#i drew this back around late 2020! still really proud of it

[biteapple]

it isn't Bennings

#reposting this from my old (now deleted) account except i cropped it different #i drew this back around late 2020! still really proud of it #The Thing (1982) #The Thing #Horror

[sailorsero]

nothin’ else like this - nsfw

author: claire (@sailorsero​) ship: solo adult bakugou katsuki, dash of adult bakugou x gender neutral reader, side adult kaminari denki x adult shinsou hitoshi prompt/genre: birthday & food kink themed solo play wordcount: 2887 warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing, kink, food fetish/food kink/sploshing a/n: • written for the Bakugou’s Birthday Bash Collaboration - check out the masterlist to see everyone elses!) • shoutout to @foolishfortuna who is writing an amazing food fetish kiribaku that inspired me to write this kink • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘birthday cake’ by rihanna

nothin’ else like this *** pinkyofficial • HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BLASTIEST BOY IN THE GALAXY!!! @explosiongoddynamight LOVE YOU!!! 💥🧡🍹🎂😘 CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU AND GET TURNT WITH MAH BOYSSS!!! BAKUSQUAD BABY!!! 👬🧍‍♀️👬 GO TELL DYNAMIGHT HAPPT BIRTHDAY Y’ALL!!! #dynamight #pinky #birthdaybitch

its_cellophane: happt birthday @explosiongoddynamight pinkyofficial: @its_cellophane suddenly we’re a squad of 4 #cellowho theredriot: Look at us 🥺 can’t wait to celebrate together, love you guys!!! happy birthday bro @explosiongoddynamight ♥️ chargebolt: But can we get #birthdaybitch trending tho?? 🤔

Bakugou tutted, flicking through the photos Mina had posted to Instagram. One from last years Hero Gala, with Tweedle Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest crowded into his personal space - all smiles, suits and champagne flutes. A post-graduation selfie with the woman herself, where he felt so triumphant at moving onto the next stage of his quest to become #1, that he hadn’t even objected to the filter that gave them huge eyelashes and bear ears. A couple from their most recent meetups, candids from their school days (mostly taken without his knowledge, let alone permission; the only one that he was posing for featured a double middle finger that had set Iida off for a good fifteen minutes), one from a photoshoot his publicist had strong armed him into and his friends had christened ‘The Great Bakugou Thirst Trap of 2020’.

Bakugou did not consider himself a sentimental person, or someone who placed a great deal of importance on his own birthday; he hadn’t even made any fuss when you told him you were needed in Osaka for a mission that would take you away two days before he turned 24.

But he couldn’t help but go back to the first photo of the bunch, allowing himself a soft smile he would deny under oath.

His 17th birthday, his first birthday with - ugh - real friends. He remembered rolling his eyes when Racoon Eyes had given her blindingly pink phone to the waitress, yelling at Sparky and Tape Face when they’d shoved themselves into the same side of the booth as the rest of them, growling when Shitty Hair had told him to ‘say ‘cheese’, Bakubro!’.

They all looked so young, pre-undercuts and piercings and late teenage growth spurts. He’d have to remember the (very secret) happiness that night had brought him next time Kirishima annoyed him by stepping mud into his carpet or Kaminari pissed him off by opening his big fat mouth.

Bakugou was drawn from his thoughts by knocking on his office door. Knocking that started out strong for the first hit, dropping noticeably into something more tentative for the rest; probably once they remembered whose door they were knocking on. Kirishima had once told him that the interns drew straws on who had to ‘rattle the beast’s cage’ (interact with Bakugou). He’d know; that idiot had been rattling Bakugou’s cage 25/8 since their first year at Yuuei.

“Come in!”

The door opened far enough for an assistant who had already been by this morning with a sack of birthday cards mixed in with regular fan mail to poke their head through the gap.

“Mr Dynamight, Sir, there’s another delivery for you.”

Bakugou nodded, leaning back in his leather desk chair and stretching out his back. Damn paperwork day, and on his birthday. Fuck, was 24 the age your back started aching from sitting in a goddamn chair?!

The assistant continued as they approached the desk, despite the fact that Bakugou didn’t fucking ask.

“It’s a cake, from a lovely bakery downtown; a delivery person just dropped it off. Their cakes are exquisite, by all accounts.”

They stepped back from the desk once the baby blue box was securely placed down, a white satin ribbon wound expertly around it. An embossed logo Bakugou recognised shone under the overhead light.

The blonde’s quirk made short work of the ribbon, burning it idly with one hand so the rest could be severed with ease.

Bakugou flipped the lid of the box up, letting it fall fully open so he could inspect the contents. He blinked. He blinked again.

It was a cake. A strawberry shortcake, slathered with cream and fresh fruit, and perfectly placed in the centre was a chocolate disc with immaculately piped words.

♡ HAPPY BIRTHDAY DYNAMIGHT ♡

“It’s from your fanclub!”

He let his eyes drift back up to the assistant, who - from what Bakugou could infer from the overly positive, cheery tone he was using - clearly thought Bakugou was seconds away from blasting the expensive gateau across his office, and was trying to avert having to call the janitorial staff back up to this floor. He understood; unbridled, perhaps not-always-reasonable rage was kind of his brand, and the cleaners had already had to make a return journey today after Kaminari had set off several sprinklers making toast.

A cake. Yes, a cake. From his fanclub. A cake from his fanclub. That he was definitely going to eat and nothing else, nothing weird! A cake for him to eat. At home. In private. As soon as possible.

“That’s-” He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s...great. It looks delicious...yes. Thanks. That’s all. You can...go.”

The assistant looked like they were struggling to process the combination of words that had just left Bakugou, but he was pleased when they decided to take this struggle on the road and left his office with a rushed “Yes, Mr Dynamight, Sir, thank you, you are welcome, good bye!” and the click of the office door.

Bakugou barely had time to drag his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath he had apparently been holding since he’d spoken, before the door opened again.

“Knock knock!” “You know he says it doesn’t count if you say it instead of doing it, especially if you’ve already open- Denki!”

Bakugou groaned as Kaminari shot across the room, peering into the still-open box on the desk. “Ooh, that looks amazing, bro! Can I have some?”

“Hey, Kats! Happy birthday, man!” Kirishima beamed at him before dropping his gaze to the cake Kaminari was currently eyefucking. Bakugou slid the box an inch or two closer to himself. He steadfastly ignored the other blonde’s question.

“Thanks, Ei. What’s Dunce Face doing here - world’s worst birthday present?”

Kirishima snorted, clapping Kaminari on the shoulder. “Ran into him a few blocks away on our patrols; figured we’d catch you now to say ‘happy birthday’ on the actual day instead of waiting for Saturday!”

Kaminari brought out what he probably considered the big guns; his finger guns, that he did for literally everything. “Happy birthday, Blasty! Speaking of your birthday, where did the cake come from? Sent with luuurve from Osaka? Although, that would be weird because you don’t even really like sweets and this won’t keep until Saturday when we get togeth-“

“It’s from my fanclub, Pikachu, and keep your staticky hands off my cake!” Bakugou flipped the lid back down, shielding the cake from view.

“Man, don’t be like that - there’s no way you’re gonna be able to eat all that by yourself!” Kaminari whined.

“Relax, Denks - you know Y/N has a cake ordered for Bakubro’s Belated Birthday Blowout!” Kirishima patted his back consolingly.

“I really wish you’d all stop calling it that. God, letting you guys have their number was a fucking mistake.”

Kaminari looked thoughtful; it was terrifying. “You know, I heard, one time, a hero got given a homemade cake by a fan, and when they took a bite of it, they realised they had a mouth full of the fan’s pubic hair!”

“Dude!” “What the everloving fuck, Dunce Face?!”

Kaminari just beamed, apparently proud of himself for making Bakugou question his life on the anniversary of his birth.

“Firstly, does this cake look fucking homemade to you? Secondly, where the fuck did you read that? ‘Disgusting Stories for Stupid Fucking Idiots Monthly’?”

Kaminari shrugged, nonplussed. “Sero told me.”

“Yes, then. Same thing, pretty much.”

Kirishima interrupted, looking thoughtful. “If you think Bakubro’s cake is full of pubes, why do you want to eat it?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a mouthful of pubes, bro! ‘Toshi’s more of an au naturel kind of guy…”

Bakugou saw Kirishima’s (painful looking) thinking face intensify, and intervened immediately. “Ei, do not pull at this thread. He-“ Bakugou punctuated with a harsh jab towards the electric hero. “- has told us several times that he’s had Mindfucker’s dirty feet in his mouth before, not to mention all the bodily fluids, and then there’s all the disgusting public places they’ve fucked, and-“

“Don’t kinkshame me, bruh!” Kaminari cut in, sounding lowkey offended, but Bakugou noted the look of pride from before hadn’t diminished, even a little bit.

Bakugou snorted. He constantly shamed Kaminari and his walking corpse of a boyfriend, but that was because they were shamelessly disgusting oversharing nymphomaniacs and someone had to do it. Preferably before one of them creamed their pants in a karaoke bar again. That was Shinkami shaming, not kinkshaming.

He definitely had no room to kinkshame people; not with the plans he had for this cake.

***

Bakugou slammed the door to his apartment shut with his hip and laid the bakery box down on the side table so he could make quick work of his boots and jacket.

God, that had to have been the longest taxi ride of his life. He couldn’t risk the subway with such a precious cargo, so he’d had to sit in the back of the cab next to the box (that he’d had to resist the urge to belt in) and sweat in silence.

Bakugou didn’t know where this kink had come from - maybe he’d watched too much Food Network in his formative years, or passing by the bakery with the amazing smell opposite his junior high school twice a day for three years before going home to jerk it had warped his sexuality; all he knew was, he was gonna fuck this cake.

It was a shame that you were miles and miles away and unavailable for a Facetime like no other; introducing you to his kink had been one of the best weekends of his life, and he was pretty sure - if he knows you as well as he thinks he does - you’d placed an order for two birthday cakes for his belated celebrations.

Maybe you’d got other stuff in mind, too - pie, custard, ice cream, syrups, chocolate, sushi, spaghetti, fruit…and now he was half-hard, still fully dressed and standing in the hallway.

Well, you weren’t here now, but it was his birthday, dammit! He would just have to play alone, and send you some photos afterwards.

Bakugou seized the box and made quick strides until he could place it down on his bedside table.

The comforter flew off of the bed, pooling into a lavish lump on the floor right before the pillows landed one by one on top. The undersheet was last, leaving the rubber sheet beneath exposed to one of the only two people who knew it was there in the first place.

The box made its final move to the middle of the protected mattress, where Bakugou tilted it just enough to be able to coax the cake free with help from gravity and without getting it all over his hands. Not yet…

Bakugou made short work of his clothes, kicking his pants and briefs off impatiently a second before climbing onto the bed and kneeling beside his prize.

Normally, he’d take his time, play around more, have more of a plan, but today, the anticipation had him on a knife edge already. It had been nearly four hours since he’d unwrapped this gift, and he was dying to play with it.

Bakugou leant his knees spread apart, sinking into a squat so he was as close as he could get to his treat.

He was fully hard now, and gave his cock a couple of quick pumps, letting his fist settle loosely from the base down as he took a deep breath and brought his leaking tip to the side of the cake.

His breath left him in a quick rush when the first contact was made; the cream was on the cooler side, and the smooth finish of the outside of the cake was everything he had been missing since he’d last indulged himself like this.

It took all the self control Bakugou had to only push the head in, then pause and take a breath, focusing intently on every sensation as he pushed in as slowly as was physically possible.

The afternoon of waiting felt like edging, so the sensation against his cock, inch by inch, was almost too much as it was not enough.

The sponge was almost as soft and velvety as the cream, but providing some texture and resistance that felt as delicious as the dessert looked.

Bakugou let out the first of many moans as he bottomed out, the air in the bedroom already beginning to smell like sugar and strawberries - just the right side of cloying, and he knew before long it would be so heady he’d be dizzy from it.

He pulled out almost as slowly as he went in, raising himself back up a little and bracing himself with his hands on the other side of the intact cake, leaving him looking over it on his hands and knees.

His reentry at a slightly higher point of the cake wasn’t quite as slow as the first breach, but he’s never been known for his patience.

Bakugou pulled in and out a couple of times, leaving a clear hole to fuck as he began to do just that, his hips begnining to thrust in a steady rhythm.

It didn’t take long for the squishy sounds coming from between his legs to turn into sloppy ones; the delicate cake was beginning to buckle already, the defined layers enveloping his cock becoming mushy around him.

Balancing his weight on one arm, he swiped his now-free hand across the top of the cake, coming away with as generous a handful of cream and strawberry slices as he could without threatening the structural integrity of the cake prematurely.

Bakugou raised his hand and smacked it right into the middle of his chest, before smearing it across his right pec, rubbing purposefully over his nipple as he did so. His hips sped up slightly without intention - or him noticing - as he alternated between smearing the food deeper into his flushed skin, and tugging on his nipple.

He could hear whimpering in his ears and it took a beat or two for Bakugou to realise they were coming from him. Fuck, it all just felt so good.

He blindly grabbed another small handful, this time coming away with some cake mixed into his spoils, before repeating the treatment on his left pec, but with a roughness borne of his increasing desperation.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, I-“ He hissed out a breath, pinching his nipple firmly as he felt the cake begin to collapse inwards, the squelch of the fucking he was giving it echoing in his ears.

A final scoop of the dessert onto his fingers went straight into his mouth, his plush, pink lips parting to accommodate three fingers; he was close.

Bakugou’s balance was starting to go as his orgasm approached, so he pulled his fingers free from his tongue and resumed his position, but beginning to sink lower into the mess he was fucking into his mattress protectors. From his angle, his balls began to slap what was left of the sides of the sinking cake, and the noise that created tore another moan from the blonde.

He could feel the sticky mess coating his crotch and inner thighs, closing his eyes as he lost himself in the feeling of indulging in the kink that turned him on like nothing else, wanting to savour something he knew was nearly over.

“Oh my fuck- ing, shit, oh, fuck-“

Bakugou’s hips were moving at a frantic pace now, chasing a release inside the cake while it still had an inside.

His orgasm had been teetering for a couple of minutes, then came all at once. A shout turned into a long, drawn out moan that was almost a cry, as he spilled his release in one, two, three bursts; biting his lip so hard, he’d discover later he’d drawn blood.

His arms gave out before he’d come back to himself, his lower half landing into the gooey puddle of expensive baking with a splat that would almost have been enough to get him half hard again if his soul hadn’t just shot out of his dick into a cake.

The blonde let out a deep, satisfied sigh, smiling dopily into the shiny, specialist bedsheet. Happy birthday to me, indeed.

Bakugou had only just had the energy to raise himself back onto his hands and knees when he had to find a little more to turn his head towards the door at the sound of it creaking open.

“Awh, did someone get you a birthday cake, babe?”

He nodded. You were back early.

You dropped your duffel on the floor, taking your first step towards the bed as you slid your shirt off with ease.

“Ooh, good - you saved some for me! I’m starving…”

#happy birthday bakugou!!! #my writing #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou #katsuki #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

[buckys-black-dress]

stargazing (bucky barnes x fem!reader)

a/n: so this idea totally just came to me because this trope is honestly so cute and i love these and i need to get this out of my system. i listened to stargazing by the neighborhood while writing this and i LOVE this song, so i’d recommend listening while reading! (just listen to the whole album).

also-- happy new year! 2020 quite literally fucked us up but im so grateful this year was the one where i decided to come on here and share my work with yall. i love every single one of my readers, so THANK YOU! anyways, without further ado...

enjoy my dearies!!! -ali

wc: 2.8k

- 

When you first became best friends with Rebecca Barnes in preschool, the last place you’d expected to end up was with a massive crush on her older brother.

James, or Bucky, as he likes to be called my his close friends, was basically the perfect guy for you. He was kind, witty, and didn’t treat you like a child. (Anymore). 

Now that you had graduated high school and were in you first year of college, Bucky was in his second year. And things were getting rough. 

You were a Cognitive Psychology major, and your main interest was in becoming an occupational therapist. You were attending Columbia University. 

And of course, so was Bucky, studying English Literature. Rebecca was studying at FIT, her main interest being in fashion design. All three of you couldn’t bear to leave New York City, so you all decided to stay nearby. 

Since all three of you were in the same area, more or less, you three remained close and tight-knit. Since you were still a freshman, you decided to dorm on campus, while Rebecca and Bucky did the same. Bucky was in a fraternity, so he had a place in the house, and you often found yourself hanging out in his room, having been introduced to most of his brothers.

Like today, it was Thursday night, and your classes were cancelled for tomorrow. You were in no rush to get back to your room, and your roommate was also out at her boyfriend’s. Rebecca thought you were finishing up an essay, though. 

“Y/N, you’re crashing here tonight?” Bucky’s voice caused his chest to rumble under your place on it. 

“Yeah, is that alright?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course, Y/N/N.” He smiled back down at you, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest at your doe eyes. 

She’s your sister’s best friend. Becca would hate you.

“I’m gonna wash up before I fall asleep, Buck.” You said with a yawn, lifting yourself off of Bucky’s warm, comfortable bed. 

Bucky watched your form disappear out of his room to the bathroom next door, his chest deflating with a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

I’m so fucked.

-

Making your short walk to the bathroom, your mind was filled with thoughts, and you really didn’t know what to do in this current situation. 

You and Becca had been best friends since you were both in preschool.

And now you were pretty certain that you had the biggest crush known to humankind on her older brother. 

Staring at your reflection in the mirror as you pat your face dry, you wondered what would happen if this went further. 

What would happen if you told Bucky that you liked him?

What would Becca do if she knew you liked her brother?

Shaking your head at yourself, you knew you couldn’t do that to Becca. She’s been there for you through everything that’s happened to you. To just turn around and tell her that you’ve fallen for her brother- you don’t know if that would be the right thing to do.

But how could you just outwardly deny your feelings for Bucky?

A knock on the bathroom door drew you out of your thoughts, letting whoever was knocking know that they could come in. 

“Hey, Y/N, how ya been?” It was one of Bucky’s closest friends whom you also knew growing up, Steve Rogers. 

“Hey Steve, I’m good. How ‘bout you?” You asked, getting ready to head back to Bucky’s room. 

“Good, good, y’know, Peg’s keepin’ me on my toes.” He flashed you a smile, a blush creeping up on his face at the mention of his girlfriend. 

“Aw, Stevie’s in loooove,” You sing-songed, pinching his cheek.

“Well, I think I could say the same for you, Y/N/N.” Steve scoffed back in retort, but your breath hitched at the words.

“Shut up, Steve...” You mumbled, twiddling your fingers. 

“Y/N, I’m serious... You and Buck ‘ve been spending a lot of time together and I can tell. He’s my best friend, and I know when my best friend is taken for someone. Trust me, Y/N, your feelings aren’t one-sided.” And with that, he steps into the bathroom, leaving you reeling at his words.

Lost in your thought again, you walked back to Bucky’s room. You tucked yourself under his warm duvet, as you fell into a deep slumber with his arm wrapped around your waist, thinking about the weight of it around you as you fell asleep.

- 

The next morning was... quiet... to say the least. After your encounter with Steve in the bathroom, you really didn’t know how to feel about your feelings towards Bucky. He felt the tenseness that was rolling off of you in waves, making him wonder if he did something to make you upset. 

Bucky wondered if he was doing too much, wondering if he had caused you to be uncomfortable with him for some reason.

So naturally, he pulled back.

As the days went on and got colder, you found yourself spending more time in your dorm, or places that weren’t associated with Bucky in your mind. 

And it was safe to say the both of you were losing it.

Bucky was slowly losing his composure, where he would participate the most in his seminar classes, he was quiet and folded in on himself, losing his confidence. 

Where you were the most outspoken on certain topics in your classes, you became a bit of a hermit. 

And almost everyone noticed.

Most notably, Becca and Steve.

When you returned from class at the end of a long week without Bucky, you invited Becca over to have take out in your room.

“So, how’s your week been?” She asks, reaching into your takeout box and grabbing a piece of garlic honey chicken.

Rolling your eyes, you say “Fine, same old. You? How’d that design project go?” 

“It was awesome! My professor really loved my piece, she said it was one of the ‘most original takes’ on this project she’s seen!” Becca was ecstatic and you were so proud of her.

“That’s so awesome, Bec! One day you’re gonna have to make me something that I can wear, and when someone asks me where I got it, I’ll just say, ‘oh, sorry my best friend made it, you’ll have to wait ‘til it hits the runways to buy it.’” You laugh, pointing your chopsticks at her.

“Y/N, stop, you flatterer.” She smirked, looking back down at her food. “Hey, I’ve also been meaning to ask... have you noticed Bucky acting weird as of late, or anything? Is it just me or is he like... way more quiet than usual?” Becca asked inquisitively. 

“Oh- uh, I actually have no idea. I haven’t really seen him that much this week. Just around campus here and there.” You shrug your shoulders, the pit in your stomach nagging at you.

“Really? You guys usually hang out more often...” She responds, and your face burns in embarrassment. 

“Wh- How do you know how often your brother and I hang out?” Your voice didn’t even feel like your own as you spoke, quickly occupying it with food.

“Well, he does live with Steve... Apparently you’re around there pretty often.” Rebecca eyes you, seeing your body language and how uncomfortable you seem. “Y/N... If you like my brother, that’s okay. I think you guys would be cute together. And I can tell you like him, so don’t try to deny it.” Becca smiles, reaching to rest a hand on yours in comfort. 

“Wh- You don’t care?” You ask in confusion, expecting a bit of a more dramatic reaction. 

“Of course I care, I care about my two favorite people being happy. And if they’re happy together, then that’s even better!” She explains, and your head spins.

“I- I’m telling you this in confidence, Becca. You can’t tell anyone, not Steve, not Peggy, and absolutely not Bucky...” She nods, moving closer to you. “I...I do like Bucky. A lot. But I don’t think he likes me that way. I mean, just look at his exes. I’m not like Natasha, or those gorgeous girls. And what if he just sees me as his friend. Like a little sister?” You finish, your hands flailing around and out of breath. 

“Y/N... I know my brother, but I can’t read his mind. If I had to take a wild guess... I’d say he likes you too. Based on what Steve tells me, based on how Bucky acts when you come up in conversation... his eyes light up, dude. I think you need to talk to him, face to face.” Rebecca explains, giving her best advice. “You both deserve to be happy, and I think you could both give that to each other.” She softly smiles. 

“Thanks, Becca. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You laugh, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’ll talk to him.”

- 

In the frat house across the campus, Steve and Bucky were sitting in the living room amongst some of their other brothers. 

“Buck, what’s been up with you this week?” Tony, a senior and president of the frat asks from the kitchen.

“Hm?” Bucky looks up, confused at the question.

“You’ve been... off all week long.” Sam chimes in from next to him on the couch, eyes leaving the football match on the TV.

“I’m fine, why?” Bucky deflects, taking a sip of his drink in hand.

“Whatever you say, but I have a feeling this has to do with Y/N... haven’t seen her around here at all this week.” Tony points out, plopping down on a futon. 

Steve’s eyes widened, looking down at his phone that he’s been on all night.

Little did Bucky know, Rebecca was feeding him information about you to him directly, trying to make sense of his friend’s odd behavior this week.

His eyes shot to Bucky’s, trying to gauge his reaction to Tony’s mention of you.

“Yeah, she’s been.... busy, I guess. Haven’t really talked to her.” Bucky says nonchalantly. 

“Why not? You two are basically attached at the hip... like, Friday nights are usually your thing together. I thought you’d man up and ask her out already.” Sam’s response caused a stillness in the room, everyone looking at Bucky for his next move. 

But it was quiet. 

“She’s... she’s my sister’s best friend... I don’t think Becca would appreciate me taking her best friend out to dinner.” Bucky said in a low voice, clearing his throat. 

“Have you asked her how she feels about it?” Thor asks from his spot on the other couch. “Maybe she’s fine with it, she doesn’t seem to be too stuck up...” He suggests.

“My sister isn’t stuck up, man. Watch it.” He responds defensively. 

“I wasn’t saying that! But you should talk to her about it, that’s all I’m saying!” Thor fights back. 

