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its-time-to-write · 9 months

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in love with an idea

This is a very, very, v e r y minor study in the way that Jamie handles his sexuality, and the fact that sometimes it seems he thinks his only value comes from being sexy and playing football. And the fact that sometimes, one night stands are crap even if they feel good. It happens. Especially if you go home with someone wishing they were someone else. Anyway, I have another fic in the works, should be posted soon. I’ve been absent because I’m writing a long one that will never ever see the light of day because it is way too self indulgent. As if this next one isn’t going to be long and self indulgent as well. Thanks to all y’all who support my writing!! Those of you who leave comments/tags have my whole entire heart, and there is no such thing as too many comments. Special shoutout to @whimsical-roasting and @qquell bc you’re probably my biggest/most vocal supporters and I love you🥺🥺 Ok that’s enough words, enjoy the fic!

in love with an idea

Jamie feels like shit which is weird, because he doesn’t usually feel this way after hookups. He can tell you don’t notice because you just plop down on the locker room bench next to him and ask, “Did ya call your mum yet?” while grinning far too brightly.

Jamie is going to throw up. You’re smiling at him and he’s going to throw up so he gets up and rushes out of the room without a word. He pretends that he left so fast that he didn’t see your grin fade.

He’s headed to the pitch because that’s where he’s supposed to be anyway, but all he can think about is the fact that it should have been you in his bed last night. After all, it was your name that had been on the tip of his tongue all night. It was your face he kept thinking of, and your body he was imagining.

The girl had left satisfied, knowing exactly what she had signed up for, but he still feels like he used her. It’s not her fault that he’s in love with you but took her home, and yet it feels bad anyway. He wonders why no one ever talks about the shitty side of one-night stands. He has a vague recollection of Roy saying something to that effect one time, but other than that, he’s in completely unfamiliar territory.

He throws himself into training with more vigor than usual, purposely running himself ragged.

Meanwhile, you’re still on the bench looking stupefied. Isaac slides next to you in the spot Jamie vacated.

He says, “You should probably check on him,” with his usual solemn gravitas so you nod and decide to do just that.

—

You don’t have time check on Jamie until after training. Ted has you running all around Nelson Road so you just barely catch Jamie in the parking lot.

“Hey!” you call. “You alright?”

Jamie spins around, icon hat atop damp hair. “Yeah, sure, good, yeah!” he says, and now you’re absolutely positive that something’s wrong. You raise an eyebrow.

“That totally sounds like something a completely alright person would say, but for some reason I don’t believe you. Is something wrong with your mum? Is that why you got all weird when I asked?”

“What?” Jamie says. “Oh. No. She’s good, yeah. She’s good. I did call her. Talked for a while, which was nice. Talked about this girl I like, actually.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when Jamie wishes he could sink into the ground. Fuck his stupid rambling.

“Oh?” you say, eyebrow still quirked. “That’s new.”

Jamie shrugs. “Yeah, it is,” he says and then his mouth betrays him once again as he continues, “I’m actually really nervous about talking to her.”

You laugh. That is utterly ridiculous, and you tell him so. “You’re Jamie fucking Tartt, Premier League footballer. People throw themselves at you every day and you eat all that attention up. Why is she so different? Hold on, are you blushing?”

You laugh. He totally is, but he denies it.

“Look,” he says. “She ain’t like a lot of people. She’s fucking…smart or some shit. Not that other people aren’t!” he continues, “But she’s just… different, like. She’s one of fucking… four people who are immune to my natural sexy glow.”

The way Jamie says the word sexy is always interesting because he never used it comedically. It’s always inserted in some serious declaration of himself, as if that and football are the only points of value he believes he has. You wrinkle your nose. “How is that possible? No one is immune. Except maybe Roy. I heard he got his anti-Tartt vaccine boosted last week. Maybe it worked a little too well,” you say worriedly.

“I dunno,” Jamie says. “She said she’s looking for someone smart and I don’t really think I fall in that category. All brawn on me, innit?”

He quirks a smile to mask this strange discomfort he has. You’re not used to seeing him anything less than confident.

