#and he’s so inspiring. he’s part of the reason i took up drawing again and regained some passion for music.

[chuuyrr]

SAY MY NAME AND EVERYTHING JUST STOPS — NAKAHARA CHUUYA

=͟͟͞♡ CW(s): NSFW, MDNI, f! reader, tummy bulging, oral (f! receiving) slight overstimulation, soft! chuuya constantly calls you nicknames like good girl, sweetheart, and baby

=͟͟͞♡ SYNOPSIS: in which you and chuuya share a secret moment together that's a bit closer than usual

=͟͟͞♡ INSPIRED BY: dress and false god by taylor swift !

before you read: i wrote this as a part two of i can see you in mind, but i think this can be read as a stand alone

it was nearly midnight when the gala ended.

since the event was being conducted by a powerful and high-class organization, the armed detective agency and the port mafia sent you and chuuya there for intel purposes, but you couldn't help but take the tie-up assignment a little too far.

you and your partner had already gotten what you needed, but you took advantage of the opportunity to let loose and have some fun as you drank your third drink of the night, and the fact that you were dressed up so beautifully for the occasion didn't help chuuya either.

you looked so stunning in your sweetheart neckline dress with a slit showing off the soft and tender flesh of your left leg, matching shoes and jewelries, and hair and make-up that would make anyone swoon.

chuuya felt hot and bothered as he watched from afar while sipping his own glass of wine as your face gradually became flushed from all the beverages you were drinking while you smiled and danced on the floor. one of his hands was tugging at his own collar, his suit felt unreasonably thick for some reason.

chuuya sighs and checks his watch as he finishes his last glass of wine. it was becoming late, and he didn't want you to come home in a drunken stupor.

chuuya always felt so different whenever he was with you, especially right now, with all the banters, drinks, and conversations he had with you, as well as the intimate moments you spent as you two belonged to different organizations.

it warms his heart to see how far you two have come. chuuya could still remember the first time you two met, how he used to become upset with you fooling with him and snatching his knife, but now you have taken his heart and he had entirely given it up to you.

but right now, chuuya wants you more than he has ever desired you before.

chuuya shakes his head and approaches you in the middle of the room, gently taking your arm in his hand and saying, "hey, pretty. don't you think it's becoming late?

"chuuya, hey," you turn your head to face him, half-lidded eyes on him, before wrapping your arms around his suit-clad torso, your cheek against his chest, "there you are pretty boy.

chuuya feels his heart skipping a beat. even when you're somewhat tipsy, the way you say his name makes his heart flutter and warm inside his chest, and it was enough to make everything around him stop and his universe revolve around you, and only you.

"yeah, sweetheart? i'm right here," chuuya whispers quietly, in a rather husky and deep tone of voice.

his hands were trembling with anticipation as one of them moved to your cheek to caress it, while the other trailed from your arm to wrap around your back to hold you as well.

chuuya draws the two of you away from the crowded room, his back against the hallway wall, while he passionately plants a kiss on the crown of your head.

truth be told, you were the only one he was like this to. chuuya was never this gentle with his coworkers. you were different, as you had always been, and no one knew about you and him.

you were the only one who got to see this side of him, and no one else did, without even having to try. everyone only sees the unyielding, intimidating, and short-tempered side of him, never this one.

"chuuya," you softly murmur again, looking up at him with a small pout.

"hmm?" chuuya struggles to keep his breath from hitching. you look so damn beautiful in this angle, with your body pressed against his and your face resting on his chest.

the alcohol was starting to seep into your systems, making you a little more honest than usual as you say with a cheeky little smirk that he admires, "i have a secret to tell you."

chuuya could feel your heart beating against his chest. you seem a bit nervous for the first time despite your playful display, despite the fact that you're typically so upbeat and confident with him, especially at work.

"and what's that?" chuuya blinks, his hand still softly caressing your cheek, and he can't help but chuckle as you look up at him.

you straighten up and stand on the tips of your heels, your lips just a few inches away from his, your cherry wine breath teasing him as you say, "i only bought this dress so you could take it off."

"fuck," chuuya whispers quietly as he feels the blood rush to his cheeks, as well as the alcohol in his system from all the wine he's been drinking from this occasion.

he finds himself gripping your waist a little tighter now as he softly says again and tries to gather himself, "don't say things like that, [name]. people could hear you, baby."

"but i want you to, chuuya," your eyes meet and you speak in a language that only you two understand as you say, "and i want you too."

chuuya trails the hand he was using to caress your cheek and slides it to grab your waist before shakily moving both of his hands to your hips.

he moves in closer, your faces practically touching as he traces your temple with his nose before pressing his lips lovingly on your cheek and pulling you closer against his body.

"i want you too, baby. i've always had, and you've always seen that i have, no?" he murmurs huskily with a smirk before pressing his lips on yours, eliciting a soft moan from you.

chuuya is honestly surprised that he was able to drive you both back to his penthouse after you had been almost all over each other since the gala, practically in each other's tongues and making out in the hallway in secret.

as you made your way inside place, you and chuuya were nearly tripping over each other.

"up," chuuya whispers a delicate request on your lips before kissing them for the nth time tonight, his hands carressing the side of your thighs over the fabric of your pretty dress.

you jump obediently, urging him to carry you as such with his hands firmly beneath your thighs, and it doesn't take long for the two of you to end up in his bed.

chuuya hovers over your body, biting his bottom lip and groaning at the sight of you on his sheets, looking so ethereal with your hair undone and lipstick smudged from all the passionate kisses, while you look up at him with those pretty eyes, admiring the lipstick stains you've peppered on his face and neck.

despite the intense and desperate tension in the air, chuuya's hands were warm and soft, but yet quick as they roamed your body, feeling you up through your clothes.

as your arms wrap around his neck, he grinds his knee into your clothed pussy and kisses you passionately on the lips. the weight of you and him causes the mattress to dent and creak.

chuuya pulls away a little after the kiss, his hand reaching out to stroke your cheek as he looks down at you with a chuckle, "shall we take this further? i wanna make sure my sweetheart wants this as much as i do, and also to make sure i'm not dreaming either."

"mhm," you nod swiftly before turning your head to kiss his palm cupping your cheek and smile at him.

chuuya nods his head as well when he receives your consent before he carefully removes your dress, his hands sensually working their way to unzip your dress from you and get rid of the rest.

your arms wrap around his neck again as he takes off his own clothes with you helping him unbutton and unzip everything, drawing him closer as his warm lips plant feathery kisses on your neck and his hands delicately carress your hips, worshiping them.

"chuuya, i need you right now. please," you moan out his name quietly, and the way you say it always gets the best of him. it always makes his heart skip a beat.

"i know, baby. i know," chuuya kisses your ear before gently nibbling it, causing a soft but sweet little whine to escape your lips.

chuuya kisses you from your ear to your neck, delicately tracing your body all the way to your abdomen and, eventually, your inner thighs. as he holds your thighs firmly apart just to bury his face in between your legs, your chest heaves up and down, your breathing hitching.

you shudder and moan softly as he kisses your inner thighs, nibbling on the tender flesh before slowly trailing his lips to your pussy. as you feel his tongue prod at your clit, you let out a stifled but sweet little whine as your body arches.

your leg trembles as you squirm, but he only pulls your thighs more apart to keep you in place and make an easier access for him.

"stay still for me, pretty girl," chuuya's smile and breath brush up against your dripping wet cunt, which was practically demanding to be licked, fingered, and fucked by him.

chuuya kisses your clit once more, and kitten licks your pussy until he begins to lap at it, probing it inside while stuffing his face between your thighs as if he wants to suffocate himself in them.

"a-ahh, mmh!" the wet muscle repeatedly lapped at your cunt. as chuuya deeply plunges and swipes his tongue in between your folds, your eyes began to water with ecstasy.

chuuya pushes his tongue inside you as deeply as he can, and you let out a quiet cry of pleasure as you come undone, and the way you say his name and moan always sounded like heaven to his ears.

chuuya places a soft kiss on your sweet cunt before gently taking a hold of your hips to carress it meticulously as you lay there on his sheets, a shuddering mess with tearful eyes.

ge then adjusts both of your positions in bed, causing you to squirm as he properly lays you on your back with a pillow propping you up as he positions in between your legs, hovering you.

his cock was now just in between your folds, and you could feel his pre-cum seeping from his tip, wetting your folds even more as your arousal increased. you whimper softly at the position, but chuuya softly hushes you as he gently thrusts in.

you cry soft yet choked moans beneath him, wriggling at the sensation of being packed by his girthy cock. you could feel it reach every inch of your inner walls, and chuuya grunts as they tighten around him.

"fuck. you feel so good, pretty girl," chuuya grunts in pleasure as he starts to thrust and grip your hips in place.

you and chuuya have never been this close before. it was always just a simple makeout with a few carresses here and there, but tonight was different.

right now, all you could do was lie there while he rowed his hips against you, making you moan and whimper out his name in pleasure, and to him? hearing you say his name like that just makes everything stop.

when one of his hands trails from your hips to your tummy, you moan out, shuddering a little more intensely than earlier, "chuuya, a-ah!~"

he bites his lower lip, groaning as he presses his hand on the bulge on your tummy. he stares down at you with a loving gaze before his gaze fixes on the bulge that appears and disappears whenever he thrusts his cock so deeply into you.

it was quite a sight to behold, along with the way your legs shook with each sensation of being stuffed by his girthy cock.

"chuuya, please! w-wait," you say in between your moans as he starts to intensify his thrusts, which makes you squirm beneath him.

"shh, shh~ it's okay, baby," chuuya says in a hushed tone, pressing you down further im bed by putting his weight on you so you couldn't pull or squirm away from him.

he was now gripping your hips to hold you more firmly in place as he continues row his hips back and forth, harder and faster now with his lips right against the spot behind your ear. chuuya does it over and over again, intending to fill you up and make you feel good just as you deserve.

sounds of pleasure filled the bedroom and were followed by the slaps of skin.

you shudder and cry as your pussy clenches around him hard and tightly when his cock twitches inside you and fills your walls with his hot, thick cum.

you laid in his sheets, panting softly and trying to catch your breath, but chuuya wasn't finished yet. he refuses to pull out and hovers over you with a breathy smile.

"chuuya?" you feel your cheeks grow warm as you call out his name.

"i'm not yet done, sweetheart," chuuya chuckles deeply as he finally pulls out, but leaves in just the tip of his girthy cock between your folds.

before you can say anything else, he thrusts his cock back into your sodden and sensitive cunt, easily gliding in with his cum and yours serving as a lubricant. you arch your back and let out a small broken moan of pleasure.

"c-chuuya!~" you gasp softly as he rocks back and forth inside you, thrusting deeply that you could feel the tip bulge your tummy again.

"shh, it's okay. you can take one more, yes? i just wanna make my good girl feel so good," chuuya murmurs in a hushed tone as he kisses you deeply for the umpteenth time, muffling your moans.

his warm body presses you down the matress once more, and at this rate, he could almost carve your shape and name in his bed.

you continue to moan, your hands reaching for his back, only to dig your nails into his back and your heels into the mattress as you kicked them reflexively from the intense pleasure.

"almost there my good girl. just a bit more, okay? hold onto me tight," chuuya whispers in between his passionate kisses on your lips with one of his hands gripping your hips in place even more firmly now, intensifying his thrusts.

he moves frantically now, burrowing himself deeply inside you, simply wanting to feel you and himself bulge on the same spot on your tummy with his other hand. he massages his fingers on your tummy, addicted to the way it emerges and re-emerges with each thrust.

your hear was hazy, and every inch of your body was sensitive, especially your sodden and squelching cunt, with the overwhelming pleasure overstimulating you with each deep and furious thrust so that you couldn't construct any proper words and only moan.

"chuuya!~" he breaks the kiss just on cue, just as you moan again, your body arching against him at his final deep thrust into you.

chuuya can't help but admire how you sound so lovely and how he feels your tummy bulge from his deep thrusts as his cum fills up your inner walls for the second time, stuffing you full that some of it was rolling down your inner thighs and on the sheets.

his heart flutters at the thought of being this close to you with your nails deep into his back, painting it with your love marks.

"good girl, pretty," chuuya breathily says to you, chuckling before pressing a kiss on your lips, his tongue intertwining with yours as you wrap your arms around his neck once again.

you two share a few more kisses as you feel his hands that were gripping your hips loosen up and trail to your waist instead, caressing you delicately to easen you as you come down from your high.

chuuya does this a couple of more times before pulling away just a bit, now carressing your face tenderly with one of his hands and a smile.

you return the loving smile he gives you and he wraps his arms around you this time, hugging you closely to his chest as he falls back in his bed. he presses another kiss, this time on the top of your head, as he cups your face.

"i love you," he whispers as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek with his breath tickling your skin.

you cuddle up to chuuya, feeling warm and comfortable in his arms just like this, and you softly murmur in response, "i love you too."

chuuya exhales softly, a smile tugging on his lips as he closes his eyes and continues to hold you, running his fingers through your hair.

you two may have been enemies owing to your respective reputations and organizations, but only you and chuuya knew you two were so much more than that.

you were each other's secret mission, and today you two had never been closer than ever.

#bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd x y/n #chuuya smut #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #bsd x you #bsd scenarios #bsd fluff #bsd oneshot #bsd chuuya headcanons #bsd smut #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #chuuya scenarios #chuuya x fem!reader

[arminsumi]

OUR LAST SUMMER.

五夏 ⋅ reader

PART OF THE 2k SPECIAL: ur fave duos!!

NOTE: yuh this hurt to write 🥹 was solely inspired by that one abba song i'm ngl i listened to it one night and related it to satosugu and cried like a bitch

SUMMARY — You, Suguru and Satoru shared one summer of bliss before everything fell apart

WARNINGS — fluff to angst 👍, love triangle, i think it's gn reader but lmk if there's something not gn thank u!!

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1k

PLAY ME ♪ Our Last Summer

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

It had been a blisteringly hot summer. Sweat beaded at Suguru’s forehead. The sun forced Satoru’s eyes into a perpetual squint. And you took shelter in the shade of a palm tree – the two boys met you there, when they too decided to take shelter in the shade. The chemistry between you three was explosive, truly chemical; that one of a kind, once in a lifetime kind of friendship that blooms instantly like a timelapse of a flower, that artists and poets try their hand at capturing but mostly fail.

Beach walks were impossible at midday – the sand was so hot that it burned the soles of your feet. If you were riskily treading barefoot, then the boys would take turns carrying you. Satoru carried you bridal style. Suguru carried you on his back. The prior liked to pretend that he was going to throw you into the ocean (and he did a few times…) and the latter liked to steal romantic glances at you.

Come night, you three crammed together in one hotel room. Conversations, debates, arguments, flirting… those all easily carried past the midnight hour. Satoru was the first to pass out, but Suguru being the insomniac of the group managed to stay awake even longer with you. Usually, you fell asleep in the middle of expressing a thought to Suguru, and then woke up the next morning to two bleary blue eyes blinking awake on your left and abyssal black eyes blinking awake on your right. Satoru rolled on top of you and refused to let you leave bed. Suguru smiled and told him to stop crushing you to death.

Breakfasts were met with late attendance – thanks to Satoru taking his sweet time in the bathroom getting ready. Plates piled and spilled with hotel buffet food; Satoru’s plate consisted solely of sweet pastries. The custard Danishes were his favourite. The three of you broke down laughing at your inside joke about him being the custard Danish robber; the three of you couldn’t catch your breaths from how hard you laughed at your own stupid jokes. “He’s at it again!” Suguru snorted, body falling into yours, eyes reduced to strips of pure joy.

Butterflies liked Suguru for some reason. It was awful for him – he was terrified of butterflies, they really creeped him out. During walks around Okinawa, you struggled to keep up with the two giants; Satoru never missed a beat when walking in sync with his best friend. And he also never missed the opportunity to pick on your slowness or size. Suguru would patch up your bruised ego with a well-timed compliment.

When your holiday in Okinawa was drawing to a close, you three decided to cram as much exploration as possible into those three last days. Pulling all-nighters, stargazing, joking around, sharing secrets, kissing as friends until those kisses became something more. The final day of your holiday was spent ascending a hill that overlooked the glittering beaches. Such a picturesque view. One you didn’t dare to capture in a photograph, because that felt disrespectful. It was a beautiful landscape that deserved to live only in the rich world of your memories.

On that grassy hill, in that briny wind, you three thought that the present moment would never end. You held hands. You kissed. Your hands felt warm. Your lips felt tingly. They both looked at you meaningfully.

“Come back to Jujutsu High with us.” You didn’t hesitate to agree, a sparkle in your eyes. No one in your life had ever accepted you as a sorcerer until they came along.

Summer ended…

And the school year began.

In the far future, when you and Satoru would reminisce together as old Jujutsu High teachers to your students, you two would summarize your high school days with very specific memories.

“Remember when we always got caught making out in the classroom, and Yaga chased us down the corridors?”

“ – and we’d loiter around the vending machines. You know, Yuji, Satoru had such a bad sweet tooth even back then. And! He! Stole! My! Lunches! He was a menace!! Don’t deny it, Satoru.”

“What I stole from you in food I repaid in saving your ass. Remember when you almost died? No joke, Megumi, Y/n almost died during that Alleyway Incident – you know that one we talked about? Yeah, that was Y/n. Suguru and I were stronger than Y/n so we always helped – heyyy! I’m just telling the truth!”

“Who was Suguru?”

The smiles dropped from yours and Satoru’s faces. The color drained out of them, too. Just one little name, six little letters, devastated the atmosphere. That’s when the reminiscing ceased abruptly, and Satoru stood up and excused himself to a quiet place. You and him never cried together, only separately – except for on that day.

That day was the first and only day you and Satoru broke down sobbing into each other. Snot dribbled out of your noses. Your eyes puffed up. Your faces felt tightened with the dried tears.

“Suguru, don’t leave. Come back with us to Jujutsu High, we can sort all of this out.”

But he turned and walked away from you and Satoru, disappearing into the crowd of people. You yelled so loudly that you hurt your lungs, “Did our last summer mean nothing to you! What about the memories we’ve made at school together?! Suguru, don’t you walk away from us! Don’t – leave us behind, S-Suguru did it all mean nothing to you?!”

Just like that, three reduced to two. Just you and Satoru. Sat on the steps in heavy, impenetrable silence. Faces planted into your palms. Back curved because you had no energy to sit up straight after such an exhausting cry. You never thought you’d look into Satoru’s eyes and see no light. Over the years, he lightened up – especially when he became a teacher. But you could tell he masked his true expression; a deadpan. The real emotions were forcefully forgotten.