“I just- I don’t know, last week when Y/N was here, she went to the bathroom to wash up at night, and when she came back she was acting totally different. She’s usually comfortable around me, but she was acting like... like she was uncomfortable around me. I thought I did something to make her feel that way, so I kinda backed off this week.” Bucky explains, trying to understand what went wrong.

“Well, did she say anything? Did she try to reach out this week?” Tony asks. 

“I mean, she texted me a few times, but it was casual conversation. I can’t tell how she’s feeling. I like her, but I don’t want to make things weird for her and Becca, or Becca and I.” 

And this is where Steve chimes in. 

“I mean, come on Buck, it’s obvious she likes you too. I think you need to talk to her, because Becca wants you two to be happy. I don’t think she’d care that much, y’know?”

“But what if I make things awkward? Like, what if I read the signals wrong this whole time, and she doesn’t even really like me?” Bucky was now going into a deep spiral, and Steve needed to pull him out, fast. 

“Buck, I don’t think so. You should talk to her, face to face.” Steve encouraged.

“You think so?” Bucky wasn’t so convinced.

“Yes!” A chorus of voices echoed in the house, causing Bucky to jump to his feet, ready to confront this head-on.

“Okay, yeah, yes, I’m gonna tell her how I feel. I got this, I’ll be fine-” But his pumping-up session was cut short from the doorbell ringing through the house.

Steve got up, “I got it.” He simply said, smirking mischievously as he turned to face the door and twisted the knob.

And of course, it was none other than you.

“Hey Buck? I think it’s for you!” Steve yells from the doorway, stepping out of the way and directing everyone in the living room to hide out of sight. Of course, they were all still eavesdropping and lurking about.

“Doll, what’re ya doin’ here?” Bucky was beyond confused, you timing was impeccable. 

“I-I have some things I wanna talk about. I just, I think we need to talk.” You say, looking up at him.

“Y-Yeah, come inside, it’s freezing out. What’s up, doll?” He asks, pulling you into the house and into the living room, sitting down next to you on a couch, making sure to face you. 

“Everything’s alright... but I need to get this off my chest before I go crazy-” You stop yourself from rambling further. “I was having dinner with Becca earlier, and we... talked... about some things. And apparently, someone was telling her about all the time we spend together.” Bucky was listening, but cursing Steve in his head, knowing he was behind it. 

“And I know last week I was acting weird, but I promise, it wasn’t because of something you did. Well, it kinda was, b-but not something bad, y’know?” You explain, trying to get Bucky to understand how you feel.

“Whaddaya mean, doll? If I did something, tell me, because I would never want to hurt you-” He started, trying to pinpoint his actions. 

“You made me like you! There, you happy?” You exclaim, hands covering your cherry red face. “I said it! I like you. And I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way, I’m just your little sister’s annoying friend, I get it-” 

But instead of the feeling of rejection, you were met with Bucky’s lips on yours, his hands cupping your cheeks.

Bucky was kissing you.

Bucky was kissing you!

Holy fuck!

What. The. Fuck. 

But before you could overthink anything, you heard loud whoops and cheers coming from all around you.

“What the hell? Steve?” You asked, looking around, trying to process the last minute.

“Finally! Took ya two idiots long enough! God, Becca and I didn’t know how much longer we’d have to be your freakin’ puppet masters.” He laughed from his spot in the kitchen. 

“Come on doll, let’s go upstairs to talk, where we could have some privacy...” Bucky said pointedly, looking at his brothers as they kept cheering as you two made your way up the stairs. 

- 

Once the door closed behind you two, you were quite literally speechless.

“You kissed me.” You pointed out the obvious, since your mind was still reeling.

“I did.” Bucky simply answers.

“...Why?” You ask, like an idiot. 

“Because, for the past three years I’ve had the biggest crush known to man on you... and I knew if I didn’t kiss you then, I never would. Kind of a life or death situation here, doll.” He jokes trying to gauge your mood.

“Bucky...” You sighed, walking closer to him, holding his face, “you can kiss me whenever you want.” And punctuated your sentence with a kiss. 

“Well... then... can I call you my girlfriend?” He asks, looking into your twinkling eyes. Bucky’s large hands cover your waist, pulling you closer against him.

“Yeah... I think you can.” You answer, the sparkle never leaving your eyes.

“Hmmm... finally.” Bucky hums, closing the gap between your lips over and over again. 

Your loud giggle fills the room as Bucky peppers kisses all over your face, trying to make up for lost time. 

“Hey, make sure to use protection, kids!” someone’s voice comes from down the hall from’s Bucky’s room.

“Shut up, Sam!” You both yell in unison, resuming your previous activities.

And in this moment, there’s nowhere else either of you would rather be. 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #frat!Bucky #frat!au #college!bucky x reader #college au #college!Bucky #frat!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #brother's best friend!bucky #brother's best friend #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader one shot #bucky barnes imagine

[not-delicious-milk]

untangle

pairing | itadori yuuji x fushiguro megumi

content | fluff, light angst, humor. birthday fic for the birthday boy. yuuji has adhd and i will die on that hill

word count | 1.7k

form | oneshot

originally posted | 23 december 2020

author's note | yes i wrote this because i got back into knitting. i know i’m a day late for fushi’s birthday but shh. anyway itafushi brainrot

Itadori hyperfixates on knitting. Shenanigans ensue. 

It started out innocent enough. 

Gojou had decided to treat them to shopping in the city, something that excited Kugisaki and Itadori beyond reason. Fushiguro thought that those two would probably faint from excitement if their sensei ever indulged them in a trip to Roppongi, as he'd promised them so many months ago, even though he knew fully well it was little more than a tourist trap.

Then they passed by a fabric store, and Itadori had stopped cold in his tracks at the sight of the multicolored yarns in the window. Peeking over a teetering pile of bags and boxes he was holding for Kugisaki, Itadori drew so close to the window his breath misted up the glass.

"What is it, Itadori?" Kugisaki huffed. She turned around and barely suppressed a laugh when she saw him staring. "Are you a grandmother now? Come on, I still need to pick up new stockings."

"No, it's just—" Itadori glanced back at her, wide eyed. "You know, my grandfather taught me to knit once, when I was really little. I hadn't given it much thought since…" His sentence trailed off. "Anyway, it's getting colder now, right? Plus Christmas is coming up. Maybe I should pick it up again."

Fushiguro shrugged. "As long as you don't go crazy. Like that time with the stamps."

"Listen — those were limited edition stamps—"

"And the historical romance movies."

"How did you — come on, Pride and Prejudice is a classic—"

"And the bullet journals?"

"I didn't even get that many of those! Gojou-sensei was the one who recommended those to keep track of stuff."

"You had to empty one of your manga shelves just to store all the stationary you bought!"

"Okay, I get it!" Itadori held up one of his hands in a gesture of surrender, nearly dropping Kugisaki's things in the process. "In and out. All I want to do is look."

But that was not all he wanted to do. Itadori wanted to touch the yarn, and then he was ogling the seasonal colors, and then he was flipping through pattern books, and then he was discussing different wool blends with the lady working there, and then he was picking out bamboo circular knitting needles, and then he was ordering cones of yarn in different colors, and by the time they staggered out of the fabric store, Fushiguro was ready to collapse. 

The way home was just as bad, if not worse. Itadori talked Gojou's ear off the whole time about different stitches he wanted to try and projects he was going to start. "Oh, by the way, Fushiguro!"

Fushiguro turned at the mention of his name. "What is it?"

"Would you prefer a scarf or a hat? I picked out this blue acrylic-wool blend to match your eyes, but I'm not sure which one you would prefer."

Fushiguro blinked at him. "A— a scarf, I guess."

Itadori gave him a thumbs up and then went right back to talking a mile a minute. Fushiguro wasn't sure if he should be paying attention or not. He glanced at Kugisaki, who was in a world of her own looking at the souvenirs and new accessories she had bought with Gojou's credit card. 

Gojou himself seemed only mildly interested in what Itadori was saying. He seemed to be thinking of something else, but he did seem to be making an effort to show his student that he was listening.

Fushiguro sighed. He really was hopeless. "Itadori, tell me about the patterns you want to try."

Itadori turned to him, and Fushiguro let himself take in the radiant glow of his eyes for one selfish moment, before training his gaze on the floor of the train.

(Was it too much to ask for him to stop being so bright all the time?)

The excitement could barely keep its way out of Itadori's voice as he described the different ways to knit a sock, and Fushiguro smiled a little, careful not to let Gojou see it. He would never let him live it down. 

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

"Fushigurooooooooooooooo!"

He doesn't have to yell. The walls are so thin between our rooms anyway. "What?" he called back, a little quieter. 

"I need your help! Come here!"

Fushiguro sighed and closed the book he'd been reading. It was a hefty tome on marine biology he'd picked up the week before. And in that week, Itadori had probably knit enough to clothe a small country. 

Well, that was an exaggeration. But he really had been spending all his time working on some project or another, and Fushiguro was mentally counting down until his inevitable burnout. 

He opened the door to Itadori's room and poked his head inside. "What— oh."

Itadori grinned sheepishly at him. He was in the middle of a pile of tangled yarn, probably partially tangled in it himself, seated on the floor. "Um, I could use another pair of hands."

Fushiguro sighed for as long as he could, feigning annoyance. 

(He really didn't mind.) 

"Thanks, man." Itadori wriggled his way out of his multicolored bonds and started picking at the strands. "I promise it's not as bad as it looks." What it looked was pretty bad.

"I just forgot to organize them when I was done with a color. I had just been putting them in a bin under my bed."

Really? Not a blender?

Fushiguro said nothing as he worked at a thick knot. 

"Brat, do something about him."

His eyes went wide as Fushiguro whipped his head around to see a mouth formed on Itadori's cheek, speaking in a familiarly cold voice. "He's driving me insane."

Itadori slapped a hand over Sukuna's mouth automatically. "You were already insane," he muttered under his breath.

The mouth opened again on his hand. "All you think about are your projects. If I wanted to possess a grandmother, I would have done so. Brat, break his knitting needles, throw out his yarn, something. I know you find it irritating too." 

Itadori pointedly ignored Sukuna's voice, but for a moment Fushiguro was sure he saw something flicker in his eyes — something like disappointment, or maybe regret. His smile seemed a little too tight, his gaze too fixed.

Ever since he had come back to life, Fushiguro had noticed that Itadori wasn't quite the same. He never wanted to talk about it, either, besides the few words they'd exchanged before the Goodwill Event. 

But these days, something about Itadori Yuuji seemed a little unsure. He seemed harder, cracked around the edges like broken glass. He was smiling the same smile as ever, but something in his eyes told Fushiguro that he didn't mean it. 

Fushiguro imagined that he was untangling Itadori. Maybe it was that he didn't trust him enough, wasn't close enough to him, didn't care as much about him as Fushiguro did him, but there was something twisted up inside Itadori that he didn't let anyone touch. 

(He would never admit it, but Fushiguro wished that he could. Sort through the strands one by one, with care and with gentleness, until he was all smoothed out.)

"Itadori," Fushiguro said quietly. 

"Huh?" By the time he turned around to meet his eyes, Itadori had already masked his brief slippage of control. 

"I don't think it's irritating."

Itadori laughed a little. "No, it's okay. You don't have to feel bad, I know I'm going a little overboard…"

"I'm serious."

He fell silent and ran his fingers through his soft pink hair. Again, there it was — a flash of something between disappointment and regret. "I just… it feels nice to make stuff for other people, I guess." And there he went again. Always other people first. 

(When would he realize other people worried about him too?)

Fushiguro didn't say anything else, but silently picked a piece of yarn off of Itadori's hoodie. 

"Oh! That's right!" Itadori suddenly stood up and rummaged through his bag. "It's your birthday tomorrow, isn't it?"

It was. Fushiguro hadn't told anyone about it though — there wasn't much he hated more than other people fussing over him on his birthday. The attention, the coddling praise, the presents… all of it was too much. 

Who could have—

The winking face of his sensei flashed across his mind. Of course.

"Here you go, before I forget to give it to you." Itadori handed him a folded blue scarf. "It's your birthday present!" 

Fushiguro took the scarf gingerly. It seemed to tingle in his hands, and he could almost feel the attention and time that Itadori had put into it. It had a complicated-looking cable pattern that must have taken him forever. 

"Do you— do you like it?"

He glanced up at Itadori, whose usually sunny face was clouded over with insecurity. Ah, I must have made a face by accident. 

Fushiguro answered by putting the scarf on. It even smelled like him. If he breathed in deeply, he could smell Itadori's fabric softener and the scent of the outdoors that always seemed to cling to him — wood and soft grass and—

Stop smelling the scarf.

"I like it," he managed. He couldn't make eye contact with Itadori — if he did, he was afraid his careful mask of casual indifference might break and reveal something much more embarrassing.

"You do? Oh, that's good." Somehow Itadori didn't sound very convinced.

Fushiguro risked looking into his eyes. "I really love this," he stated firmly. "Honestly, I'm glad you decided to start knitting again." He paused a moment before going a step further, grasping at the tangled strands around him and within the boy who stood before him. "I think your grandfather would be really proud of you."

Itadori blinked in surprise. "Oh." A wide grin spread across his face. "Well, I'm glad you like it!"

Fushiguro gestured hopelessly to the mountain of tangled yarn.

"Ah, right."

An easy silence fell as they untangled the rest of the yarn. The warmth of the scarf around Fushiguro's neck was grounding, and reminded him of the warmth of the boy next to him. 

Itadori scooted closer to him and rested his head on Fushiguro's shoulder, surprising him. Neither of them said a word as they picked at knots of yarn. 

"Thank you," muttered Itadori under his breath. 

Maybe birthdays weren't so bad after all. 

#birthday boyyyy #slight spoilers for events just after the current anime canon #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itafushi #itadori x fushiguro #itadori yuuji #itadori yuji #fushiguro megumi

[caiuscassiuss]

Birched⎮D. Sicheng (M) P.2

Description: There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous… something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious. (Or, your ill-tempered coworker turns out to be your dominant.)

Part One is HERE 

Genre: BDSM/ enemies to lovers winwin! smut | romance | angst WC: 11k+ Warnings: graphic smut (dom! sicheng + sub! reader, BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Submission, and Masochism) choking, rough sex), taboo relationship, blatant sexism, TW: mentions of an abusive relationship

(A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @won-markiepooh-woo​ for helping me. This wouldn’t have been possible without you!)

Saturday February 1st, 2020

Y/N’s Apartment

10 AM HKT

The little jingle of a FaceTime call echoed through your silent apartment, and you snuggled into the sheets of your bed.

“Hello? Kun huang?”

A flash black hair and a sweet smile appeared within the view of the camera.

“Huang Gua!” you exclaimed.

Instantly, the happy smile slipped off his face and transformed into an annoyed expression.

“Can you not? We’ve been over this,” he complained.

“Oh come on! It’s so funny,” you jibed.

“It’s not.”

“You only used to eat cucumbers for years. You earned that name yourself.”

“So?” he snorted. “You used to eat shrimp chips as a kid. I don’t call you shrimp, do I?” A devious expression flashed over his face.

“Kun Huang…” you warned.

“Maybe I should start now. Right, shrimp?”

“Oh my god, stop!”

“No, shrimp. I can keep going, you know.”

“Okay, fine, fine. I submit!” You laughed.

He chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

“So how are you now, Hendery? How’s your mom and dad? Oh my gosh, Hengwai!”

“I’m doing fine, as are mom and dad. Hengwai misses her little sister. They all want you to call them more. Sometimes I think they miss you more than me.” He pouted.

“Awww, poor baby. But give them my well wishes too! I miss everyone so much,” you said. For some reason, tears welled in your eyes.

Obviously, Hendery could tell you were about to start crying and started to panic.

“Y/N? Talk to me. Oh, you know I can’t take it if you start crying!”

He never really could. Even after many years spent together in your childhood, he was still awkward as hell around your tears.

You waved him off, swiping the tears. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just so lonely around here.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine! I swear!”

“Literally, one word and I’m on a flight to Hong Kong. I’m not playing,” he said gravely.

“Hendery, no. Besides, don’t you have some farms to run? I would never expect you to do that.”

“One word, Y/N. Just one.” He looked you dead in the eye. 

You looked away. “Anyways, how are your farms going?”

A smile split his face and his eyes sparked. “Guess who just got their hundredth farm?”

Your jaw dropped. “No way, you’re fucking joking! One hundred?! I’m so proud of you! Kun Huang!” you squealed.

“Yeah, I know right? It’s so weird knowing so many people depend on me for their livelihoods now. I get sort of scared when I sit back and think about it…”

As Kun Huang went on about his day to day troubles in agriculture, a small, wistful smile played upon your lips. Why didn’t you just stay back and fall in love with Kun Huang? It would have been so easy. Being with Kun Huang was like breathing, and you could’ve spent the rest of your life like this. No Minghao, no BDSM, and most importantly, no… him.

Dolos.

Master?

Sicheng.

You hated how smoothly the puzzle pieces fit together. Sicheng always left early on Fridays, even though he always stayed late. At office parties, he lacked a significant other by his side, even when many would drop everything if he so much as winked at them.

It was hard not to think about him. You had started to feel an increase in your heartbeat whenever you thought of Dolos before Wednesday. You had originally wanted to know who was behind Dolos’ mask and if he returned those feelings. But, fuck, he would be so mad if he found out who you were.

Not to mention, how humiliating it would be if he knew. You had staked everything on being a cold-hearted bitch when Sicheng took particular pleasure in sneering at “the inherent submissiveness” of her gender. So if he found out Dove, who liked to be slapped during sex, and her, the la dame sans merci of the company, were the same person, it would destroy any chance of credibility you may have had in his eyes.

This was all one big mess. One big, gigantic and catastrophic mess. For so long you had rigorously kept your professional and personal lives apart, but the universe had conspired against you: to make the best dominant you ever had to also be your work nemesis.

Some higher being was laughing at you, you knew it.

Sunday February 2nd, 2020

The Dong Family Villa on the Shek O Peninsula, Hong Kong

1 PM HKT

A curl of disgust twisted his lips as he looked down on the lawn party going down below him. 

“Don’t you look happy, Sicheng.”

Sicheng acknowledged ChengCheng out of the corner of his eye and went back to glaring at the party in contempt.

“This is not how I wanted today to go.”

His childhood friend snorted and plopped himself down in a lawn chair, contemplating the blond haired man.

Sicheng spun around and picked up his glass of wine, downing the drink in one gulp. He settled himself next to ChengCheng with a frown.

“I just wanted to come here and fucking relax, but, no, my parents just had to use it for the fucking party. Fete. What-fucking-ever.” He exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair. 

Chengcheng looked over the balcony railing curiously. “Looks like a luncheon to me.”

“Fuck off.” 

“Christ, what’s up your ass?”

“Just some work stuff. It’s nothing.”

The brown-haired man frowned. “Then why aren’t you at Black’s then? Nothing can’t be resolved by a good fuck.”

At the mention of the club, a pained expression flashed over Sicheng’s face and his knuckles inadvertently tightened around the stem of his glass. The tension that had been in shoulders wounded itself up even more and this clued ChengCheng in.

Something other than work had Sicheng in knots. Very rarely did the blond man ever show he was angry—not even when his father lashed him as a child, nor when the family forced him to work for the company—so he was evidently very troubled by this ‘something’.

Sicheng’s phone rang and broke the silence. The man himself fished it out of his back pocket irritatedly.

“Excuse me for a moment, ChengCheng. I need to take this phone call.”

“Sicheng speaking,” he spoke as he stalked into the study.

“Hello sir, how are you—”

“Did you get the information or not?” Sicheng asked, cutting off the family’s retainer. His leg bounced, as he sat against the desk and he ran a weary hand through his hair.

“A-ah, unfortunately, Black’s doesn’t record pseudonyms digitally or on paper…”

“Fuck!” Sicheng yelled. Mr. Lau just had to be fucking careful, he thought irritably.

“... However, sir, I was able to obtain a membership list since the club was digitally updating their monthly list. I then compared it to the list from the previous month and found several missing names, indicative of them terminating their membership. I have compiled a dossier of several females that match your description of Dove and forwarded it to you.” 

Sicheng quickly logged into his laptop, his blood rushing through his ears. The identity of the most perfect submissive he’s ever had could literally be sitting in his inbox right now.

With trembling fingers, he opened the attachment.

Wang Fang, age 25—

“Sir?”

The blond man glared at his phone. “Thank you for your service, Liu Wei. Goodbye.”

Wang Fang was a tall, spindly woman with a face like a horse. The policy of privacy by masks was kind to her at Black’s. However, the jaw was all wrong and he knew in his gut she was not his Dove.

He scrolled to the next page. Leila Williams, age 27—British expat, was absolutely gorgeous. But, even through the screen, she exuded an unshakable aura of self-assurance. A dominatrix, probably, so that excluded her from his search.

He went through 2 or 3 more documents; each one too plain or too ordinary to be Dove.

Y/N L/N, age XX.

Sicheng blinked rapidly, sagging into his office chair.

Y/N is—was—a member at Black’s?

The picture provided was the one from her LinkedIn profile: a professional headshot with a grey background. She was smiling tightly, coldly—just as she was in the office. The other image provided instantly tented his pants.

It was her, clearly on a night out. She was in attire that flattered her body and he could easily see himself running his hands over her. Y/N looked fucking fantastic with her unbound hair, so unlike her tight updos at the office. However, what drew his eyes was the most vibrant shade of red painted on her lips, which was parted slightly as she was laughing.

He recognized that lipstick. The same shade of firetruck red had been smeared across Dove’s cheeks many, many times. YSL Rouge Satin Lipstick—the one he told her he liked and she, like a good girl, had religiously worn.

Could that mean…?

Glancing at the side bar, he noticed there was one more page left in the dossier. Please let the next one be Dove…

His hopes were instantly deflated. Kwon Myunghee was too old and too artificial to be his gorgeous submissive.

With his heart in his throat, he scrolled back to Y/N’s page. Enlarging the picture of her laughing, he put a hand over her eyes and leaned back to observe.

Sicheng would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that mouth. Red fuck me! lipstick on an equally fuckable mouth parted in pleasure, or screaming his name while strung up on a cross. He would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that neck, covered in purple and red hickies or his fingermarks. An absolute damn fool.

Yet, at this moment, he would’ve given anything to be one.

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Y/N was… Dove? And Dove… was Y/N?

So why did she leave? How did she end up at Black’s? Did she know? Did she end up there on purpose? Why—

Eventually, all the questions piled up in his head until he was left winded. Sicheng buried his head in his hands, pulling at his blond locks and breathing heavily. Something was bubbling in his chest and—

He started to laugh. He cackled, howled, at his shitstorm of misfortune, luck, and confusion until he was sprawled undignified on the Oriental carpet, staring up at the intricate wood carvings on the ceiling.

Monday February 3rd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

6 PM HKT

Shutting the door to your office, you collapsed into your chair and massaged your temples.

Today was the day Mr. Lee had left the office, leaving his official resignation. The top sales officials (including an off-color, brooding Sicheng) gathered in his office to congratulate him and give him an official goodbye. What was supposed to be a quick meet-up turned into afternoon drinking when Mr. Lee pulled out the good liquor from a secret cabinet underneath his desk. You accepted a drink with a grimace, but Sicheng declined and remained uncharacteristically detached the entire time. Granted, you too were detached from the conversation, uncomfortable with the lewd retirement and mistress jeers spouted by the older sales officials as they steadily got drunker and less inhibited.

As the time ended and a consensus to leave had been reached, you thought you could escape and actually work... that was until Mr. Lee walked alongside you and stuck himself in the elevator with you.

The bastard had the audacity to grope your ass in the crowded elevator. You shivered, remembering the awful and grimy feeling as his hot breath whispered in your ear that he was available any time for a “catch-up”.

This day was a mess. You had a shit-ton of work to catch up due to that fucking meeting and you had been sexually harrassed; you were also anxious about the promotion and, on top of that, you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Sicheng.

Huffing, you ate some red-bean bread as you powered up your desktop. This was fucking ridiculous. You knew Sicheng had noticed your odd, reticent behavior around him and this skittishness was impeding your ability to work. Well, no better way to forget about your problems was to solve other ones at work.

