in some places due to not entirely being out and still experimenting with my pronouns. I am a mixed, queer, autistic/adhd, transmasc, aroace author who enjoys all things fantasy, gothic, and supernatural.

I am also an artist and you may find some of my character art here! My main blog is @circuslollipop and my art sideblog is @circuslollipopart! You can also find me on twitter @/circuslollipop and on insta @/circuslollipopart!!

I would love to meet and befriend fellow writers and seek out some beta readers in the future once I'm ready for it!

My current writing project was actually inspired by another writing idea I had! That project was moreso about faeries in a steampunk-inspired city, until I had a few worldbuilding ideas on how to integrate vampires into the setting. Then I came up with a couple characters and an entirely new setting, and found that I wanted to write about them instead!

For the time being. Perhaps when this monster of a project is all done, I can go back to that other idea! Or, idk, something about sapphic werecoyotes in an Old West-inspired town.

MY WIP

Currently, I am working on a new adult dark fantasy book series, with an aim for 5 books total. I would comp this as GRISHAVERSE x HELL FOLLOWED WITH US x THE WITCHER.

The Everdark. A vast expanse of forest and mountains where the sun cannot touch, where monsters roam wild and where magic permeates the very soil. To most mortals, the Everdark is a death sentence, but one young man hopes to make it a sanctuary. Renwick had always held a fascination for vampires, and now that he’s been turned into one, he revels at the chance to finally leave behind who he once was—scared and meek with no friends, shunned by his fellows who insisted he was a wretched little girl. Yet instead of the grand castles, billowing capes, and candlelit ballroom dances of his dreams, Renwick finds himself thrust in the middle of a conflict between vampires and monster hunters that threatens to turn deadly. With his new home and fellow vampires on the line, Renwick must uncover the secrets lurking in the fog, all while searching for his enigmatic uncle and grappling with the mysterious circumstances of his own transformation.

This series will feature vampires, undead creatures, elves, magic, a trans autistic MC, many queer characters, and an eventual MLM romance. The setting is inspired by mainly 19th century Europe with some medieval/renaissance era elements, and North American natural landscapes. Currently, I have just started drafting the first book! I am a plotter by nature, and have completed outlining book 1, and have mapped out where the rest of the series will go.