#五夏 #satosugu #angst #satosugu x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x geto #geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #angst with a sad ending #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

[queenofspades6]

Greatest Investment | Kaz Brekker x reader

Summary: You eavesdrop on Kaz and Inej, you watched as they get closer, and well, it doesn’t go as planned…

Based on this request I received:

”Hiii! I haven't watched the second season yet, but I saw a Gif of a kiss (or almost kiss) between Kaz and Inej, and I was wondering if you would write about the reader having feelings for Kaz since they met, but she doesn't have the courage to talk, so at some point in the day she goes to check if Kaz needs anything and ends up witnessing the kiss (or almost kiss) between Kaz and Inej, and the reader feels like the silliest person in the world after that.”

Warnings: Angst. (Sorry…)

A/N: Hi! I hope you’ll enjoy what I wrote, I took some liberties since I was so inspired by the request!! I love some good angst! Did I use again in a Kaz Brekker fic title the word ‘investment’? Oops…I think meeting Freddy and Amita made me that way! They are so incredible!

———

Being Ketterdam’s most famous assassin wasn’t an easy life. You were one of Kaz Brekker’s Crows, always here if needed. Since you were part of the Crows, there was something unspoken between Kaz and you. There was some sort of tension from the beginning, even Nina and Jesper had noticed.

”How is the most beautiful woman in Ketterdam doing?“ Jesper asked, taking place to the bar counter next to you.

You rolled your eyes and repressed a grin.

“What do you want, Jesper?“

“Can’t I just compliment you without needing a reason?”

You stared at him meticulously, but Jesper couldn’t look back. Interesting. He needed to ask you something then...

“Fine! Fine! I need your help.“

You sighed but smiled.

”What? It’s not my fault, Y/N, if you give good advice! Don’t blame me!”

”Jesper, what do you need me for?“ You questioned, taking a sip at your drink.

“You see...“

Jesper was trying to avoid your gaze.

”Jesper. My patience has its limits.”

“Alright! Fine! I want to prepare a date for Wylan and I need your help.” He spitted, playing with his gun on his hand.

You nodded.

”I’ll help you. What do you need me for?“

”I don’t know what to plan. Maybe something he’ll like.”

You laughed, thinking about your previous conversation with Wylan about a sweet and wonderful place you both wanted to go to escape for once the cold streets of Ketterdam.

“Jes. You know what? Bring him to Butterfly’s Heaven, you declared, a smile already drawing on your lips at the thought, it’s a greenhouse where all the species of butterfly can fly freely. There’s also an endearing cafe there to drink something while watching the butterflies.” You replied, stars already dancing in your eyes thinking about all the marvelous butterflies.

“Do you think Wylan will love it?”

”Definitely! We talked about it all week, and he was desperate to go. You should bring him. He’ll love it. And buy him a stuffed toy, he’ll marry you right after.”

Jesper was smiling at the thought of Wylan asking his hand in marriage.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“You and Wylan deserve to be happy.“

“What if it’s not enough, Y/N? What if I am not enough?” He opened up, not caring if he was vulnerable in front of you.

“You are enough, Jesper, you always have.”

You looked at him and smiled, hoping one day you’ll find someone that will care for you as much as Jesper wants Wylan.

“Wylan thinks you are enough, he loves you, Jes. And even Kaz knows it, even if he won’t ever admit it.”

You took another sip of the whisky in front of you and heard someone giggling.

”Hi Y/N!”

Wylan was embracing Jesper with his hands around his shoulders.

“Hi you.” Wylan said to Jesper.

Jesper didn’t even reply and kissed him tenderly as if he were the most precious thing in the world. And at that moment, you swore he were. They broke the kiss, and Wylan blinked several times as if to recover from the intensity of the kiss. It warmed your heart, even if you said nothing.

“What were you talking about?” Wylan asked, coming back to his senses.

Jesper almost jumped off his seat.

”We were talking about Y/N’s feelings for Kaz!“ Jesper answered spontaneously, too scared to reveal what he had planned.

”What? We were?” You almost spitted your drink on the counter of the bar. Now you were facing Jesper and Wylan. How dare he expose you like that?

”Oh seems interesting.” Wylan said, waiting for you to say more.

“There’s nothing between me and Kaz.”

Wylan looked at you wide-eyed, and Jesper sighed, before saying:

”Lie, Y/N. Haven’t you noticed how Kaz always checks on you after a heist, how you always have dresses, jewels, food, everything you want given to you for nothing in shops, you think it’s because of your fine looks? No. Even if you’re beautiful, Y/N, no offense! It’s Kaz’s doing. He made me went with him to each shop, each café, each place in Ketterdam you would want to go to pay, or should I say ‘bribe’ them for you to always have what’s best, no matter the cost.”

”That’s not true, that’s-”

”And what about this time you almost died, and he stayed at your bed an entire week, ordering every Dreg not to disturb him, and how you always have your tea and waffles ready for you every morning? Even Nina is jealous!” He confessed.

”I thought it was you or Wylan who was making me breakfast every morning!”

”It’s not.“ He muttered.

”He’s right, Y/N.” Wylan nodded. ”Even Nina told me last time about how his heartbeat jumped when you are in the same place, and how irritating it was for her to feel both of your heartbeats jumping when you’re together.”

“You should tell him how you feel, Y/N. You are the one who encouraged me to be with Wylan, because life is short, and in Ketterdam, death is always near. He cares about you, more than he’ll ever admit.”

”I don’t have feelings for Kaz fucking Brekker!” You almost screamed and avoided Wylan and Jesper’s gazes.

You took your glass of whisky and finished it all. The feeling of alcohol burning your throat almost soothed you.

”You do.” Jesper smiled and teased you.

”No, I don’t!”

Wylan rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’stuborness.

”Y/N! There you are, I thought you were with Kaz!”

You jumped off your seat. Fortunately for you, it was only Nina and not Dirtyhands himself.

”Nina, you scared the hell out of me.”

She grinned as if she had planned it all along.

”What are the three of you up to?“ She questioned, eyebrows raised.

"We are talking about Y/N’s feelings for Kaz.” Wylan answered before you could even speak.

”Not you too, Wylan!”

He smirked, almost shyly, and even if you wanted to blame him, you couldn’t blame his cute silly face.

”Hmmm, you and Waffles are not so discreet with your feelings.”

You sighed and tried to ignore Nina’s voice. You knew that if you listened to them, you would probably end up in Kaz’s office confessing your feelings for him, because on some missions, it became unbearable. The need to protect him, to check on him, how he could make you feel powerful and useless at the same time.

“Y/N. Heartbeats don’t lie.” Nina whispered to you, and you were sure Wylan and Jesper would not hear.

”Stop Nina. I- I- He’s not in love with me. Kaz Brekker can’t be in love. Love is a weakness, and I am only his latest investment.” You repeated, only to convince yourself of it.

“So how do you explain how his heartbeat go faster when you’re here, how I can feel his heart trying to get out of his chest when you’re injured. He cares. He tries to hide it, but the heart doesn’t lie. Never.”

You looked at her blue ocean eyes, and she caressed your shoulder in encouragement.

”Try to tell him, try to tell him you care, if only that. Love is a fragile thing, cherish it while it lasts.”

You swore you saw an ounce of sadness and regret flashing in her eyes as she remembered Matthias.

“I think you can help him with his past.” Nina muttered.

You looked at your empty glass, and noticed how your hands were trembling. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time for you to tell him, that at least you cared for him. More than him being just your Boss.

You stood up, levelled up your chin, and took several steps towards Kaz’s office.

You were Ketterdam’s most notorious assassin, and you would not be afraid.*

You advanced towards the door slowly, you wanted to knock but the door was already ajar.

You could do it, you had done so much worse. You took a deep breath before-

You heard voices in his office. You heard him first, talking with a female voice, a voice you didn’t not recogn-

it was Inej’s.

Kaz and Inej were in his office talking. Your instinct was screaming at you to leave and come back later, but curiosity got the better of you.

You stayed, you tried to understand what they were saying, but you couldn’t. Slowly the most slowly possible you pushed the door and waited. Kaz and Inej were still talking, you took it as a sign they didn’t hear your presence. You weren’t Ketterdam’s best assassin for nothing. You took a silent step and looked at Kaz’s office.

You didn’t expect what you saw.

Kaz and Inej were close, too close for your liking, dangerously close. Too close that any of them could bear. So how was it they were here, almost touching each other. You swore Kaz could feel Inej’s breathing on his chin.

Watching them so close together made your heart beating faster. You wanted to scream but no sound came. No explanation came to your mind. Why was Inej here? You tried to focus on the words you heard, but none of them made sense. You were near but you couldn’t hear them clearly, it was as if your brain didn’t want you to eavesdrop. You heard some words like ‘crows’ and ‘family’.

You pushed the door again, without a sound. You leaned on the door and focused on the voices.

“Inej.”

You heard Kaz’s voice as it broke, and you needed to take a glimpse at what was going on right now. You took a deep breath and looked at them. Kaz’s gloved hand was on Inej’s shoulder. They were staring at each other like nothing else mattered in the entire world. Even if you were not close, you could decipher Inej’s surprise at Kaz’s sudden touch.

”Let me go, Kaz.”

Kaz removed his hand, and an ounce of sadness and rejection passed on his face.

“We need you, here.“

You watched as Inej shooked her head.

“Stay, Inej. Stay. Please.”

Her name sounded as a prayer in Kaz’s lips.

”I can’t, Kaz, and you know why.“ She whispered.

“We need you, Inej, please. We- I... I need you.“

Without noticing, Kaz caught Inej’s arm with his gloved hand, preventing her from leaving.

You couldn’t see them clearly; the door was blocking your path. You tried to lean on a bit further but failed miserably. Why did you push your luck? Your whole body had been trembling the whole time, even with the multiple tries to steady your heartbeat and calm yourself. The door opened slightly, and your face was greeted by the floor.

All you felt was numbness, shock and realization. Kaz and Inej were staring at you in wonder. You could already feel Kaz’s grave gaze at you.

“What? Did you never see someone fall before?“ You questioned, trying to hide your discomfort.

Feeling ashamed, you stood up awkwardly and crossed Kaz’s eyes.

“Y/N.“ Kaz declared.

You nodded.

“It’s not what you think.” Inej replied immediately, trying to maintain her composure.

Kaz was leaning on his cane, and his eyes never left your form.

”Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. I won’t tell a soul. Keep going. I am leaving right now.” You gestured to the door and fled.

”Y/N, wait.“ Kaz said.

You ran through the Crow Club, not caring what the Dregs thought.

”Y/N!” Jesper screamed, hoping to catch your attention.

Why were you running?

Kaz followed after you, even if his leg hurt. He tried to, but you were too fast for him. After all, you were an assassin. A clumsy one at that...

You didn’t care. You ran until your lungs couldn’t bear the feeling, until your knees broke under the weight of your exhausted body. But where could you go in Ketterdam? A place where no Dreg could ever find you.

You knew the perfect place.

Months ago the Crows had gone on an heist with your help. The goal was simple, Kaz had said: ‘we enter, we take the painting, and we leave unnoticed’. He had insisted on the word ‘unnoticed’ looking specifically at Jesper. You had agreed to help them steal the damn painting if it pleases them. Truth be told you couldn’t say no to more Kruge. When you entered the grim manor Kaz had depicted, you noticed how silent and peaceful it was. No soul lived here. Was it the place where the painting was hidden? Maybe Kaz had made a mistake. But he had confirmed it was here. The manor was abandoned long ago by a duke trying to escape his demons. That’s all Kaz had told you, and you hadn’t asked for more at the time. Now you wished you had, because you were headed towards the old manor. A place where just the ghosts could disturb you. Ghosts were better than men, right? Better than some Bastard of the Barrel.

It could be the only place where you could scream and cry without someone noticing Ketterdam’s best assassin being vulnerable. Sometimes being the greatest assassin was a weakness, a weakness you couldn’t afford. It meant never showing too much emotion, never crying in front of your enemies... Wait. Was Kaz your enemy?

You didn’t know anymore. Falling in love was a weakness. Something not allowed in the dangerous streets of Ketterdam, a feeling that would destroy everything if not careful. In fact, love was a weapon, and if not used with parsimony and care, it could kill you.

You broke in the manor, remembering the precise path you used last time and found the closest room, the one you had discovered and found surprisingly pleasing. And strangely peaceful.

You closed the door, and sat on the floor, your body curled up, hands around your knees. You tried to forget the memories with the Crows and Kaz, but it was too much. You remembered your times with Jesper talking about guns, the hours eating waffles and ice cream with Nina, the walks with Wylan, the looks of approval coming from Matthias, and this cane... The cane you would never forget, even if you wanted to. You remembered the day when you had ended up wounded after eliminating a slaver. You were injured, sitting on the cold pavement. You were trying to catch your breath before escaping, but you had felt a soft but firm tap on your thigh. And without looking, you knew who it belonged to.

It was the Bastard of the Barrel.

He wanted you to think he was invisible, and unpredictable, but what he didn’t know was that long before killing the man, you knew Dirtyhands had followed you.

“Enjoyed the show, didn’t you?” You had questioned, showing your white teeth that must have been covered in blood.

That was the day when he had asked you to join the Crows, and since you had nothing more to do, you had accepted, already thinking about the free drinks you would benefit at the Crow Club.

You also remembered the day when you had wanted to leave the Crows because of some decision Kaz had made. You were angry and had prepared everything to leave in the morning. However, Kaz had watched you wrapping your clothes with a spectacular meticulousness, and had whispered:

“Stay. Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me, Y/N.”

And you had stayed. Of course. When Dirtyhands asked you to stay, you stay. The morning he had woken up at dawn in case you wanted to leave without saying goodbye. He had found you in your usual attire, your knives and guns on your waist.

“You did not leave?”

He had asked, almost as a prayer.

”No. Something keeps me in Ketterdam.”

Kaz had said nothing, but you swore you had seen a grin on his lips this day.

You also remembered the day when you had been badly injured to save Nina from a fatal injury. You had been severely hurt; you weren’t even able to stand up. You remember watching the pitiful looks of the Crows at your broken body sprawled on the ground. Deep down you knew you were now a liability for the Crows, and especially for Kaz, so you had told them to leave you here, and escape before the men you had stolen from were back. You knew the risks and costs of each heist, and already accepted your fate.

Kaz had none of it. He had ordered Matthias to carry you, while Nina would tend to your wound as much as she could and control your heartbeat. Jesper would protect your backs, while Inej was sent to scan the path, and look for any danger. You would never forget the look Kaz had given you when he told you to rest for months if needed and had given you a room close to his own in the Crow Club.

Later, you had asked him why he had saved you instead of leaving you to perish. He had said with conviction:

”We are Crows, Y/N, we never leave our own behind.”

That was all of his qualities and flaws that made you love Kaz Brekker. He was broken, but you had always been a sucker for broken things to tend to. You had offered him everything an assassin could possess: your loyalty, your weapons, your ability to kill, and your heart, ready for the taking...

But now you remembered the sentence Dirtyhands had told you a week ago, telling you all you had to know about what you were to him, and what you could be.

”You’re my greatest investment, Y/N. Don’t fail me. “

He had told you once what you were to him, but you hadn’t listened, you had fallen in love, and now you knew. You knew you had always been an expensive investment, but only that, nothing more.

You had been his greatest investment, and that was all...

———-

Tell me what you thought about this one! I am seriously considering writing a part 2! Likes, shares and comments are appreciated, it makes my day, I really need it!

———

If you liked this fanfiction, you’ll love this one, it also has the word ‘investment’ in the title like this one:

⬇️ ⬇️

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz x you #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x y/n #six of crows #dirtyhands #kaz brekker x you #kaz x reader #kaz x y/n #kaz brekker fanart #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x oc #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz rietveld #kaz x inej #kaz brekker art #inej ghafa #inej ghana #soc inej #six of crows fanfic #six of crows fandom #six of crows jesper #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #jesper x wylan #jesper and inej #inej gafha #inej fanart #six of crows fanfiction

[dbnightingale24]

The Dog House Isn’t The Best, But It Can Still Be Our Home

Final installment to 'Pavlov's Dog'

~~

Part 3

~~

I told you guys I'd post it at some point 🥴 I'm honestly so sorry this took so long to post, but last year got really dark for me and everything just kind of took a backseat. Thank you so much for your patience, and thank you to all of you who checked up on me. It means more than I'll ever be able to express. Thank you @fuckingbye for being an amazing friend, and for also making this amazing moodboard. You are a saint and I love to the ends of the earth. Without further ado, here's the final chapter!

Word Count: 71,942 (yes, you read that correctly)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY), Public Sex, Semi Public Sex, Drinking, Smoking, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Angst, Heartbreak, Mild Violence, FLUFF, Lying, Betrayal...I think that's it?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: Will You Take Me Back In The Morning If I Promise To Never Act This Way Again?

I do not give consent/permission for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

“You can’t keep going on like this, babe,” Daisy sighs sympathetically as she takes a seat next to the bathtub.

“It doesn’t matter,” you shrug as you take a drag of your cigarette, “none of it fucking matters.”

“Babe, it’s been two weeks. You do the same thing every day. You get up, eat the smallest bit of food, you sit out on your back deck and smoke until you decide to start drinking, then you draw yourself a bath and drink and smoke in it until you decide it’s too cold, or I come and get you. You can’t keep doing this.”

“I don’t even have a reason to be mad at him, do I?” you scoff incredulously before taking a drag from your cigarette, “it’s not like he lied. He didn’t even know, so I have no reason to be this upset, do I?”

“He was a complete and total asshole,” she states firmly, “and you have every reason to be upset with his actions. Yeah, it was a shit show, but he definitely could’ve handled it better.”

“The shit he said right in front of that child, even if it isn’t his, were so fucking cruel! No child deserves to be spoken to like that, and he of all people should know that!”

“Babe-”

“After everything we talked about on that trip...it’s like it didn’t even matter to him. He didn’t even care.”

“I’m sure he was just shocked-”

“That’s not an excuse, Dais.”

“I never said it was, but c’mon: it’s Ransom. You really think he was thinking clearly? Linda and Marta were there and I’m more than sure he was afraid of losing you, then Marta drops a fucking bomb on him, and it sounds like she did it on purpose, if I’m honest. Just to fuck him over.”

“Daisy, I just-”

“BABY, PLEASE ANSWER THE DOOR AND TALK TO ME!” Ransom calls desperately as he bangs on your front door.

Like clockwork.

“Why can’t he understand that I need time? I don’t owe him shit,” you start to sniffle as your tears fall, and you grab the bottle of tequila that lives by the bathtub now, and take a long drink from it.

“I’ll get rid of him, just please...please get up and do something,” Daisy begs desperately.

“Ya know, you’re wrong,” you say as she reaches the doorway, finally looking at her, “I put on makeup today,” you smile weakly.

She lets out a humorless laugh before disappearing and you hear her footsteps quickly making their way downstairs.