For the next two hours, you slogged through work emails and analytics as the sun set over Kowloon Bay. Your hair had been unbound and your blazer had been messily thrown over the back of your chair as your work progressed. Since most of the office had left by now, you figured it was safe to relax in your office.

It was night time by the time you had finished your last project and you sat back in your chair, staring at the skyline. Was this how your life destined to be? At the top, surrounded by the comforts of life, but alone?

A knock sounded at the door, jolting you out of your thoughts.

Who the fuck would be at the office at 8 PM?

“Come in.”

You caught sight of a golden head of hair slipping inside of your office and you sighed. Of course, it was Sicheng.

He took a seat unbidden and stared at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. His eyes roamed the contours and curves of your features.

You arched an eyebrow. “Can I help you with anything, Sicheng? I’m about to leave the office.”

He fought with himself inwardly, his mouth opened and closed several times before he finally settled on what he wanted to say. “I’d like to ask a question.”

You adjusted yourself in the chair. “Feel free.”

From his blazer’s pocket, he pulled out an aged sheet of paper and slowly opened it, before setting it in front of you. Sicheng settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his lap, the lights of the Hong Kong skyline playing across his face and making his sharp features stand out.

“Do you recognize this?”

The blood literally froze in your veins as your eyes caught sight of your handwriting in the letter, along with the tear-stains that blotched the paper and the text. Your heartbeat rose to your throat and all you felt was the blood rushing in your ears.

“Y/N?” he prodded.

You gulped and straightened out your top, your fingers trembling as you did so.

“No, I don’t. W-who’s Dolos? Why does this concern me?” you lied, stumbling a bit.

He watched you, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

“Don’t lie to me, Dove.”

“I-Dove? My name is Y/N,” you replied shakily. Grabbing your purse, you hurriedly stuffed all your personal belongings in while avoiding catching his seething stare. “Excuse me, I’d really like to get home.”

His jaw clenched and his palm twitched as he saw you had no desire to come clean.

“Look at me.”

Unthinking, you ceased all movements, put your trembling hands in your lap and looked up at him. “Sir?”

Your eyes widened and you slapped a hand over your mouth; your eyes darted around the room in search for an escape. You felt akin to a caged animal as he grinned meanly, incongruous on his cherubic features.

“That’s what I thought.”

“No—”

“You thought you could get away with this? You thought you could fucking play me?!”

You were aghast at seeing Dolos and Sicheng finally merging together in front of your eyes, and the result was grotesquely beautiful. His grin slipped off his face and twisted into a malevolent sneer. The naked fire in Dolos' gaze was finally unveiled in Sicheng’s eyes and, for the first time, you could see who Sicheng really was.

“Answer me, Dove—Y/N! Fuck, I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Sicheng shouted, running his hands through his hair while he paced around your office.

You stared unblinkingly at the bookshelf at the corner of the room. Fuck, this was all your nightmares coming true. You were going to be ruined and he was going to laugh on and on now that he knew you and Dove were the same.

“It was never supposed to end up like this,” you whispered hoarsely, tears welling up underneath your lashes.

“How was it supposed to end, huh? Fuck, you strung me along for six months—half a fucking year—”

“I didn’t fucking know, you ass! I wouldn’t have touched you with a ten foot pole if I knew who you were!” you hissed.

He laughed harshly. “You did a hell of a lot more than touch me, Dove. But after you got your fix, you pretended that this never happened.”

“You would’ve done the same, so this never did happen. Walk out right now and this will have never happened and we can go back to our normal, spiteful dynamic—”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, if you think—”

“You don’t understand, Sicheng! Can’t you see I’ll be ruined by this? That we’ll both be ruined by this? I can’t afford that!”

“So you thought to just leave me? With just a fucking letter and nothing else?”

“I didn’t know, okay! I didn’t know what to do!”

“You lied to me, Y/N. Fucking lied to my face!”

“I had to! Because you and I were never supposed to find out!”

Sicheng moved to yell, but clamped his jaw shut. “You lying, cheating, slut,” he seethed.

Your mouth trembled for a moment at the sheer vitriol that sprouted from his lips, but you stood tall. “You know what? Maybe I am. But I can live with that if you’d just fucking let it go!”

“You think I’d be able to let go of this?!” He cupped your jaw roughly and pulled you into a hungry kiss.

It wasn’t a smooth kiss—not one with even a hint of finesse. Lips smashed into lips, with tongue and teeth grappling against each other as his hands bruised your wrists.

Your back hit your desk and he swept your belongings off the desk haphazardly, letting go of your chin to lift you onto the desk with no effort.

“Forget my tongue on your skin? Forget my hands in between your thighs?” he murmured between hungry dips of his tongue. “I’ll fucking show you.”

He kissed down your neck, stopping to nip at your collarbone, and left a trail of stinging lovebites all over your shoulders. Sicheng’s hips pinned you into the desk as he popped each button of your blouse, hurriedly ripping it to the side to leave more hickies upon your chest and breasts.

You moaned as he pushed the cups of your bra down, using his wicked tone to swipe complicated patterns but never once touching your tips. Finally, he nipped at them hard causing you to squeal embarrassingly.

“S-sicheng,” you whimpered, gripping his hair as he pushed up your skirt.

The blond man carelessly pulled your underwear aside and thrusted two fingers in.

“Fuck!” you gasped, as you buried your red face in the crook of his neck.

You couldn’t see it, but you knew he was smirking smugly so your hands drifted down to his tented trousers and gripped his erection hard.

“You wanna fucking play? Let’s play, baby,” he grunted and hastily unbuckled his belt. His glorious cock sprung up in the space between your thighs.

Sicheng pushed your back down onto the desk, leaving him to tower over you. Without warning, he roughly pushed his cock into your slit.

You both groaned at the pleasurable friction. Fuck, how could you forget this? His length stretching you out deliciously? His broad shoulders heaving in exertion?

He bottomed out slowly, stilling as his hips pressed into yours. A sly smile glanced over his face as his hand drifted over your neck.

“Sicheng! You asshole, fucking move!” you said to him, thrusting your own hips weakly for effect.

His devilish smile split his angelic features, and he shook his head. “Wrong name, Dove.”

His hips pushed into yours roughly and you whined, scratching at the edges of your desk. Sicheng withdrew just as quickly and thrusted in again, watching the lust ripple upon your expression. He had missed the way your left eyebrow ticked when he brushed against your G-Spot, your nose scrunching as you clasped his shoulders. Finally seeing your full expressions fulfilled something in him that he didn’t care to reflect upon.

After deep, staccato thrusts that had you gasping for breath, he settled into a smooth rhythm. You slapped a hand over your mouth as your back bowed, thrusting your breasts up to his hungry perusal. Unable to resist temptation—the godless Tantalus he was—he settled his plump lips over your nipples, raised his eyes to yours, and sucked.

Even with your palm practically stuffed in your lips, your keen echoed around the room loudly and slick dripped down your thighs, making the desk underneath your bottom sticky and wet.

He tsked, lifting his head up and looked deeply into your eyes. A slight grin settled over his lips and Sicheng tilted his head mockingly. “Oh sweet girl, haven’t you forgotten we’re in an office?” His eyes darkened even more. “I’ll have to keep you quiet, then, whore.”

His featherlight touches on your rib cage was replaced with a bruising grasp to your throat, stealing the air out of you. His wrist settled into your collar bone and his slender fingers mimicked playing the piano, placing pressure on different parts on your throat to an unheard rhythm. The blood rushed to your ears, the dizzying sensation of it blurring your sight and distorting your thoughts. The veins on his forehand, twisting and rippling in the light, caught your vision and he moved—ever so roughly—into you.

Sicheng set a new pace, stretching your legs even wider and your head fell back onto the desk with a thunk. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe; you just felt the numbing sort of pleasure that radiated from your pussy.

“Fucking slut,” he gasped. “You’ve bewitched me, haven’t you? Wrapped yourself around my brain and haven’t let me so much as breathe without thinking about you.” His grip tightened around your neck. “I’ll show you.”

Suddenly, your phone on the floor rang and you both froze. He released the grip on your neck and bent down.

His back was like one of those old sketches the masters of the age practiced with, the light played upon his back and his muscles rippled under his skin—belying the power hidden within him.

“Who the fuck is Kunhuang,” he said flatly, wrath bubbling in his words.

You sat up. “H-he’s a friend. Nobody. No one.” 

“See you soon, love,” he read mockingly. “Call me when you have time.”

Sicheng crowded into your space, your eyes jumping around to avoid looking at his incensed face.

“Kunhuang.” He spat like it was filth upon his lips. “You left me for him?”

Feeling his constrained fierceness and his frantic gaze, you pushed harshly at his chest and bared your teeth at him. “It’s not like that. He’s my childhood friend!”

His rage bubbled to the surface and his nostrils flared. It was all the warning you had before he suddenly took your hips and flipped, forcing a scream out of you.

Your chest and breasts now pressed against your desk. Sicheng tugged you down to his hips, lifting one of your legs to rest on your desk and exposed your core to him shamefully. 

“I’ll take you from behind like the whore you are,” he stated. His rough tenor the grating upon your ears and scraping upon your skin.

He lined up and thrusted hard and you bit your lip, cheek against your deck and tears streaming down your face. It felt so good to be in his embrace, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock rub against your muscles.

Soon, you felt that feeling rising in your stomach, burning behind his eyelids as your orgasm began to build. His hands grasped your throat and he pulled, bowing your back to his chest and forcing his mouth to yours.

Teeth and tongue clashed and his cock hit this spot in you and you screamed into his mouth, tensing up beneath him as you shuddered painfully.

A grunt left him as he felt your muscles nearly strangle his cock and he only lasted a few, staccato thrusts until his vision went white.

Wednesday, February 13th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7 AM HKT

You purposely did not look into Sicheng’s office window as you strode briskly down the hall with a coffee in your hand. 

A few days ago felt like a watershed moment, but after you two had caught your breaths, the sheer amount of emotions in the room—frustration, satiation, anger, hunger—weighed upon your lips and forced them shut. He had quickly dressed himself, not saying a word, but he casted a glance in your direction that was undecipherable and left.

You, at the moment, did not know how to feel. Hurt? Angry? Sad? But you settled upon your usual solution: ignoring that anything had happened and resuming the normal.

Alas, the fates were unkind. They neatly disposed of your plans to avoid the man when the two of you were scheduled to meet with other sales heads in the afternoon. Unfortunately, when the time came to be, you and Sicheng were the first ones there.

He studiously avoided looking at you, busying himself by opening up his laptop and flipping to a new page on his legal pad. You ignored him as well, scrolling through the latest news on your webpage. However, as the seconds ticked by, you could not resist resting your eyes upon him. It felt like a damn magnet was pulling your gaze to him.

He looked good today, from the brief glances you stole at him. Freshly shaven, his hair was styled neatly and he was in a dark green, cashmere sweater. Was this your fate? To be shamefully attracted to a man that equally repelled you?

“Interesting.”

The both of you shot a look at the door, where an unrecognizable, lanky man with a proud, straight nose was peering down upon you and swinging a plastic bag in his hand.

“Chengcheng? What the hell are you doing here?”

Completely ignoring Sicheng, he settled his lidded gaze upon you before his eyes lit up in recognition.

“So you’re the one that has shaken him, then.”

Dead silence permeated the room. He looked at the two shocked faces, both ashen. “What? Are you going to tell me I’m wrong? Please. I’d have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to ignore the way you two gravitate to each other.”

Your two quick glances that were meant to be unnoticed clashed, resulting in your eyes meeting. You both turned your eyes away.

Chengcheng snorted, as if that moment confirmed everything for him, and he chucked a bag at Sicheng.

“You forgot your lunch, remember?”

Sicheng’s jaw tightened. “Thank you.”

Once again, awkward silence reigned and ChengCheng’s eyes switched back and forth between you like a particularly exciting tennis match.

“You two need to talk. You’ll both age prematurely at this rate, with the angst you two are producing. Talk.”

He left with a wave, striding down the hall casually and stealing many of your female coworkers’ gazes.

“... He’s right, you know.”

Sicheng’s eyes flicked up to yours and he focused his full attention on you. Intensely, he contemplated you, tongue poking at the sides of his mouth.

“I agree. We can meet—” he cut himself off, looking around surreptitiously. “—at Black’s.”

You sucked your lip in between your teeth. “Fine. Neutral ground.”

He took a good, long look at you, like a man seeing water after seeing nothing but sand. 

“Tonight. At 8.”

Thursday, February 13th, 2020

Black’s

7:50 PM HKT

Strangely enough, you felt comfortable despite the jittery nerves under your skin as you walked into Black’s. 

The receptionist had given you a knowing look as you repeated the guest password, letting you in without question. You strapped on the standard, white lace mask and steeled yourself, opening the mahogany doors.

The club was abnormally busy; the guests and members crowded the couches and loitered on the floor. The quiet string music that could usually be heard was masked by the loud chattering of the people in the room.

“Is that you, Dove?”

You spun around to see the smiling, wizened face of Mr. Liu.

A grin broke out on your face and you took his hands. “Mister Liu! It is wonderful to see you.”

“I am happy to see you as well.” He chuckled with his eyes gleaming fondly at you. “Have you decided to visit this old man?”

Playfully, you lightly smacked his shoulder.

Mr. Liu was an important figure to you. All those months ago, when you arrived at Black’s to be screened, as a potential member and straight out of a relationship with Minghao—broken, shattered, hollow—he took one look at you and said no.

Why? You remembered asking tearfully. Am I not pretty enough? Rich enough?

He searched your pale, wan face, as if seeing the emotional scars Minghao had lashed into you, before sighing.

You shouldn’t be asking me that. Are you enough for yourself?

Confused, you had asked him to elaborate. He sympathetically replied that he could see you were entering the club for the wrong reasons. You were different, he’d said. You looked so innocent that he could not morally allow you into the club, despite the depraved patrons that gained membership. He knew, at the time, entering the club would cripple you.

So, what now? You asked, confused. He said he would keep your file open until you came back ‘at the right time.’

The ‘right time?’

You will know it when it comes.

And somehow, you did. After a few months of picking the pieces of yourself together and stabilizing your life, you had grown into a physically and emotionally healthy person. The “right moment” came and you sat in his quaint little office again, opposite of a smiling Mr. Liu as he stamped his approval.

After chatting a few moments, the volume in the room increased slightly and you frowned.

“Why is it so busy today?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you know what today is?”

“No?”

“Today is the evening before Valentine’s day, dear girl.”

“... Oh.”

New information in hand, you looked at the scene more closely. You could see that some couples in the crowd seemed to curl into each other, the affectionate brushes and knowing glances giving you a sick, sick feeling.

And that’s when you saw Sicheng.

Even masked, he drew attention from the members—attached and non-attached. His lean, fit form struck a figure and you couldn’t turn away from him.

He looked directly into your eyes and only a few seconds passed by as you two observed each other.

“Sicheng somehow found out, hm? Clever, devious boy.” Mr. Liu observed the dynamic much like ChengCheng earlier. His gaze was enraptured how the two of you clashed yet sunk into each other, the way two tidal waves—in a rare moment of offbeat rhythm—struck each other and subsequently merged. Push, pull, push, pull.

“Listen to him and he will listen to you. You two match more than you think,” he advised, bowed, and sunk off into the backrooms.

“Sicheng.”

“Y/N.”

Frustratingly, his face was unreadable. Nevertheless, he offered you his arm (a surprising show of manners) and he led you to a place you had never seen before.

This place was much less pristine than the rest of the club. The wallpaper was older, much more faded, and the wood looked much more worn.

This was one of Mr. Liu’s apartments.

The pair of you entered a comfortable sitting room with the lights low, to which only large candles had been lit.

He made sure you were properly ensconced into an armchair before he turned his back towards you and made his way to the drink carts.

“Would you like something to drink?” Sicheng asked, voice measured.

“A gin tonic would be wonderful.”

After carefully making your drink and pouring himself a healthy 4 fingers of bourbon, he handed your glass to you and sat down in the chair opposite of you.

Silence permeated awkwardly and you turned your eyes towards the tapestry in the middle of the room, giving yourself something to do.

“Were those feelings true?” he asked, not looking at you.

“Elaborate, please.”

“The last night…” He looked quickly at you, before turning his eyes away and clenching his jaw. “The last night we were together.”

“Ah.”

Absolutely, unequivocally. Dolos was everything you had searched for in Minghao and, while your relationship was unusual, you could not deny the string between you two.

Something burned at your eyes and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Yes. Then and now,” you stated, opening yourself up for an attack.

His eyes widened and the twitching in his fingers stopped.

“And you, Sicheng?” you enquired boldly.

“Always,” he stated without hesitation. “It was never something as trivial as pillow talk.”

Seeing as he was on the brink of closing off, due to his rare moment of vulnerableness, you wrapped your hand around his.

His eyes shot to yours, then to your linked hands, before tightening his grip.

“I don’t know where to start,” you confessed. “I… One thing that has always been on my mind—why did you dislike me so much?”

He smiled bitterly. “Sometimes, I forget that you don’t see the way I see you. You are a smart, dauntless woman, who’s pushed all my buttons. It all just built and built upon each other until I found you—Dove—here.” He pauses. “I projected my frustrations onto Dove—you—here. But never, for a moment, doubt my feelings aren’t genuine.”

You pursed your lips. “Forgive me, but I cannot accept your accusations of me being the office slut—very rude, by the way—were without malice. You constantly pushed me down, clashed with me in the workplace and you were just plain classist.”

Sicheng’s eyes were casted down, but his grip was steady. “I will not lie. Those words I spat at you were with malice. But now, in retrospect, they were nothing more but words of immature frustration that I channeled towards you. I know that I cannot take them back and they will forever linger in the air between us, but I can apologize and recognize those words were completely unacceptable.”

He angled his body fully towards you and clasped your hand in both of his. “I am sorry for my actions. My anger was misplaced and the sentiments do not represent me anymore. I am sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

“And then what? What do you want now, Sicheng?” An edge of desperation tinged your voice.

He smiled bitterly at you. “Everyday, the smell of you lingers and I, like Pavlov’s dog, cannot help but feel an ache in the marrow of my bones when I see your crimson red lips. Every night, when I go to bed, you are seared across the back of my eyelids and I cannot escape you, even in my dreams.” He paused. “I want you, or whatever scraps you’re willing to toss me.”

A sharp exhale left you nose and you blinked rapidly. “I don’t want to get hurt. You get off on hurting people.”

“With your consent.”

“Say I want a completely vanilla relationship,” you challenged. He didn’t flinch. “What about then?”

Sicheng clenched his jaw and held your gaze fiercely. “Anything.”

“I hate that you are all I’ve wanted in a man,” you admitted unwillingly. He hummed. “Will we be each other’s destruction? Or will we be each other’s maker?” you pondered nonsensically.

“Aren’t we already both?” he retorted.

Slowly, without releasing his hand, you rose from your chair and lowered yourself into his lap. His eyes traced your every movement. For a few, brief moments, you looked into each other’s eyes without the obsurance of a mask or the encumbrance of a workplace rivalry. Your left hand cupped his cheekbone and stroked the skin underneath his eye.

“This will be interesting,” you said.

He gave no sign of reaction, but tilted his head into your palm and closed his eyes. “After us, the flood,” he recited.

Monday, March 2nd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7:50 PM HKT

A secret grin tugged at your lips as you looked across the table at Sicheng, who was intensely focused on the presentation your coworker was giving. Perhaps he’d felt the weight of your gaze on him as he chanced a glance at you and gave you a small smirk.

The past month in your relationship with Sicheng was equally fulfilling and frustrating. There were times where both of you deliberately looked for a fight or misinterpreted each other, but there were also times you could shed your layers and just be yourselves with the other.

Even each fight, where you or Sicheng stormed out, or broke things, you came back to each other at the end. Pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling relentlessly. The flood, indeed.

You focused back in on the meeting and contributed to the smatter of clapter for the end of your coworker’s presentation. As he turned off the projector and people stood up to leave,  Xiao Daiyu—the interim head of the Sales department—stopped you and Sicheng.

“Y/N, Sicheng, please stay back for a moment. I’d like to talk to you about Mr. Lee’s replacement.”

You and Sicheng glanced at each other and you sat back down. A while ago, you had both agreed the decision wasn’t going to break the quiet relationship you had built. It was going to be sour. You knew, when someone was chosen, things could get messy and awkward. But this… this was too good.

Daiyu sat down and put her hands together. “After much decision and going through your interviews, the CEO has stepped in and we are sorry to say neither of you are getting the position.”

You jerked your head around to Sicheng and he did the same—wild confusion and anger in both of your eyes. Both your years of loyalty and dedication are being passed over?

“Instead, we have decided to hire outside the company for some fresh intake. He may be young, but it comes to us that he’s highly recommended and would fit in with our culture well.”

A sour feeling came to your stomach and you narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to frown. They had decided to hire outside the company? This is how they decide to reward their workers? This was betrayal.

Glancing over, you could see Sicheng felt the same. His right hand grasped the arm of the chair tightly and you could see his knuckles turning white.

“I’d like to meet him and he’s coming—” She took a glance at her watch. ��—right about now.”

A knock came from the door and a head of messy black hair peaked into the room.

“Daiyu laoban, great to see you.”

No. This could not be happening to you.

The wire glasses. The tall, lanky frame that filled the doorway. The almond shaped eyes hiding behind pitch-black hair, as black his shriveled little heart.

Daiyu, like the little bitch she was, giggled. “Y/N, Sicheng, please meet your new Sales Head: Xu Minghao.”

His eyes focused on you and your world suddenly felt tilted, careening sideways while the nausea hit you all at once.

“Nice to meet you,” he said cheerfully.

You could feel Sicheng’s concern radiating from him at your ashen face and look of shock, but you couldn't even think as flashes of blood and tears and pain shuddered throughout your body.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m pleased to be working with you!”

(”After us, the flood” or “Aprés nous, le deluge” is an expression from Madame Pompadour, King Louis XV’s lover.)

And it’s finished. Thank you. Please don’t forget to read, comment, and reblog. I love you all and goodbye.

#sicheng #winwin #nct smut #nct x reader #winwin smut #nct fanfic #sicheng x reader #winwin x reader #sicheng smut #wayv #wayv smut #nct 127 #taeil #johnny #yuta #taeyong #jaehyun #ten #lucas #hendery #doyoung

[sepublic]

Happy Birthday to The Owl House!

           Honestly, I’m… REALLY shocked to think back on how it’s been a year? It’s been a full, actual year, since that first episode?

           I remember when The Owl House was first announced around early 2018. Something about it, the premise, the characters from that one poster we got; It really drew me in, and I kept track of the show’s progress in eager anticipation. Whenever Dana released art of Luz, Eda, and King, I was ecstatic- And when the show was delayed to 2020, I was dismayed.

           Then we got our teaser trailer; The opening them, the end credits, even a little sneak peek! I remember speculating a lot about Luz and all of the other new characters we were introduced to, such as Willow, Amity, and Gus- And then we got more and more trailers in the days leading up to the show. I wondered about Luz’s home back on Earth and where her family was, I listened intently to the Hooty and the Parliament music video, finding an almost melancholic, weirdly nostalgic (despite having never watched the show yet) vibe to it- Whilst also avoiding looking at the screen and seeing all of the various clips it offered, because I wanted to be surprised! It was two years of anticipation, two years of wait for this show- I’d never looked forward to a series before like this, last I can recall… So having this content FINALLY come out, seeing these characters in animation, hearing their wonderful voices! My soul was vibing, it was time, it was coming after all this time…!

          Eventually I finished Infinity Train Book 2, the same day that The Owl House premiered… I was blindsided when I woke up to the first episode’s release online, in full- I was already planning to wait until later to watch it on television, so having it permanently accessible from the internet was such a pleasant surprise! And the show… The show, man- That premiere caught me off-guard with how much I enjoyed it! I knew I was looking forward to this show, but still…! It blew away my expectations, and even now, has continued to; It was like my personal investment and attention had paid off so patiently well! I even got a DisneyNOW subscription so I could watch each new episode ASAP, the day it premiered, hours before it aired on television!