“Well Jaim,” you say after a beat, “as someone who is also looking for someone ‘smart,’ it really isn’t about IQ. It’s like… it’s like someone who actually talks to you and has interesting things to say. And is interested in learning, not just from me but from whoever and whatever. And someone who doesn’t talk down. Because, god,” you laugh, “I’ve been on so many dates that are just exhausting because all these smart people want to flex their knowledge instead of sharing it. It’s like a fucked-up power struggle. I never feel that way with you, y’know?”

Jamie tilts his head in a cocky go on type of way.

There he is.

You roll your eyes. “What I mean is, you actually listen to what I say and ask questions, and aren’t rude when I don’t understand something that comes easy to you. My corner kicks are getting better, by the way,” you interject. “Sunday evening practice is paying off.” Jamie comes over every Sunday evening to kick a ball around with you on the Richmond Green.

“Of course they are,” he grins. “Learning from the best, aren’t you?” You flip his hat off his head and catch it, returning his smile.

“Just ask her out, Jaim. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And,” you add, “bring her round! Not enough footballer girlfriends around here.”

Jamie looks at you a moment, taking in the picture of you in Nelson Road’s parking lot, his cap on you head and a smile on your face that he made.

“Right,” he says, then turns to walk to his car. He’s at the door when he turns and walks back.

“Forgot something,” he says to your bemused expression. You point to his hat still on your head.

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “That ain’t it. It’s you. You’re the girl. I talked to me mum about you because I think you’re fucking great. If I’m not your type, that’s alright, but fuck it, I just really fucking like you.”

He takes a step closer. “I’m going to kiss you, so now’s your chance to walk away.”

You don’t.

You let him flip the icon hat backwards and cup your face in his hands, far more gently than you thought him capable of as he tips your head up to his.

His lips are soft on yours, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact that Trent Crimm is walking by you, shooting furtive looks your way but you don’t care.

“I think you’re fucking great too,” you reply when you finally come up for air.

Jamie grins. “Wanna go on a proper date tonight? Been thinking about where I’d take you for ages. I can pick you up in an hour thirty.”

You smile.

That sounds great.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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acerathia · 4 months

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pink camellias || Chapter 1: hyacinth

Chapter Summary:

purple hyacinth: sorrow

Wordcount: 3.2k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

I got too impatient, so, I'm posting the first chapter today lol, still, i hope you enjoy reading it!

You opened the windows as soon as you woke up. As the soft sunlight warmed your skin, you watched the breeze rustle the flowers of the garden. Beyond that garden was a beautifully constructed posh house, barely blocking your view to the adjacent village. The rows of different houses gave the scenery a special kind of feel. The view was breathtaking, the bustling of all these people making you feel alive under your skin.

You stood by the window, trying to discern the lives of the common people below you in the valley. There was a small stripe of forest bordering the village and the mansion, which stood atop a hill.

“I wonder how life is down there”, you mumbled before looking back to your bed.

The softest of fabric was spread over the king-sized bed and you slowly stepped closer, your hand enjoying the feel of silk between your fingers. Then with a tiny jump you threw yourself onto the mattress, sinking deeply in its comfort and warmth.

With a sigh, you tried to imagine living in such a village. Maybe you would operate a bakery, making tasty bread and confects. You would wake up early, which you usually would never even think about, but this was only imaginary. If you were lucky, you could watch the sunrise for some time, while waiting for the dough to rise. Your hands would be kneading and caressing the dough into different, but nonetheless tasty goodies for the day, the lit oven warming your back with a gentle sigh. It would hug the soft dough and prepare it for the day.

After the bread and sweets would be ready, you would open up the shop, awaiting the first jingle of the door. You would, as usual, greet the oncoming customers, the ones you saw regularly with some deep questions, and the newer ones with some welcoming small talk. Your heart would beat in happiness every time something of yours would find its home somewhere else. And if everything got sold, you would close the shop and head to the market to replenish some of your necessities. If not, you would go around and give the bread to someone who would need it at the moment, not wanting to let anyone go hungry.