Since everything that took place on his doorstep, you haven’t spoken to or seen him. You don’t know what to say or how to handle the situation. He’s been calling and texting non-stop since it all happened, and every two days he comes by to visit, and Daisy tells him to leave you alone every time.

But you can’t keep avoiding him.

No, you don’t know what the right thing to do is, but you know that avoiding him is the wrong thing, and you can’t keep letting Daisy handle these issues for you. You have to at least speak to him, but say what? Do what? It’s not like you have any real right to be mad at him. It’s not like he cheated on Marta with you, he didn’t cheat on you with her, he clearly didn’t know he had a child so he didn’t keep it from you, and he did defend you to Linda. However, that doesn’t change the things he said to that child.

Possibly his child.

“He’s not my son and this isn’t fucking funny!”

“We can take a test if you want, but he is your son!”

“Well, I don’t want him! You wait...however many years to tell me about him, and you sure as shit don’t need any money, so why now?!”

“He deserves to know who his Father is, Ransom! He’s a Drysdale and-”

“Watch it,” Ransom warns with a foreboding tone.”

God, how could he be so cruel to a child, after all of the talks you two have had? He’s always cruel though, isn’t he? To you, to Marta, his own son (the resemblance is too strong for that boy to not to be his child), and fuck it, even Jack. He can’t ever seem to control his temper and, if he can’t do that, what chance do you two have together?

Still, he owns your heart and you don’t know how to get it back at this point. You don’t know and you don’t wanna know.

“Ransom, you have to stop coming around!” you hear Daisy yell, and you sigh before taking another drink from the bottle.

“You can’t stop me from me seeing her, Daisy! She’s my girlfriend!” 

“Bullshit! You two never made it official-”

“Daisy, stay out of it! Let me see her!”

“No! She’s not ready to see you and you can’t force-”

“I’m not forcing anything-”

“What do you think this is?! Showing up because she won’t answer your calls or texts, and demanding to see her?! Leave her alone!”

“You can’t stop me-”

“Let him in!” you call, lighting a cigarette as you use your tip toes to turn the water back on, and heat up your water just a bit.

Who the hell knows how this is gonna go?

You hear the both of them speedily stomping up the steps, but Daisy get there first and says, “are you sure? You don’t have to-”

“I can’t keep letting you fight my battles,” you smile weakly at her as you turn the water off.

“Babe-”

“I have to deal with this at some point. I can do this,” you all but mumble not believing yourself as you take a drag of your cigarette.

“I’ll be in the room over,” she sighs softly before turning, “fuck you Drysdale!”

“Fuck you!”

You hear her slap him and shake your head. Nothing can ever be simple, can it?

“Sweet Thing, please-” he starts as soon as he makes his way into your bathroom.

“Ransom...don’t,” you quickly interrupt. “This isn’t just some small disagreement.”

“I didn’t even know I had a child!”

“I could’ve dealt with that, Ransom! It would’ve taken some time, but I honestly could’ve dealt with that! It’s the way you spoke about him in front of him!”

“I don’t want him!”

“You didn’t have to say it in front of him! Jesus, it’s not his fault that you’re a selfish bastard! He didn’t ask to be born, and Marta-”

“She did this out of spite! Not because she wants me to be apart the child’s-”

“Be that as it may, he didn’t do anything! Basically telling her that she has no right calling him a Drysdale, when he is in fact a Drysdale! Ransom, I know you’re rough around the edges, but for fucks sake! All the talks we’ve had about our own fucked up childhoods and you do this?! You just...I don't fucking get it with you, Ransom!”

“What is there to get?! We fucking talked about this, Y/N! I’m not-”

“That’s no excuse for this! You took it too far and I...Ransom, I can’t-”

“Don’t you fucking say it,” he warns as his eyes start welling up with tears. “Don’t you fucking say that to me!”

“Ransom...I love you, but I can’t be the only good thing in your life. The only person you like,” you sob, sitting up and ashing your cigarette in the ash tray resting on the little table near by.

“WHY NOT?!”

“It’s too much fucking pressure! It’s too much pressure, and I can’t keep watching you be terrible to people because you had a rough childhood! You having a rough go of it doesn’t mean you get to walk all over people for the rest of your life!”

“Listen, give it a few days and you’ll see-”

“No, Ransom. This is done. I can’t do this with you anymore. You have to grow up at some point, and I refuse to mother you.”

“Y/N...you’ll see...you don’t mean it. You always say you’re done and you come back-”

“I can’t anymore. All of this just hurts too much. You keep finding new ways to hurt me, even when you don’t mean to, and I just...you’re cruel, Ransom. You’re cruel, you’re a bully, and you will hurt anyone by doing anything. I know there’s good in you, because you’ve let me see it time and time again, but you refuse to let others in, even in the slightest and I just...please don’t call me anymore,” you sob pathetically. “Don’t call, don’t text, don’t come by...we’re done.”

“You don’t mean this-”

“Don’t make it harder than it has to be, please. Just let me go,” you beg softly as you wipe your eyes.

“You’ll see. In a week or so, you’ll see and I’ll be waiting. I’ll wait and everything will be as it should, again,” he smiles weakly, wiping his own eyes.

“Ransom-”

“I’ll call you in a few weeks, okay, Sweet Thing,” he promises, making his way over to the bathtub. “I love you and I’ll talk to you.”

He cups your face and kisses you passionately and you’re so tempted to pull him into the tub with you, but you know you’ve got to stop. You left one toxic relationship just to jump into a different type of toxic relationship.

“Ransom,” you breathe once you two break apart, “please-”

“I’ll talk to you in a few weeks,” he promises with a sniffle before standing up and walking out.

“Ransom-”

“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” he repeats, his voice cracking as he continues on his way out.

Daisy is back inside and by your side instantly, climbing into the tub and holding you close as you cry uncontrollably, as you try to come to terms with the choice you’ve just made. Yeah, he’s right in saying that you always come back, but that’s not the case this time.

You need to stay away from him for good.

The fact that he has it in his head that all of this will be sorted out in a few weeks, lets you know that this is only the calm before the storm. As both you and Daisy lean back into the tub, and she holds you close while you cry into her shoulder, there’s only one question going through your head:

How the hell are you supposed to quit the love of your life?

**

4 Years Later...

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You can read the rest of the story here

~~

taglist: @whiskeytangofoxtrot555, @companionjones, @autumnrose40, @fuckingbye, @pono-pura-vida, @nomadstucky, @mazda098, @chemtrails-club, @bree-lyrie, @mjey12, @charlottiedawson, @fenixstar , @thickania

#fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfiction #knives out #ransom drysdale #hugh drysdale #hugh ransom drysdale #knives out fanfic #ransom x reader #chris evans characters #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey smut #ransom thrombey #ransom smut #hugh ransom thrombey #Hugh Ransom Drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey fluff #fluff and smut #fluff and angst

[blackswan446]

partyisntover.

→ pairing: yan!kth x reader

→ "we could still dance"

→ wc: 1556

→ cws: drugging, kidnapping, slight sexual innuendos

→ notes: this is inspired by one of my favorite songs, specifically the first part "PartyIsntOver", it's by tyler, the creator, and i would recommend listening to (the whole song obviously cus its fire) but specifically PartyIsntOver before/while reading :) enjoy!

parties were like your safe space. it was a strange thing to say, but it was true. for some odd reason, you always felt more at home at a bustling party than your actual house. maybe it was something about the anonymity of parties, how for one night, you could become whoever you wanted, hide the vulnerable parts of yourself within the dim lights and use the alcohol as an excuse if things were to get out of hand.

or perhaps, you just liked the chaos. raised to be a good, studious girl, you didn't get out much for your entire childhood. everything was meticulous, planned out, by-the-book. there was no room for spontaneity, or a new adventure, or even a happy accident. it was nice for a while, having the assurance that nothing would ever go wrong, but after so many years of it, you grew sick of the blandness. it was then, you realized that describing your life as "calm" and "peaceful" was masking the sad reality of it: that your life was dull.

so, the second you left the house, (literally, the minute your parents drove away from your college), you went out and found something to do. that is, you walked into the first random celebration you happened upon while strolling, and you were hooked. now your life revolved around parties, and gatherings, and events, and any excuse to throw on a nice dress and do something fun with new people. and honestly? you wouldn't have it any other way. in a way, it felt as if your inner child was being healed, like you were finally fulfilling the dreams of a little girl who just wanted to have fun.

taehyung, on the other hand, hated parties. he despised the loud music, the drunk people and their sweaty bodies, thrashing around in a closed off space, forming a pit of body odor and bad decisions. not to mention the feeling of social inferiority that he felt when he was there, and the way he just stood around, drinking whatever poison was shoved into his hand by a drunk rando didn't help his case. yet he kept showing up, every single time, he always came back, for one reason.

you.

he couldn't explain it, but the two of you, you completed each other. the yin to his yang. and the two of you, together, would create the perfect balance that you needed, that he needed. hell, just looking at you, his heart was relieved of the negative emotions that came with the social ostracization. like the confidence and happiness that bloomed in your heart was sent to his, traveling by a long, invisible string connecting the two. he knew that it would take work, and the very type of meticulous planning that you grew to hate. he wasn't someone you'd even look at. but he had determination, a drive to achieve lifelong joy, the same type he felt whenever he looked at you.

of course, he had already started by removing the obvious disturbances to fate. he tore them up, burned some of them, dissolved others, and some of them he just buried. it didn't matter where they wound up, as long as they weren't stepping on the string, he didn't care. but they were all gone now, and he could undo the final loop, the one that stopped the string from drawing a straight line from you to him, the one that would finally make things so much clearer. of course, it was a little extreme, but taehyung always took precautions. he couldn't risk the string tangling up again, and how would that happen if there was nothing for it to get caught on?

spying you from across the packed room, you were holding a drink, in your element. somehow, the painful colored lights did wonders for you, the reds and blues giving your skin a purple hue. all he could do was look from the shadows, and wait to catch your eyes. and catch they did, as it was only a few minutes before they met, and with a smirk, approached you.

you could talk later, after all, you'd have all the time in the world to talk and get to know each other after tonight. for now, he just wanted to do what he had to do and get you both out of there. you smiled at him, giving him a shouted greeting. he smiled back and leaned down towards your ear. "the party isn't over yet. want to dance?" he offered, reaching out his hand to lead you to the dance floor.

you nodded, since it was too loud to give him an actual response, and took his hand. he smiled, and weaved through the mass of people holding you tight as he did so. you found yourself in a small corner of the dance floor, away from the large crowd of people in the center. you were surprised at him, since you had seen him around at a few parties, and never saw him dance or even talk to other people. but he wasted no time in grabbing your hips and swaying the both of you along with the music. not that you didn't appreciate his forwardness, you actually enjoyed it, and it didn't take long for you to follow his lead.

"good song, hm?" he asked, leaning down so far that his head was basically in the crook of your neck. you nodded shyly, the heat in your face hopefully being hidden by the colored lights. he gave a short, husky laugh in your ear, as his feet twisted up with yours. "sorry about that, i'm not the best dancer." he apologized. you smirked, turning around to face him. standing up to talk into his ear, you laughed back. "if you're such a bad dancer, then why am i out here with you?" you asked cheekily, smiling as you took a sip of your drink.

what a shame you were facing backwards that whole time. if you weren't, maybe you would've seen the little bag of white powder taehyung dumped into your drink. maybe you could've thrown out the drink, slapped him in the face, and gone home. what a damn shame.

he shrugged his shoulders. "you're taking a chance, i guess." he shouted back, grabbing your waist again and pulling you in closer to him. as your head hit his chest, you felt the room spin violently, too violently to match the level of alcohol you had drank that night. suddenly, the music felt too loud yet muffled and far away. the strobing lights were giving you a migraine, and your legs felt like wet spaghetti.

taehyung picked up on your weakness, right away, almost as if he were expecting it. "woah, okay. have a few too many, princess?" he joked, clasping his arms around you tighter. you shook your head, the idea of forming words and annunciating them too much for you to stomach. he laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "come on, you, let's get you out of here. come on." he told you, reaching his arm under your knees and scooping you off your legs, your drink falling from your limp hands and its contents spilling out onto the floor.

you tried to shake your head more, tell him you were okay, but your movement was too weak as everything in your line of vision began to bleed into one another. he laughed again, as he moved his way through the crowd, you heard the noise of the party fade away, the sound of his voice now amplified in your ears. it was only now that you could hear the darkness in his voice, finally being unveiled as the street lights shined above you.

"god, i can't wait to get you home. we're going to have some fun, aren't we?" he murmured, hands digging further into your legs as he struggled to open the door to his car. that was enough to send you into an adrenaline overdrive, shooting your head up as he laid you gently on the car seats. "huh?!" you sputtered, trying to grab for anything you could to fight back.

"i said, 'your night out is done'. you're drunk, sweetheart, you need to go to sleep, okay? just shut your eyes." he pleaded, standing in between your legs as he stroked your cheek softly. you shook your head, weakly, but you still did it, trying to kick your legs to get him away. he grabbed your calves, stilling the thrashing motions. "stop it. i need to bring you home." he growled, "i'm doing this because i love you."

you looked around helplessly as you struggled to comprehend what he said. "what?" you choked, as he shut the back door and got into the driver's seat. "nothing, princess. just go to sleep. it'll all be good when you wake up, okay?" he comforted, starting the ignition and driving away from the bustling house.

you could feel the strands of consciousness slip out of your hands, and felt yourself falling into the abyss of something deeper than sleep. the last remnants of a thought that you could piece together were ones of panic, and the last thing you could see as your eyes fell shut, was taehyung's glare in the rearview mirror.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere taehyung x reader #yandere taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere v #kim taehyung x reader #fanfic #bts fic #yandere x reader

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

Tinderbox

Dewdrop/Sodo ghoul x demon!fem!reader smut

WC: 5100

A/N: @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus ty for being my inspiration during these times of turmoil. Also - set in the roaring Twenties… for no reason other than fun.

Content warnings: fingering, p in v sex, biting, rough sex, marking, kn!fe play, kn!fe k!nk, blood play (towards the end) and consumption. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

NSFW below the cut.

The evening sparkled, there was no other way to describe it. Men in suits, women in sequins, feathers, and fringe-trimmed dresses.

You had one last evening to celebrate after gathering necessary intel on the earthly plane for the devious devils down below who employed you. Everything could have been perfect, had it not been for your choice of company and his complete and utter determination to ruin the evening.

You had spent the entire afternoon doing up your hair, placing the curls just so. Your horns were hidden perfectly beneath the human glamour you had chosen. The dress you chose was as low cut as you could get without being confused for a prostitute. You still had to look your part, after all. You shimmered like an effervescent glass of champagne, all golden and gorgeous from head to toe. The color complimented your human-shade skin so nicely. Even the undergarments you chose were golden, the garter belt holding your hosiery up and the unlined bra doing the same to your soft breasts.

Only one problem.

Dewdrop would not stop reaching under the table towards you. He couldn’t stop fidgeting since you left the hotel room, rather. First it was his shoes, dragging up and down your stocking-clad calves to get your attention, then he switched seats at the four-top, so he would be right next to you. Hands, feet, the backs of your knees, everything was on the table apparently. 

His tail snaking its way up the skirt of your dress was the final straw. You were at a nice restaurant trying - failing - to enjoy a nice dinner. Just one teensy weensy thing in your temporary masquerade among the humans. For fucks sake, the place had white linen tablecloths. 

Thankfully you were sitting at a corner table.

“Dew.” You said through a forced smile, “I’m being serious this time.” 

You took a purposeful sip of your white wine, narrowing your eyes over the rim of the glass. The crisp, dry taste of the chilled beverage kept you from completely scowling at him. At least it did until you felt his tail curling up the edge of your dress again.

You scolded him again, “You know you shouldn’t be doing that, ghoul.”

His face was smug, “I can do whatever I want.” 

“Just not whenever you want.” You shot back.

“You can’t deny me.” His gaze was intense, fuck, you wanted to give in to his whims so badly. You couldn’t though, not now. No matter how much you wanted him to bend you over and fuck you on top of this perfectly white cloth-covered table.

“I can, and I am.” Your resolve was firm, but for how much longer it would stay that way, you hadn’t a clue.

The two of you stared intensely at each other, his irises started shifting beneath his glamour, blood-red cutting through. 

“Hah!” You exclaimed, though not loud enough to draw any untoward attention, “Sloppy, as usual, Dew. As soon as you get your mind in the gutter you start slipping.”

“As long as you’re there to catch me.” He grinned devilishly, and you could see his fangs poking through.

“I’ll catch you alright.” You sneered, “Right between my teeth I’ll catch you, honeydew.” You ended the sentence calling him your favorite term of endearment while simultaneously dragging your tongue across the top row of your even teeth. The action pointedly reminded him how your glamour was perfectly intact.

What was meant to douse the flames only added fuel to the fire ghoul. But that was the nature of your, rather explosive, relationship. 

You opened your folding fan, the air in the room suddenly feeling stale and hot. As you fanned yourself his greedy, ghoulish hands made their way back to your thigh under the table. 

You struck his offending hand reflexively before your brain could catch up. Perfectly in time for the runners to bring your appetizers out. 

“Thank you.” You smiled graciously, Dew scowled, staring at the human food in front of you both. “Don’t even start now.” You warned him.

“Fine.” He sighed, looking around before scooping up his food and shoveling it down without tasting it. He sat back in his seat as you brought the first bite to your wine-red lips. “I want to play a game.”

“What did you have in mind?” You said absently, glancing around sharply to make sure no one was watching his abhorrent display of table manners.

“If anyone looks too long at you -”

You interrupted him, “Too broad, be specific.” You had another bite of the tangy appetizer. 

“Fine.” He huffed, looking around the room before a wicked grin crept over his face. “If that waiter comes over here for no reason again, I get to spank you.”

Touché, that was specific enough. “Oh, I see, and if he comes over here with a purpose?”

“Your choice then.”

“Nah, too boring.” He let out an irritated noise, but you ignored him, “How about this, if you get jealous of him flirting with me, I get at least one more orgasm than you.”

“That’s assuming he will flirt with you, which there’s no way he will do that with me here.” He seemed overly confident. “The human men respect each other way more than they respect women.”

The match was set. “Then you shouldn’t be afraid of being jealous.”

“I’m never jealous.”

“We’ll see about that.” A smirk touched your lips before you finished your plate of food.

You enjoy the rest of your meal, each course exciting your taste buds more than the last. Finally, it was time for dessert. Out came the most decadent looking chocolate frosted cake on a silver platter. The waiter, whose name you learned was Liam after you asked and batted your eyelashes, promptly served you a slice of the checkerboard cake. 

You took a huge bite, savoring the sweetness. Vanilla and chocolate, perfect for your indecisive self.

The waiter serves Dewdrop a slice as well before his watchful eyes look at your face again

“Miss, you have some, er, frosting on your cheek.”