           I remember scouring Tumblr before the show officially premiered, and there was understandably very little- A few pieces of fanart here or there. And when the show DID premiere, for a while there wasn’t really much of a fandom- There was barely anyone, in fact! But I can remember a few notable blogs who have been around since the beginning… Me, I got invested into this show. I found myself really enjoying Lumity as a ship, especially since I resonated with both characters in it; Luz was such a ball of sunshine that brightened my day, and Amity really spoke to me with her more introverted, top-scoring personality. When the show hit its mid-season hiatus, I remember not handling it too well, as I got impatient and frantic in my speculations- I wanted so badly to learn more about these characters, see what happened- Get a look at Emperor Belos (then known as Bellows by the fandom), etc.

          I wrote my Bile Coven piece in preparation for Halloween, even got to know a mutual or two over shared theorizing! I kept track of Dana’s updates, and even had people come to my blog, of all places, to send asks! It was and still has been such an engaging part of fandom for me… I recall impatiently waiting for the Owl Pellet shorts and freaking out over them- And when Adventures in the Elements leaked early? I LOST MY MIND, I remember postponing something I was supposed to go to, just so I could watch the episode- And it was so good! Then I started wondering and hoping the rest of Season 1 would come out, and well- It took a while…

          And when Season 1B’s trailer came out, I was all over it; Scouring every possible frame, freaking out over the Grom screenshot, and appreciating the influx of new fans! It was amazing to watch The Owl House go from a relatively minor and obscure fandom, to becoming so much more mainstream and populous! I got into Rebecca Rose’s channel, I began writing more meta and posts about the show, as well as little recaps for each new episode. I feel like my blog really took off from here, as I got to interact with more and more people who shared this mutual love of The Owl House, and I was so ecstatic to see more content and buzz about it!

           My mind was solely focused on The Owl House, it was one of my huge hyperfixations, even moreso than during Season 1A’s run- I remember being anxious about Enchanting Grom Fright, wondering if we’d get queerbaited… But NO, Amity was in love with Luz! She canonically had a crush on her, a girl in love with another girl- And I loved it because Lumity was a special comfort ship of mine! Then Amity was confirmed lesbian… It was amazing! And I found myself SO invested, so inspired by the show and its characters, and all of the little allusions to things, the foreshadowing, the moments here or there that made so much more sense after a new episode.

           This show inspired me creatively- It got me to write some of my personal favorite fanfics, and I was and still am so touched by whatever feedback I get from them! The Owl House really got me to write, to obsess over characters and analyze them, to look at motifs, to think about worldbuilding… It’s been such an artistically enriching experience, both the show and the fandom! I remember despairing so terribly when Agony of a Witch came out, the genuine betrayal I had when Lilith revealed the truth- Because I’d been legitimately endeared to her character beforehand, even formed a sort of ‘trust’ in a sense… And like many others, I agonizingly anticipated the season finale, the much-needed emotional reconciliation!

           I remember how the episode titles were revealed, bit by bit, and how I and others speculated on what they’d spell out! I remember when the fandom obsessed over the Witch’s Apprentice game and its relics, for clues and new lore after each episode, the little hints here or there! I was freaked out by characters like Belos, who lived up to my hopes and expectations- First being alluded to by name, then his amazing appearance… And then his voice and mannerisms and everything about him! And when the Season Finale came out…

           Well, there was relief. But there was a bittersweet emptiness- That it was over! The first season was over! There was a celebratory triumph, of course- We finally wrapped up the first, major arc of the show, the first batch of episodes that had been worked upon, the whole thing now unveiled and appreciated! But I was a little dismayed because a part of me KNEW a hiatus much longer than the previous one was ahead of me, and I did not handle the mid-season hiatus well. Of course, then Dana had her Reddit AMA, and the charity livestream; Both of which NOURISHED me creatively, and have helped to fill out the wait! To carry out my momentum, to not flounder about in hiatus; I invested myself into more meta, into various posts, etc. I read fanfiction that genuinely floored me, obsessed over fanart, etc.

           I supported the show’s release on Disney Plus, ecstatic to get this kind of ready access. I revisited past episodes and characters, looking at them in a new light, appreciating things; Like Luz’s relationship with fantasy… King’s surprising development, all of Eda’s little hints and clues. There’s been an emotional catharsis with these characters for me- And I genuinely feel like I’ve been a lot happier lately because of this show! I’ve met so many other blogs and gotten to know them, seen their ideas and displayed mine as we appreciated one another… I even remember doing another blog’s fanart prompt prior to the show’s release, in preparation!

           I feel like The Owl House has genuinely given me a new appreciation for meta, for fandom and analysis… For headcanons, for writing my own stories and contributing my own ideas and speculations, etc.! It’s contributed SO much joy to me as a hyperfixation, and rapidly risen through my blog as my most frequent tag! And even as I explore other fandoms and hyperfixations, both then and now, especially to pass on this crippling hiatus… This show holds a VERY special place in my heart for me. It’s really made me feel for these characters, the love and sadness, the excitement and sense of comfort… Its love and emotions, angst and found family, lore and speculation, it hits so hard to me in a way that other media hasn’t!

           It’s provided representation- Such as canonically queer characters, or protagonists who speak so well to the neurodivergent experience for many people! I’ve had delight in seeing people suggest Amity as autistic, when before Season 1B, I lowkey headcanoned and saw her as such- So seeing more evidence for this resonated deeply in my heart! I remember all of the discussion about King as a character, the confusion and talk about whether or not he WAS a King of Demons, when that first announcement in 2018 had made a similar claim… I looked forward to Eda and Lilith’s relationship, speculated on who cursed Eda, and remembered when I’d considered the Blights as a potential culprit! I remember thinking about Hooty, wondering what his deal is- And thinking then and now about that Owl Deity mural in the Owl House! Watching Luz’s development as a character and as a witch, seeing her become more proficient with magic until it finally pays off with her squaring up against Belos, and wounding him- I’d never felt so proud of a character and their progress before!

           There’s still so many more questions and mystery, lore… as well as just genuine character interactions, to look forward to! I think The Owl House is one of my favorite shows of all time… It’s deeply touched me as a person and creator, and I genuinely strive to create something even close to this one day. This show has inspired me, made me laugh and cry, compelled me to creatively make content; It’s introduced me to a wider fandom that I genuinely feel like a part of, had me meet other mutuals… It really is something special to me. And while I am eager for Season 2, I also want to appreciate what Dana Terrace and her crew have already established. I love this show’s art style and animation, the designs and overall weirdness of its characters- I love speculating and thinking about them, getting more and more details, and so forth.

           If it’s for a better product, I’m fine waiting for Season 2. And honestly, I love what we already have, and I’ve done a lot with so many people. I’ve even looked over supplementary materials and stuff posted by the crew or news articles, in my need for content… And I love every bit of update, art, and/or acknowledgement of the show’s hiatus, and Season 2’s development! There’s so much to look forward to… And there’s so much that I’ve enjoyed, after plenty of anticipation!

           Thank you @danaterrace, and everyone who worked on this- For everything. It really is crazy to reflect on this entire year, to realize it’s been a full year since that first episode, since that first premiere that lit up my world like Luz’s light spells; And it feels like such a milestone that we’ve reached! I look forward to what comes next, and I also intend to keep appreciating and cherishing what we’ve already gotten. Here’s to this show’s second year, people- It’s been such a journey to look back on and remember each step, each phase, each particular moment and stage… And I can only imagine what will come next! This show has SUCH a special place in my heart, and has made me feel in so many ways I haven’t before!

           Happy Birthday, The Owl House! You’ve earned it!

#the owl house #toh #owl house #the owl house luz #luz noceda #the owl house eda #edalyn clawthorne #the owl house king #lumity #happy birthday #dana terrace #ramblings #nostalgia #meta

[anncanta]

English defence

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Explixit

Warnings: Rape, Non-Con

The English defense in chess is a kind of opening, distinguished by a variety of strategic ideas and the extreme flexibility of the schemes that are formed in it, as well as ample opportunities for various permutations of moves and transition to other openings.

This opening is used by chess players of the highest level.

Well... Now we have our couple in a very strange situation. Personally, I don`t think that there`s a real rape here, but warning is needed anyway.

Thanks to @khyruma​ for help with editing. I appreciate your support and guidance as a beta in all circumstances.

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges

Read on AO3

Or read below

Agatha had a disturbing dream. Nothing definite, just some vague flashes and shadows. She remembered the feeling of a long wandering in the dark. When she woke up, she sat up in bed and lingered for a while, breathing heavily. It was strange that she had fallen asleep at all, she thought, getting out from under the covers and going to the table on which was a jug of water. It's strange that she could sleep here at all.

With a quick glance out the window, Agatha saw that the distant peaks of the mountains had already turned gold.

Dracula brought her to the castle last night. Looks like he decided to use her as a reserve for the future – which could last as long as he`d wanted, from a couple of weeks to several days. Agatha didn't ask. All the way to the castle she sat motionless in the carriage, replaying the same memories in her head.

Going out to the yard, she sees a black wolf there. Here the skin of a wolf rears, a cut appears on it, and a human hand protrudes from it. Here Agatha cuts her own hand and teases the vampire with drops of fresh blood. She leaves, confident that she has left the last word for herself.

Dracula appears in prayer, wearing a traveling cloak and holding a long sword at the ready. With a deliberately loud roar, he rushes at Mother Superior. She recoils, turns around, and runs. Then – memory gives to Agatha the picture of the nuns pushing and rushing about the chapel, screams, she feels again the awareness of her stupidity, and fear, flooding her mind.

She didn't run away. She forced herself to stay where she was. She walked through the crowd of frightened women, approaching him. Said: ‘Stop it, Count Dracula. Leave them alone. Please.’ Then she held out her hand. ‘We both know you don't need them. I have offended you – take me.’

He did. He sheathed the sword, accepted the offered hand, and, finally, baring his teeth towards the still heart-rending nuns, silently led Agatha behind him.

Deciding that she would not fall asleep today, Agatha washed and dressed, went to the window. It’s not very pleasant to be someone’s food. She chuckled, tossing back the hair that had fallen on her face. The veil was missing. Over the years, Agatha got used to it, and despite the fact that it was much easier without the dense fabric covering her hair and neck, she felt a little insecure.

‘I love it when the sun appears there, behind the distant ridge,’ came a voice behind her. Oh, of course. She turned around.  

‘The game of courtesy is over,’ she stated, looking around at Dracula, who had entered the room. On the way to the castle and then – showing her quarters, – Dracula, contrary to Agatha's expectations, behaved calmly and restrained. She even thought that it was due to fatigue – but most likely, his thoughts were just busy with something else. Now, probably... ‘Hungry?’ She suggested.

‘I just decided to find out how you’ve settled down,’ said Dracula.

‘At half-past five in the morning?’

‘I go to bed late.’

Agatha nodded. She thought that perhaps she was wrong – it was almost kind of him to start a conversation before... She might even feel something like gratitude if she was not so angry.

Turning abruptly, she walked back to the bed and sat down. She looked defiantly at Dracula.

‘You were not satisfied. In the evening,’ she remarked tartly. ‘And you hardly hunted at night. Don't be a gentleman. The table is set – what are you waiting for?’

Dracula looked at her curiously.

‘Do you think I only need this from you?’ he asked at last.

Something in his eyes, in the way he looked at her, in their brooding gleam, led her to a new thought.

‘You are a filthy animal!’ Agatha snorted. ‘I have no doubt that you will use me.’

Dracula raised his eyebrows.

‘Use? I like your line of thought.’

Agatha grimaced dismissively.

‘Nothing unexpected.’

For a minute he looked at her in silence, then walked over.

‘Agatha, did you expect something concrete? Something... specific from me?’

She watched in bewilderment as he stopped by the bed.

‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

‘You understand, very well so. If you thought I was an animal... you should have expected me to behave accordingly.’

‘You have confirmed all my guesses.’

‘Agatha,’ Dracula smiled, ‘I'm glad to hear it, but I have to tell you... You don't know me at all.’

‘What I know is enough,’ Agatha snapped angrily. ‘Your propensity for violence is terrible,’ she added. ‘But threatening and intimidating me will only waste your time. Use my body if you have no one else to do this with,’ she finished with a scornful look.

The silence was long and soft.

Dracula suddenly laughed.

‘I love these games,’ he said, looking down at Agatha. ‘Are you sure that by doing as you say, I will become a rapist? But didn't you yourself... invited me?’

‘Empty speculation,’ Agatha said. ‘You know very well that I don’t really want to. Therefore, you are a rapist.’  

‘You don’t want to,’ he said slowly. He ran a finger over his lips and tilted his head. ‘But you won't resist?’ he clarified.

‘No, I won't,’ Agatha said with a shrug. ‘You are stronger than me. What would be the point of this?’

‘But what about the protection of a maiden’s honor?’

‘Such nonsense has not worried me for a long time.’

He smiled again, now anticipatory.

‘Well, will you lie down and endure?’

Agatha forced herself to chuckle contemptuously.

‘Obviously,’ she said.

‘Lie down then,’ he said calmly.

‘Didn't you think – What?’

However, Dracula no longer listened to her. Turning away from the bed, he was undressing. Without budging, Agatha stupidly watched his actions: vest, shirt, trousers, underwear.

‘You've already seen me naked,’ his voice interrupted the long silence.

Soundlessly nodding, Agatha got up and, just as, without a single word, quickly took off everything that was on her. She climbed onto the bed again and lay back. She closed her eyes.

Agatha did not know what she was expecting – in general, probably nothing. She knew theoretically about what happens in the bedroom between a man and a woman from the books she had read. Those were anatomical treatises, usually. They were quite good when you had to imagine volume, color, and size. As she understood, the average duration...

A warm naked male body covered her completely and at once. It clung to Agatha, touching every part of her skin, but without collapsing and falling with all the weight. Agatha opened her eyes. He... hugged her. If she could think of a name for it. Embracing her arms and legs, he pressed tightly, reclining on her. Agatha felt his elbows, knees, and hips, felt the hairs on his chest slightly tingling her nipples; felt him... down there.

‘What are you doing?’ She said in a low voice.

He didn't answer. Bending down, he pressed his lips to her neck and drew a wet trail with his tongue. He slipped into the depression of the subclavian fossa and froze, listening to the racing pulse. Agatha freed her hand and touched his shoulder, the back of his head. She shuddered when his palms gently cupped both her breasts.

‘Tell me when it’s unbearable,’ he smiled, squeezing her tense nipple between his fingers.

Agatha exhaled and inhaled, clutching the tangled strands at the back of his head. She leaned back exhausted on the pillow as his hands roamed her knees and thighs, her waist and abdomen. She screamed as he touched the core of her being.

Lightly stroking the damp doors, cruelly slowly he penetrated her with one finger. Agatha froze, trembling. Through the fog of pleasure, a thought flashed, which has been long flickering on the periphery of her consciousness.

‘You... if you... you’d cripple me,’ Agatha whispered, lowering her eyes. The place where he caressed her definitely had a name... a simple Latin word. Agatha knew it. She could remember it.

‘You were going to be firm and tenacious,’ Dracula said as he came out of her. She breathed quickly and unevenly. ‘I will definitely do it,’ he added, bending down; Agatha opened her mouth, but he pressed a finger to her lips. The same finger that he just used for... ‘Surely. You will love it when I do this, believe me. But not today,’ having said that, Dracula traced the outlines of her lips with a finger and, bringing it to his mouth, licked it. She groaned.

Agatha Van Helsing, warrior, fearless and proud, she thought. Always on top, always confident, and self-controlled. She despises her opponent's intemperance and weakness. And here she is – with him, allowing herself to be fondled in the most shameless way.

‘Agatha, I assure you, this is not the most shameless that I am capable of,’ Dracula laughed, clearly understanding what she was thinking about, and went down below.

Sitting between her outstretched legs, Dracula leaned over and kissed her.

Agatha made an inarticulate sound – something between a sob and a groan.

Smiling, Dracula raised his head and entered her again with one finger.

‘So tight…’ whispered and, bending down, lightly touched her with his tongue. And he didn’t speak again.

***

‘I want to die,’ Agatha moaned, burying her face in the pillow.

‘Better death than dishonor?’ asked Dracula.

Agatha did not move.

‘Anything is better than you,’ she muttered without raising her head.

Two large palms rested on her shoulders, pulling her along.

‘You are hard to please,’ Dracula laughed, pushing the hair from her back and touching her nape with his lips. ‘You are too obstinate. When we arrive in England –’

‘I'm not going anywhere with you!’ Turning around, Agatha tried to free herself from his hands. ‘Finish me here.’

‘What, kill you as a fallen woman?’ He laughed so loudly that Agatha was offended. ‘Agatha, harlots haven’t been stoned for a long time. Are you not attracted by the thought of traveling by sea? New knowledge, impressions... Distant countries. England gives people opportunities that many cannot even imagine. Many, but not you. I know you dreamed about it. Agree,’ he breathed into her neck, ‘I promise to behave myself.’

Pushing him and pulling the covers over herself, Agatha sat up in bed. She looked for a long time at Dracula lying supine – naked and carefree. She sighed.

‘When does this stupid ship of yours leave?’

#dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #bbc dracula #count dracula #agatha van helsing #dragatha #fanfic #fanfiction

[noxyfied]

This, is Noxy/Noxyfied/Nox. This is the character I identify as online, and I want to tell you my story with this adorable Arctic Fox because it is one heck of a tale from not so long ago

Things did begin rough at the beginning of my persona’s history. I honestly can’t recall how I came up with it, only how I inserted my love for something and went with it.

From the early years of 2017 to 2019 I was all paper and pencil. Ah yes traditional art was my big thing for a couple of years during that era of 2013 to 2020. I had a time where I wrote stories about characters I made, and not much. No fan art, no nothing, I wanted to stick to my own original ideas at first before I took the step to do something that I did not own; it was a weird mindset I know, I couldn’t hold myself to want to be original and develop to be good enough to draw other things.

It took me some time to develop, hell even to this day I still am unsure of my own skills but I enjoyed trying new things. I don’t reject much criticism even if it comes harsh it still lingers in my head when received anyway. I needed someone to identify as online, a persona who I would have an identity through as I was moving forward on this hopeful career I want to make with my art.

Idea #1 draw my own self accurate to how I look 

Scratch that...

Nononono, I am too bad at showing my face, even at that I don’t like myself.

So I had to come up with something else, 2019 was ending with my skills rising up to something neat. I had Fire alpaca and a wacom cheap tablet which I used time to time back then, and with how I moved foward I said “why not, lets draw a glaceon.

Not bad, not bad. I do enjoy anthropomorphic animals, and for a anthro Glaceon it wasn't so bad. Even back then I did not enjoy much of this picture but the idea sparked. I did roleplay around online a lot as a Glaceon. People always had referred to me as a Glaceon when talking, because furry friends tend to be like that and I don’t mind. It had definitely sparked the idea of identifying as one for my persona.

I had a hard time how I would draw this character, a more personalized Glaceon with my own flare of the art style I carry should be nice, should I make it tall? short? anthro? feral? the questions rose up. Even more as time passed, took some time unsure of it, Unluckily I had a Glaceon FURsona, not a persona. (Yes those were two separate things as I carried 7 fursonas as individual characters in their own stories).

But soon one day in class, my artsy self was bored and it just sparked.

This is it! yes! I love it! something about this just clicked for some reason, it was like nothing I had seen before I could not look away at it, this was it.

After class I went home and played some games. The idea was there but man am I tired. Things did go slow, but not for long as of January, the classes I took gave me the ability to better understand this Adobe Photoshop, an amazing tool for editing pictures but also... To draw?!? I have heard of using Photoshop to draw but was amazed to have the ability using such program. During my time 2019 I would doodle around on Photoshop in my school or at home (thanks to the campus giving me a cheaper prize to use it for assignments) Not bad, not bad, the program was for sure something nice to use. Look! I even drew my Fursonas there too, ain’t that nice

2019 was something for sure. It had just begun making 2020 quite the year as I took my wacom tablet, opened Photoshop, and on January there it was.

Oh how cute! I felt so proud of myself, firealpaca was nothing like how clean and pretty Photoshop was, I was amazed at this ability.

“I made this?” that would be what I ask myself everyday. Time to time I would, and still, look at my phone to my drawings and remember what I used to make some pieces, I will not forget how I used thick outlines with the line too from photoshop, added some depth on the eyes. But most importantly, I had a persona, and I introduced it

My friends loved it, I could not believe I am starting to do the shift, my days of traditional art were at a halt. Not at a complete stop since I do use traditional art for a few other things of course, this was just my main focus now.

This little creature was everything to me, cute, easy to make, helped me throughout a few months as I practiced with my digital art.

I also perfected it’s look, but something looked rather familiar about it. Could not put my finger to it, so I went on drawing it.

that was a few exceptions where I shifted the proportions for “it”

“It” “it” what was this thing supposed to be, I myself was unsure how to identify myself with this persona. Male? no, female? no. The issue was there, who am I really inside, who was my persona gonna be.

I still cannot tell you exactly what my persona was for the longest time. I at times felt lost and confused with my identity, it did not help that 2020 did its mumbo jumbo and a pandemic happened, it was a lot of time on my own at home just questioning really who I had been for the longest time. Classes were minimal so my free time was big around April and May.

I was always unsure of who I was exactly, through my early years late 2000′s I had in me that my body was uncomfortable for looking the way it did, 2010′s went silent but there was something in me I did not understand. why did I feel this way, why do I feel as I am not happy with who I am, and who I identify with.

This persona was the wake up call to who I really wanted to be. I saw it in me that I knew being a male was the main issue in me feeling unhappy. Throughout my life I did not enjoy masculinity as much as other kids, yeah I had some boy traits but it was rather minimal, I enjoyed other things more. I enjoyed a lot of things about being female it was something I had never seen before. as hard or confusing things tend to be from me to explain, its a rather hard thing for myself to explain. But that how it felt “confusing” I researched and looked for things and to my conclusion I had come to be, I come to identify as a MtF trans.

I felt relieved in me of it and I already enjoyed my days more after from it. The only issue is “who do I tell..?” I was timid to tell this to anyone, friends or even family. Especially family, those I come to admit they will never be told of what my decision was because of how hard headed they are. It is a tragic story to tell since most families are such closed minded people of rejecting others.

“My friends tho, my friends? I would feel bad if I told them” that was the mindset I had for a while before admitting to them time to time, one by one. This was a chapter in my life that had changed me early 2020′s but I felt a lot of joy in me to be who I wanted to be, I no longer took anyone else's guidance for controlling who I am, I just went with my own flow.

My persona was.... more comically confused, it could be either so I just left it how my mood wanted it to go for when drawing it. So, things went well, in 2019 with the money I got I found myself enjoying a lot of second handed games, with a game coming real soon that had me pumped for I had to get a console I wanted for so long

A PS4 for the the Final fantasy 7 Remake, I was so pumped waiting for the game, I got a used PS4 for it and even bought couple other games for it to get to know the console: Final fantasy 15, destiny, and later on this Persona 5 game a lot of people talked about. Hmm ok, well lets try it out and oh me oh my, a few days later:

The art style captivated me, can you tell I went all out to trying anything with my persona? I cannot believe I was my own guinea pig for these sorts.

Going around some friends and they will tell you that I used this pfp quite a lot back then, as well as updating it with a new oc I had come up with

A tale in due time will be told about this gal.

well, it was set and forth that this was me, my persona, this glaceon was who I was. People loved it, my friends really liked it, and I had a blast having this first pure year of digital art only. Meeting new friends, and admiring their art. Having old friends come back, and even losing a few others on the way. During the time of june, to July I was rapid about drawing my persona in many ways, short, tall, anthro, feral

even metallic.

 But there come some time I did not grew tired of. But a little worried that I had to rely on a franchise for my own identity, of course there is nothing wrong for those doing it. But reflecting on myself, back then when I wanted this art career to happen, I wanted to go all out letting out my imagination  with my own creations. I had to make the decision, it was time to move on...