You imagined such a routine to be relaxing and enjoyable, especially connecting with so many people. The wish to go out and change something for yourself lit a spark, even if the possibility of leaving this place without guard would never happen.

Some day you would wake up with the hope of appearing in another place, like the characters in your stories. Landing inside a novel with the knowledge of every scenario, being actively a part of some grand scheme or an adventure. But no matter how long you kept your eyes closed, you stayed in your little bland life.

Sometimes you would dare to write down some ideas, with your scrawly font. And while doing so you blamed yourself for not listening to your teacher when learning how to write. But you wrote. You wrote every little idea that emerged in your little head. Huffing and puffing when the intricate dreams vanished after waking up.

With a low grumble, you stared at your ceiling. You grew weary of only imagining things and felt the urge, the desire to actually live your own adventure.

“My Lady, I’ve brought water to wash up”, the voice of your maid Hana sounded before she entered the room.

You furrowed your brows, wondering how long you had been lying there, and if you would succeed in sneaking out, if your maid wouldn’t be so punctual. But you only greeted her and rolled from the bed to walk towards a stool.

While you were washing your face, Hana brushed your hair gently and got rid of all the knots taking residence on top of your head. You looked into the mirror, feeling the soft towel on your skin.

This was your face, even if you wished you were another person. No matter what you think, the baby fat on your face would not dwindle until much later. For a moment you wondered how soon your birthday was.

“You should go to the dining room to eat some breakfast, my Lady.”, Hana told you, after helping you into a simple baby blue wrapper. Something simple for your indoor endeavors, as you did not plan on leaving this mansion any time soon.

With a nod you made your way to the dining room, greeting your father, who was leaning over some papers spread over the table.

“Good morning sweetie, did you sleep well?”, he asked while stretching his arms for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes, thank you for asking, Father.”, you smiled with a slight crook, before turning to greet your mother the same way.

After the greetings, you took a seat and started eating your breakfast.

Despite the current silence at the table you were quite attached to your parents, as they were to you. They both were loving and warm and so doting on their only daughter. And who were you to resist getting spoiled like that? You would do anything for your parents, and even if you longed to go outside and experience new things, you were aware how your disappearance would break their hearts, and yours.

“Ah, we’re supposed to return to the palace today, did you prepare your luggage, or did you forget again?”, your mother started speaking with an amused smile after finishing the meal.

“Mother! Of course, I prepared everything! But, I’m still going to ensure that everything has its place.”, you hurriedly responded and jumped from your seat. Soft chuckle followed you out of the room.

How could you forget the return to the palace? Your father was the marquess and your mother attended to the queen herself. And despite your current young age, you wanted to make a good impression on the people living there, even if they may have already formed one around your person. But nothing speaks against working to better those impressions.

With the help of your maid, you threw everything you may need in that visit into a tiny case, fitting for your tiny stuff. And when Hana suggested you take your stuffed cat with you, you vehemently refused. Because what if someone saw it and thought of you as inferior? Especially little kids your age, they were usually the most vicious and you refused to be the victim of their bullying.

After making sure everything was in order, you let your maid help you into some outdoor gown with the same blue color as the other one. With a fitting pair of gloves and a bonnet, you were ready to leave your home for your stay at the palace.

Clutching Hana’s hand you made your way outside to the awaiting carriage. The coachman already heaving their luggage into its respective space. But you didn’t need his help to get into the carriage, not even Hana’s help. You grabbed some of the fabric of your dress and took the large step with one stride. The next step let you tumble into the insides of the carriage, where you immediately acted like everything went as planned.

Hana took the seat in front of you and the car slowly left the property. You knew that your parents were in the carriage in front of yours, so you did not fret and simply enjoyed the passing sights of the marquisate.

After a couple of minutes, someone slightly shook you and you blearily opened your eyes. You didn’t remember closing them in the first place. Did you already arrive at your destination? That was weird, you thought the way would take some hours. But beggars shouldn’t be choosers and you didn’t mind that very convenient time skip of sleep. Even if you now felt tired and grumpy.