“Oh, do I?” You played so innocently. “Be a dear and get it for me, would you?”

“With pleasure.” He plucks a dark napkin from the inside of an otherwise empty wine glass. The man leans in and dabs the cloth on your cheek, the side of his finger brushing your skin excited you. You didn’t break eye contact until you felt the whole table rattle as Dewdrop kicked it.

Moment over.

The waiter straightened and motioned to the bottle of champagne you ordered, averting his eyes from you. He picks up the bottle and begins to tear the gold foil from the top but Dew snatches it out of his hand. His chair makes a scraping squeak as he practically jumps out of it, commanding the room.

You watch wide-eyed as couples conversations at the few surrounding tables begin to die out, their attention turned to the two devils in disguise. Dewdrop removes the fastener with one hand and easily manhandles the bottle with the other. 

Damn those perfect hands of his. 

You thought he meant to pop the cork barehanded but he surprised you, as well as earned a couple light gasps from nearby tables, as he picked up a knife. He ran it along the seam of the champagne bottle and with a swipe of the blade he sliced the bottle open. It let out a loud pop, and the contents inside bubbled but no liquid spilled, rather, combined with the air in a hiss and left it like a smoking gun. 

The scattered applause in the space was no match for Dew’s smirk at you. 

Oh he had you. He had you so well. Who would have thought that sabrage could be so sexy? 

There was no point in flirting with the human anymore, but you did it anyway. You were already traversing a rocky path, but you wanted to set off a few more traps along the way. So you made sure Dew caught you looking the waiter up and down, raking your gaze over him as he handed you the glass of champagne.

The two of you sat in silence while you finished your beverage and cake. Then you reached for your purse, opening it to find the dark lipstick that needed reapplying. 

The waiter came back to your table as you brazenly applied your lipstick in front of the dining room. You did one of your signature moves, sweeping your eyes to look up at him, your lashes batting ever-so-slightly in that way that made mortal men fall to their knees.

“Can I interest you in anything else this evening?” His voice deepened, “Perhaps something off the menu?”

“Oh?” You played up your sweetness to tooth-rotting levels, “What did you have in mind?”

The waiter went to open his mouth and promptly closed it, his expression turning to icy fear. You turned your head to look at Dewdrop just as he hissed at the poor mortal, his eyes glowed red as he purposefully dropped his glamour.

You hit him with your fan again. 

It was well past time to leave. You didn’t want the mortal getting in any real trouble with your fire ghoul, so you collected your wits and coat and left promptly, dragging Dew behind you by his necktie. 

-

You both got in the lift to go up to your shared hotel room. Of course, you had to tell the clerk at the check-in desk that you were “Mr. And Mrs.” since this establishment was more on the high end and yet still cared that a woman couldn’t rent her own room by herself. 

Eye roll.

As soon as the doors closed on the lift, the energy changed. The light bulbs dimmed, the panel on the wall containing the floor numbers blinking and flickering before stabilizing. The liftman blinked and shook his head furiously, not understanding what had happened. But you knew, Dewdrop was absorbing power. But for what, you had not the faintest.

As if to prove a point, he snuck his hand behind you, running up the inside of your thigh closest to him and shocking you with static electricity. You tried not to jump, not to give him the satisfaction, but your body betrayed you. 

He snickered, causing the elevator operator to glance back over his shoulder, prying eyes turning to see what was happening. Dew growled at him, eliciting the same nasty behavior as he had at the dinner table.

You swatted him with your fan in the ribs, only to get no response. He was locked in a death stare with the poor soul. 

There’s only one way to remedy this.

You darted your hand out, nimble fingers digging into Dew’s side to tickle him. He made a high pitched sound that almost made you laugh aloud, turning his red eyes at you. You weren’t intimidated by his glare at all, at least not until the threat spilled like thick poison from between his clenched teeth.

“You’ll pay for that.”

Your stomach squeezed. Dewdrop made more threats than a hellhound has teeth, but this felt like a promise. It was the way he said it that sealed the deal. But you wouldn’t let him win, not yet at least.

“You don’t scare me honeydew.” You let your glamour slip slightly, baring your sharp fangs at him.

The elevator clanged and let out a ding. 

“Uh, e- enjoy your evening.” The liftman tripped over his words and opened the door. He was surely too eager to be rid of the both of you.

You slid the metal key from your tiny purse, unlocking the door. Dew grabbed you and opened the door, slamming it loudly behind you. The hotel room was a coffin now, and you were about to be buried alive. Your only warning was his heavy panting breaths and the tight grip on your arm.

Payback time.

He shoved you into the wall roughly, your shoulders taking the brunt of the impact. Dewdrop grabbed you, his claws creating divots in your glamoured skin, and planted his lips on yours. The kiss you shared was equally matched in ferocity and need, sending tingles to the very tips of your fingers. You felt your lust bubbling to the surface, equivalent only to your dark urge to mark him too.

Your hands went up to his cheeks immediately and from there to tangle in his silken white-blonde hair, not letting him go for a second. You couldn’t, holding him close to you was your greatest desire. His kisses smothered you in warmth and his scent of smoke and ash.

He kissed you fervently and rambled as his lips traveled to your face and neck, his right hand moving to the small of your back, long fingers pulling you flush against him while the other knotted itself in your hair. “I’ve wanted to have you since the second you stepped out in that dress. I know you put it on just to tempt me, to tease me.”

“Dewdrop, listen to yourself, I had to wear something. I can’t just go out in public naked.”

You could tell he was picturing it from the way his breath stalled, his teeth freezing over your quickening pulse. Gripping his tie and unfastening it, you broke him out of his wild imagination, snapping it as you tore it from beneath his shirt and jacket.

“No, no you couldn’t.” He managed breathily.

Your breath was just as tremulous, “Tell me why, my ghoul.” Your fingers tugged on the lapels of his jacket, pulling him back in. You were already lust-drunk from just kissing him, but you needed more. 

“Because you’re mine.” His gruff voice, the rushed kisses, and the scrapes of his fangs at your throat felt like a drug being injected directly into your bloodstream, and you felt your rational thoughts slipping away into nothingness. All that was left was him. Him and you. The two of you against the world in a time you didn’t belong to. 

His left hand grasped the inside of your thigh, which made you eternally grateful for the high-sitting fringe on the dress. You gasped, his warm, long fingers dug into your flesh almost possessively. His desire to mark you as his was as intense as your need to be claimed by him. And you needed to be claimed by him, completely. 

He played with the garter straps laying innocently against your legs and traced the seams of your stockings. You stripped his jacket off his shoulders, glad to be ridding him of the superfluous clothing but wincing when his hands left your skin.

His fingers continued to travel upwards, nearing the apex between your thighs. Now he was stalling, those digits you craved so much just hovered, occasionally tickling the crease of your leg. Dewdrop loved to tease you, it was all to get you back for teasing him so much. You knew you earned this, but you wanted him so badly to cross that threshold and touch you where you ached.

He moved his face back from your neck, meeting your eye line, watching you unravel before he’s even done anything to you. That smug look on his face made you unruly, and you flashed your fangs to urge him to get on with it. Dewdrop kissed you as his fingers slid under the seam of your panties. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, greedily biting at his lip. He growled in response as he stroked against your slit.

“So fucking wet for me.” He said in the midst of messy kisses, then he bit at your bottom lip, trapping it prisoner between his sharp teeth before drawing back. His eyes were dark as the void itself, “Or is this for him?”

That human? He couldn’t be serious.

“No, Dewdrop, only for you.”

“Fucking better be.” He pressed two fingers inside your aching center. 

He tilted your head with his free hand, kissing up your neck and ear again. Your ear which was now pointed, the skin he was kissing melting from an illusory human tone to a color wholly unnatural for a person.

Dewdrop pulled back again, admiring his handiwork. “Now who’s glamour is slipping?” He curled his fingers to punctuate the question, making your thighs fight to close.

Smug bastard.

“Show me.” His eyes glowed intensely. “Let me see you.”

“Are you -” a moan interrupted your question as he added a third finger inside you. Your nails dug into his shoulders. “A-are you sure?” He hadn’t seen you completely without your glamour before, and you felt nervous about bringing it out. 

He planted a passionate kiss for assurance to your lips, “Fuck yes.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, debating whether you should. Then, you realized you could make it a game and a wicked, seductive smile had you goading him, “Make me cum and I will.”

“How can I say no to that?”

You had no warning as his thumb pressed against your clit. His fingers, fuck, they felt too good inside you. It was a curse, as they made it so yours could never measure up. 

He kept up his pace, and the stimulation between his fingers and thumb was making you weak. You felt your knees sagging slightly, but he kept you right where he wanted you against that wall. Dew didn’t let up for a moment, giving you all that you craved with the ministrations of his hand and kissed you deeply. You swear even your scalp tingled; you felt lightheaded already. And all the tension between you two earlier? That was the real foreplay. 

His fingers kept up their movements, in and out, in and out, giving you that sensation that had you at the end of a rope, hanging on a rope by a thread. Then he curled his fingers and you became flaming cinders burning the rope to ash. Your claws dug into his shoulders as your body tensed, teetering on the precipice of your orgasm. 

“Dew -” you whined, trying to hold on.

“Let go for me.” He whispered into your skin before sucking hard on the flesh of your neck.

You cried out in rapture as you shattered. His long fingers stroked you through the fluttering waves of your climax. You thought he would give you more time to come down from your high, but you were wrong. A moan escaped your lips as his fingers left your dripping sex and you looked at him. 

Dewdrop’s red eyes were intimidating, and filled with desire. You knew he wouldn’t wait any second longer. He gave you what you wanted, now it was your turn to sate him.

“Turn around.”

You did as you were told, obedient only for him. 

He brushed your fallen hair from the back of your neck to expose the top of your dress. His fingers hesitated with the zipper for a second too long before he let go of you. You were about to complain when you felt the cold press of metal skate up the back of your thigh. Your veins turned icy and made you go rigid as the metal glided up and under the hem of your dress. Far too close to your heat. Dewdrop grabbed the bottom of your dress in his other hand and with a swipe, shredded the garment from your body. 

“Dew! I liked that dress!” The shorn pieces lay in tatters at your feet along with the knife you recognized from dinner earlier. He must have pocketed it after popping open the champagne bottle.

“I’ll get you another one.” He sized you up, looking you up and down. “Drop your glamour. Now.”

You wanted to protest, but you knew he was just like you in this regard: Stubborn to a fault. It was his turn to get his way, and you had to give in.

You rolled your shoulders, removing your bra, then unclipping the garter belt from your middle. Concentrating, you closed your eyes, shifting into your true form, your hellish form. Your twin horns sprouting from beneath your thick hair, your tail appearing behind you, and your skin turning an inhuman shade somewhere between dusk and dawn. Your nails lengthened into claws and your teeth did the same, became sharper and deadly. 

Used to seeing so many parts of Dewdrop, it wasn’t anything new per se to have him do the same, but at the same time - it was. The air changed, it felt thick as you inhaled, taking him all in. Showing yourselves to each other shouldn’t have mattered so much. But this added a layer of intimacy to your tryst. Two demons in their true forms, finding temporary solace in each other's arms in this isolating earthly plane.

Ironically, it was a slice of heaven.

“You’re perfect like this.” He ran his tongue over his sharp teeth.

“Am I?”

“Yes.” He kissed you again, deeply, with a depth of lust you couldn’t place yet. His voice dropped low, “Now I think I might die if I’m not inside you. Get up there.” He ended the sentence with a chaste pinch on your exposed ass cheek.

You knew better at this point than to ask him if he wanted you face up or down.

It was a face down kind of night.

He didn’t waste a breath, no sooner had you “assumed the position” and he was behind you, bare, and pressing against your rear. 

An embarrassingly needy sound escaped you, but you couldn’t help it. You were like Pavlov’s dog and Dewdrop trained you exceedingly well. 

And he rewarded you even better.

He fisted your hair with one hand, pulling you back so you felt him right there. His thick cock rested perfectly against your wet cunt, and you wiggled your ass back and forth to coat his length with your juices. He twitched, hand reaching out to line himself up with your entrance.

This was always the part that made your toes curl and your breath stall. The calm before the storm with the tip of his hard dick against your lips. Every muscle tensed, your demon body roaring internally, needing to be taken by him, demanding to be claimed.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath as he pressed himself inside you, and you felt that familiar burning stretch. Your nails dug into the sheets for leverage, and you arched your back further, pressing back to ensure he buried himself to the hilt on the first go. Your mouth hung open as he bottomed out, then he immediately withdrew, leaving only the tip inside you before slamming his hips back against yours. His grip on your waist tightened as he started a rhythm that had you crying out for gods you didn’t believe in.

“You think that stupid, human, waiter could fuck you as good as me?” He was relentless, rutting into you like an unbridled animal. If there was one thing about Dewdrop you could always count on, it was that he would put all of his rage into fucking you. He held onto his emotions from the day and completely let go, only for you.

“Is that, fuck, is that jealousy I hear?”

“Maybe it is.” You felt his claws coming out, digging into your soft hips. 

You growled, the feeling of your ass cheeks vibrating with every thrust of his hips meeting yours was spurring you on more. Just then, an idea in the heat of the moment hit you. You craned your neck to rake your gaze over him, distracting him with your pleading eyes. “Give me more, please Dew. I need more.”

He took the bait. His dark eyes locked on yours, “You’ll take whatever I give you, harlot.”

You used his distraction to snake your tail up and behind his back, careful to avoid his in the process. The spaded end of the appendage dragged itself underneath his arm, running along his ribs with a feather-light touch.

He jolted, not hesitating to give you a hard smack on your right ass cheek before pulling out of you. The feeling of being empty made you clench, alarm sounds ringing in your feverish brain. You sat up, playing innocent even though he would never buy it, “It was an accident.”

“I don’t care.” He shifted himself so his back was against the pillows along the headboard.  “You want to misbehave then you’re going to have to work for it.” His red eyes flicked downward before landing back on your nude frame and he crossed his arms. 

“With pleasure.” You purred, mocking the sentence the waiter had said to you earlier. Only now, it was to further goad the fire ghoul. Moving to straddle him, you kept your gaze on him, your throne to sit and satisfy yourself upon. Just you wait, ghoul, I’ll make you scream for me.

Your shoulders moved like a feline predator stalking its prey as you crawled up onto his lap. You rose up on your knees. He remained in his unhelpful posture, arms crossed. That’s fine. He never could keep himself from touching you for long. Your hand touched his length, stroking him lazily several times while watching his face closely, his only reaction being a slight purse of his lips. You knew he was probably biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself so stoic.

You moved to be above him, lining his cock up with your entrance and sinking down on him. You bit your lip to keep from moaning and Dewdrop hissed in response. Fuck. It didn’t matter how many times you did this, it felt so fucking good every time.

You lifted yourself back up, wanting to start slow, but Dew had other ideas. He swiftly grabbed your hips and forced you back down on him hard, punching the air from your lungs with the strength of his thrust. A cry escaped from your lips.

He was never able to help himself from manhandling you, especially when you were on top. But, it was unusual for him to lose his patience so quickly. He bucked his hips up into you as you tried and failed to establish a pace. He wouldn’t let you go, his claws digging into the plush skin at your waist possessively.

“Dew!” You gasped his name as he claimed the flesh of your neck, biting and sucking everywhere he could. 

Frustration and pleasure hit you right in your middle. No movement was your own. He was relentless. And he was not loosening his grip on you for a second. He was so out of control it seemed, like some part of him had woken up and seized authority over his brain. 

It was because you dropped your glamour.

The realization hit you right as you began to see stars once more. It was so good. Too good. Just his cock inside you and you felt yourself barreling towards another orgasm. His pace was almost cruel, dragging you up and pulling you back down, feeling every inch of him.

Another heavy breath escaped you before you could speak, “Dewdrop?”

He cursed again, “What?” His hand fisted your hair, catching your lip between his fangs and tasted you. 

You broke the kiss, biting the inside of your cheek to ground you. The pain helped you find your words, “You want me to be yours?”

“Yes.” He growled, “Fuck.”

Your voice was barely a whisper now as you fought harder to stave off your climax, “All yours?”

“Yes.”

You snaked your tail up again, this time caressing the side of his neck with the spaded end. You dragged it back, brushing his long hair away from his neck, exposing the skin peppered by smudges of your lipstick. 

“Then let me mark you.”

A sound escaped him that was between a breathy laugh and a scoff. “I knew that’s what you wanted.” His pupils nearly completely enveloped his red eyes, and you knew yours were blown just as wide. “Take your pleasure from me, temptress.”

Without hesitation, you sink your teeth into the pale grey flesh of his neck as you reach ecstasy. You taste him in your mouth, then everywhere all at once. His blood is a liquid inferno on your tongue, igniting your senses. Your cries are muffled as you feel every muscle in your strong demonic body clench simultaneously. You hold him tight, claws taking root in his skin, as though he is your very life force as you ride the waves of your pleasure. 

Feeling your orgasm is more than enough to put him over the edge with you. You felt his dick twitching as he spilled himself deep inside of you and filthy words of lust leave his lips.

“Fuck. You’re all mine. Now and fucking forever.”

You release your mouth from his neck to allow him his turn, admiring for a slim moment the mark worth your canines. A breath barely passes your lips before he yanks your hair to the side and bites down on your neck, marking you back, his cock still pulsing inside you. 

Your eyes close tightly and you roll your hips, following the rhythm of each lap of his tongue on your neck until he breaks his hold on you. Both of you groan from the overstimulation, but your body fails you, feeling too spent to go another round right now.

You don’t waste time. Dewdrop is not one for cuddles, usually, but neither are you. A discomfort fills your body when you pull yourself off him, but you brush it off as the true nature of your hellish form overstaying its welcome.

Standing from the bed, you made your way to the vanity. Spying your glamourless self was not new, but it stirred something within you. Seeing the bite marks, hickies, and scratches he left gave you a tingling feeling.

You never came out from a tryst with Dew looking unscathed, but this was different. You brought a hand to your swollen bottom lip and ran your other hand through your hair, touching your pointed ears. Sighing, you went to change back, concentrating on changing your skin, your patterning back to human-like.

Dewdrop seized your wrist, “No.”

You jumped, whirling towards him. You hadn’t realized he even got out of bed. “No?”

“Just stay yourself a little longer.” His fiery gaze dropped almost timidly to the floor, “Please. I like you like this.”

Words failed you. But how could you possibly ignore his plea?

The answer?

You couldn’t. 

Anything for your fire ghoul.