...To a new art program and new drawing tablet

No, it wasn’t that. I had to branch out from this Glaceon, but keep my identity, my legacy of this persona in check, but with a new coat of paint of course. did not take a long time before choosing that I had to use a real life animal as inspiration for this change. Something at least close to it, ah yes of course! the inspiration of the Glaceon was an arctic fox, well those are some good stepping stones to begin with so what happened one day is that I began sketching, not before saying good bye to this old self that helped me begin. It was weird, this is me but it was old me?

Tested the new Brushes from this amazing program called Clip studio paint, and I gotta say I love the program. Sincerely the best choice I made to leave Photoshop for this.

At last, this is it. the new Me!

Familiar looking isn’t it,baby steps we can say.

I cannot blame the people for calling my new persona a “Glaceon-alike”

I headed to the right direction stepping away from it, but it was hard to let go

new program, new tablet, new me. the later half of 2020 went onto a lot of changes with myself, the chibi small version did not make me happy to make anymore, I was losing the touch and with the few comments I got of looking like a “powerpuff girl look a like” did set me off to do a drastic change I am thankful to do. This new me had some weird phases, don’t we all tho?

where else to brainstorm than back to the traditional old ways. Now, you may see this and ask what was I thinking when making this. the order of when i started and finish goes as: Top right: ok what if it was feral, nah nah scratch. Top left: Can I still make it cute with a round face and features I had from before? ew no! that looks scary Bottom right: lets make it more natural and wow hey! yes yes yes! this looks hundred times better. Bottom left: It is time I go all out and make it humanoid, it was how I found myself enjoying drawing most things but still did some anthropomorphic things. I was just not the best of it.

Back to digital and.... Amazing, I really out did myself this time, lets go for it, lets keep going with this

I even got a cool sword too!

My practice continued from here, the second half was great and fun. New persona got me in a place where I was happy with and through October and December I was having a blast with the more possibilities with it. I went on to practice with even more suggestive things after a life drawing class I took, proportions mattered to me and with this new persona I went out to make more better looking proportions that were attractive and stylish.

This persona was great, and I managed to make so much of it. even Drawing the more suggestive stuff had left me with an answer for this persona. Just make it gender fluid, my selection for this character being male or female made me so tired I did not know why I just made it gender fluid since the beginning. My mood swings for this character, and I can’t resist drawing it either way. Was I finished? of course not, this persona still had some work around to do. The hair became a pain to make to keeping up with  consistently.

2020 ended, with a year of exciting new things coming for this new year. I went through quite a lot in my life and my art career took a shaken with this new digital life style, my persona became the identity I saw myself through, something im happy with drawing to represent Me.

That isn’t to say that I gave up on drawing Me Me.

I drew who I hope to be, and will use this from time to time, nothing fancy but something.

It has been a year already since I began identifying myself with this persona from last year from now. ever since I sketched that doodle in class, it has been a happy trip through memory lane writing it and I am happy how things turned out. 2021 is what I hope to be as good as 2020 was (by that I mean drawing only of course) In 2021 one more change was made that had made me just as happy to continue on with.

I got more hair! as crazy as it is yes. More hair, and a different front style has been to this day what I been using.

I even made a discord emoji for all the warm hugs to have with my fursona!

and my first ever animation I have ever done before!!

I am always experimenting new things, and i’m proud to be an artists to go out there and leave my art out there to be noticed by anyone. The love and appreciation friends and others leave me are the best thing I could ask. I look foward to see what is up ahead, for me, my career, and Noxy.

#persona #art #lifestory #story #trans #trans story #furry #furry community #furry story #pokemon #memories #2020 #support small artists #artistlife #transition #glaceon #glaceon persona #pokemon story #pokemon ruby #college #school #digital doodle #digital portrait #digital media #my life

[solangelover]

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

Solangelo Week 2020 - god swap / body swap @solangeloweek 

Read on AO3 or FF.Net

A/N: (Ignore how late this fic is) I recently realized that I love the tag “crack treated seriously” and then I was like, wait is that what I write?? Oh well XD

“Ugh, I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Oh gods, what are we going to do??”

Will and Nico were behind the Hades cabin, but not for the reasons they’d like to be.

Currently, Will was looking at Nico and Nico was looking at Will, but they were also staring at themselves. Because they were in each other’s bodies. Because why not.

Nico pinched the bridge of his nose (Will’s nose?), sighing, “This is ridiculous.”

Will was a little more panicky than his boyfriend. “Oh my gods, how and why is this happening? We can’t be stuck like this! Can we be stuck like this? Oh my gods, what if we’re stuck like this???”

The boys had woken up from a nap together (a literal time of sleeping together) in the early afternoon, only to find that they weren’t quite themselves. They also found a note on the nightstand that said, “Don’t tell, or it’ll take longer to wear off!” signed with a simple red heart. The situation was pretty straight forward, but that didn’t make it any easier to handle.

“Solace, calm down. We’ll be fine. This is either a prank from the Aphrodite kids or Aphrodite herself. I don’t think any children of Aphrodite have ever had precise enough control of their power to extend the time of their curses, though I’ve also never heard of any body or mind swaps from them either…” Nico tapped his chin in thought.

“So you think this is directly from a goddess??” Will flailed his arms for emphasis. He had not been still since they woke up switched.

Nico held up his hands placatingly. “Will, I said to calm—”

“When has that ever made anyone calm??”

Nico’s eyes flicked to the ground behind Will, noticing some movement. He immediately recognized the shadows reacting to Will’s panic, swirling around his feet and slowly pulling upward like a barrier. Huh, so that’s what that looks like, Nico thought, finally seeing what other people saw. He could admit that it was slightly terrifying.

“Okay! Okay, Will, just, breathe with me. Remember, like you taught me?” Nico drew in a deep breath, emphasizing the movement with his hands. He exhaled loudly. “In 4, hold 3, out, like, 5. Right?”

“What, no, do you even listen to me? It’s in 4, hold 7, out 8. Like this,” and Will proceeded to do several slow breaths. Nico was grinning even as he copied Will. He also realized how different he looks when he’s not frowning while doing the exercise. He should probably pay attention to his facial expressions more.

After a few more breaths, Nico ventured, “Better?”

Will blinked a few times before letting out a chuckle. “Oh, I see what you did there. Sneaky Death Boy.” He smiled at Nico, which, again, was a very different sight to Nico. Not that he didn’t smile often, but for some reason, Will made his smile look brighter.

Instead of saying this, Nico replied with, “Well, actually I think you’re the Death Boy now, Sunshine.”

Will face palmed while Nico laughed. It was weird to hear Will’s laugh ringing in his own ears, knowing that Nico himself was the one laughing. Switching bodies was a real out-of-body experience.

Nico jolted and then groaned to himself. “Will, please tell me you don’t think in puns.”

Will immediately straightened up and asked desperately, “What was the pun? Please tell me, I haven’t thought of a single one this whole time.”

Nico sighed. “Just how this is a real out-of-body experience.”

Will burst into laughter immediately. “Oh, that’s a good one!” He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “Yeah, puns just pop into my head. I don’t know if it’s a gift from Apollo or what, but I love it and already miss it.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “I hate you. Or me. I hate this body and brain. It’s stupid.”

Will hummed. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“Will, I swear to the gods, stop taking flirting tips from Cecil and Lou Ellen. They make no sense coming from you. I didn’t even see you yesterday!” Nico wrinkled his nose in disgust as he watched his boyfriend waggle his eyebrows suggestively with his body. “Also, don’t make me say or do dumb things. It’s wrong.”

Will’s face lit up, which really made Nico look his age instead of like the 80-something year old he truly was, and he proceeded spin around and flail his arms. Nico knew this to be Will’s version of dancing.

Will abruptly stopped and pouted at Nico. “No fair. I can literally feel your body being graceful even when I’m controlling the movements. I can’t make you dance badly if I tried!”

“Don’t test that theory,” Nico chuckled despite himself, glad to see that Will had calmed down and was actually having fun in this scenario. He’d hate to ruin the good mood, but, “How long do you think this will last?”

Will sobered up quickly, folding his arms in thought. “Hard to say. Like you said, we’ve never heard of this kind of prank being pulled before. So, if it really is from the goddess of love… then we just have to not make her mad so she lifts the curse, or at least, doesn’t extend it.” His eyebrows furrowed quizzically. “Why did she curse us in the first place?”

“I bet she was just bored,” Nico shrugged. “Anyway, her note also said that we can’t tell anyone, otherwise we’ll be stuck like this for longer. So…” he trailed off, unsure of where that left them.

“Basically, we have to be each other for however long, without telling anyone directly what’s happening.” Will swallowed.

The boys let that sink in. And then simultaneously groaned.

“I was supposed to teach a sword lesson in a few hours,” Nico grumbled, imagining just how much could go wrong with Will handling a sword. Granted, he’d be in Nico’s body, but still.

“And I have a shift at the infirmary through dinnertime,” Will ran a hand through his hair, distracted momentarily by the silky black locks he combed through instead of his normal wiry dirty blonde hair. At least Nico had helped in the infirmary enough to know what Will did and where things were. But he did not have the medical training and experience Will had. What might happen if a camper got seriously hurt?

They sat in silence for a bit as they thought this over. Could they pull it off?

“…”

“…”

“This is bad.”

“This is doable,” they said at the same time. Nico looked up in concern, thinking his boyfriend was overestimating his sword skills, while Will looked mildly offended as he thought Nico was doubting his own knowledge of the infirmary.

“Neeks! You can totally take a shift at the infirmary. My siblings will be there for anything major,” Will stated with his hands on his hips. He had to look up slightly since Nico was a few inches shorter than Will, which was definitely a new experience for Will.

“Okay,” Nico looked doubtful, but continued. “But I don’t think you can run a sword lesson. No offense,” he tacked on with an apologetic smile.

Will hummed in agreement. “Yeah, that’s probably true. We can cancel it, though, right? Or ask someone to take it over?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. I don’t want to cause suspicion or upset the love goddess for any reason,” Nico frowned. “… I think we might just have to… do this.”

They stared at each other for a moment more.

“Oh gods,” Will buried his face in his hands.

“Merda,” Nico glared at the sky, the bright blue like Aphrodite herself was mocking him. She probably was.

---

*At the arena*

“Okay, guys! Um, today we’re going to shake things up and have some fuuuuun!” Nico was absolutely going to kill Will for making him sound like an idiot, but he didn’t know what else to do. Six kids between eight to ten years old gazed up at him with varying levels of excitement and confusion. Will distractedly realized how much he’s sweating (though more from nerves than physical exhaustion) and understood why Nico did his usual training shirtless. But Will was highly unsure about being so close to his shirtless boyfriend’s body, regardless of who’s brain was controlling his movements. So, the shirt stayed.

“What are we doing that’s so great, Mr. Nico?” An eight-year-old Ares girl looked a little too excited about sword-fighting class for Will’s comfort.

“Um,” Will rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he spoke. He was reaching for any way to circumvent dangerously pointy weapons when an idea struck him. “Oh!” He smiled at the kids, who looked quite off-put by the expression. “Today, we’re going to discuss basic medical knowledge to know when you’re on the battlefield!”

The groans he received put a damper on what he thought was a very practical lesson that he’s immensely proud he came up with.

“But that’s what infirmary class is for! Mr. Will taught us!”

“Yeah, I wanna fight with swords!”

“Ah ah ah!” Will interrupted their grumblings before it got out of hand. “Mr. Will teaches what the medics do once you can leave a fight and be treated properly. This will be quick fixes while you’re still fighting. It’s important that you can quickly assess wounds and determine your next course of ac—”

“Ugh, you sound like Mr. Will!”

“Yeah, you never talk this much, Mr. Nico.”

“Maybe he’s not the real Mr. Nico.”

These kids were getting dangerously close to the truth, and Will almost wanted to tell them so they’d stop complaining. But no, couldn’t do that. Hm, how do I make them interested while sounding like Nico…

Will lit up when he finally realized what to do. Really, he should be better at this, he has so many little siblings. But he and Nico didn’t exactly behave in the same way. Nico didn’t like coddling kids in any way, especially not in his class. That’s probably why they loved him so much.

“Okay, okay,” Will said loudly, cutting off the students’ whispering as he sat down in front of them. “How about I tell you a story?”

Immediately, all the kids cheered and sat down as close to him as they could, stars shining in their eyes.

“Haven’t you fought werewolves?”

“Do you see ghosts?”

“You fought with Percy Jackson! Tell us about him!”

“What kind of powers do you have?”

“Oh, tell us about defeating the Titans!”

“Are zombies, like, super gross?”

Will laughed at how excited they all were. He almost forgot that Nico was a famous war hero instead of his dorky boyfriend. “Okay, listen closely. You may learn a thing or two from my heroic tales!” He puffed out his chest dramatically, drawing adorable giggles from everyone. He then launched into a story about one of Nico’s many battles, throwing in how he used his medical knowledge to patch himself up and continue fighting. Needless to say, everyone paid attention when Will brought out some bandage rolls for them to practice with.

---

*At the infirmary*

“Will, what in Hades are you doing?”

Nico jumped at Kayla’s voice sounding behind him. His head knocked into a shelf, spilling supplies on the floor. He was not hiding in the supply closet.

“Um,” he began eloquently. “Inventorying?”

Kayla rolled her eyes. “Bro, you did that yesterday. And we don’t have that many people coming in here, so I highly doubt we’re low on anything.” So maybe she was just exasperated with her brother and didn’t suspect anything weird was going on.

“Well, you know me,” was a phrase that Will never said and yet it’s all Nico could think of. He shrugged apologetically at Will’s sister.

“Whatever, come on, Cecil just came in with some burns on his arms. I’d say it was from the lava wall, but he probably exploded something in his face.” She led the way out of the supply closet and toward the front of the infirmary. Where Cecil, Will’s best friend, was waiting and would surely notice something off about Will.

“What are you going to do?” he asked Kayla.

She eyed him with some suspicion. “… What do you want me to do?”

“Oh, uh,” Nico was confused. “Um, nothing? Whatever you normally do?”

“… Huh.” (Will had definitely given her a task to do that morning.)

She was about to respond when Nico blurted out, “You can end early, if you want.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. That was not a common thing for the head medic to say, for sure.

“I mean,” Nico floundered for any sort of reasoning. “You’ve been working hard recently, and I just thought you might like a little extra free time.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And you’re taking the cabin to dinner tonight since I’m working, which is hard enough.”

At that, Kayla laughed and seemed to relax. “Yeah, no kidding. You want me gone? I’m gone, no problem.” Nico sighed with relief. Then he realized that if anyone came in majorly injured, he’d have no help. He thought about taking it back, but she was already out the door.

With another sigh, Nico headed toward the bed Cecil was currently lounging on, not concerned in the slightest about the mild burns on his forearms. He picked up his head as Nico approached.

“‘Sup, Will!”

Nico shook his head, feeling Will’s blond wisps tickle his face as he did so, and gave his friend an exasperated smile like he’d seen Will do a million times over. “Here again, Markowitz?”

Cecil threw his head back and laughed. “Markowitz? I thought Mr. Doom-and-Gloom was the only one who used last names like the old-timer he is?”

“Uh,” Nico fumbled. “Yeah, I was just… testing it out?”

“Okay, Doctor Solace,” Cecil rolled his eyes. “I just need the magic bandages and I’ll be on my way.”

Right, healing magic. Something Will should be able to do. But Nico doesn’t know if he can make his powers work properly. “Right, I’ll just… get some bandages.”

Cecil didn’t seem to notice or care about the healer’s apparent hesitation, simply leaning back on his bed. “Sure thing. So, how’s life, my friend?”

Nico scoffed, “Don’t we see each other every day? Multiple times?”

“That doesn’t mean I know how you’re doing. Is it so wrong I want to hear from my best friend, my buddy, my pal?” Cecil was so dramatic sometimes.

Nico just hummed in response as he came back with some bandages and burn ointment. Thank the gods he had helped out in the infirmary many times in the past. Will taught him the basics at least, and he’d taken care of minor injuries like this before. Hopefully, that was enough, and Cecil didn’t ask for any actual hymns.

“Soooo,” Cecil drawled. “How’s the boyfriend?”

Nico choked on air.

“Oh, come on, Will,” Cecil rolled his eyes. “You should be used to me asking by now. You know I’m nosy!”

“I, um,” Nico didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, Cecil continued. “Remember when you used to talk my ear off about Nico? I can’t say I miss those days, but it’s so much harder when I have to pry for information.”

Nico was suddenly much more interested in this conversation. “I didn’t used to talk that much… did I?”

“Oh,” Cecil sat up straight, jostling his arm that Nico was trying to wrap. “Don’t even give me that. You know you did. All I heard was Nico’s so cute and he’s so strong and did you know he used to play Mythomagic? That’s adorable!” He mocked Will’s voice and practically swooned at the end. Even while blushing furiously, Nico had to hold in his laughter. He’s not surprised that Will said those things, but hearing Cecil complain about it made it even funnier.

“I did not,” Nico said indignantly like he’d heard Will do so many times. He wasn’t a good liar.

“Yes, you totally did! Must I recount the many laments of Nico’s beauty and grace?”

Nico really hoped his smile didn’t come off as mischievously as he felt. “Oh, please do.”

---

Will came by the infirmary with a plate of food toward the end of Nico’s shift. The place was empty except for Nico sweeping the floor. Will had to pause in the doorway for a second, his mind still confused when he saw himself doing the sweeping. Is that what I usually look like? But, no, probably not. Because Nico was scowling hard at the floor as he worked, which was an odd look to see on the son of Apollo’s face.

“Knock knock!” Will called out, getting his boyfriend’s attention. Nico blinked a few times at Will, probably jarred in the same way Will was upon seeing himself.

Then he scowled again. “Don’t say that in my body—I look dumb.”

Will gasped in mock offense, then twirled around with his plate of food. “I think I make you look good, Sunshine.” He winked at Nico for good measure, who in turn groaned and dropped the broom where he was.

The boys settled down at Will’s desk, Nico taking Will’s usual seat in case anyone came in. They didn’t want any questions, no matter how innocent.

“So, do you think this body swap business is almost done?” Will asked as they started eating.

Nico could only shrug. “Hopefully. A day is the average length of a curse around here, but who knows?”

Will hummed in agreement. After a few more moments of silence, he asked, “How was the infirmary today? Everything went okay?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah, only Cecil came in with some burns.” He then smirked at his boyfriend. “He also told me some stories.”

“Oh no,” Will muttered as he buried his face in his hands. “About what?” He was afraid to know the answer.

“You know, just about you… and how you used to gush over me all the time.” Nico was fully grinning now. Will didn’t know he could look so evil.

“Ugh, whyyyyy,” he groaned loudly.

“I have so much blackmail material now.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into another brief silence before Nico piped up again. “So, did you kill anyone in my class?”

“Psh, I’ll have you know, I am an excellent teacher,” Will puffed up.

Nico raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes, but your sword skills aren’t exactly up to par.”

“Well then it’s a good thing we didn’t use swords today.” Nico’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before he could say anything, Will leapt out of his chair and struck what he probably thought was a heroic pose. “I regaled your students with tales of your bravery,” he trumpeted in a deep, dramatic voice. “While also interjecting some medical advice and emphasizing the importance of field medical knowledge.”

A beat of silence, and then, “Please don’t tell me you said it like that.”

“Just like that,” Will replied, a cheeky grin on his face.

Now it was Nico’s turn to groan, cheeks flooding red with embarrassment. “Will! I have a reputation!”

“Which I have elevated, you’re welcome.” He bowed as he returned to his seat.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

#solangelo #solangelo fanfiction #solangelo fanfic #my fanfic #my fic #fic #fanfic #will solace #nico di angelo #pjo #hoo #toa #my writing #that's all I'm doing for solangelo week 2020 #body swap #solangelo body swap #solangelo week 2020 #solangeloweek2020 #my post

[angelruel]

vintage pt.2

      summary: the reader gets into an accident which causes her to lose her memory. as Ruel begins to rebuild their relationship and recall the good memories between them, some bad ones are restored as well and might threaten their future. 

masterlist

Word Count: 4.4 k (kind of long, oops)

       “Soooo what’s my favorite color?”

       “Easy. Blue,” he retorted while reaching over to fill in a space on the tic tac toe board that Y/N had drawn on her empty lap desk. He was the x’s and she played the o’s. It was a bit difficult for Ruel to pretend to not know all of her tricks she played in this game, but he was a very convincing loser. She had also taken the opportunity of his return to test him on some trivia of her personal likes and dislikes. 

       “Okay, here’s a good one,” she said as she filled the left hand corner on the board with a perfect circle. Ruel learned a long time ago that her strategy was to fill two corners and the center spot of the board in order to have an upper hand on winning. He watched her play the same way over again. Ruel admired her predictability and he almost felt confident enough that her tic tac toe skills returning would somehow correlate to her feelings for him to return as well.

       “Well finally a good one. Lay it on me.” He gave her his signature soft smile that he always grants her when he’s being his sweetest version of a boyfriend.

       “What’s my favorite song? Or, at least one of my favorite songs.”

       Ruel scrunches up his nose in thought, “hmmm. I’m gonna need a little more context, bub.”

       “Okay so maybe my favorite song I like to hear on a road trip. Something that gets me energized.” Ruel found it funny that she was reaching for more and more clues to jog her memory. They both knew that couldn’t she remember the last road trip she’d been on, or any of them for that matter. He was proud that she was at least in a more positive mood about not remembering things. 

       “Wait a Minute! by Willow Smith. There’s one.”

       Y/N’s happy expression dropped to a confused one. 

       “Huh? I don’t listen to Willow Smith.”

       They both just sat there for a while. There was still an apparent wall that Y/N had built up to secure herself from being hurt by Ruel since she barely knew him. 

       But the truth was that she barely knew herself.

       “Well, I guess I did listen to her music,” she dropped her head down. “I guess I just can’t remember it.” 

       Ruel used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe off the marker drawings on Y/N’s desk tray so that he could lean over it to hold her hands.

       “Hey, how about we do something else? I brought back some stuff like you asked me for.” She looked up and gave him a soft smile when he let go of her hands to grab a blue shoebox from the floor.

       “Oh, you brought gifts! Yay!” she exclaimed while clapping her dainty hands over and over. He sat the box in front of her lap on the hospital tray and she stared at it for a minute. One of the things she did remember was that blue was her favorite color. And after having a few conversations with Ruel, she discovered that his was brown. So, she assumed that the color of the box was a little nod to her. She thought that was really sweet.

       “You can go ahead,” he encouraged her. “If you have any questions, just ask.”

       She hesitated to lift the flimsy lid from the top. Partly because she was afraid that seeing the contents wouldn’t help jog her memories at all, and also because she was still pretty weak from the constant dosage of pain meds she’d grown accustomed to. 

       The first things to come out of the box were some polaroids and a bunch of little papers she grabbed that were grouped together. One of the polaroids showed a group photo in front of a campfire with little writing at the bottom that said ‘new years 2020.’ There were some post-it notes with little messages written on them in pencil. They were fading but Y/N could still make out what they said. It was a girl’s handwriting, and there was a little drawing of a pond? Or maybe a lake. 

i drew you a pond since you wanna act like a silly goose all the time. bitch.

               -y/n

       There was another one filled with words instead of a cute drawing, and she assumed this one was a serious matter.

hi, love. i left to go watch the sunrise with coco around 4 am-ish. you probably would’ve wanted to join us, but you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. and coco said that you’ve been smothering me lately and encouraged me to sneak out. anyways, i’ll probably be back before you see this, but just in case i’m not, don’t call the cops. okay that’s all. in case i never return, i love you. 

                -y/n (under the heavy influence of stella)

       Ruel chimed in to explain. “Yeah, you used to leave me little notes like that sometimes instead of texting like a normal person.” 

       “And you kept them?”

       “Of course I did. I’m not a monster.” He joked and she playfully hit his chest with the stack of notes. Ruel scooted his chair closer to the side of Y/N’s bed and leaned in. “Lets see what else we got in here.”

       There were movie tickets, receipts from restaurants, and even old wristbands from festivals. 

       “Is this what you meant when you said I grow attached to material things?” She laughed on the outside but in reality, Y/N was so infatuated in the idea that a boy would keep a box of things that reminded him of her and their relationship. 