With half-closed lids you let Hana lead you to the inside of the palace, where you already occupy a room. This wasn’t the first time your character visited the palace, but every time felt like it was. And no matter how much you wanted to look around, you felt drained and wanted nothing more than to continue your nap in peace.

The moment you stepped into the room, you threw yourself onto the bed, without care of your bonnet falling off your head. But for some reason you could not fall asleep again, making you whine into the soft pillows, before sitting up.

And before you could even plan anything for the afternoon, someone started knocking on your door.

“Hello! We were wondering if you wanted to play knights with us?”, a boy your age with bright green eyes, Izuchan, asked you with a smile, the moment you opened the door. Another was lingering with crossed arms and a slight scowl.

You turned to look at Hana, who just nodded with a sigh before you also nodded to the boys in front of you. “Yes! I’d love to participate in a game!”

With that, you followed them outside, where the sun shone upon your heads and warmed you slightly.

They immediately started clashing their wooden swords and began screaming something about ‘villains’ and ‘crime’. You wondered when it would be your turn, but you didn’t hold a wooden sword in your hands.

For some reason you felt the need to fix it, so you started wandering to the training camp of the real knights, looking for some kind of sword you might be able to use.

The only thing you discovered were of course actual knights in training. Their movements and the swing of the sword in their hands were mesmerizing and you could not help yourself but stare. Their flow seemed like a hidden dance, its steps only obtained by the truly worthy.

You felt trapped in watching the blades clash, eliciting bursts of tiny stars. A desire to wield this magic grew in you and a grin formed itself across your face. Now you fully understood the reason everyone admired knights. And you desired to be one.

You barely managed to rip your gaze from their dangerous dance only to see the object you were seeking only minutes ago. Without a second thought, you grabbed the wooden sword to return to the fighting boys. Only to see them running towards the training grounds, their gaze focused on something behind you.

And what were you supposed to do but follow them? So you ran with them towards a group of people converging around a massive person.

“Allmight!”, Izuchan gasped and started talking about the best knight in this whole kingdom and you couldn’t do anything but listen with rapt attention and interest.

Kacchan tried to get to the overrun knight, but before he had the possibility of reaching him, Allmight found the right timing to detach himself from the crowd and thus was missed when the boy finally broke through.

The blond started raging, concealing his disappointment in a fit of anger and screams. The other boy tried to calm him down, yelling ‘Kacchan’ to get his attention.

Undeterred by his outburst you gripped the wooden sword tighter in your hand and declared something to him, maybe you hoped to calm him down or to distract him from his missing hero.

“I am going to be a knight! One better than you!”, you declared war on these two young boys, who were supposed to be your friends, but your ambitions seemed to destroy any semblance of kinship.

“Hah? A girl can’t be a knight, are you stupid?”, Kacchan immediately replied, his anger only simmering, but directed at you nonetheless.

“You’re stupid!”

While you could have replied with a better comeback, annoyance made your brain empty, only the desire to show him filling you to the brim.

Without waiting for the next words of this brash boy, you turned and ran towards the toy dummy, which has been abandoned offside the actual training grounds. You didn’t care if your dress stained, the seams filling with mud, as you hit the dummy repeatedly, acting as if you were already a seasoned knight.

The two boys joined you soon after. And while the blond and you could not do anything but push each other into anger, you still played with your wooden swords, even if any of you would have dared to say that it has been a fight for life and death.

And if your maid clicked her tongue and reprimanded you for ruining your dress, you only responded with your dreams and hopes of becoming a knight. Out of necessity, your maid had, soon after that conversation full of sighs and aspirations, sewn you some proper clothing resembling the ones of a knight.

With your pants and shirt, you continued to fight your friends at every possibility, even if it meant getting stained in blue blood underneath your skin and ripped hair between your fingernails.

***

The seasons have passed and you still lived at the palace with your mother. You spent your daily life studying everything this place had to offer and everything your duty obliged you. But the moment you managed to free yourself some time, the people found you in a pair of pants, swinging that old wooden sword with your friends.