#the band ghost x reader smut #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #dewdrop x reader smut #dewdrop ghoul smut #sodo x reader smut #nameless ghoul x reader smut

[novelizt]

THE COMPLICATIONS OF A FAKE ENGAGEMENT ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

⚜ PART TWO

GENRE ➺ fluff + hoax engagement

SYNOPSIS ➺ you shouldn't be that beautiful in a bridal gown for a wedding that's fictitious to begin with

WARNING ➺ fem reader

DISCLAIMER ➺ I haven't read the books so the characterization/alignment in the books may not line up and it's been a while since i've written anything. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

NOTES ➺ inspired by the try-on wedding gown scene in “extraordinary attorney woo”

   When a 17-year-old signs up to be a ghost hunter, the last thing she expects is to wind up in a bridal boutique. Especially not with her employer improvising the role of her fiancé.

   Lost between fabrics of silk and satin is the story of how you ended up here. You're on the brink of insanity when Lockwood finally does his job as your make-believe fiancé. Chipping in with a compliment, blowing kisses, and raining applause. On a normal day, you could act as if all this was fine and that the flurry of frivolous women weren't tiring. But the dresses were heavy and the lights were blinding. You had his ring, and the look on his face was convincing—but twelve dresses in, and you were ready to crumple into a heap.

   "Why the rush to marry?" Kelly—you think her name was—asks. She was the ringleader for the entire dress-fitting business.

She tightened the corset around you and clipped the fabric around your bust tighter. You couldn't even speak! Luckily enough, Lockwood took note of your lack of oxygen and answered for you. "We're trained agents."

   Kelly pulled the cinches tighter. You wheezed your last wisp of air, gripping the fabric for release. "As in the paranormal kind?"

   Lockwood's eyes shone with pride. "Exactly that! You never know what could happen on a case. Might as well marry while we're breathing, no? Oh- please let my girl breathe, she's turning blue."

   The corset loosened and you sagged in visible relief. Nodding in acknowledgement, you said, "Many thanks."

   "No worries, darling. Wouldn't want you dying before the flower picking." He smiled at you, and you withheld the urge to glare at him. "Have you found what you're looking for, love?"

   You look at the rack and consider just lying... but there was a reason you were here. Judging by his still jumping knee, he hasn't found evidence at all.

   Signing yourself to your fate, you sighed. "No..."

   Kelly jumps with glee. Dragging you behind the curtains before Lockwood could get another word in. The last thing you see of him is a grateful grin. He disregards the simper you throw his way.

   When he's sure you're distracting Kelly, he slips back to the file rooms. Shuffling through documents whilst keeping his ears open. It's not that hard to guess whether Kelly got you into another gown or not. The woman is exorbitant and loud.

   He's got his hands on an incriminating sheet of evidence as he hears it. Kelly's compliments and your terrible attempts at buying him more time. Lockwood stuffs the sheet into his coat pocket and breaks for the lounge. In time for the velvet curtains to draw.

   His eyes are adjusting to the brightened lights again. Yet, all is right when you're unveiled. Sheets of ivory silk rolling down in waves curl around your figure like it's made for you. It's less extravagant than the previous choices but it highlights you the best.

   Whatever fake reaction dies in his throat and his jaw hangs open. Eyes leading up to your giggling face as Kelly pushes a row of spray roses into your hands to "complete the look." He knows all this is pretend. He can't help but wonder how different it would be if ghosts and ghouls didn't invade the world. If the pair of you were a normal boy and a normal girl. If you two weren't 17 and only here for another case. If you were actually dressed in that ivory gown, coming down an aisle as red as the curtains. In an alternate world, would it be reality?

   He's considering the probability of it when you drop the roses to your midsection. Allowing his mother's old ring to gleam in the light before he pulls his eyes right back to you. He reads, "Have you found what you're looking for?" from your lips, and like a puppet on a string, he nods yes, and he's sure he mutters the word, too. But he's not thinking about the evidence in his pocket. He's thinking about you in ivory, and how much better it would be if you were his real bride instead of his fake one.

• i've been wanting to write for the lockwood & co. fandom for a while now hehe

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄ #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood fanfiction

[byeoltoyuki]

✧memories of us ✧ We meet again

↳ Pairing: Jisung x Reader

❧ Genre : romance / smut /fluff / 1st love to strangers to lovers

❧ Summary: Sometimes memories are just that. Memories.

A series of drabbles about you and Jisung, about your love and your heartbreak and a second chance.

❧ A/N: Likes and reblogs are appreciated ♥

Because you asked me @rylea08 :)

Masterlist / previous /

It was another of those sunny days. You sat at your favourite spot at Soyeon’s cafe. The sun was gently caressing your skin while you were drawing in your sketchbook with music in your ears and a cup of cappuccino. Just what you needed. You hummed happily; your muse the inspiration had finally visited you last night and ever since you couldn’t stop yourself from drawing. 

For the past few days you tried not to think about the BBQ party, about Jisung. You managed, not easily, to keep it to yourself. You weren’t ready to tell Yunji that you had seen both Minho and Jisung - she wouldn’t be pleased. Changbin, on the other hand, you bet he already knew but didn’t confront you about it and for that you were grateful. 

You didn’t know what to think of the encounter with Jisung. You couldn’t deny that a part of you, and sadly a rather big one, was delighted to see him again and see what kind of man he became. But another part of you was worried. Those feelings you had buried deep inside you since the night you left him at the restaurant, were begging to show up. Not ideal. 

“What are you doing?” 

Your whole body tensed at the sound of his voice. Did you somehow summoned Jisung just by thinking about him? 

You blinked, confused as he took seat across from you, smiling sheepishly. 

“Hi.” 

“What are you doing here?” You blurted, forgetting all about your manners. You were just so stunned to see him here. You had spent hours in this café without ever seeing him. So why now? 

“Grabbing a coffee of course!” And yet he had none with him. To that you cocked a brow and waited for him to confess the real reason. Jisung sighed in defeat. “Fine. I bribed Soyeon. She refused to give me your phone number but she told me I could catch you here.” 

His confession left you even more confused and yet at the same time your heart clenched painfully, longing for something that would never happen again. Maybe. 

“You bribed Soyeon?” You repeated, unsure you heard it right. 

Jisung propped his chin on his hand, his smile turned into a mischievous grin. “Yep. She likes you a lot. Not that I’m surprised. She threatened to kick my ass if I ever do something to you.” 

Your heart swelled with love for your friend. You hadn’t told her your story with Jisung but she still understood and worried for you. “I’ll let her hold you while I’ll do the beating.” 

Jisung burst into laughter, imagining the scene. “Please, have mercy on me. I’m just a man.”

A handsome one, you wanted to add but refrained. 

“So, now that we established that, what are you doing?” He tried to have a peek but you hid it from him. “Oh come on!” 

Jisung, whenever he wanted something, always knew what to do to make you give in, today was no exception. The moment he did his best puppy eyes, you came to realization that no matter how many years passed, you still couldn’t deny him anything. And it sucked. 

You shook your head, disappointed with yourself for being so weak as you pushed the sketchbook towards him. “I usually come here when I need a good coffee and to draw. Something about this place helps me.” 

Jisung looked through your sketchbook with a little frown that showed how serious he got. He took his time, observing the different kind of sketches until he reached the last page. You hadn’t finished it but he could recognize Soyeon’s garden and the different shapes of people. 

He glanced from the sketchbook to have a good look at you. “When did you get so good?” 

“A lot of practicing I’d say.” You smiled. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, feeling a little embarrassed. You liked your drawings and you knew others did too, you didn’t become an artist just because it was a hobby. But something about showing it to Jisung made you feel shy. “Remember my roommate Hyunjin?” 

“Yeah. I” Jisung cleared his throat, “saw his work recently. He’s really good.” 

You didn’t think Jisung would be interested in art but apparently there were still things you didn’t know about him. This thought made your lips quirk. “Yeah. He is. He helped me a lot and pushed me to switch majors.” 

Jisung gasped loudly. “You did? When?” 

“Shortly after we broke up.” You admitted, wincing at the memory. 

Ending things with Jisung had left you broken and miserable. And yet, it was also this pain and sadness that fuelled your inspiration. You poured all your feelings into your work and it paid. Hyunjin, knowing your reluctance to show your work, stole it to show it around. the day he told you his teacher wanted to meet you, was the day you finally broke down and cried. The poor man didn’t know what to do to calm you down; he lent you his shoulder until there was no more tears left. 

“Hyunjin showed my work to his teacher and then made me meet him.” There was so much fondness in your voice at the memory. “I was angry at first but he still convinced me to go. Best decision I had ever made.” 

“I’m glad you had someone like Hyunjin by your side.” Jisung admitted. He didn’t have the chance to meet the man that often but from the little he had seen, he knew that Hyunjin was a good friend to you, who pushed you to achieve your dreams. “Any chance I get to see more of your work?” 

You hesitated. There was something you, indeed, wanted him to see but you weren’t sure he would like it. You stared at Jisung for a moment, not averting your eyes when he looked back. 

“Come to my exhibition.” 

#stray kids #han jisung #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #han #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff

[ashe-studies]

things i wish the sonic franchise brought back or implement.

.

Dark Sonic

seriously, i love imagining a fight between Dark Sonic and Eggman inspired by Korra vs. Zaheer ( when she was poisoned ). where he loses the cool attitude, the smile, everything, and goes in with full power, charging himself left and right at Eggman. it'd be even more fascinating to still have Dark Sonic lose. not because of his lack of power, not because of lack of skill, even when blinded by rage, but because of Eggman's ingenuity.

a lot of people, to this day, misinterpret Dark Sonic as a murderous, rampaging monster, but that completely misses the purpose of why he exists to begin with. i believe this is a case of people not exactly knowing where he comes from, or just a lot of fans drawing a murderous Sonic and it took the internet by storm one day, but just in case you don't know:

Dark Sonic is from Sonic X, a TV show that is sort of an expansion on Sonic Adventure 2, adding more lore, character arcs, and overall meaning to the game's original plot. Dark Sonic was revealed in the episode "Teasing Time" in s3, and the reason he appeared is because he discovered his friends ( Cosmo and Chris ) were injured and that one of them ( Chris ) was unconscious.

the whole reason this form exists is Sonic's love for his friends essentially fueling his rage. it's like Darkspine Sonic from SATSR, or has similar formula. Dark Sonic isn't inspired by any bloodlust or desire to kill, but rather by burning anger at seeing his friends be put in harm's way.

Dark Sonic is made from the strong desire to protect his friends.

2. An Actual Arc For Shadow

you guys might be confused, especially if you consider some of my previous posts, but lemme explain.

for a long time, it's never felt like Shadow has actually recovered from his trauma, atone for his actions ( yes, i understand he saved Earth ), or live life really at all. it doesn't help that, to this day, SEGA continues to make Shadow relive the past.

i don't consider the movies to be a part of the problem, as Shadow being introduced to the plot was basically a given, and you can't introduce him in your own take without his general backstory ( unless you're Boom or Prime, i guess ). i believe the movie will be doing taking some creative liberties to his story, as they did so with Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles, and i see no reason that they should stop.

the reason why i have an issue with this is because it's an ongoing issue within the games, specifically. Shadow the Hedgehog ( 2005 ) was a disservice to his setup and the 'first arc' ( considering he's still alive after the fans demanded his return ) to his story.

aside from it just giving 'early 2010s deviantart edge', it's just so...

childishly handled.

for one, you're immediately given a Hero or Dark route, like in SA2, which i feel completely misses the point of SA2's true ending. Shadow has redeemed himself ( or began to ), so to give him complete reign to just become an antagonist all over again defeats the whole purpose of a redemption.

it's like what Prime did with Dread, giving him an already established redemption arc ( sort of ), but then corrupting him again for no real reason other than just because.

another issue i have is Shadow's amnesia and attitude in general within the game. technically speaking, yes, it does make sense for him to suffer memory and // or physical issues from his fall from space, but to completely wipe out every single thing he did just to give him the opportunity to relearn his past, do some fucked up shit, do some less fucked up shit, then throw away everything in the past, Maria and her wish included, is...

amazingly obtuse, for lack of a better word.

again, while it's technically not out of bounds, i feel like giving Shadow complete and total amnesia just disrespects SA2's vision and execution of the story. it's redundant, it's lazy, and overall just really damn frustrating to watch.

Shadow deserves to have a story that allows him to heal from his trauma, discover who he is, and respecting Maria's wish along the way. a lot of people seem to think it's either he forgets about his past ( or buries it ) or full-on dedicates his entire life and doesn't bother picking up a life lesson or two, but it doesn't have to be that way.

Shadow can heal, grow, and change. SEGA just won't let him.

3. The Echidna Tribe & Knuckles' Story

Knuckles is one of my favorite characters in the entire franchise as a whole, but his character and story is sorely dismissed. while Shadow has the issue of repetition, Knuckles suffers from being dropped on the head multiple times and played for a joke ( i think Frontiers is one of the more recent games that didn't do this, but i might be wrong ).

one of the reasons why i love Knuckles is how straightforward, yet reluctant he was about finding out his past. at the end of Sonic Adventure 1, he says something to the extent of:

"maybe i'm better off not knowing the meaning behind all of this. because i feel something terrible will happen if i do."

he is content being ignorant for the sake of his own peace of mind.

but in SA2, he's more or less forced to start facing his fear and learn more about the past. unfortunately, though, we don't actually get to see much after this game, because the tribe is almost entirely forgotten. instead, it's brought up in comics that are more or less canon ( i think ), but not fully aligning with the games. i think it's safe to say the comics are their own canon?

like with Shadow, i would've loved to see an actual conclusion on this arc of Knuckles' story. to see more of the tribe in the past, of their wrongdoings, character moments, more of Tikal or Chaos or the little Chao, and how it all ties together.

but instead, we have lots of media repeatedly insulting Knuckles' intelligence, ignoring his tribe and // or his job entirely ( i guess they forget the Master Emerald is portable? ), and just generally dumbing him down to be a hotheaded moron that apparently doesn't care about being the Guardian!

Knuckles is one of the most relatable characters in this series for me, as there's a lot of things i would rather not know and stay ignorant to, but have to face head on in order to fully move past it and grow to be better.

he was completely isolated on Angel Island for so long, yet people still make fun of him to this day for being manipulated by Eggman in SA1 ( even though he didn't even fully believe Eggman, it was just a precaution, but who cares about the details- ). he's not just a hothead, he's strong, he's kind, he's pretty blunt and, honestly, really fucking adorable, i love this echidna.

look at him, just standing there. i love him.

anyway, Knuckles deserves a proper story surrounding his tribe, his identity as the Guardian of Angel Island, his relationships, and to have a satisfying conclusion. or, at the very least, more games or media in general not dumbing him down to an angry hothead with nothing better to do but to yell and ignore his responsibilities.

3. Sonic

"what're you talking about, ashe? sonic's meant to be a flat character! what could be wrong with him?"

yeah, but after frontiers, i want more mentally ill sonic that needs to be concerned for by his friends, okay, that's all i want-

4. Storybook Era

now, now, i know a lot of people don't like the storybook games because of their shoddy gameplay and all that, but i genuinely love these games, their flaws included.

i do believe satbk has a better story than satsr, but i still have an attachment to the latter game, so suck it.

it'd be really nice to see a storybook game with switch, xbox, ps, or similar controls. as the era has Sonic diving into different worlds, maybe a world like Alice and Wonderland could be an interesting game. several elements to work with, locations turning into creative levels or even hub worlds. this is sort of a long shot dream that will probably never exist, but i wanna see an adventure-style storybook game one day.

i'll probably die before that idea is even considered, but it's a fun thought and that's all that matters at the end of the day.

there's no real big reason as to why these matter or anything, as i don't believe you need a storybook in order to send off the messages these games try to give, but they're just really charming to me and i love to see how this type of game could be implemented into video games today, with all the new engines and whatnot.

5. Teams

oof, okay, um-

there's a few games that have teams in them, and i guess you can count sonic forces as one of those games, so i should be more specific here.

i like SA1's flexibility with the roulette-like system, where you could play as any character you wished, but i also like SA2's team system, where they all had a close-knit role within the story from a similar perspective ( hero vs. dark ).

SA1 served multiple perspectives, all giving you pieces of the same puzzle that you have to figure out as you go. by the final story, all of the characters ( except Big, but idc, i love him ) have their character arcs and it's with their changes that the story is fully complete.

SA2 served the entirety of two perspectives and merged them together for the final story, heroes and villains having to work together to fight off the greater evil at hand.

overall, i want more games having the characters work together, having different details // information or even moral differences ( it depends on which system they go with, though ) on the situation at large, but maybe still having to come together.

whether or not they use official teams, i want the sonic franchise to bring back using other characters as necessary plot points with their own individual arcs.

it may not be needed, per say, as there's still a few games that work and don't have either of these systems, but i really miss the adventure games and wish for more of their elements to be implemented in future games.

6. CHAO!!!

BRING THESE LITTLE CREATURES BACK, GODDAMN, WHY ONLY TWO GAMES?!

.

anyway, that's all i can currently think of. i think these would serve either character or charm to the franchise, but maybe you have some other ideas of what the games could give! maybe proper returns of characters, other forgotten stories, or even new ideas!

lemme know what you think.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic adventure #sonic adventure 2 #sa1 #sa2 #dark sonic #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #shadow #knuckles the echidna #knuckles #team sonic #team dark #team rose #team chaotix #chao #chao garden

[butchsophiewalten]

There was another space last night. Only found out about it this morning and apparently they mentioned a dog animatronic named Ringo. Could you do a recap on it?

OK twitter space recap again. Just for clarity, a lot of these answers are effectively verbatim, but have been chopped down for clarity and to remove some less relevant information.

-Someone asks what the hardest part of making an episode is and Martin goes 'Fucking, coming up with what's gonna happen in it.' And talks about how like, if TWF4 took three years to make, half the time was just preproduction and him figuring out what the hell was going to happen. He talks about how TWF4 was originally going to be a return to form for the series, and then one day he woke up and thought about it and was like "this is fucking shit." and that's when he decided to make it more cinematic.

-Someone asks if TWF4 will have Spanish subtitles, and Martin says no, because writing the English ones was a pain and he doesn't want to go through that again.

-Somebody asks who Martin would cast for Brian if The Walten Files was a live action series, and Kyle extends the question to 'Who would you cast for Everyone?'. They spend the next while just spitballing answers, which I've condensed here:

Kyle thinks it'd be fun to cast Jack as "Weird" Al Yankovic, and Martin thinks that's funny. He doesn't know who he would cast for Jack. Martin says Brian would be "The guy from Whiplash", who is Miles Teller.

Martin says Derek Collins would be Michael Mckean, but Kyle picks Clancy Brown.

Kyle says Charles should be Adam Driver.

Martin says Felix would be Michael Douglas as he is in Falling Down, and says that he's always thinking of him whenever he goes to draw Felix.

Martin says Sophie would be Ally Sheedy as she is in The Breakfast Club, and how Allison Reynolds (Ally Sheedy's character in The Breakfast Club) was in part inspiration for Sophie's character. Secondary pick Martin gives is Mia Goth, but says they aren't the same in the face or the mannerisms, just that Mia Goth would make a good portrayal of the character because she's such a good actress.