       “Ha yeah, I guess it kind of rubbed off on me after a while.” Ruel reached his hand into the box as well and pulled out a little beaded bracelet. It had a simple pattern of ocean blue and brown wooden beads. He played with it in between his fingers.

       “I remember this. Your cousin made it for us when you brought me to Thanksgiving. She kept running back and forth asking us what our favorite colors were. It was so cute. And she said we had to share it,” he reminisced. 

       He gave her the bracelet which she carefully placed on the wrist that wasn’t connected to an IV. There were mostly pictures in the box. Pictures of Y/N and Ruel in different settings: kissing, posing next to venue signs with his name on it, cooking, etc. She picked up one of the pictures and examined it carefully. 

       “I remember this,” she said in a nonchalant matter. Ruel looked up at her, then back at the picture in her hand.

       “You do?” 

       “Yeah, I remember that whole trip. That was a fun trip. Hmm.” She hummed to herself in bliss with a grin on her face. 

       “Tell me about it,” he grinned back at her. “What do you remember?” She looked down for a while. It was almost like the times they spent together were in secret, and too precious to share with anyone else. She felt a deep connection to someone-whoever it was to make her feel such strong emotions in just the echos of the times they spent together. Y/N began longing for the person who made her experience this type of fondness. The person she was looking for was right in front of her. Why was she holding back?

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       “Okay, how do I say this,” Y/N’s hand snaked up to her head to rake through her hair as she paced in deep thought. She took in a deep breath and turned around to look at him sitting in the hospital chair across the room.

       “I-I want this to be special. I mean, you’ve been so patient and considerate with me. You haven’t tried to rush me into anything at all. But I see the way you look when you think I’m not paying attention. You’re hurting, and I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to finally give in. Well not, finally give in, but. You know, you know what I’m trying to say right?” She used every ounce of energy she had to walk across the room to face him. She picked him up and brought his face close to hers. 

       “I’m trying to tell you that I love you,” she whispered and smiled softly. Before she could say anything else, Y/N heard the doorknob rattle in desperation to open it. 

       She quickly threw the teddy bear back into the chair and tried to pretend that she was doing anything else. 

       Ruel leaned into the door frame and struggled to keep his balance as he carried a Taco Bell bag and two drinks in his hands. 

       “Oh, let me help you with that,” Y/N rushed over to him to grab the drinks and his eyes grew in shock.

       “Well, it’s nice to see you up and moving so much. The doctor was right, you really have been getting stronger every day.” Y/N smiled up at him with pride as they both settled the food onto her desk. “So, have you heard anything yet?” 

       “Anything about what,” Y/N mumbled in between taking bites of her soft taco. She knew exactly what he was referring to, though.

       “Oh, you know. Like when are you gonna get out of this place? I mean, with the way you’re up and walking now,” he brought his free hand up to rest on the back of her neck as he examined her face with concerned eyes. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? They said four to six weeks, but by the looks of it, you’re healing up really well. You’ve done so good lately.”

       She mouthed ‘thank you’ and gave him another wide smile. Y/N was happy that he was proud of her progress. He played a big part of her growth, though. Through the discomfort and the multiple procedures she had to undergo, Ruel was always there at the side of her bed to rely on. Whether she was up at 4 am crying because she couldn’t remember the names of her dogs or freaking out in excitement after being able to stand up on her own, he was there for it all.

       And as her strength developed each day, so did her trust and love for him. She assumed that it wasn’t the same as their previous relationship, but it was more than enough to keep them happy. He would always tell her that he loved her, but she didn’t say it back. He told her it was fine, that he knew she didn’t really know who he was and he wouldn’t hold it against her. But in return, he needed for her to accept that he still loved her as much as he did before the accident and to be okay with him loving her even if it meant that she couldn’t love him equally back for a while. 

       But after spending so much time with him, Ruel was hardly a stranger to Y/N anymore. He was a friend, a very understanding and attractive friend. She couldn’t ignore the burning sensation she felt deep in her stomach when he would cuddle up close to her on the bed during their movie nights. She couldn’t ignore the desire or the comfort she felt for him any time that he was around (which was very often because Ruel was always around). He told her that he would wait for her, that she should take her time to decide if she wanted to continue their relationship whenever she was ready. He told her that she’d just gone through a major trauma and that she needed to focus on getting better. He said he would wait for her, but a part of her feared that he was only saying this to make her feel better. She feared that he had already accepted that they were just friends, that maybe he’d already began a new romance with some skinny long-haired girl in Sydney and he was just waiting for Y/N to get her strength back so that he could go home to her. 

       “Okay, well I have to tell you something,” she finally came out with. Ruel sat up straight in his chair to give her his full attention. His eyes were fixated on her face and his hands rested in his lap. She found herself lost in thought trying to remember what she wanted to tell him but she couldn’t focus on anything but his beauty. 

       “Did they already tell you whether you’re going home or not?” he laughed a little as he went to grab his drink off of the desk. “Did I miss it when I went to get lunch?” He used the side of his jeans to wipe the water that got on his hand from the cup. His huge hand. The same huge hand that he then used to move the long strands of hair out of his face. He’d previously told her that she did not like the long hair look on him and always encouraged him to get haircuts and shave. In the moment, Y/N couldn’t figure out why the hell anyone would ever encourage him to change his appearance when he looked like that. The long hair and mustache gave him a much more mature look in comparison to the old pictures and videos she would look at of him. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to cut the hair that she so desperately wanted to run her fingers through. She quickly snapped out of it and shut her eyes so she couldn’t look at the beautiful boy in front of her.

       “I really do have to tell you something,” she started and stopped because she was nervous. With her eyes still closed, she felt Ruel’s hand grab hers.

       “What’s going on, why are you acting so weird?” he let out a nervous laugh and Y/N realized that he was probably feeling the same anxiety as her in the moment. She knew that someone had to be the confident one in this scenario, and she decided that it would be her. She took one last deep breath and let go of it.

       “Do you remember what I told you when I first told you I loved you?”

       “Yes,” he laughed again, “Do you want me to tell you the story again?” She nodded quickly in a child-like manner and looked at him in adoration.

       “It was a little after a month of us dating and I’d just taken you home after we went out driving and just hanging out. I was almost back in the car when I saw you run out of the house, barefoot, yelling at me to wait.” Y/N laughed a little and felt the tension between the two of them begin to melt away. 

       “And then what did I do?”

       “You went into this whole speech about how you felt and how you were very scared to be vulnerable because you were afraid of being hurt. And then you said something that I’d never forget,” he looked up at the ceiling as if the answers were written on the tiles, “you told me that the fear you felt only grew as you fell more in love with me. You said you thought that it would never go away, but you didn’t want it to stop you from embracing the happiness you felt when you were with me. And then you told me you loved me, and that you were scared of me. You said that I made you wanna jump into the fear rather than run away from it. You said you knew that you loved me as soon as you felt scared. Because you knew you had found something worth cherishing. And if it ever went away, you didn’t think you’d survive it.” He looked down. After saying all of that, it still seemed like there was something he was missing. He looked as if he didn’t manage to not break her heart. He was scared too.

       “Ruel?” Y/N let her hands relax and gripped onto his tighter. 

       “Yeah?”

       “I’m scared.” She began to fiddle with his long digits and almost felt hesitation to do anything next.

       “What are you afraid of-” he began, but was interrupted by the connection of her lips onto his. He freed his hand and rose it up to the back of her neck so he could deepen the kiss. They kissed again, and again. They kissed until their faces were red and she broke away for a moment to catch her breath. She smiled at him and he looked back at her in disbelief. 

       “I love you. I really do, Ruel. And I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long but I don’t want to be just friends. I want you in my life like you used to be,” her eyes dropped to her lap and her expression changed, “before everything got so fucked up.”

       He grabbed her face again and began to pepper it with kisses. At this point, Ruel was halfway onto her bed. She brought up her dainty hands to cup his face and she gently pulled away again. Ruel hitched a rushed breath out as he pouted in confusion as to why she pulled away. 

       “Oh yeah, I’m going home today.” She smiled with her teeth and he laughed in pure bliss before grabbing her face again.

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       The boxes piled in the middle of the living room all started to disappear one by one. Y/N watched in awe as Ruel picked up every box and placed it in its proper area. Her legs swung back and forth in boredom while she waited on top of the kitchen counter where Ruel had placed her since she refused to wear shoes on the trip to her apartment.

       “You’re such a good slave,” she told him in a sweet tone as her eyes followed him across the area. He shook his head, barely giving her an ounce of the attention she practically begged for, and continued moving things around. 

        “Honey are you sure you’re gonna be okay on your own like this? You can stay back home a little longer if you’d like,” Y/N’s mother remarked. She looked at her daughter with concern.

        “I’m not alone, I have Ruel. And besides, I’ve already left the nest once before. I should be fine.”

        “Well I guess I’ll be on my way home now. Call me if you need anything. Anything.” Y/N pecked a kiss on her cheek and guided her mom outside.

        By the time she got back into the apartment, the living room was clear of boxes and she moved down the hall in search of her boyfriend. She found Ruel in her bedroom on the edge of the bed hunched over his phone. 

        “What’s so interesting?” She sat down beside him and rested her chin on his shoulder. Once she realized what he was watching, she pulled out one of his airpods so she could listen in. It was from her Youtube channel she started a few months ago. She had faint memories of vlogging herself doing normal things like grocery shopping or going to her brother’s football games. She’d only looked at a few of her storytime videos, including the one where she details how she met Ruel. This was a video she hadn’t seen before, though. It was of her and Ruel together in some resort. It looked like they were on vacation and he explained to her that they were in Amsterdam for some music festival and had decided to make an entire trip out of it since it was so close to their anniversary. They’d coordinated matching outfits for the first weekend and were posing in front of the bathroom mirror together like lovesick idiots.

        “Damn, I’m so jealous of us.”

        Ruel let out a low chuckle at her and skipped through the parts she’d recorded of his performance.

        “Yeah, most people are.” He fast forwarded to a portion of the video after they returned to the hotel. Ruel was in the shower and Y/N was laying on the bed, recently showered, detailing all of the ways she was proud of her boyfriend. He laughed when she poked fun of how he forgot his own lyrics on stage.

        “Well that was almost cute,” he added and locked the phone.

        “Hey, it’s still pretty cute,” she laughed, “You can’t be mad at me for telling the truth, babe.”

        “Babe, huh?” he questioned as he turned to face her.

        “What, is that weird? Or too soon? I mean, you call me ‘bubs’ and ‘love’ all the time,” she looked down and played with the details of her jeans.

        “It’s adorable. I love it. And I love you,” he reassured her as he cupped her face and pulled it in for a puffy kiss. She kissed him back, this time with more dominance. Y/N kissed Ruel like there was a pot of gold hidden somewhere in his mouth that she was determined to get.

        Ruel matched her energy right away. He kissed her back and gripped the back of her neck to guide her face closer into his. They adorned each other with open mouths and full hearts. As they continued, Y/N felt the urge to go further and further with him, exploring his body and getting to know him on a more intimate level. They were so good at making out, it seemed like they’d done it a thousand times before. It felt like she was kissing a lover from a different lifetime, like she’d replayed scenarios over and over which all ended with her loving him. She couldn’t remember ever doing this with him before, but her body remembered. Everything with Ruel came with such ease. Every time he touched her body, she was overcome with euphoria and only craved more. She craved being closer to him, kissing him deeper.

        “Mmm, take this off please,” she tugged on his shirt and he quickly pulled it off before resuming his actions. Y/N felt herself falling into an intoxicated state as she moaned against his mouth. He responded to her by wrapping his hand around her thigh and pulling it closer against him. They both began to move in sync with each other, both giving and taking as their bodies danced a routine they knew too well. Y/N was so distracted by Ruel that she didn’t even hear her mother walk back in through the front door. She only whined when he pulled his face away from hers.

        “Why’dyoustop,” she breathed out. She was out of breath and watched him with puppy dog eyes as he stood up.

        “Your mom is back,” he stated flatly. He was clearly out of breath too and he was trying to calm himself down so he could see what was going on in the front.

       “...so?” she gave him a blank stare and patted on his side of the bed to join her again, “she can let herself out.”

       “Don’t worry, bubs. We’ve got time,” he chuckled to himself and pulled his shirt back on over his head. Y/N sighed and jumped from her side of the bed to join Ruel in the living room.

       “I’m sorry, hun. I forgot the most important box: your things from the hospital.” Y/N’s mother placed a small box on the counter and tapped the top of it lightly, “This is what you had on you when the crash happened. There’s not much in there, just the clothes you were wearing, your wallet, your phone,”

       “My phone?” Her eyes perked up. So did Ruel’s. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. I bet there’s a bunch of clues in there to help jog my memory,” she picked up the box and skipped down the hallway to drop it off. 

       “I’m pretty sure it’s dead, so you’ll have to find a charger for it. You probably have the same kind.” Her mom gestured towards Ruel, who looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes were fixated in thought, emotionless and dazed in a trance.

        “Huh? Oh yeah, probably. Sure.” He snapped out of his guilty state quickly and turned to see Y/N coming back from her bedroom.       

        “Was that it, Mom? Cause we were just about to go out and get some food before it gets dark.” They both said goodbye and hugged Y/N’s mother. Once the door was shut behind her, Y/N grabbed Ruel’s hand with a quickness. His worries were suddenly gone as she led him down the hall. 

        It wasn’t long before they’d continued right where they left off. Y/N was still indulging herself in him and embracing the comfort she felt in his arms. She gripped the fabric of his shirt into her fists to deepen the kiss and felt the vibration from his mouth into hers as he let out muffled moans. With each kiss, she found herself thinking about all of the things she couldn’t wait to do with him before another thought popped into her mind and snapped her out of the daydream. She pulled away from him and turned her head towards the box.

        “I’ve been wondering what was left on my phone,” she gestured to the dresser. “I need to plug it up so I can see what was going on before I lost my memory. It would be cool to see who I last talked to right before my life was ruined, right?” She laughed and began to sit up. Ruel grabbed her hand and lightly pulled it so she could come back down to him.

        “I thought you wanted to do this, yeah? I mean hey, this is our first official night together alone. We can look into the phone later, right?”

        Y/N nodded and laid back down next to him. “Hmmm, you’re right. This first, phone later,” she declared before connecting their lips once more. As Ruel rolled his lanky body on top of hers, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why Ruel was so against her looking at her phone. Was there a dirty secret in there that he didn’t want her to find? She dismissed her paranoid thoughts and continued.

a/n: okay, so that’s that on that. ugh what is on that phone that he doesn’t want her to see???? i hope this makes sense, i’ve reread it so many times and it seems like crap but i’m still going to post it. thank you for the support of my page, and please send me asks with what fics you would like to see next ;)

#one ruel #oneruel #ruel #ruel fic #ruel imagine #ruel imagines #ruel one shot #writers on tumblr #ruelvandijk #ruel van dijk #ruel vincent van dijk #ruel x reader #rueledits

[onepiecereactions]

One piece Halloween 2020 scenario: Marco, Ace, Thatch, Whitebeard and Garp.

ENGLISH VERSION

Title: Five minutes before midnight

Notes: Family / Friendship / Drama / Funny. Around 3 000 words. SFW.  

(Sorry for the mistakes my main language is French)

Five minutes before midnight

 Three knocks echoed against the door of the sleeping pirate. He growled as he snapped out of his sleep and put on his glasses. Then he rubbed his head as he looked at his clock: five minutes before midnight. He huffed, tired but unfortunately used to being disturbed in the middle of the night. Three knocks sounded again and this time the pirate could hear tiny claws slash through his door. Surprised, he used his haki: two men and a cat were waiting behind his door. But that wasn't what surprised Marco the most: all his brothers were sleeping. Absolutely none were awake, even the man on guard. Which meant that the two men behind his door were not from his crew. His blood stopped for a second. He kept his cool, however, and opened the door, ready to fight if necessary. Behind the door, Marco could see a calm, extremely calm sea. Thick black clouds had taken over the sky and prevented almost all of the moon's rays from passing through. He didn't hear a single sound, not even the sound of waves crashing gently against the Moby Dick. He could only hear the cat purring in front of him. Marco came face to face with the two men his haki had identified. The men, barely taller than a 10-year-olds child, were quite calm. One of them, the one who didn't have the cat on his shoulder, was eating a pumpkin. Marco remained on his guard. They stayed several seconds to look at each other straight in the eyes. The two dwarfs didn't look hostile, but something was wrong.

- Number 8834MF77? Asked the one with the cat in a deep voice that didn't quite match his height ...

Marco was stunned, completely lost. He could not sense any power from the two men, and to tell the truth, he felt no hint of life emanating from them. Yet they stood well in front of him… and his brothers were still sleeping.

- 8834MF77, hurry, we have more people planned. Said the dwarf while consulting a long parchment filled with scribbles. He pointed to the west end of the ship.

Marco tilted his head and was amazed: a small mansion was floating a few yards from the Moby Dick. A few lights made it possible to detect the foundations of the house which must have been three floors and barely three hundred square meters. At the entrance, an elderly woman was leaning against a table where Marco could see pumpkins for sale. No sail, oar, or flotation mechanism seemed to allow the mansion to move. Yet the house was proudly in the middle of the ocean and was moving slowly, without a sound.

The second dwarf put his foot on the ground to show his impatience. Marco refocused on him.

-The new world ... he mumbled to himself. That was the only explanation he could find for understanding all of  these.

-Number 8834MF77, are you coming? Insisted the dwarf. The black cat on his shoulder was staring at Marco with his beautiful green eyes.

-No thank you… The pirate replied simply, not really sure of the answer to give.

The two dwarves shrugged their shoulders and walked back along the Moby Dick to the mansion. Marco came out of his room lightly, to make sure the two men got off the ship. For safety, he used his haki one last time throughout the Moby Dick. No other intruder was present.

The two men jumped over the ramp of the pirate ship and quickly landed on the mansion's terrace. One of them stole a small pumpkin from the old woman who had fallen asleep and the two rushed into the mansion. Immediately, Marco could see the mansion rotate on itself and move slowly. The strange building then passed in front of his eyes. Never, in so many years of piracy, had he seen such a thing. He moved closer to the edge to better see the "ship". The wood creaked in some places and a few rooms were lit, letting shadows be seen. Marco used his haki again: no signs of life emanated from the building. He was about to return to his room as the mansion began to pass the Moby Dick when his blood froze again. Beyond one of the windows, Marco recognized a shadow. He hesitated for a moment. It was not possible ... But yet he had seen it ... This shadow looked like his captain, who died just a few weeks ago in Marine Ford. He remained stoic for a few seconds and began to run down the halls of the Moby Dick in an attempt to reach the mansion, which was moving further and further away. As the "ship" began to face him back, he saw through a second window two other figures. His heart knotted; a wave of sadness washed over him. He easily recognized the bodies of his two deceased brothers: Ace and Thatch. Time seemed to freeze around him. He didn't even try to figure out how, why? He just saw the three most missed beings in the world in front of him, chatting as if the past few months were just bad memories. But still behind him was the grieving Moby Dick and his few brothers who survived the war.

Marco was not an impulsive man. He was thoughtful, mature, master of himself. But when the possibility of reuniting with his family presented itself in front of him, he didn't even hesitate for a second. Even if it means going into a trap, even if it means losing his life, these last minutes will have allowed him to feel alive again.

Blue flames swept over the deck of the Moby Dick, and the magnificent phoenix soared gracefully towards the mansion. With a few flaps of his wings, Marco found himself at the front door. The old woman woke up slowly when she felt the pirate but immediately fell asleep again next to her pumpkins. Marco knocked on the door. No answer. He could hear noises behind the door. He knocked a second time, and at the lack of response, he gently opened the door. He came face to face with a receptionist.

The room was tiny. Only a desk sat in the middle of the room. Behind him was a woman, in her fifties, scribbling on parchment. A huge chandelier swayed above the blond's head, to the rhythm of the sea. Through the window, Marco could see the Moby Dick slowly pulling away. He hold a sigh. He had sworn to protect this ship and its occupants, but the possibility of finding his father, Ace and Thatch had made him lose his mind.

He stood there in front of the receptionist for a few minutes, waiting for her to note his presence. Which she did after a few minutes.

-Number 8834MF77 is that right? She asked in her voice damaged by years of heavy drinking.

-I guess… Marco replied simply.

The woman sighed, grabbed a huge book from the counter, and hurried through the pages.

-Marco the phoenix. Captain of the Moby Dick. You were scheduled for five minutes before midnight, you are late... The woman muttered, looking at him over her glasses.

Marco turned to the huge owl-shaped clock stuck in the wall: five minutes before midnight.

-I'll need your social security number. She said, picking up a pen.

-My number of…? I don’t have one. Marco replied, scratching his head. But where had he fallen? Does this mansion belonged to the world government ?

-You have no social security at all? The woman repeated, clearly showing her impatience.

-No

-Well, little boy, that is very dangerous. You shouldn’t play with your health, you know.

-I'm a phoenix… I heal myself… Marco replied simply, completely surprised by the conversation.

-Yeah, you were less proud during MarineFord... The receptionist whispered as she drew a long line in front of number 8334MF77.

Marco waited a little longer. He was looking around for his brothers, but the hall only led to a room on the left and behind the receptionist were rails.

“Next stop, Vice-Admiral Monkey D Garp's ship, five minutes before midnight,” screamed the escargophone on the wall.

Marco turned around, surprised. By his calculations, the vice-admiral's ship was at least a three-hour drive from Moby Dick and was heading south. How could they have already arrived, when they had left less than ten minutes ago. And why was it still five minutes before midnight when it had been twenty minutes or more after five minutes before midnight?

-Well, you're not going to look like a plant, are you? We have other clients arriving. Hurry to get dressed in the storage room and take the train. We don't have all night. The woman vociferated as she left her desk.

A dwarf suddenly rushed past Marco. It wasn't one of the two he'd seen on the Moby Dick, but this one was at least as small and as big. He rushed into Marco's legs and took him by the waist to take him to the storage room. The pirate found himself thrown into the completely black room. He barely had time to feel the dwarf's hands all over his body when he felt a tissue around his right leg. A red scarf. A few seconds later, the dwarf guided him without delicacy towards the mini train. It was plain, black, but no conductor was visible. Marco sat in the front row of the locomotive, which started off just as hard. The blond was thrown against his seat and immediately filled with darkness as the train passed.

Within seconds, the train slipped out of the tunnel and tumbled into a tiny city. The buildings must have been barely twice Marco's size and were covered with red bricks. Tiny businesses lined up and a few dwarves, women this time, were walking on the streets with their children. Marco felt himself faint. Absolutely none of this situation was normal, logical. How could such a small mansion have an entire city? The train continued through the streets and headed at full speed towards a hill dotted with small hiking trails.

Marco was pulled out of his contemplation by a pat on the shoulder. Behind him was a child, red hair, barely three feet tall. She was smiling at him.

-Good night 8334MF77, who did you come to see? She asked gently.

Marco, still surprised, listed the names of his two brothers and his father.

-Oïïïï driver, stop at door 230B! She yelled at the back of the train. The machine took a sharp turn which pushed Marco against the window. When he saw again, the girl was gone.

Snow began to fall gently from the sky, which he couldn’t see the end. He was sure it wasn't the sky he was seeing from the Moby Dick, and this mansion was supposed to have a roof. The train stopped abruptly. Marco lost his balance again but remained seated. He heard a door slam at the back of the train and a figure, small and fat, ran towards him. Seconds later, the train conductor grabbed his shirt collar and pushed him out of the train. Marco fell heavily on the snow-covered lawn and saw the train leave at high speed. He stood up quickly and scanned the horizon. He was facing a wooden wall lined with numbered doors.

-230C right? He said to himself, trying to remember the little girl's words that had been partially covered by the sound of the train.

He made his way to gate 230C but was quickly stopped by a skeleton bursting from inside the wall.

-Keep off your shoes please, I just washed the floor. He said, his huge glasses pointed at Marco. The pirate didn't dare to ask him why a skeleton needed glass, he just dropped his shoes off at the entrance.

He opened the door and rushed into the room. It was bathed in a comforting golden light. He could see in the corner a young woman sitting on a red sofa, a book in her hands. She was so absorbed in reading that she didn't even notice the pirate's presence. Marco barely had time to examine the features of the woman's face - she was vaguely telling him something - when he heard the train stop again a few feet behind the door he had just passed. Seconds later, the door slammed open, letting someone rush into the room. It only took a few seconds for him to recognize Vice-Admiral Garp's massive body. The vice-admiral stared at him, surprised to see him, but said nothing. Marco realized he wasn’t supposed to be here and left the room, letting the Marine fal into the woman's arms.

He gently closed the door behind him and walked back to the skeleton grumbling at Garp who hadn't taken his shoes off before entering.

- Hurry up, chicken, it's 230B not 230C, it will soon be midnight. The skeleton vociferated while washing the floor.

Marco did so immediately and walked without knocking into room 230B.

He was first blinded by the light. It took him several seconds before he could open his eyes. His heart seemed to come out of his chest.

-Oï? he said in a barely perceptible voice.

The other three men in the room turned to him. They all stared at each other for a few seconds, before the dark-haired man rushed over the blond and hugged him as strong as he could. Tears rolled down Marco's cheeks as he felt the softness of Ace's hair tickling his skin, when he felt his peculiar scent, when he heard his brother laugh in his ear. Ace finally released him and Marco could see his father at the end of the room, sitting at the table, Thatch at his side cutting a turkey with surgical precision. They both gave a warm smile to Marco, completely confused, who joined them directly at the table. He sat down, felt father's hand place a napkin next to the plate Thatch was rushing to fill. Marco couldn't speak anymore, he just admired them. Never in his life had he seen a more beautiful scene. Ace sat down next to Marco, a huge smile on his face before he was took over by a narcolepsy attack and collapsed head first in his plate. Thatch grumbled when he caught turkey splashes in the face but handed his plate to Marco.

- Enjoy it! Said the cook before sitting down and drink his glass of wine.

Marco was about to ask his father the why and how of this surreal situation when the huge owl-shaped clock hanging on the wall rang with a loud melody sweeping through the room. The three awakened men looked at the clock: it was exactly midnight. Edward Newgate turned to the blond and in an almost imperceptible whisper told him, "I love you my son. "

Marco didn’t have the time to answer as the escargophone hanging on the wall screamed again:

“Midnight, midnight, get ready for the fall! ".

Marco's heart raced, something was wrong. All his senses were awake and he look out the window. He then saw, a few meters in front of the manor, an enormous waterfall and the manor which was heading straight for it at high speed. Barely a minute later, Marco couldn’t felt the ground under his feet: the mansion began to fall, carried along by the speed of the waterfall. He was the only one in the room to panic: Ace still slept like a child, Whitebeard continued to eat his turkey and Thatch put his glass of wine back on the table, as Marco was thrown against the wall, dragged down by the fall of the mansion. He turned to Thatch, whom he thought he heard talking. "Don't be in too much in a hurry to join us, pineapple, everything happen at the right time..." Marco could not have said if it was a hallucination or if his brother had actually spoken to him. A second later, Marco closed his eyes, ready to take the shock of the fall.

He jumped up, sweat dripping from his forehead. Reflexively, he tried to swallow deep breaths of air, as if he were battling drowning. He recovered quickly when he realized that he was not at the bottom of the ocean but in his bed, in the cabin of the Moby Dick. He wiped his face and noticed that someone was knocking on the door. He preferred to use his haki and recognized his brother Vista. He sighed. He tried to reassure himself by telling himself that it had all been a bad dream, even though it had seemed very realistic to him. He hurried to get rid of his soaked blankets and quickly got up to open the door to his brother. When he walked over to the door and opened it automatically, he froze, his hands shaking. His gaze scanned his right leg: the red scarf was still around his leg.

 End.

#one piece #one piece halloween #one piece scenarios #marco phoenix #Marco the Phoenix #Marco the pineapple #Portgas D. Ace #portgas d ace #thatch #one piece thatch #edward newgate #Whitebeard pirates #Whitebeard #Monkey D. Garp #monkey d garp

[paradiselostbythedashboardlight]

Quarantine, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Wrote 430,943 Words of Prose in a Year

As we are coming up terrifyingly fast on a full year of quarantine with no end to the pandemic yet in sight for most people, I’ve been taking some time to reflect on the last year of my existence in a state that most people now refer to as quarantine. Since March of 2020, I, like most other sane people in my country, have stopped traveling, going to stores, seeing all but a limited group of other humans, and begun having recurring nightmares about being in crowds without a piece of cloth over my nose and mouth.

Suffice to say, it has been a bit stressful.

The other thing that I have done since COVID-19 began rapidly spreading across the globe last year is write over 430,943 words of fiction. 

The number seems insane to me still. That is (approximately) one Gone With The Wind, one entire Lord of the Rings series, or the first four Harry Potter books. That is still sadly not yet War and Peace (but who knows… the pandemic isn’t over yet).

So now that I am looking back, I find myself with one question: how did this happen? Why did I do this? What does this mean about my life this year?

Since apparently I answer best by writing a lot, let’s begin at the beginning. Let me tell you a story. I’ll keep it short, I swear.

Part 1: Blast From the Past

In March of 2020, I was still in the midst of an academic semester. There was a long academic document to write and a class to teach. However, as quarantine abruptly robbed me of most of my usual commitments, I was suddenly thrust into the position of having more time on my hands than I knew what to do with. Consequently, I decided to break out the Nintendo Switch I’d gotten for Christmas and revive a childhood interest in video games.

And boy did I. I played the games I owned for all they were worth. I played them during the evenings when I had no social engagements to attend. I played them during the Zoom meetings I was already struggling to pay attention to. By the end of March, I had finished one game, and it had set the wheels turning in my brain.

Here’s a fact about me: I don’t usually tend to write or read a lot of fanfiction about things that I consider really really good. Basically, fanfiction for me has always been an impulse born from incompletion or imperfection. I see no need to add to a perfect story (although I happily consume and create fanart). But for something enjoyable and yet slightly unsatisfying? That’s fanfic territory, bud.

So by April, I had developed a sort of epic fanfiction for this video game I was playing. It was one of those magnum opus kind of ideas, a grand retelling of the story with a huge sprawling plot and Themes (™). 

At first, it was merely a thought experiment that lived only in my head, a sort of entertainment to ponder in the hours before falling asleep. What changed? Well, a friend of mine decided to also write a fanfiction on the same video game and she kindly consented to let me read it.

Suddenly, I was ravenously hungry to read and to write and to share and to consume. I wrote a hundred thousand words of this fanfic in April and into early May, sending each chapter to my friend and being spurred onward by her kind comments. 

The fic became a gargantuan endeavor full of strange little challenges I set for myself. It was a canon-divergence, requiring plotting, worldbuilding, a darker and grimer tone. For some reason, I decided to write each chapter from a different character’s perspective, making the final product into a series of essentially short story character studies which together formed a plot.

By the end of May, the story was published for the world to see. It was well-received, although not particularly popular by fandom standards. And that was the end. I had gotten out my pandemic crazies, the semester was over and now I could move on. I had made my peace with the source material, plumbing all of the little details that I wanted to examine and creating a narrative that I found satisfying.

It was over.

Part 2: Summer Lovin?

Except that it wasn’t.

Confession: as I had been posting my giant fanfiction, I had also begun to explore the fan community itself, mostly curious to see some nice art and gather a bit of demographic info about what was popular within the community. As a result, I found a fanfic recommendations page. Among the recommendations was one author who kept popping up and i finally decided to give the fic a read.

Woah. It was good. Like, really good. Like, professional quality writing and themes that seemed designed to appeal to me. I devoured everything that the creator had posted in a week and then subscribed to eagerly wait for more.

As June rolled around, I realized that I had a problem on my hands. My great big gen masterpiece was finished, but this author had gotten me hooked on something else, something with a nefarious reputation online: shipping.

The term du jour for this seems to be “brain worms” so let’s just say that reading other fanworks had given me some brain worms. Inspired this time not just by the source material of the game, but now the fan community itself, my mind began to develop another idea.

I wrote the fic, about 11k, in a single afternoon of frantic writing. When I finished it, I knew it was one of my strongest pieces. It had just come together, a combination of all the thought that I’d been brewing up and a stylistic execution that just worked with the story I wanted to tell.

I posted it on a new account. Shipping seemed vaguely shameful to me still and my mom reads the other account.

To my surprise, the fic blew up. It got so much more attention than my long fic ever had. Even more significantly, a fan artist actually drew a gorgeous comic of the pivotal scene, completely out of the blue! I was essentially thunderstruck. Honestly, it was probably the first time in my life that I’d ever received so much positive reinforcement from a piece of writing.

While I’d written short stories for undergrad workshops, they’d never been particularly good and I’d never gotten particularly great feedback on them. I’d applied and been rejected by more MFAs and literary magazines than I could count. I’d pretty much resigned myself to writing for an audience of me and me alone (which I don’t mean to sound tragic about, writing for you is great and fun!)

But receiving so much support and praise and feeling like I’d made other people happy or sad or moved? There’s nothing better.

This makes my decision to write another fic for the ship sound vaguely cynical, the action of a person driven by an addiction to praise. I mean, no lie, aren’t we all a little addicted to approval?

But my next fic was another long one, an 80k passion project modern AU that I dreamed up while spending a slow summer alone with my books and only able to leave the house for long rambling walks in the woods. The premise was essentially about characters attending a five year college reunion, something that I myself had missed due to COVID in May of the same year. The fic quickly became a way for me to process thoughts on a lot of topics in my life ranging from relationships to politics to mental health to classical literature.

This fic was also received with far more attention than I was used to and, as a result, I finally joined the notorious Twitter dot com where I found people talking about my fic unprompted, eager to follow me and like my every random thought.

I can’t say that this process was not without its ups and downs. Fandom has changed, in many ways for the better, since my last engagement with it during the 2013 Supernatural days on Tumblr. While fan friendships are often idealized or demonized, they are pretty much like any other human friendship (okay, maybe a little bit more horny on main). There is potential for amazing connection as well as pettiness. But in a year where many people suddenly had no social spaces that were safe anymore, I’m glad that I found a new line of communication with the world.  

So I kept writing fics for the ship, producing a lot of work that I am genuinely proud of and making connections with other people who enjoyed it enough to leave a comment.

To conclude this section, I was in fandom again. While I had not seriously engaged with a fan community since around 2014, I was back with a vengeance. And I had discovered an important truth about what unlocked my ability to write more than I ever had before: community support.

Not simply the kudos and the views. It was the comments. The discourse. The discussion. To add and contribute my thoughts and ideas to a greater network of thoughts and ideas that fed off of one another.

Often I had seen people complain about there not being enough fanworks for particular media or characters. Now I knew the secret. The comments and the community created the works. If I commented on other people’s fics, the more likely they were to write more. I made a resolution I have tried to keep, to comment on any story that I legitimately enjoyed reading, even if I had no particularly intelligent thing to say about it.

Part 3: A Novel Idea

By late October, I had produced a considering oeuvre for my ship of choice and was enjoying slowing my pace as I planned a few future projects.

Remember, though, how I mentioned not having engaged with fandom for the past 5 years? Well, that didn’t mean I hadn’t been writing.

For the past 4 years, I have won NaNoWriMo and completed 4 novels of over 100k each in length. These projects have been massively fun and improved my confidence with executing stories at the scope that I desire.

And so in November 2020, I settled down to write another novel. November is always a sort of terrible time write a novel if you work in academia, but this year, I had more time than usual. I set out to write a comedy fantasy novel, something mostly lighthearted and full of hijinks in order to pretend away some of the quarantine blues (which by this point were well established in my psyche).

This year in particular, I was reminded that writing a novel is… harder than fanfic. That seems like a very obvious point, but I’d written novels before. Suddenly, though, I was realizing how much a novel requires you to set up the world and the characters, while fanfic can be pretty much all payoff all the time.

While the fanfic flowed in wild creative bursts of energy, the novel required diligence of another sort. I wrote 2,000 words every day for two months. It was a grind. Sometimes, it was a slog. 

And sometimes it just wasn't good. The thing about writing your own novels is that the first draft is way more likely to be not good. You’re balancing a lot and it’s easy to let a few balls that you have in the air drop for a chapter or two, with no recourse but to go back and edit later.

I finished the novel by writing a final speedrun of 6k on new years eve, ending my 2020 with another project under my belt. No one has read it. Not even I have reread it.

I’m still glad that I wrote it. I’ll write another one next year. No one will read that one either.

Sometimes, we write for ourselves and no external validation is necessary.

Part 4: Where are they now?

January of 2021 is somehow now behind me, which is terrifying. I’m still writing. Mostly fanfic, although occasionally I go doodle around with some original ideas that are more conceptual sketches for the next novel.

As for the fanfic, I think I still have a few more good ideas left in me, but  I will probably leave it behind before the year is out. That feels a little bittersweet, a sort of temporary burst of fun and friendship that I wonder if I’ll ever experience again.

Coming to the end of this reflection, I suppose I should make a summative statement about what it all means.

In the end, it might not mean a lot. There are some small takeaways. 

It turns out that encouragement makes you write more! Who knew? Also, more free time makes you write more! Wow!!!!

The point that I think this reflection exercise has shown me, the point that I think matters more than any other, is that writing is a way to process my thoughts. Even if it is through the lens of ridiculous video game fanfic or novels about sad wizards, my writing is my way to make sense of my own mind. 

And sharing that is special. If you share it with online strangers, with your family on Christmas Eve, with your close friend who has become even closer and dearer to you since she let you read her work, or just with your mom (the one personal legally required to read your damn novel if you want to share it). To share writing is to give someone a little peek at your beliefs about the world.

And right now? When we’re still isolated and bored and scared and in desperate need of distraction? Binge some TV, play Nintendo, read a book. Take in other people’s thoughts.

But put down your own somewhere as well. It’s a conversation.

And for once, it’s a conversation that doesn’t have to take place on fucking Zoom.

#writing #personal rambling #fanfiction

[marikaaajoy]

my relationship with digital art and how BNHA salvaged it

I just wanted to let out my thoughts but I can only do it here :>

This might be a downer for some people but I’d like to share it with people here. BNHA means the world to me and this is why.

I first started drawing when I was 7 years old in 2006

I think it’s ugly now, but 7 year old me remembered being so proud of this because this is a drawing of my stepfather. This is the only drawing I have that was from my childhood. I think the aim here is to draw in anime style BUT I didn’t even watch anime back then. I had a classmate who loves anime and she taught me to draw in school. Drawing became a favorite hobby immediately after that.

Then it was 2013 and I was 14 years old. Drawing is still my favorite thing to do besides being on the computer. I love anime at this point too. My parents bought an iPad for the whole family, but I was almost always the one using it. I discovered an app called ArtStudio and thought “Wow, I can draw without making a mess and with only my fingers” because I was always too lazy to take out my drawing materials and clean up afterwards.

These were my first digital drawings. The pirate one was the very first. I got obsessed real fast. I can color so easily, undo any mistake, layers are a blessing too. There was just so much more freedom. I always sucked at coloring in traditional art and I didn’t like the mess (idk my hands get so messy traditionally)

The next year, it was 2014, I was 15. My birthday is in a couple of months and I knew my parents were planning to buy me something pricey (I think it was a laptop) so I approached them and asked if they could just buy the Wacom Bamboo as a present which was cheaper anyway and I even explained how it works to them and how it would allow me to draw on the computer instead of the iPad. I tried really hard to be convincing. I would have prepared a powerpoint presentation if I had to.

They did give me the wacom as a present. They even gave it to me months before my birthday so I could use it already. I thought I was the luckiest teen in the world with my parents.

These are a collection of my favorite works from 2014 to 2016. The middle one was my second drawing using wacom and Paint Tool SAI. I was a part of a lot of fandoms in those years lol

It gets downhill from there :/

April 2016, my mom and I moved to Japan, while my stepfather and siblings stay in my country. It was tough. For someone who is obsessed with anime, you’d think I’d be thrilled to live in Japan.

I was. Though only at the first few months. It’s not the same as it’s portrayed in anime (I should’ve known but I used to be blinded by anime). It was just lonely. The language barrier sucked and then lots of financial and family issues until my parents split. I got my first boyfriend too and I thought I was blessed by the nicest boy, but the relationship became extremely toxic but I didn’t have it in me to walk away.

All the shit that happened affected me mentally and emotionally. My biggest outlet which was digital drawing, was also out of the question because I did not have a computer/laptop when we moved to Japan. We left it in our home for my stepfather and siblings, even the iPad. I have my wacom with me, but no computer/laptop to use it with. I couldn’t draw.

I tried though. I used my phone to draw, but it wasn’t the same. Then the life problems got piled up, things got worse, and I just lost motivation in anything. Literally anything. From 2016 to 2019, I stopped watching anime, I dropped out of all the fandoms I’m in, I stopped watching my favorite TV series or movies, and I stopped drawing. I even got a bit disconnected with my friends who lived in my country (we talk regularly online). My family was broken so I gave all my attention to my toxic relationship as well which made everything worse too lol

I didn’t draw besides from a few scribbles and the drawings above. I did try digital art on my phone a couple of times again and even posted them on my IG, but they weren’t any good. Eventually, I got mentally and emotionally drained and dropped out of senior high school. I just stayed home for almost a year, leeching off of my mom. I felt even more worthless and my life had no direction at this point. Nothing mattered anymore.

April 2019 or so I think, my (ex)bf bought me a laptop. He says it’s a gift, but I think the real reason was to make up for something horrible that he did (which is stupid because money /gifts won’t resolve anything). I have a laptop. I can draw again, but I didn’t. I didn’t care, I wasn’t interested in drawing anymore anyway.

Welp. June 2019, I went back to my country. My (ex) bf stayed in Japan. The distance helped me end the relationship and my friends were there (they always were) to help put me back together along with two trips to therapy. I went back to finish my senior high school in my own country this time. That said, I have to stay in my country for school (but I was happy because I didn’t wanna go back to Japan yet when the breakup was still fresh and with going back to school, my life has a direction again.)

It was weird. I remember just being sorta lost and confused because I used to put my time, effort and everything into my previous toxic relationship, which was now gone. I was free and I had so much free time that I didn’t know what to do with it. I got so used to doing nothing and being nothing.

This is where BNHA enters.

Dunno when it started, but I started seeing Bakugou frequently online. It’s usually just Bakugou. I knew who he was because my friend suggested BNHA to me back in late 2018 I think but I didn’t watch it since I’ve lost interest in everything at that point in my life.

But ye I thought he hot af but I still didn’t watch BNHA.

But then for some reason he REALLY kept appearing in my social medias and it was really frequent. The last straw was when I saw a pic of him in UA’s gym uniform and thought “damn boi aight imma watch bnha for u” (y’all gotta admit he looks good in those colors with his combat boots XD )

I watched BNHA. Fell in love with Iida along the way. Then I switched to Tokoyami (but Shoji was hot too so aaaaa), but then angry emotionally-constipated sea urchin head caught my heart again. But oof. BakuDeku moments really made me feel some type of way I haven’t felt since I moved to Japan. It felt new but nostalgic. I fell hard in that ship.

I started obsessing. From memes to posts to fanfictions to buying merch to filling my room with BNHA posters. I realized I was reverting to my old self from the time I was still happy and it was thanks to BNHA (and the good people who helped me through the worst too)

Shit I wanted to draw BNHA, I thought.

I mean, I have a laptop, I still have my wacom and drawing softwares. I could totally draw digitally again if I wanted to.

But guess what

I can’t :c

My hand physically cannot draw. My drawings don’t look the way I want them too. 3 years of not drawing really destroyed any skill I had. I was back to square one.

September (yeah they’re ugly, I laughed at it). If you’re wondering why I drew on paper, it’s because, for some reason, I really CANNOT draw digitally. I mean it. I can barely sketch digitally at this point. The lines and shapes just doesn’t come to life. They’re just scribbles. But somehow, I can kinda draw on paper with a ballpoint pen. But yeah, that was the best I could do at this point in my life

After that, I still tried to draw, to regain my old art style, but it didn’t happen... It just doesn’t look or feel the same. Drawing used to be fun. But during this phase, it felt like my ugly drawings were just mocking me (probably was just too emo that time lol)

Weirdly, around a week or two I think, after my half-assed attempts at drawing, I managed to draw digitally somehow o.o

I did a Midoriya and Todoroki drawing like this too. It was my first post here on Tumblr I think. The annoying part here is that I cannot draw digitally unless I draw on paper first, take a pic, and then trace the lineart. I couldn’t draw directly on the computer. Granted, drawing on paper and drawing on digital is very different for me in the first place anyway. But it was still a pain. And it still looked like shit. I can only draw stiff poses :/ it seems like my brain decided to delete all data about anatomy and posture and backgrounds. My lineart here is even messy af. It still really not the same as my old style.

By 2020, I think I got my old art style back. On March, I made this. This took me 27 total of hrs to make.

Right now, I think it’s not bad, but back in March, I was disappointed with the result. This is when I finally broke down crying because it didn’t look good enough and I hated that it took me 27 hrs to draw “bullshit.” I was angry at myself for losing interest in drawing for 3 years when I could’ve used that time to improve. I had to start all over again and it still didn’t look good. (Current me thinks that the drawing above is alright. I was just a lot harsher to myself back then. Used to have a lot of issues but I’m doing great now)

I cried myself to sleep that night. Woke up wanting to cry again. I wallowed in sadness for a couple of days. Eventually told my friends what’s up. Got some pep talk. Even talked to my sister (she’s great, she always hypes me up with my stuff and sometimes I think she’s my biggest fan with how she appreciates my drawings and I’m really grateful for that).

My world turned a 180 and I was weirdly positive after all that crying because brain chemicals and shit. I had a revelation. If I hate how my art style looked so much, then I should have been putting effort in changing my art style, not trying to regain my old art style (that I don’t like anymore)

I researched a lot. I analyzed different art styles and anatomy again. I did everything I could think of to find a style that works for me. I might have even neglected school for a bit to focus on digital art lmao

After all that work, I posted a fanart of middle school BakuDeku in their classroom. I love that fanart so much even if I probably have better ones by now because that was the first fanart I made that I felt like I could be proud of and it was the first one I made in my new art style. It was a milestone for me.

March 2020, I moved back to Japan and without the toxic relationship, I’m a lot positive now. Happy. I’m myself again after the previous bad years. I’m still continuously learning though, trying to improve, but at least, now, I found my own art style :) I really suck at interacting with people online, but I’m always grateful for the support everyone has been giving my fanarts. I’m happy when my content makes people happy.

This is why BNHA is important to me. The series is great alone, but it’s not just that to me. BNHA is so much more. It’s what made me find the passion to create again, only this time, it’s focused on drawing (I used to write, but now I just draw, but maybe I’ll write again for BNHA).

My family is supportive with my love for BNHA, but I think they don’t know the deeper reason why I love it. Sure, I was fine living on with nothing much going on in my life. I’ll finish school, get a job, work until I die or something. It was okay. It was the way of life. But BNHA gave my life color again. I wasn’t just blindly going through life anymore. I have something to look forward to everyday now. BNHA even became a bridge to other things. Ever since then, I’m a lot more open to people, to try new things, to explore and not just live through life and waste away. I got better at leaving my comfort zone. I’ve never been happier in my life :D

Thank you for supporting my fanarts. Thank you so much for giving me a chance to express myself through BNHA. I hope to make more content in the future and improve even more :)

#plus ultra #<3 #personal

[glamrayvision]

A WIP oneshot

This was intended as horror but immediately turned into crack, what can I say?

I will post the whole thing when I'm done, along with some art.

Warning for cursing and menton of covid.

Summary: A young adult Miraculous Ladybug fanartist gets a suprise when her drawing of Chat Blanc comes to life! But as a student of Zoom university in the middle of 2020, nothing scares her anymore. So she thought.....

FANART

'Hmmm' I think to myself.

14 year old me would be proud. College girl me is absolutely disappointed in the way I drew his hands (ya know, the blob with sad excuses of tentacles) , but hey. The only artists who can draw hands probably have divine powers anyway. However, the other eye looks pretty rad.