Martin picks Shelley Duvall for Rosemary, saying again that they don't really look alike, but that she'd do a great job portraying the character. Kyle says a young Jane Kaczmarek would make a good Rosemary, too, and Martin mentions that he could also see a very young Carol Burnett, "...because she has a very smile-shaped smile."

Martin says that they aren't at all the same physically, but that Tina Parker would make a great Susan. Inspired heavily by her role in Better Call Saul.

-Martin hems and haws for a bit about who a good Jenny would be, saying that it's difficult, because she has such a particular face. On the topic, Kyle brings up how fans so often portray Jenny as "chubby", and how that's really impacted how he thinks of Jenny as a character, where he imagines the fanon version of her before even the canon one.

Martin agrees like, "This kinda influenced the way I draw her. I've been drawing concept art for Jenny recently and I noticed I've started drawing her a little chubbier. Not to the extent of the fanon, but the way I look at the character has changed a lot because of the way the fandom draws her... But I could definitely see Jenny as a chubby character, she just has that vibe." (<-Mostly paraphrased)

-Martin and Kyle say they both keep running into a funny problem where they google Charles using his full name, and wonder why all of the results just call him 'Charles Walten Files', forgetting that his full name is not public information yet.

-Martin says that if there was anything he would change about The Walten Files, he'd make Bon less adjacent to Bonnie from Five Nights at Freddy's. He says he wishes he'd made Bon a dog named Ringo, and that the name "Ringo" has a specific lore reason behind it (Unrelated to. The Beatles.)

-Martin talks about how when he first named Bon's Burgers, he thought he was being really clever, because in French "Bon" means "Good", so it was like calling it "Good Burgers".

-Someone asks what Martin would rename Bon's Burgers to if Bon's name had been different, and he says he'd call it "Wonderland".

-Martin gives a story about him actually seriously injuring himself opening a can of Palmitos, slicing his palm open and needing to get stitches, but how the main thing he was worried about was it keeping him from releasing TWF4 on time, and how he was really scared of the fan reaction of like, 'he always fucking does this, he always delays the episode', before he talked to some friends and calmed down about it. This all happened like less than a week ago. He tells everyone not to worry to much about it, that he's still in some pain, but he's fine.

-Someone asks about the "Bontest", the contest where people could submit their original characters to appear briefly in TWF4, and Martin says that he plans to work on it last, as a reward for himself.

-Someone asks if a Welcome to Bon's Burgers remake could ever happen, Martin answers: "No. I would have wanted to, but I'm really trying to stay, like, legally distinct from Five Nights at Freddys. So no more Welcome to Bon's Burgers, ever."

-Martin asks Kyle, "Is Charles mean? or nice?" and Kyle says he thinks Charles has like. Fun Uncle energy. That he's the sort of person you'd maybe think was mean, but that he's ultimately pretty silly and laid-back. He calls him the type of person to doodle in the margins of his work.

-Someone asks if Boozoo is a magician or a ringmaster, and Martin says that he is both. When he's not on stage, he falls into the ringmaster persona, but when he's performing he's doing magic tricks and the like. He switches between both.

-"Boozoo has a mechanism where he can take off his hat, and there's a very tiny plush rabbit in his hat"

-"Will we ever get to know how Jenny and Sophie met and/or became a couple?" "Yes. We will see it in the series, I have the whole thing planned out. Yippie!"

-Martin talks about how when making WTBB, he went through a phase where he really hated Banny, and took her out of the game. Then he was like, fuck, I need a new girl character, and that's why he created Sha.

-"Who has been your favorite character to develop personality-wise and role-wise?" "Felix Kranken. I fucking love but I fucking hate Felix kranken... I feel like the viewer keeps indirectly giving Felix chances, like, to make things right. And you will see how he uses those chances."

-Someone asks for a Felix Fact, and Kyle jokes that he smells bad. Martin says he disagrees, and that he thinks Felix smells like car air freshener.

-Actual Felix Fact: He loves Louis Wain's paintings, and has many in his office. Martin says he really connects with the story around them, and that he also feels a deep connection to cats.

-"How many takes did the phone call in BunnyFarm take to get right? Was the wavering in Jack's voice before he got angry intentional?" "It took three takes and yeah, yes it was. I did one take that was like, screaming angry, and another one was very whispery, and then i got the version that was used." They talk for a bit and then Martin goes "I think Jack here like, works best when he's not like, exaggerated, but you can tell that he's on the verge of just-- punching you fucking skull, but he doesn't like, explode. And it's this tension of like, when will we see this character like, genuinely lose his mind, yknow?"

-Someone asks if Bon could ever learn to like or be nice to Banny, and Martin says that if the showstoppers had any kind of linear story then he would probably grow to be nicer to her eventually, but because they're in like an episodic thing where everything resets, he's just gonna hate her forever

-Linda Lore: This isn't necessarily canon, but Martin kinda imagines that she'd move out of hurricane after only a couple of weeks because it's such a ghost town, so she moves to Nashville end ends up starting a family there and having two children.

-My question! I asked Kyle and Martin what musicians/bands they listen to. Kyle lists Gorillaz, Tally Hall, and Tenacious D. Martin lists MF Doom, Tyler, the Creator, and Canserbero.

-Martin mentions an incident with Bon's Burgers where a guy showed up and stood on a table demanding to eat pizza, and stayed there for 20 hours demanding to eat pizza.

-Martin imagines a funny scenario where Charles' car breaks down on the way to work and Jack gives him a ride. Charles asks to listen to some music, and Jack starts playing "obscure 30s music", and Charles is like, "what the fuck?", while Jack is bobbing his head like he's listening to heavy metal.

-Someone asks if there's any Autistic characters in The Walten Files, and Kyle brings up his personal headcanon that both Sophie and Jenny have autism, but that Jenny has it comorbid with ADHD. Martin mentions that it's actually canon that Charles has ADHD, and how it was one of the first things he decided on for his character.

-Kyle specifically asks if there's any Walten Files characters Martin can imagine being Autistic, and Martin gives a long answer I've written out as follows:

"Okay, so, this is really complicated, but the episode 5 draft is finished, and I sent it to Eva, and- this episode has a bigger focus on Sophie, episode 5, and I think a lot of things- Eva- I talked a lot about it with Eva, and she mentioned how Sophie, was like, had many many traits that imply that she is autistic.

And, while I said yes, that the intention was to like, sorta allude to it? I would never confirm it because I wouldn't be able to represent it properly. I would never be able to fully represent it, because it's not an experience I've gone through. But there's a lot of like, unintentional double meaning with Autism, with like, what's going on in her head and how like, she behaves, in a way?

But I feel like, from what Eva told me, from her experience as an Autistic person, she told me it was a really good representation, for like, the character. Even if it wasn't intentional, because she's never represented as like, mentally unstable, or not fit to, like-not competent... But you can still see some of her personal struggles in her behavior."

-They talk for a while about how Kyle likes to think that Boozoo is gay, but he's not especially a fan of the relatively popular ship between him and Bon. Martin says that a better Boozoo ship idea could maybe be Pete the Hippo, provided that the recasted his VA.

-On the same topic, Martin agrees that Boozoo and Bon would be a bad ship idea, because he doesn't like the idea of Bon being with anybody who he treats poorly, and how this is the reason why he really tries to be nice to Sha, even if he isn't especially good at it. Martin mentions that the thing that really makes Bon like Sha is that she's the one person who can really tell him off, and for a while he was a little scared of her.

-Martin talks about a funny showstoppers story he's thought of, where Banny gets a crush on a girl from school and Boozoo and Sha help her work up the courage to ask her out, but the girl is just so unapologetically mean to Banny and totally breaks her heart, and so all the showstoppers come to defend Banny, and they go and beat up this teenager on her behalf.

-Someone asks for a "Susan Fun Fact" but typos it as "Susan Gun Fact". Martin says that Susan would think that the American attitude towards guns and gun control is one of the things most wrong with the United States. Kyle says it'd be funny if she was the type to believe that, but then own a gun anyway.

-Martin says that he really loves Susan's voice, and thinks it's so perfect for her character.

#the walten files #like the entire second half of the stream was just them making stupid noises at each other and i don't feel like listening to that again #so i'm missing some things here but whatever

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Tiramisu

Summary: A few days after you find out about his daughter, Marc takes you to a play and then dinner afterwards to talk to you about a few things.

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: A continuation of the universe from this single dad au drabble. Don't look at me I switched POVs. This can be read by itself or with the other part for more context.

Warnings: fluffy, angsty, talk of lawyers and custody, brief allude to Marc's childhood, multiple mentions of smutty times (no smut), swearing (it's Marc), reader is oddly possessive

There's a strange comfort that you find in Marc Spector's presence. The minute, everyday movements of his body that would go unnoticed in anyone else but in him, to you, meant the difference between life and death.

Right now, it's the barely there motion of his temple as he eats. It's going up and down in time with his jaw, the same interweaving pattern his heart and his lungs share with each other.

He's taken you out for dinner tonight. He got free theatre tickets and he took you as his date.

Maya, he said, was too young for the subject matter.

And besides, he felt he hadn't seen you in ages, though it's only been ten days since you saw him last, since you've found out about his daughter.

You can't help but feel that it's a step backwards however. You feel hurt that he didn't take you up on your invitation to make him dinner, though you tried chalking it up to difficulties in trying to find someone to look after Maya. 

Should he stay the night. 

A more irrational part of you had been hoping he'd invite you back to his apartment again. Had thought you had crossed the line between public and private dates last time.

Last time, after cooking you dinner Marc had poured you another glass of wine and let it rest on the table, leaving a circular stain around the glass. He had taken you to bed, just as you had hoped it. He had taken you to his bed and fucked you.

He fucked you and then he made love to you and then he fucked you one more time, just because he could and just because you wanted him to. 

You had left Marc the next morning with a delicious ache in your body, his cologne lingering on your skin. Your lips were a little wet from his kiss before he sent you on your way, weak-kneed and doozy.

Maybe it was irrational. Maybe it was more than a little girlish, but that didn't mean you didn't think it.

The heart wanted what it wanted, despite the cool-headed whims of reason.

And your heart wanted Marc. 

Despite everything that told you you already had him. 

You did have him, you mused, looking at his temples moving up and down as he ate his salad.

You have his temples and the warm, roughened palms of his hands. You had him enough to know of Maya.To see her photos on his walls and know that she’s been taking ballet classes for about two years now. 

Despite your best intentions you think for longer than a passing interest about the other people Marc's dated, if they knew of Maya too. If they had met Maya to the point where they felt they could call her theirs.

You swallow done the jealousy with some water, in favour of wine, to keep an illusion of reason about you, so you could pretend you didn't know what he groaned like when he was close to release, what the soft pudge of his dad-belly felt in the palm of your hand.

In time with his temple, the hinge of his jaw bobs similarly up and down. It draws your attention away. It also makes you feel considerably warm inside. Another bit of the man you've come to deeply care for that you can revel in and enjoy. A piece of him that you can kiss and nudge into its proper place of the puzzle inside your chest that paints a pretty (but as of yet incomplete) picture of him.

Marc inspires in you a severe need to learn human anatomy. The names and systems of bones, muscles, ligaments and veins, so you could look at the hinge of his jaw, the bob of his temple and rattle off names in Latin. 

To seek comfort in a dead language because it speaks the parts of Marc's body, his living, breathing one whose hand held yours in crowds so as to not lose you, as if you were something worth hanging on to, and spoke to his daughter in soft intonations.

"Good?' He's looking up from his kale and at you; he's chewing a half bite with the right side of his mouth. His gaze is beady and intense as it flicks from your plate to your face multiple times, but his voice is gentle and casual, as if he really was just making small talk.

As if this were a regular date, as if he were a regular man and as if you felt for him a regular amount.

The main course will arrive soon and you realise you've barely made a peck in yours while he's almost finished.

You find yourself in a pickle.

Marc's taken a gamble on the restaurant tonight, he grumbled about it as you had waited for the play to start. Had trusted (which you know now means more than most mean it) the word of a co-worker that this was a good, new fusion place.

He hadn't even looked over the menu before coming.

For him that was as good as a death sentence.

You know the choice of restaurant and play had been hard ones for him. Both of them having essentially been decided for him by someone else. Yet it conversely meant that you would, supposedly, be judging him off somebody else's choices.

And you know that won't settle well with him. Settle just the way raspberries do in his stomach.  

You want to tell him, on one hand, that his cooking was better. But that also meant his hamster-wheel of a mind would spin it into thinking you implied that you'd rather be at his place.

Pushing at his boundaries like that was the last thing you would ever do.

Besides that strong moral line, your answer would have had another insinuation between the lines.  

It means you don't like the restaurant. The one he hadn't scoped out ahead of time. His co-worker's favourite restaurant that you now will think was his. Even if he’s never come here before, even if he usually checks menus before going. 

And Marc took his restaurants, like everything else, very seriously.

Of course, the other, more plausible and normal option would be to say that the salad is good.

If there was anyone besides Marc sitting in front of you.

You've barely fuckin’ touched it.

You can hear his voice in your ears now. Can see the displeased little downturn of his mouth which he tries and fails miserably to hide.

Marc builds forests out of salads.

You've become attuned to not only his funny American accent and his funny American swears you usually only hear on TV nowadays, but his way of thinking. Which is neither funny nor American in the slightest. 

It's instead the beauty that is the mind of Marc Spector.

It means both calculus-like computations over salad but it also meant his owl-like observations about the costumes, the lighting, the delivery of the lines in the play. It means that he goes beforehand and reads not just the menu of the restaurant but the play itself, even if you highly doubt he has the time to spare to pile through pages and pages of dense dialogue and sort out the meaning underneath, what with a full-time job and a daughter to raise. 

You had sneaked a glance at his copy, at the notes scribed in the margin in his all-caps cramped handwriting.

You didn't need much to figure out just one jewel more about him.

Marc worked in a business consultation firm.

But he had a talent for whatever he put his mind, or pencil, to.

"Honey?" You've gotten lost in thought again and smile at him, he looks nonetheless worried. He looks back at the salad, at the play program sticking out your purse, then at you. "I woulda ordered the Greek if I knew you didn't like kale."

You shake your head and smile helplessly. You've left him alone with his thoughts for too long and he's jumped to conclusions like a frog on lily pads. "The salad's great, and I like kale. Don't worry."

You pick your fork back up to continue eating but you're not sure it'll do much to assuage his worries.

Like clockwork, the divot appears between his eyebrows. Had you been at his place or yours you would have dared to press it away.

In the blinding spotlight of the public, you sit on your hands instead.

"You've barely fuckin' touched it."

He points out the obvious to catch your bluff. And in some sick and twisted way, to tell you to give him the hard, ugly truth and rip the band-aid off sooner than later.

It's so predictable that you feel like laughing but you keep your face intentionally neutral.

"I like it, I really do," you reach forward with your free hand to press on top of his. His temple and jaw are working over time chewing his kale to a pulp. If you looked under the table, his knee would be bouncing up and down, consistently and tightly. "I was just thinking..."

Of him.

But when were you not?

"Of the play?" This is your chance to right your previous wrongs over the salad and you snatch at it, since it wasn't really far from the truth anyways.

You're also a little shy to tell him that the movement of his temple is something that comforts you.

"Yeah, it was great. Thanks for inviting me."

To an untrained eye, it seems nothing has changed in his expression. To you, his eyes give him away, victorious, satisfied, put-at-ease. His temple calms down a little, he lets himself swallow whatever is left of his food.

True to your word you start eating again.

"'Course, honey. "

That was also new. Had started just this evening when you thanked him for opening the door for you.

Marc called Maya baby; he called you honey.

It's the fact that he's doing it publicly, in front of the watchful eye of the restaurant that gives you the courage to press away the frown on his forehead.

He pauses. 

Swirls your action around in his mind like a salty ocean wave stuck in a bay.

He likes it. There are faint twitches of the delicate muscles of his face that let you know he does. 

Like a teenager he's flustered. He flusters you and makes heat rise all over your body.

The entrées come as a saving grace to those bashful half-glances that were soon to follow.

The two of you need some time to adjust to the renegotiated boundaries of the tulips blooming between you. The silence that falls isn't awkward or misplaced. 

It's right. Necessary.

The up and down of his temple is sweeter than caramel to your soul. You're not sure you can do dessert tonight with the way you've hyper fixated on the movements his head makes when he chews. 

You glance up at him from your salmon, him from his lentil curry bowl. You catch his eye and smile furtively. There might as well have been an adult chaperone on your right.

He sends you a wink. An otherwise confident and flirty gesture that coming from him, like that, was only a direct reflection of how you were feeling.

Honey.

You liked how that sounded in his voice. His voice soft and like fresh towels thrown into the dryer to get hot. Its effect on your heart like spun sugar or cotton candy.

You wonder what kind of sweet pet names you can dole out now, like you would tiramisu.

In heaping spoonfuls.

"The main actor was great," he offers up. He's latched onto the one thing he thinks you enjoyed for certain out of the evening and driving that main point home, making sure you remember the good stuff only. "You see the way he switched in those last two scenes? Phenomenal."

He's talking like he's a full-time drama critic, one that had his own column he wrote for every week.

Though you doubt he finds the time to go to the theatre every week.

"I liked the sisters as well," you offer back. Tilting your head to the side you think for a moment before adding on, "Really strong cast."

"That's all in the writing," he wipes his mouth with his napkin. A little less surely he tacks on, "You wanna borrow my copy?"

"Sure, sweetheart, that'd be nice."

Sweetheart.

That's nice.

Seems to have the same effect on him as honey has on you.

He reaches into his briefcase and passes you his book, the cover blue and a little worn at the edges from being used. You treasure it and tuck it away in your purse, not for the words of the playwright, but the words Marc has layered on top of them like lace trim.

"Look I-uh..."

The waiter comes and asks for the plans for dessert.

Marc always lets you choose and you always get the same thing, if it's on the menu. Otherwise something with chocolate.

Tiramisu.

Nowadays when you eat it by yourself at home, you think of his creamy, coffee kisses after your dates. You think of the tiramisu brown of his eyes, warm and vulnerable every time he's done kissing you.

You ask for tiramisu tonight because they had it and turn back to Marc as the boy walks away.

You feel he's going to talk to you about something important.

He's hinted at it gently and implicitly all night.

So you tune your attention into him like a radio station.

"I-uh wanted to talk to you..." the words are the beginnings of your living nightmare. The threads in his jaw and neck rub on top of each other and he runs a comforting hand over his clean-shave as he prepares to keep talking. "About Maya."

"Alright," you lean forward. The sounds of the restaurant have all but faded away into ether.

He seems taken aback by your answer, frowning again, "You-uh, don't have anything to say first?"