Chat Blanc is the first thing I drew in this sketchbook. I got it for a quarter at a thrift store. Yes I'm bragging. Everything I own cost me less than $10, and that is a peak accomplishment, even more so than drawing two cat eyes correctly on an angry human face. But I digress.

Am I too old for this fandom? If you say yes I dare you to pry it from my cold dead hands.

I put away my art supplies, neatly for once in my life, and scrub the oil pastel and charcoal residue from my fingers. Chat Blanc looks at me, sprawled across the kitchen table, aiming his cataclysm at me.

"Meow!" I drop finger guns at him, laughing at myself.

My phone buzzes. It's my student portal. "Glad to see I'm still failing calculus " I say with all intended sarcasm. "Perks of Zoom university!"

I set my alarm clock for my 8 AM class and plop on my pillow.

My insomnia haunts me

And I am out like a light!

------

"Fuck you!"

It does nothing, its screams only get louder.

And louder.

And louder.

After fumbling for the off button on my alarm clock for ten minutes I decide to just rip the plug from the socket. It's not a problem anymore!!!

Another ten minutes to get me out of bed.

Then I crawl to the kitchen, with nothing but a tank top and underwear. Thank God I live alone off campus.

I grab a yogurt from the refrigerator. It takes another five minutes to realize that my sketchbook from last night is completely empty.

Another two to notice the cat boy on the ceiling light fixture.

Another five seconds to drop my yogurt and scream.

"What the- what the fuck!!!"

"Hi there! "He says with a goofy, toothy grin.

What does a completely rational person do in this situation?

No, she doesn't call the police or anything.

She gets dressed and logs onto her Zoom meeting.

Because if public school taught me anything, its that being late is more anxiety inducing than your supervillain fanart coming to life and invading your house.

As I go to my desk to turn on my computer, Chat Blanc sits behind me.

"Ain't you got shit to do?" I say with the fury of a zombie teenager. I log into the meeting.

"Not really " he shruggs. "What class is this?"

"Engineering "

Uh oh. He has an idea. "Can we turn on the camera?"

"Why?"

"I'm lonely " Chat whines.

It's way too early in the morning for this shit. "Look, we can go to the grocery store and get ice cream later. But now I have to go to class and pretend to be awake enough to care"

"Fine" For some reason he crawls on the couch and sits like an actual cat, ready to pounce. "You're no fun. I'm probably gonna accidentally destroy this world too, ya know. " Chat begins yo sniffle. "I miss Ladybug!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Fuck it I'm never gonna focus like this. Besides, I'm the reason he's here. And I don't want to bear any resemblance to his father. I put down by pen and grab some tissues. "It's ok, kitty. You'll see her again. I'm sure of it"

"You're not" he growled. "Everything from my world is... gone "

"I won't pretend to understand, but-"

"No you don't understand! " he pushes me off. The Akuma is controlling him now, I'm sure. As much as Adrien keeps trying to fight back, he must be exhausted, poor thing!

Chat Blanc stands up, his feet grounded in attack and a cataclysm glowing at his fingertips.

"Cataclysm this stupid pandemic, will ya? " I grumble as I dodge the blast, letting my wall take it instead. My land lord is gonna be a frickn disaster once he sees this. Oh well.

The dust settles as my worst nightmare comes to life!

My Zoom camera and and microphone have somehow turned on!!!

My tears begin to fall as he corners me with another cataclysm ready. A supervillain I can handle. Online video social interaction is a horror movie. Now everyone can see me crying like the 2 year old I am. Great.

"Shhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttt!!!!!!" I make a dash for my computer. Chat leaps in front of me. I screech to a halt.

"Where's Ladybug!!!!"

"In Paris in an alternate timeline, you dumbass cat! Why don't you chill so I can help you!!!" I sob.

My class stares in complete horrified silence.

I grab a broom.

"LET "

Smack!

"ME"

Smack!

"SHOWER"

Smack!

"YOU"

Smack!

"WITH"

Smack!

"LOVE!!!!"

"Never!" He snaps the broom in half.

In desperation I grab my car keys on the counter. There's a lazer light attached. "Please God let this work! "

I turn it on and point it twards the hole in the wall.

His ear perks up and he attacks the red dot! Yes!

As he discracts himself I apologize to my class for "my insane cat" and turn off the video and sound.

I release the button on the lazer pointer.

Sinister blue eyes point twards me. I wonder if I should call animal control. His claws are sharp, all fours digging into the wooden floor.

He smirks at me.

Pounce!

His arms wrap around me tightly when he lands "A friend! A friend! I miss having friends!"

I hug him back. Despite what just went down, I still want to help this kid. Chat is baby!

#chat blanc au #miraculous fandom #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanart #miraculous fanfic #chat noir angst #chat blanc #ml #what is this monstrosity #wip #mlb wip #i'm dying #chat is baby #miraculous crack

[ajerzaaddict]

Jerza month 2020 - Behind Closed Doors

Theme for day 5.

This is totally outdated for something organized in March but I couldn’t get rid the idea from my head, and it’s never too late to write for OTP, so I started the writing in early April. But things happened and I got lazy and more ideas came up and blah blah blah blah, so I delayed the completion even more, until now. 

Shameless lemon set in the City Hero universe with OOC Jerza.

//

“You are under arrest.”

Jellal grinned triumphantly as he held Erza in place on his bed, pinning her arms above her head and sitting astride her.

Erza shot Jellal an indignant glare but didn’t fight him to try to free herself. She recognized the lustful glint in his eyes; her heartbeat quickened with anticipation. 

“So what’s now?” She narrowed her eyes, looking at her blue haired boyfriend with a soft, sensual gaze; her lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Are you going to punish me?”

Jellal lowered his head towards hers and whispered to her ear. “I think I need to lock you up first. What do you say?”

Erza appreciated that Jellal always respected her will.

“Go ahead.”

Jellal opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He locked one cuff on one of Erza’s wrists and secured the other around the wooden pole of the bed’s headboard. Then he pulled out another pair from the drawer and repeated the same action on Erza’s other wrist. Erza felt her heart pounding excitingly in her chest as Jellal began undressing her, and wrapped her fingers around the chains of the handcuffs.

Handcuffs used to be a symbol of justice in young Erza’s eyes, for they belonged to the police officers whose job was to maintain peace in the city. And she felt privileged to use them to arrest criminals when she became a police officer herself. But her impression on handcuffs was challenged when she found out in one of her erotic novels that the tool could be used as a sex toy. She felt offended when she first read about it. Yet, the more erotic novels she read the more she felt being drew to the idea. There was a part of her, the curious and mischievous one, who wondered if being handcuffed would really inflame excitement as described in the stories, and secretly wished to test it herself one day. But she could have never imagined that she would find out the answer from having a suspected criminal - one she was supposed to arrest - as her lover. 

Erza closed her eyes and sighed as Jellal fondled her breasts and pinched her nipples through her bra after he unbuttoned the light blue shirt of her police uniform. She wanted his lips on hers and his wet mouth all over her hot skin but was unable to draw his face towards where she wanted him with her hands restrained. 

“Kiss me, Jellal.” She looked at him again with lust-filled eyes.

“Am I supposed to take orders from someone I’m punishing?” Smirking, Jellal lightly scratched the hardened tips of Erza’s breasts with his fingernails, making her squeak. 

“Please, Jellal, kiss me.” 

Erza pledged between her quickened breaths. She was a strong-willed woman, one who would not give in to any criminals, even the most scary ones, and would make them beg for her mercy with her powerful magic when doing her job. But with Jellal, she didn’t mind being the weak one between the two of them and submitting to him when they were out of prying eyes inside the bedroom. She loved the man - handsome, smart, witty, kind and as powerful as her, and found that she just couldn’t help but soften up when he flirted with her. She had not known any man to have such an effect on her before Jellal entered her life. It had somehow amazed her that a man who was able to overpower her actually existed, and even stole her heart.

“You are a good girl, Erza.”

Jellal dipped his head and captured Erza’s lips with his, stealing her breath away with a fervent kiss. He glided his mouth down her throat then over her chest, only stopped at the lace edge of her bra. He pulled down the bra cup using his teeth, exposing Erza’s full breasts, while he slipped a hand between her inner thighs. He circled one erect nipple with his tongue and rubbed the other with his fingertips as he pulled Erza’s panties down to her thighs, then slid two fingers through the slick folds of her sex. 

Erza moaned, feeling chills of pleasure and burning needs coiled at her core, as Jellal gave her inner walls deep yet deliberately long and slow strokes while continuing teasing her nipples. Her gaze landed on Jellal’s head above her breasts, and she imagined the feel of his wiry blue hair in her hands if she was able to weave her fingers in his tresses to pull at them. All she could do now with her cuffed hands, however, was tightening her fingers around the hard chains of the handcuffs as she jerked her hips upward to take Jellal’s fingers back inside her as soon as he pulled them out, feeling impatience with the pace he set. 

Jellal glanced at Erza through his bangs with a piercing gaze, as he pressed his thumb against her clit, eliciting a cry from her mouth. He then released her nipple from his lips and strengthened his back to watch Erza heaving and moaning helplessly beneath him, as well as the way her face contorted with pleasure as he rubbed her sensitive bead incessantly while swirling his fingers inside her soaking wet canal. 

“Je...Jellal……” Erza shuddered and arched her back, and the chains clanked as she pulled at them for support, when Jellal pushed her to the peak of pleasure then over the edge. 

As pleasure gradually subsided from her body, Erza lay flat against the mattress, catching her breath. She locked eyes with Jellal as he slid his fingers out of her core, and swallowed hard when he licked them clean from her juice.

“You taste sweeter than all the desserts I’ve made, Erza.”

“Shut up.” Erza muttered and looked away from Jellal, feeling embarrassed by his “compliment”. “Do you have no pride being a pastry chef?”

Jellal laughed. “I’m more proud to be your boyfriend, the one who can make your sweet juice overflow.” 

Leaning forward, he swiftly pressed his lips on Erza’s, not giving her another chance to protest against his dirty talk. He kissed her roughly, nipping her lips, before pushing his tongue into her mouth and going into a hot fight with her tongue for dominance. He broke away when he felt short of breath. Standing on his knees, he stripped himself naked, and smiled deeply when seeing Erza tightened her grip on the chains and stared at him intently while he wrapped his fingers around his cock. He then closed his eyes and ran his free hand in his hair as he began stroking himself.

Watching Jellal’s cock swell and grow rigid in his hand and an enjoyable expression spread across his face made Erza feel her inside burning with lust. And the sigh of satisfaction flew from his parted lips was fuel which further flamed her desires. She wished she could pump Jellal’s hard length in her soft hand and taste the pre-cum dripped from its tip. She wanted to kiss him hard as she impaled herself on him to swallow his sounds of satisfaction. She craved to ride his fat long cock until his seed burst inside her and the spasm of orgasm took over her. 

But things were in Jellal’s control now, not hers. Such a situation of course frustrated Erza to a certain extent because she had got used to ordering people around in her daily life, not the other way around, being a police officer. Yet, she had also found excitement in not knowing what would happen when she rendered herself completely to Jellal. She would look forward to finding out what surprises and new experiences Jellal would give her when she put down her ego and gave him the approval to rule over her. 

Still, Erza knew, too easily she would forcibly take things in her hands when feeling impatient. This was why sometimes she would welcome Jellal to apply handcuffing or bounding on her when they fucked, for it not only added some fun to the sex, but could also effectively stop her from going into her dominant mode. But Erza thought she had almost reached her limit of patience now. Her most intimate flesh between her inner thighs was pulsing and tingling and drenched with thick arousal as Jellal tantalized her with a steamy show of him masturbating. On instinct, she crossed her legs and wiggled her hips, trying to ease her sexual need, and sighed as she found a little bit of satisfaction. 

Jellal opened his eyes. His gaze on Erza was intense and clouded with lust. 

“You know you don’t have to suffer from this punishment, Erza, if only you ask humbly.”

Jellal withdrew his hands from his cock and his hair to grab Erza on her knees. He spread her crossed legs open, slid her panties off her legs before settling himself between her thighs. They signed together as he nudged her soaking and swollen entrance with the moist head of his cock.

“Come on, Erza.”

“Fuck me, Jellal.” Erza gasped out her demand, and moaned when Jellal rubbed his length along her opening, coating himself with her fluid. “Oh my god. Put your cock into me already.”

“Are you begging me to, fuck you, Erza?” Jellal panted out; his cock twitched, being stimulated by its contact with Erza’s intimacy. 

“Yes, I’m! Fuck me please, Jellal, I beg of you. I need you to fuck me the hardest you can!”

“Like, until you spasm uncontrollably, and can't feel anything but pleasure?”

“Yes. Yes.” Erza hissed.

“Fine.” 

Jellal drew back a little to turn Erza on her side, which forced her arms to cross in the process as her hands were locked in place by the handcuffs. He then bent her leg on top until her knee touched her chest and straddled her leg on the mattress, before he held his cock to position its head at her entrance again.

“Stop me if I go overboard and hurt you.” He told Erza softly.

With one forward thrust of his hips, Jellal sheathed his entire cock inside Erza, eliciting a sharp cry from her. He then stayed still, taking a moment to savour the blissful sensation coming from her warm and tight inner walls hugging him, sucking him in, before he began thrusting in and out of her.

Erza moaned from the depth of her throat, couldn't care holding back, feeling immense pleasure building up at her core rapidly as Jellal repeatedly drove his thick hard cock deep inside her with a force that was almost unbearable, stretching and filling her again and again to her limit. And her body jerked upward every time he grind his pelvis against her thighs. The handcuffs shook around her wrists and its chains swung following her body's movement, their clanking sounds echoed her lewd cries, filling up the space of the room.

“I-I’m close.” Erza said breathlessly, beginning to feel the convulsion of her inner walls. Then after a moment, she felt a new, unfamiliar sensation near her anus.

“Jellal?”

He was massaging her around her anus with his forefinger coated in his own saliva.

“Should I stop?”

There was a brief moment of delay in Erza's response.

“No.” She heaved.

Jellal pressed the pad of his forefinger against the small opening of Erza's back hole, and the muscles around it contracted at his touch. He slowed the thrusting of his hips as he carefully, slowly, pushed his digit through Erza’s anal ring slightly forcefully. When Erza whined at his intrusion but didn’t voice any protest, Jellal slid his digit out her anus a little, then slid it in again, and repeated the action, while he picked up the pace of the thrusting of his cock at her core.

Erza couldn’t tell, if mixing the unusual sensation of having her anus finger-fucked with the familiar sexual excitement coming from her core, had really stimulated her more. It was an exotic experience which disoriented her. She shut her eyes closed, moaning and whimpering, as her inner walls gripped at and contracted around Jellal’s throbbing cock more violently than before while he buried himself deep inside her. She trembled as she got extremely close to her climax, feeling thrills of pleasure travelling through her body, before she screamed into oblivion when a powerful orgasm finally erupted within her and took over her with wave after wave of ecstasy as Jellal plunged his cock into her one last time, shooting a load of his hot seed inside her for a lengthy moment.

Jellal eased his finger out Erza's anus and slid his softened cock out her core after emptying himself. He then fell on the mattress beside her. Their gaze locked as they were both panting for air. 

After their breathing had stabilized, Jellal leaned into Erza, kissing her softly on the lips.

“You are amazing, Erza.” He told her after pulling away. “How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic.” Erza smiled a small smile. “Exhausted in the best way.”

“Great.” Jellal smiled back at her, before he looked up at her cuffed hands. “Let me unlock you now.”

He held Erza’s forearms after freeing her, inspecting her wrists to see if the handcuffs had left marks on her skin. He gently ran his fingertips on the pale red marks he had found around her wrists.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, not really. But I will need to hide them from curious eyes when I go out with make-up foundation, as usual. That’s all.” 

Jellal nodded. “I’ll need to go out to do some stuff later. But you can stay as long as you want.”

Erza already knew the so-called “stuff” Jellal was going to do was the illegal job he did with good reasons with his secret identity, the mysterious masked thief.

“Be careful with what you do. Don’t get caught by my colleagues.”

“Don’t be worried, I won’t.” Jellal wrapped an arm around Erza’s waist, pressing her against him “If I was to be caught one day, I would make sure it would be you who put the handcuffs on me.”

Jellal closed the distance between their lips, kissing Erza deeply.

#jerza month #jerza #erza scarlet #Jellal Fernandes #oneshot

[noxtms]

IN CHARACTER DATE : december 17th, 2020. SYNOPSIS : a visit paid to the dursley’s. TRIGGER WARNINGS : muggle attack.  

MR & MRS DURSLEY of number four, privet drive, were very proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. they were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they had never held with such nonsense.

mr dursley had once been the director of a firm called grunnings, which made drills. he had retired summer before last with a rather impressive send off, and now spent much of his time frequenting the local golf course. mrs dursley was thin and blonde and had twice the usual amount of neck, which came in useful as she spent so much of her free time craning over garden fences and spying on her neighbours. their son, dudley, once believed to be the finest boy that one would find anywhere, no longer lived with them. he’s away with the army, mrs dursley would tell anyone who asked after him, her lips pinched tightly. serving queen and country. 

the dursleys did a rather good job at pretending they had everything that they wanted, but they also had several secrets, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover them. they didn’t think they could bear it. over two decades before, mr and mrs dursley had awoken to discover a baby boy left upon their doorstep. well, mrs dursley had shrieked and dropped the milk when she found him there - and this was the start of it, you see. the very start of all the trouble. harry potter ( that was this boys name ) was the son of mrs dursley’s sister, mrs potter. they hadn’t spoken for several years to this point, and they would never speak again, as mr and mrs potter had been killed, their son orphaned, left to the only living relatives he had left. they had never wanted their son to mix with a child like that : one as unnatural as harry potter. but they really hadn’t had much of a choice. 

they had tried, of course, to force the magic out of him. they wouldn’t have considered themselves very good muggles if they hadn’t. but it proved to be quite impossible, and over the years of raising their nephew, mr and mrs dursley had to put up with a great deal of unusual situations that led to a certain sort of relief when, finally, the boy came of age and left. they saw the period of time where they themselves had to go into hiding - leaving number four, privet drive - as the last in a long line of accommodations they had to make for the boy they had never wanted. they hadn’t expected this to end with his death, but there wasn’t very much that they could do about it. and this was their way of thinking : it was out of their hands, and so too, was the boy.

now, they had never expected for their son, dudley, to want to leave to his world - and they made it clear that if he did, he wasn’t welcome back. but dudley made his choice and the dursley’s made theirs, and six years ago, they returned to number four, privet drive. 

when mr and mrs dursley retired to their living room on the dull, dark wednesday night that our story picks up on, they really weren’t expecting any visitors. mrs dursley, clutching a china cup filled with tea, gossiped happily as mr dursley searched the couch cushions for the remote, flicking on sky news and allowing the dulcet tones of the news anchor replace the gritty voice of his wife. now, were they to have glanced out the window - mrs dursley’s favorite activity, most evenings - then they might have seen several figures appear quite suddenly and almost as if from nowhere, right in the middle of the street. 

it was just after seven when there came a knock at the door. it was very late for visitors - mrs dursley had already slipped on her nightgown, and told mr dursley in no uncertain terms that if it was one of his golf friends, they would have to talk on the front porch. he grumbled about how he wasn’t expecting anyone all the way to the front door, which he unlocked and pulled wide with no real hesitation. 

mr dursley froze. fear flooded him. it was followed, swiftly, by anger. there was no denying the group of individuals on his front door step were one of his lot - he had never been able to stand the funny get ups they wore, and even in the dim porchlight, the robes were unmistakable. the dursleys were of the opinion that they had washed their hands of the magical world when their nephew had died and their son had chosen to leave. in simplest terms, this was an invasion of their privacy. 

“you have no right to be here,” mr dursley said, rather sharply. they had never had to deal with this, before. the first couple months after they had returned, they worried about number four, privet drive becoming a hub for this... riff raff to come goggle at the home of the once boy who lived. word had finally & evidently gotten out, and mr dursley was simply not going to abide by it - his foot was coming down, and it would never happen again, not if he saw to it.

he went to close the door. it was stopped with a small thud, and at first, he thought that one of them must have used magic to stop it. when he opened the door a little to look, he found that one of the nearest individuals - a tall man who’s face was covered by shadow - had stuck his foot out. mr dursley opened his mouth to say something, but before he even could, the small group were on the move.

the flash of a wand - held out from beneath one long cloak - was enough to keep mr dursley ahead of them, moving through the corridor as they bundled their way inside and shut the door behind them. his heart hammered and his cheeks seemed to grow more red by the second, with him finding it rather difficult to find his voice, all of a sudden. this lot certainly knew how to be intimidating, and he wasn’t very sure what to do. he scuttled along until he reached the door to the living room, and in a hurry, he pushed his way through it - closing it behind him for good measure and pushing in the little lock.

“petunia-” he began, moving away from the door and towards his wife. the note of alarm to his voice drew her gaze immediately, but she had no time to ask what was wrong and he had no time to explain before their living room door exploded inwards, leaving a mess of splintered wood, plaster and, when it slammed into the fireplace across from it, several ornaments and picture frames.

mrs dursley screamed and clambered to her feet, and her husband, who realized with a whimper just how close he had been to being caught in this explosion, rushed to her side. 

into the room poured the individuals from the hallway, one after the other. it was the man who had used his foot to stop mr dursley from closing the front door who had his wand out, now, and seemed to be the culprit, but he wasn’t the first to step inside. this honor fell to a woman with wildly curled hair knotted atop her head, a foot shorter than him, who everyone seemed to fall into step behind. the man remained close to her, always, but the others spread out around the room - blocking off all avenues for possible escape, even while mr and mrs dursley shrank into the corner of their sitting room, trying desperately to move away from them.

“l-l-leave-” mr dursley said. he meant to yell, but he couldn’t quite manage it. “leave this place at once-” 

“you have something that i need,” the woman announced, acting as if she hadn’t heard him at all. “give us the boys belongings and we’ll leave you be.” 

the boy. mr dursley had comforted himself many times over the past few years with the thought that they were done with all this carry on, now. the boy was gone. there was no reason for anyone to come near him and mrs dursley, especially as the man who had come to release them from their ‘safe house’ knew very well what he and petunia thought about his kind. he hadn’t been able to see how he and petunia could get mixed up in anything that might happen, again... hadn’t thought it could affect them... hadn’t realized how wrong he was.

“we don't- we haven't got- we-" he spluttered. 

"it's all gone," petunia said, from his side, her voice shaking. "everything we had is gone."

the woman looked towards his wife as if noticing her for the very first time, glint in her brown - bottomless, he thought - eyes. her expression didn't change in any way that he could see, but something shifted, and mr dursley felt rather as if he had been doused in ice cold water. she addressed petunia, now, "gone?" 

"inkwells and toad spawn and magic trick books-" mrs dursley's confidence did not grow, exactly, as much as an almost forgotten disdain resurfaced. just the thought of all the unnatural things they had lived with for so many years and disposed of double quick was enough to bring a certain venom back to her voice, the kind reserved for her nephew, "it's gone. burned. thrown away. it was useless to us." 

“i do hope that you’re lying.” the woman frowned. it was only the smallest change to her features, the slightest twist of her mouth, downwards - but mrs dursley shrunk back even moreso, now halfway behind her husband. “though i can’t say that it’ll go much better for you, if you are. i can’t stand liars.” 

petunia whimpered.

the other woman didn’t seem to notice and, with a sigh, shook off her cloak - draping it across the arm of the man still stood at her side. from a hidden pocket on her side she extracted a coal black wand. 

a breeze ruffled the neat hedges of privet drive, which lay tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect horrifying things to happen. the neighbours of number four slept peacefully, not knowing they were so near to such a story, not knowing that they would awake in a few hours time to the sound of sirens, nor that they would spend the next few weeks living in the middle of a media circus as news vans and reporters paid visit to the soon to be widowed husband of mrs petunia dursley.

they couldn’t know that, at that very moment, a woman was turning her wand onto another and then, with an air of casual impatience, saying : avada kedavra. 

#nox.important #nox.event009