Your heart lurches in your throat, "Was I supposed to have thought about something?"

"No!" He flinches at his own voice, and clears his throat, calms down. "No," he shrugs and looks down at the table. "I just thought that maybe you'd-" he hears the rest of his sentence and shuts down. "Ah, forget it. It was stupid anyways."

He reaches up and tugs at his curls, rubs his neck.

"Marc, sweetheart," you take his free hand in yours. "It wasn't stupid, and I won't think it stupid if you want to share it with me."

He looks you deep in the eyes and then shakes his head again, makes a dismissive gesture with his hand that makes your stomach drop. 

"Just thought..." he ruffles his curls the way a bird inadvertently does when trying to groom itself. "We didn't get much of a chance to talk about it the other night. Thought maybe after it settled in you might have had a change of thought."

It bothers you to no extent that he's thought you wanted to end things with him and all the while he's still taken you out to dinner and will for sure insist on paying for it afterwards. 

"Well, I don't," you say it as assertively as you can. "I...well, truth be told, I like spending time with you, Marc. I like where this is going and Maya seems like a sweet girl."

"She is.” The times when he’s talking of his daughter are one of the only instances you hear his voice so self-assured and relaxed. "And you like having her in your future? With me?"

You nod, reach for his other hand, "I've always liked kids."

"You want some of your own someday?" 

It seemed a little early for the kids and marriage talk, but you see the worries inside Marc like pearls in a clam shell and you touch their shiny, translucent surfaces one-by-one.

You shrug, but you make sure to not look away, "I wouldn't be opposed to it."

He tsks, clearly not satisfied with the ambiguity of your answer, "Maya's mother, she was never in the picture. Left as soon as she could."

"Oh, Marc-"

"Well, that was what we agreed on. She'd carry the baby to term if I took full custody," he looks down at his hands. "We even got a lawyer to make sure it was all sorted out, even if we were never married."

 "How old were you when Maya was born then?" The image of him in the hospital, forever ingrained in your mind, conjures itself all over again.

"Thirty, I think."

That made him a handful of years older than you. The greys in the curled roses of his hair speak testament to it.

"Did you want kids?"

A flushed waiter shuffles over, mumbling something about a broken espresso machine, plops an extra plate of dessert in front of you to make up for it. Then he's going, going, gone away with haste.

It makes you both laugh at the intrusion, those stomach-clenching eye wrinkles of his showing up again. You wonder if you could touch them the way he let you press away his frown.

"Well," laughter hangs around his voice like morning dew and sunshine on a sidewalk after a hot day. "No, never really thought of them. Till Maya's mother that is. Then it seemed that it was all I wanted."

You wish the place had booths, so you could slide in beside him and kiss him the way you want to. To make him laugh and touch his face, his throat to feel the vibrations of it in your fingers. 

"It must have been hard, raising her by yourself." 

“Oh, well,” he laughs, shrugs in a way that makes a lock of his hair curl down into his forehead. “She was a good baby. Hardly ever cried.” 

“Did you have any help?” 

Marc has never mentioned his parents to you, nor has he brought up the names of any siblings. There was a cousin he’d told you about last time. 

He seems to you a very lonely man. 

There’s a strange ache in your chest as you think of Marc again, alone with a baby. Barely getting any sleep and making formula milk at three in the morning. 

Your stomach twists in unknown ways as you think of the way his shoulders must have moved as he tested the temperature on the delicate skin of his wrists, of his hair curling every which way, the way it looked like the morning after he had sex with you three times. 

Marc tenses up, looks to his side, the top of his cheek twitching, “Yeah-uh, here n’there.” There’s a crack in his voice that sounds like a tectonic plate shifting. 

You reach over the table, cupping his face. Though you don’t move, it makes him shift to look back at you. There are sand dunes of emotions in his eyes, morphing into one another and shifting every second you look at him. There’s too much there for you to understand, for you to be able to help with. 

The helplessness that drowns you binds your lungs together. 

“She’s a great kid,” you know what he’s going to say again, but you press against the boulder of an excuse. “Great parents raise great kids. You’re doing so well by her-” 

He scoffs and looks away. His hand comes up on top of yours and places it back on top of the table, gives it two reassuring pats and you a raise of his eyebrows. “Yeah…well-” 

“She’s happy, Marc,” you swat away the mosquitoes of his insecurities, the cockroaches of his excuses. “I’ve never met her, but I know that much. You can’t hide that kind of happiness...or fake it.” 

He pauses, glances at you to let the words sink in and then looks at the tablecloth. “I never really got any help with her,” he says grimly. “My cousin moved…maybe a year or two ago. Before that, it was just me n’Maya.” 

You reach forward and take his hands in yours and squeeze them. You’re quiet for some time, the sounds of a jazz band tuning up in the background almost like static. You’re hardly even vaguely aware of it. 

Marc squeezes your hands, catches your attention again, “And you.” 

You frown, the thundering of your heart not sure what to make of it, to believe him or not. 

“And you, now,” he repeats again. “Me, Maya…and you,” there are nerves trailing at the edge of his voice like shorelines, his eyes are warm like the coloured pieces of floor when the sun hits stained glass. “That is…if you want.” 

“That’d be nice,” you want to say that his words set alight butterflies all over your body but that would be inadequate. There are flocks upon flocks of geese, squawking and flapping every which way, you can barely think over the sounds they’re making. 

And you, now. 

“I want that, Marc,” you smile, and then let out a nervous little shudder of a laugh. An easy breath, after the taught tension that had begun to build up. 

“Yeah?” the depths of his eyes light up, the delicate skin around them creases. 

“Yeah.” It comes out breathy and awkward. You think you said yes to your first kiss much the same way. 

“Ok,” he laughs, the tightness draining out of his shoulders, a smile growing on his face like cherry blossoms. “Ok, that…that went better than I expected.” 

“I’m glad,” you don’t dare to ask what he’d expected, to see what kind of image yourself you’d portrayed and how he’d built it up inside his mind. Underneath that as well is the insinuation that this hasn’t gone the way he’d hoped before. Meaning that he’s done this before, meaning that there was someone that sat across from him, just as you are right now. That he cared enough about them to tell them about Maya. 

You don’t mean to be so nit-picky, so jealous and possessive. 

It just sort of happened to you. 

One day, Marc was the guy you were casually seeing, the one with the pretty smile and the intense loneliness that poured out of him like sludge, and the next you were here, talking about your future together, one that had his daughter in it as well. 

You had never been one to get attached so easily. It concerns you how easily and quickly this came to you, like a newly-hatched turtle already dragging itself to the ocean. 

You wonder what’s made Marc different from the rest of the people you’ve gone out with.  

The question strikes an unpleasant nerve, one that’s embedded deep into tissue and muscle, and you leave it alone. Instead, you pick up a spoon and start to pick away at the long forgotten dessert. 

As you’d expected, it’s too sweet for you right now, even the bitterness of the coffee doesn’t manage to balance it out. 

Maybe you’ll take this to go, enjoy it in the morning and pretend Marc is sitting in front of you at your table, frowning as he looks down at his phone. 

In your little daydream, there’s a faint giggle that sounds like what meringue tastes like, a gentle patter of children’s feet approaches the table and-

Something bumps into your table at the restaurant. It makes Marc’s knife hit the base of his wine glass and draws you out of your thoughts again, heart pounding, heat rising to your face, feeling as if you’ve done something wrong. 

An older couple apologises to the both of you and they swirl away again, dancing to the rhythm of the music. 

Though they’re not exactly the picture of grace and elegance, their movements jerky from dried and rusty joints, there’s a certain light that radiates from out of them. It draws your eyes towards them, brings a smile to your face. 

“Hey,” Marc’s voice is soft like the espresso-soaked ladyfingers of the tiramisu on the table. Though his palm is gently roughened over, it’s even softer than his voice as he lets it rest on top of your hand. “You wanna dance?” 

You look back at him, then down at the table shyly, hiding behind your wing, “I don’t know how.” 

He shrugs, gives you a reassuring squeeze, “I don’t know how either.” Having made the decision for the two of you he stands up, takes your hand and leads you towards the dance floor. 

The warmth of his arm around your waist reminds you of the passion he showed you in his bed. It makes you shiver, draws your body to his the way a compass is drawn to the North. 

You don’t do much of dancing, if you’re being honest. Nothing compared to the intricate footwork patterns the other couples are doing. Marc holds you and sways with you, your feet shuffling together awkwardly. 

He hums along to the music, his voice is gentle and soothing. You can feel the vibrations of it in your chest, the warmth of his body spilling into yours like a waterfall. 

Then, with his hand curled around you, he draws you in closer, almost imperceptibly if you hadn’t been able to tell by the brush of his clothes against you. You’re so close now that the only reasonable choice is to press your head onto his shoulder, to take in the smell of his cologne and his skin. 

There’s the wave of a sigh that comes and fades away. His exhale rolls over your shoulder, curls around your heart like a cat’s tail. Though he doesn’t speak, there are words that come with his breath that you can hear. 

You place your cheek against his and hope that he hears your response. 

You fit together like puzzle pieces, a lock and key.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here.

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x female!reader #marc spector fluff #marc spector angst #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fic #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector imagine #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight fic #oscar isaac

[one-idea]

Okay I’m fairly new to one piece still. (I just finished Enies Lobby in the anime and I’m half way through the live action)

But I just had a plot bunny that just won’t leave my mind. A devil fruit that can steal dreams.

We all know that Luffy has an unstoppable ambition. He’s going to be the king of the pirates. And his dream and his belief in it is what draws a lot of his crew to him. Not only does he believe in his impossible dream but he believes in theirs.

He knows Zoro will be the world’s greatest swords man. Nami will make a map of the world. Usopp will be a great warrior of the sea. Sanji will find the all blue. Chopper will cure all diseases. Robin will uncover the lost history of the world. Franky’s ship will sail around the world. (Forgive me Brook and Jinbei I haven’t met you yet but I long for you)

But Luffy believes in them. Even when they don’t believe in themselves. Or when others try to stop them or take their dreams Luffy is the first in line to defend them.

So what happens if Luffy loses his ambition. Obviously this wouldn’t happen under normal circumstances. But what happens if there is a devil fruit user that can steal ambitions or dreams. The loftier the dream the more power the user receives. And this user hears of the straw hat crew. This crew of dreamer. Whose captain has the grandest of dreams.

What if he attacks the crew. An out right attack from one man won’t do much against the monsters of the crew. But the user doesn’t need to beat the crew they just need to use their power.

Maybe they’ve watched the crew for a while. They know how protective the crew is. So instead of gunning straight for Luffy they go after one of his friends. And Luffy moves to protect them getting his dream/ambition stolen.

What will the crew do with a Luffy who has no drive. Who doesn’t believe his dream is possible or even real. How do you look at the man who inspired you to chase your outrageous dream, who now doesn’t believe in his own.

And they can’t just talk him into believing again. They have to get his dream back. What won’t the crew do to get Luffy’s dream back.

It puts the crew in such a rough spot. Luffy normally takes out the biggest threat. Not that the others aren’t strong but now they are fighting someone who can steal their dreams/ambition. A person who just got a power up from stealing Luffy’s dream. They’re fighting all the things that make their captain their captain. His dream/ambition/determination/stubbornness.

Imagine the guilt of the strawhat Luffy pushed out of the way. Who is it?

One of the weaker members? He saved Nami’s whole village, freed her from Arlong. He always believes Usopp and after water 7 there’s just so much to their relationship. Copper who he took from a life of loneliness and solitude.

Or is it one of the older members? Robin who owes Luffy everything, the man who made her want to live. Franky? Brook? Jinbei? (I still need to learn more about them)

Or maybe worst Sanji who already has so much guilt from Whole Cake Island (I’m not there but I already know a lot) or Zoro, loyal Zoro who dedicated his own dream to Luffy. Who’s already made so many sacrifices. His own dream is so tightly intertwined with Luffy’s by now what must it be like to see Luffy with out his drive.

Imagine how they would agonize over being the reason Luffy is so despondent.

Because this only works if Luffy has completely given up. No drive what so ever. Like won’t get out of bed, sees no point in fighting back. The opposite of how he has been everywhere else.

I just think it could be a really compelling story if done right.

Part 2

Part 3

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #nami #tony tony chopper #nico robin #usopp #franky #one piece franky #one piece brook #jinbei #zolu #one piece zolu #sanlu #dream dream fruit au #straw hat pirates

[ofstoriesandstardust]

something’s gotta give (j.h.s.)

a/n: my finger slipped. 

summary: Jake makes a decision.

inspired by camila cabello’s “something’s gotta give” and taylor swift’s “the last time” | part of the maroon universe

warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Jake is 33), angst, break-ups, non-linear story telling, i’m working on a follow-up piece to this, referenced sex

word count: 869

“no reason to stay is a good reason to go”

The light in the kitchen is dim as you walk into the entryway, pausing a few feet from the kitchen island. Bradley glances at you from where he’s fiddling around on his phone, glass of water sitting in front of him. It takes him a second but he glances back up at you again, putting his phone to sleep as he stands up from the chair. 

"Hey kid, are you okay?” 

You take a shaky breath, pulling your hair to one side as tears sting your eyes. “Um-”

Bradley furrows his eyebrow, taking a step closer for you, arm already outreached to pull you into a hug. “Hey, hey, what happened?” 

The words leave you in one fell swoop before you’re ever even really sure you want them to. 

“Jake broke up with me.” 

-

The ocean breeze floats through your hair, sending a shiver down your spine as your wet hair drips on to your shirt. Your eyes are unseeing, too focused on the war inside of you. 

“I never should’ve moved back to San Diego.”

Your Dad looks to you but your eyes remained focused on the crashing ocean water. 

“I’ve been fucking miserable here. And I tried, I tried to make it work, to believe you all those times you said that it was going to be different. And I tried to make it work with the team, with the job, with Jake, but-” You pause, blinking. “No reason to stay is a good reason to go.” 

-

You feel the fabric of Bradley’s cotton white t-shirt hitting the side of your face as he draws you into a hug before you process that the words have left your mouth. 

You bite your lip, determined to keep the tears in because you’re sure that once you let go, you might shatter in Bradley’s arms. 

“Hey, what happened? I thought things were going so good.” 

“I thought so too, but he- he fucked me and then he dumped.” 

Your lip trembles, first tear traitorously slipping down your face as Bradley stiffens. 

“He what?” His voice is dangerously quiet. 

He pulls away, just enough to look you in the eye. You take the opportunity to step back, tears running down your face now as you make a futile attempt to wipe them away on the back of your wrist. 

“We were- we were laying bed after, you know, and I was telling him about how the last guy I had been with didn’t really give a shit about me, that he took more than I could give, but how he- he didn’t make me feel like that and Jake- he-”

A sob escapes your mouth and your hand flies up to cover it, knowing the minute your Dad wakes up, all hell will break loose. Bradley knows this too, shushing you as he pulls you back into another bug, muffling your sobs, but it’s pointless, the sound of the bedroom door opening. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Maverick’s voice comes, followed by the kitchen light being flicked on. 

“Kiddo, what happened?” Your Dad says and you feel his hand fall on your back, rubbing comfortable circles with your thumb into your shoulder. 

“Jake broke up with her.” Bradley says after a minute of silence when it becomes clear you’re not going to say anything. 

“Son of a bitch.”

-

The car door shuts, the ocean breeze floating in through the outdoor drop-off section of the airport. Maverick sighs, settling his hands in his coat pockets. 

“It’s not too late, you know? You don’t have to do this.” 

He’d been the only to come see you off as you left to start over. Insisted he drive you. 

You shrug, tugging stray hair behind your ear that’s been blowing in the wind. “I’m sorry Maverick.” 

He sighs again, taking a step towards you, tugging you into a hug. “I love you, kid. This’ll always be your home. You’re always welcome here.” 

You take a deep breath, trying to memorize the way he smelled of jet fuel and ocean breeze, the way the scent had always brought you comfort and familiarity. 

“Just because Jake is gone doesn’t mean you’ve got to go.” He says and the words make you take a step back, arms falling to your side. 

It feels final, leaving like this. 

You sigh, pulling the handle of your suit case up as you step back on to the curb before facing him one last time. 

“No reason to stay is a good reason to go.” 

-

Your phone illuminates on the nightstand as you shift the covers back to slip under. You frown, sighing to yourself as you know who it is. 

At this hour, there’s only one. 

You stand up from the bed, walking over to the window. 

There he is, staring up at you with pleading eyes. 

You heave another sigh, tears stinging your eyes as you draw the blinds shut, blocking his figure from view. 

You flick the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. You count your breaths in a fruitless attempt to keep the stinging tears at bay.

No reason to stay is a good reason to go.

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #maroon

[bi-bard]

Moonlight on my Skin, Rising from Within - Nikolai Lantsov Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: Moonlight on my Skin, Rising from Within

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov X Reader

Word Count: 2,706 words

Warning(s): **HEY, LOOK HERE** physical attack, abuse from parents, death, murder

Summary: [Inspired by "The Siren" by Nadiiife] Nikolai meets and falls for (Y/n). The only thing in their way is (Y/n) hiding who they are and what has happened to them.

Author's Note: The love that I hold for this song is almost unreal. It's so beautiful.

This story got so out of hand.

----------------------

I was foolish to believe that the nightmares would stop when I joined Nikolai's crew.

To believe that I would stop hearing my own screams echoing around my head as a constant reminder of why I was there at all.

For the first few nights, I had slept somewhat peacefully. But once my body had adjusted to sleeping on the water, my mind took that as an invitation to flood that peace with images that I longed to be rid of. I would wake up, gasping for air as I tried to steady myself. Nightmares did not mix well with sleeping in a hammock. Who would have thought?

While a part of Nikolai's crew, I did everything in my power to keep to myself. I did the tasks that I needed to and didn't speak much. No one seemed to mind that.

The only person who knew anything about me was Nikolai. And that was not due to my desire to share. No. It was merely because he was very good at asking just the right questions at just the right time that he managed to draw information out of me.

I found it just as impressive as it was infuriating.

Granted, it was a skill that seemed to work against him just as much as it worked for him. That was how I learned his name. After that, he seemed to easily tell me about the identity of Sturmhond and why it existed at all. I never meant to learn all of that. I never wanted to be that close to him. I should have known better than to assume that I could truly control something like that.

But I spent too much time in my self-induced isolation to not have overestimated my abilities.

I also overestimated my ability to hide the very reason that I had spent so much time in that isolation.

Nikolai had asked to speak with me. He stood on one side of his desk as I stood on the other. He had his arms crossed, attempting to be more intimating than necessary. I stood in silence, waiting for whatever he wished to question me about.

He was blunt when he finally spoke up, "You're Grisha."

My heart dropped. "What?"

"Tamar tried to tell me," he continued. "I dismissed her at first. But then... I saw it."

"What are you talking about," I asked.

"I saw it today... I saw you use your gift."

I looked away.

Being Grisha was one of the few pieces of information that I had managed to keep to myself. I had managed to hold it close to my chest and never let anyone see it. I didn't know that Tamar had spotted my silent attempts to help. I didn't know that she went to Nikolai. I didn't know that Nikolai had been looking.

I thought that I was far more observant than that. Apparently not.

Nikolai sighed. "Told you my secret, yet you didn't tell me yours."

"I would say a fake name was a little less intense than the very thing that I am hated for in multiple places," I all but snapped at him.

He nodded. "You're right. That was insensitive of me."

I didn't reply. I merely continued to keep my eyes from his.

"What's your rank?"

"Tidemaker," I relented, looking at him again.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was none of your business," I replied. "I escaped the Little Palace. I lived off the map for years. I caused no problems for anyone. No one needed to know."

"But you left your life of isolation to join my crew."

"I got lonely," I said bluntly. The look that he gave me showed me that he did not believe me but didn't have any desire to question me further. "Are you going to send me away?"

Nikolai took a deep breath. "If I had discovered this earlier, then I would."

"And now?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Why?"

I saw a small smirk sitting on his lips. That merely confused me more. His silence did nothing to help me. I crossed my arms over my chest, either trying to seem tough or simply because I was uncomfortable. I honestly couldn't tell.

"The silence doesn't explain anything to me," I said after a moment.

"I care for you," he explained, slowly stepping closer to me. "Greatly."

I felt my heart speeding up as he did so. I tried to make it seem like I wasn't nervous to be in front of him, but it was far more difficult than I anticipated.

I had grown accustomed to being alone. Maintaining a distance. I was convinced that I would have been able to always remain calm. No matter the situation, no matter the danger.

But this wasn't danger.

This was Nikolai. This was Nikolai standing just in front of me, staring at me with this soft look on his face as he told me that he cared for me.

"Nikolai," I murmured.

"Can I kiss you," he asked quietly.

It felt like all words stopped in my throat. I felt my mouth open, but no words came out. He didn't move. He just stood there quietly while I seemed to have no ability to speak.

"It's alright," he finally mumbled back to me. "You don't have to-"

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his before he could continue speaking. His hands reached up and cupped the sides of my face as he kissed me back.

I had pictured what my first kiss would be like. Years ago. Nothing I had pictured lived up to the actual moment. The gentleness, the warmth in my chest, the millions of thoughts rolling through my mind. It was all so... intense. In a great way.

He pulled away first. He smiled at me. I found myself smiling back.

I couldn't remember feeling so comfortable with someone touching me. I couldn't remember feeling someone's skin on mine and not wanting to run away.

But as I looked back at Nikolai, none of those feelings came back. No need to run or hide or anything.

I was at peace.

After that, it felt like everything had changed. Well, not quite changed. More shifted.

My day-to-day life was largely unchanged. Nikolai respected me enough to allow me to continue keeping my gift to myself. I still did all of the same tasks that I did before. I refused to be held on any form of pedestal merely because of who I chose to be with.

There were two differences that I noticed. One was where I was sleeping. The other was how Nikolai looked at me. Maybe that hadn't changed, but this was the first time that I had noticed it.

It was nice.

I had never been looked at the same way that he looked at me. I had never felt admired. I had seen looks of disgust and concern and contempt, but this was different... in all the best ways.

I knew true peace for a while.

Until I heard the name of a place that I knew far too well.

Then, I was reminded very bluntly of the very reason that I joined this crew.

I knew that something about me changed. I was tenser. I was more determined. I had spent all of my isolation waiting for this moment. Planning for it.

I had never expected Nikolai to ask me about it. I thought that after all this time, he would have let go of trying to find out what I didn't want him to find out. That he would have accepted that I had no interest in talking about the life that I had before my time in isolation.

But here I was, standing by the window in his room as he spoke.

"Why is this trip different for you," he asked quietly, as if he was trying to preserve the peace of the room and not invading a part of my history.

"Why are you asking?" I murmured, still staring out at the water.

"Because when you heard where we were going, something changed," he said. "As if you have been waiting to finally get there. As if something is waiting for you."

I closed my eyes and tilted my head down. I felt my body trying to curl even further in on itself.

"If my crew is walking into a fight, then I would like to know who our enemy is-"

"It's not 'our' enemy," I cut him off, finally looking at him. "Your crew isn't walking into a fight. I am. This is my fight. My battle. No one else's."

Nikolai took a deep breath. "I want to be there for you. I understand that this is your fight, but I have no interest in making you face it alone."

I didn't speak up for a moment. I was still so focused on the plan that I made years ago.

"(Y/n)..."

I reached down and dragged my sleeves up my arms before holding them out to him.

I saw his eyes widen as he looked at them. As the two bright scars that decorated my skin. The discoloration that I tried to ignore by covering them.

"There," I said bluntly. "This is why this trip is so different for me."

"Who... Who did this," he asked. His hands hovered away from the skin. He was scared of touching them... not that I truly understood if it was for my comfort or his.

"My parents," I replied. "My father, mostly. My mother only went along with it because of him."

He didn't speak up.

"My father didn't want me to be Grisha... I don't know why... he tried to explain it all as an act of mercy. But it wasn't. It was an attempt to torture me... trap me."

"What did he do?"

"He and my mother held me down and tried to cut my hands off. Grisha can't truly perform their abilities without them. If I couldn't use my gift, I lost any and all power that I had against him. He thought doing both at once would be easiest."

Nikolai finally touched my wrists. He was careful. Delicate.

"I managed to get my mom off of my legs and get free. I ran... lived on the streets for a brief time. Kirigan's army found me in an inn. The owner said that he would allow me to have a free night in a room to keep out of the rain. I think he's the one who reported me... I just don't know how he knew.

"I stayed at the Little Palace for a while. It started out okay, but the longer that I stayed, the more I simply saw another man trying to control my gift and use it for himself. I escaped with a friend of mine. We went our separate ways.

"I lived in isolation for years to stay safe. While I did that, I planned exactly what I would do to my father."

"And now we're going to be so close to him," Nikolai murmured.

"And I have every intention of finding him and killing him," I confessed. "The longer he breaths, the longer he has power over me. I won't allow him that anymore. Never again."

Nikolai slowly nodded as he continued tracing my scars. "I'm going with you."

"Nikolai," I sighed. "This is my battle. I have interest in dragging you into it."

"I am going to ensure your safety," he replied. "I... I would never be able to live with myself if I allowed you to get hurt when I could have been there to protect you."

He pulled my wrists up slowly. A gentle kiss was placed on each scar, barely there.

"Alright," I mumbled as he did so. "Thank you."

"You have nothing to thank me for," he insisted. "I would do anything that you asked of me."

I grinned at him. He leaned forward and kissed me gently.

And so, we found ourselves walking into the fields near a small town. Through long grass covering an empty landscape.

And there it was.

My home.

The small, rundown building that I had run from so long ago.

I saw my father outside. I paused. He hadn't seen me yet. I could have turned around. I could have walked away.

Nikolai touched my back. "Are you alright?"

"I never thought that this would happen," I muttered.

"Do you still want to do this?"

"I need to."

He nodded.

I continued walking forward. He followed just a step behind me.

I almost stopped again when my father spotted me. His eyes were as cold as they were when I left. That coldness was only met with an angry fire that seemed sparked by my very appearance.

"How dare you," he started storming over to us. "You run away, vanish for years, and then come waltzing back?"

I refused to step back as he got closer.

He pointed at me. "Your mother died after you left. It was your fault. The stress of it all."

"I am not the reason that my mother is dead," I snapped back, an angry fire of my own forming in my stomach. "You are a monster. A monster that truly is incapable of looking at yourself and realizing that your actions may be the very reason that we are here now!"

"I was doing what was best! You had no need for those gifts. You don't deserve them."

My jaw clenched. "Why am I trying to reason with you?"

"Excuse me," he went to step forward.

I moved my hands, dragging the mist from the air. I watched him stumble as the water began to fill his lungs. He quickly fell to his knees.

"I always deserved this gift," I said. "I never needed to prove myself to you. I have no obligation to you. You were my father. You were meant to protect me... save me. And you became the monster in my nightmares. I have to live with what you did to me. I will not grant you that same luxury."

I saw my father reach for Nikolai as he tried to breathe through the water filling his lungs. Looking for help, a kind hand. I looked at him too, silently waiting to see if he would challenge me at all.

Nikolai looked away from my father and back at me. Then, he turned away from the scene altogether. I felt a grin tug at my lips as I turned to my father again.

I saw his eyes sliding shut. I walked over closer to him.

"You deserve so much more pain than I ever had to endure. I have faith that the saints will take no pity on you."

I didn't step away until my father was lying on the ground, no breath left in his chest.

Nikolai turned back when I walked back to him.

Our walk to the ship was largely silent.

I could feel the weight falling off of my heart. I knew very well that this single action would never have healed me completely. But knowing that my father had no more power in this world was enough for me to feel like I was no longer frozen. I was no longer stuck in my history. I had hope. A push to continue moving forward.

Nikolai didn't speak up until the ship was within sight of us. He stopped, turning to me. "(Y/n)..."

I stopped and looked at him, humming to acknowledge that I was listening to him.

"I love you."

I felt as if the air had been knocked out of my lungs as a small smile crossed my face. "Genuinely?"

"More strongly than I've loved anyone before."

My smile only grew. "I... I love you too, Nikolai."

He stepped forward and pressed his lips to mine. I slowly kissed him back, my hands reaching out to hold his. It was perfect. Everything with Nikolai was perfect.

I pulled away first, pressing our foreheads together.

If being with him was my first step forward, then I would be perfectly content with the beginning of my true freedom.

----------------------

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#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine

[writerscafehub]

𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙰 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝚈: @the-iceni-bitch

ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ . 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄:

From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

Oh god, a 3.5? I will admit that it’s very hard for me not to downplay myself, it’s what I’m best at. I will say that I have gotten much better as a writer since I took it back up.

2. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

I think probably my dialogue. I find myself able to sink into relationship dynamics quite easily and am able to show a character’s personality through their conversation with other characters rather than just describing it.

3. Are there any writers that inspire you?

Well, I have to give credit where credit is due as @stargazingfangirl18 is the whole reason I started writing fanfic. Other fanfic authors I find myself drawing inspired from would be @angrythingstarlight, @boxofbonesfic, @slothspaghettiwrites, @onsunnyside, and @howdoyousleep3. For my non-fanfic writing I draw a lot of inspiration for Ursula LeGuin, George R.R. Martin, Robert Jordan, and Tolkien of course.

4. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

Definitely In the Pines. It’s so different from anything else I’ve ever written and I honestly love it. It’s so haunting and I’m very proud of the prose.

5. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write and which do you find most difficult to write?

Easiest is absolutely the quadrouple - my Ransom/reader/Ari/Jake kinda polycule that’s part of my No Love Like Your Love AU. I also find it really easy to write for Natasha and her peach from that same AU. Most difficult? Oof, off the top of my head Mike Weiss, he’s just kinda depressing.

6. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

Again, the quadrouple. They’re my comfort characters for a reason. I also just love writing about people in relationships, about them being in love and working through tough times but coming out better for it. I love when two (or more) people are just completely open and honest with each other and do their best to make each other better.

7. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about!

Fic wise all the upcoming stuff for the NLLYL verse, and there’s a lot. But I am most excited about my novel! It has so many characters that I love so much. It delves into stuff I’ve never written before but that I found surprisingly intriguing. And of course, there’s a ton of bangable characters. Blorbos for everyone.

8. First fandom you ever wrote for?

The Chris Evans fandom. I can’t help it, I want to fuck so many of that man’s characters. 

9. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

Omegaverse for sure. Specifically knotting and scent. I just want a giant, masculine smelling animal of a man to fuck me and then have his cock locked inside me for an hour. And the snuggly vibes of nesting and just having a bunch of soft and comforting things around you that smell like someone you love feeds the marshmallow romantic inside me.

10. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

Look, every time I say I’m never going to write for something I end up writing it. But I can hopefully say that scat will never happen.

11. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

Probably the one where Deadpool is stuck in a self-insert fanfic. It breaks the fourth wall and it’s short but it’s weird as fuck.

12. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

Ari and Jake. They’re so soft and sweet and perfect and I am never going to let anything bad happen to them ever.

13. Do you listen to anything while you write?

With my ADHD I have to. It’s usually just the tv though. I’ll put some sitcom I’ve watched a million times on in the background.

14. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

This is kinda tough! I love creating AUs but I feel like those are more a bunch of one shots that just happen to be for the same couples in the same setting. But I also really love the actual series I’ve done. So I’m going to say multi-chapter.

15. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

Constantly! I mean, if I daydream about it I typically add it to my WIPs which is why I have so many. It’s usually just about my characters being happy and living their best lives in some way.

16. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

Not yet! I will say I’m a little bit intimidated still about writing for a male reader but after my first foray into it I feel much more comfortable.

17. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I can’t think of a specific one but I’ve gotten a few from people who have told me my fics provide a little bright spot for them and I always enjoy hearing that! There was also an ask I got where someone told me they recommend and discuss my writing more than they do real authors and that felt pretty good.

18. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

This goes back to what I mentioned before but definitely writing for a male reader. The reason I wanted to do it was part curiosity to see if I could do it and part desire to write for an audience I hadn’t had a chance to connect with. It turned out really well and aside from some cliche accusations of fetishization I had a lot of positive engagement.

19. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

Fluff, always fluff. If I do the angst I end up living in it for days and I hate it. (I say this while hosting a giant angst ask a thon on my blog)

20. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

For my fics, aside from my reader characters who in spite of being inserts are basically OCs, there’s the second generation of my NLLYL core group. All the kids are so cute and when they grow up there’s a lot of fun to be had, new romances and I could just go on and on about them. For my novel, oh my god you guys. There’s the Viking pirate sealord, the feminist icon, the super hot himbo best friend, the tiny and fiery lady of the lakes, the sexy villain, the spoiled but handsome prince. And that’s not even all of them.

21. If you could enter the universe of any one of your fics, which would it be and why?

Would it surprise anyone if I said the NLLYL verse? Because that’s the one. It’s like my security blanket.

22. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

Just that I have zero control over where my muse goes. If you’re craving the next installment in a series or an AU I am also craving it, but I’m also not going to force my muse to go somewhere and put something out that isn’t up to my standards.

23. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

“The cold wind whipped through your nightgown and tangled it around your limbs as you stared at the sky in rapture, bathed in the silvery light of the moon like some kind of goddess.” - In The Pines

24. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I just love the community I’ve been able to cultivate in the fic writing community. Not just the members of this server but so many readers who leave thoughtful and sweet comments that always make my day. 

#barista of the month #𖠰nat𖠰 #writer’s cafe ♡☕︎

[celenawrites]

TW - just a vent about fandom stuff.

I feel kinda sad about how some creators in the CoD fandom have now abandoned creating content for the game series due to the demanding nature of other fans who used to consume their content. (fics, art, etc)

Like, these artists/writers in the fandom write fanfics/create art, FOR FREE OF COST and dedicate SO MUCH TIME AND ENERGY to their craft despite not getting much in return, only to deal with senseless hate, ignorance, stupidity and get treated as content generation machines; instead of actual human beings with jobs and studies and friends and families that need their time and attention as well.

A lot of us folks who write or draw do this as a hobby. As an outlet for our creativity, and we find this community for the media we are currently fixated on and we create things inspired by it cuz it brings us joy. IT MAKES US HAPPY SO WE CREATE CONTENT FOR IT!!! And then to see the same fandom/community and their horrendous behaviour driving away the creators from the fandom and the media itself is just....sad. Very disheartening.

Like I miss so many of the creators who have just given up on CoD cuz of this issue. Their works have inspired me to start writing again. They make me wish I start learning how to draw and paint again too. Their works have touch my soul, and made me happy - gave me something to look forward to every day.

But I'd much rather they leave the fandom and take care of themselves and their life, than to succumb to this weird pressure fans and fan-content consumers put on them, y'know?

Plus recently, I've seen a lot of racist and stereotypical prejudices from some CoD fans (and even some creators). I know a lot of them are new to the fandom, I was too. But I took an active effort to learn more about this game series. (and it's an ongoing effort cuz I cannot afford to play the games so I have to settle for wiki articles, gameplays, and comics) And I see so many fans not give a shit about it. They treat these characters as blank canvases to fulfill their hypersexual fantasies. (I like me a good smut fic or two, don't get me wrong) But that just makes it impossible for newer fans to get to know more about the lore and the characters. I had just finished watching the campaign for MW, and let me tell you, there are so many complex missions, characters and storylines to explore and depict through fanfics, and it's insane so many people disregard it for their whimsies so easily. That will just stunt your growth as an artist/writer! Read up on the lore, watch the game plays(the OGs and the remakes!) , maybe even read the comics!!! I promise you won't regret it ever!!!

Also, please! For all that is holy, stop putting these complex fictional characters into restricted boxes and label them. That just makes them so one-dimensional. Like -

Soap is not always cheery and bubbly and your fellow bestie. Simon is not an abuser/emotionally dead asshole just because he has a hard time expressing his emotions like everyone else. König, despite the lack of storyline/lore we have on him, isn't an uwu social anxiety babygirl, damn it. Stop excluding Gaz from your HCs and fics! He's a complex man with so many interesting things to explore about his overall story and psyche as a part of 141. He's not always begging for Price's approval either, he can and has objected to how questionable their methods have been regarding their field/work. Stop excluding Gaz from 141 stuff! It makes you look like a POS, and a lot of the people who exclude him are doing so for....pretty racist reasons. As a POC, this shit sucks balls. Also stop stereotyping POC characters in CoD - Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria, Gaz, Farah....just stop. Their ethnicity or race should not deter you from writing about them in a way that doesn't come across as prejudiced and ill-informed.

Also, not necessarily a rant, but please consider/remember the fact that the military has always been a bit of a morally dubious field of work irl, and just cuz CoD is military-centric and features characters who work in the army or PMC and take out bad guys - that doesn't take away from the violent history military has and how they have contributed to the deterioration of many countries (mainly in the Middle East). Heck, even these characters in the CoD games have done extremely unethical things and employed treacherous methods in order to get the job done. These characters may be good people in fiction, but that doesn't mean that they have done great things or have always stayed morally pure. Explore the dubious nature of it all - explore how dark and harrowing it can be for them and for the people that unwittingly or knowingly get involved in their work. It's dark and twisted but it's crucial since it's inspired from our world and it's necessary for us as humans and as artists to explore such themes and analyse them! It's crucial for the soul!!!

#call of duty #cod:mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #captain john price #simon ghost riley #alex keller #farah karim #cod #alejandro vargas #valeria garza #rudolfo parra #fandom #tw vent #celena.rambles