Finally, you had finished your reading for the day, getting some free time for your extracurricular activities. But before the teacher could properly dismiss you, your maid knocked and entered the room, a grave expression marring her face.

“Miss, I’m afraid, your mother is at death's door…”, she started speaking, but you jumped from your chair, grabbing the fabric of your dress to allow you to run as fast as you managed.

Your mother, your dear, loving mother, laid there, unmoving in her too-big bed. Her pale frame almost sunk into the soft fabric of the bedding and you were afraid. You were so afraid to step too close and to hurt her.

Still, you carefully sat at the end of the bed, taking her hand in yours, as soft as your rough hands cared to achieve. You only had eyes for her, everyone around you nothing but a blur. Nonetheless, you caught some pieces of information from the people hurrying around you in a senseless frenzy. The white plague. Your mother has been suffering under the act of consumption for longer than any of the people around her anticipated. Her paleness mistaken for lack of sun and worry. Her feverishly red cheeks and lips simply for a mistake in the chosen shade.

You wondered how long she had been plagued by this illness. How long had she been suffering without anyone taking notice? Had she already known prior to this?

Suddenly her lack of presence in your life in the last couple of months started to make sense. She knew you would have noticed her lack of energy immediately. How could you not? Your mother used to be the sun in any dark room. Her presence soothing and warm, even if bright. This woman in front of you was nothing but a pale, sick shadow of her old self. And it hurt you.

It hurt to see the most important person in your life suffer and on the brink of death. Oh, how you would do anything to soothe her aches and take her pains away.

Something cold dripped onto your hands, but you were not able to find the source of those tiny drops. Not until you took a shuddering gasp and a sob broke free, your lungs yearning to scream and cry.

Even if you grew weary and bored of your life, you cared for this woman, it drove you crazy. How were you supposed to move on after this?

People grabbed your sobbing shoulders, but you refused to let go of her frail hand. Someone was whispering empty words into you and you didn’t react with anything but a heartbreaking wail, lowering your head against her hand, pressing her cold skin against your cheeks.

Despite your vehement protest, someone managed to loosen your grip around your dead mother, leading you into your room. After getting pushed onto your own bed, everything became a blur.

You barely noticed getting moved around or getting into a carriage. The only thing you numbly remember was the regret of not telling your friends about your hasty departure. Even if you yourself had not known about it until you arrived back at the mansion you used to live at. You supposed this was your actual home, even if the palace felt more like it.

After your arrival at the mansion, you refused to eat and did not leave your room under any circumstance. At some point, your father's worry grew and he started trying to lure you with different things. Most of them got no reaction from you at all.

“Hello dear. How have you been?”, he asked with a soft voice, taking a seat at the end of the bed. You gave him a tired smile as an answer, your voice itching and scratching.

“Good, good.”, he nodded, taking your hand in his. “I know I have said it multiple times already, but you need to get out a bit… I know, I know. But she would not want you to suffer in such a dark room.” He tried to persuade you, already knowing your answer, even just with your nonverbal facial expressions.

“How about this: You still want to be a knight, don’t you? Well, then we shall get you some proper sword master to teach you. Can’t have you swing a wooden sword without instructions forever.”, and his suggestion made you perk up.

You still wanted to master swordsmanship, but your father had never supported that particular endeavor of yours. Until to this day, it appeared. Even if the circumstances should have been better, your mother should have been there to celebrate that milestone with you. Still, you knew she would have wanted you to run towards your dreams, even if she wasn’t there. You decided to dedicate this work of life to her before you agreed to your father's suggestion with a slight nod and a hesitant smile.

And your agreement seemed to spark some happiness in the eyes of your old man, as his smile gained that special depth. Without further words, because you simply didn’t need to, he pecked your forehead, before standing up. And if he pulled the curtains open and let you bask in the warmth of the estranged sun before he left your room, then so be it. Because this time, the sun didn’t symbolize another day without her, but a new opportunity dedicated to her, in remembrance of her. Starting with that day, you promised yourself to think of her every time you held a sword. Your dear beloved memories with her would lend you whatever strength you would have needed in any possible situation.

Your gaze wanders out of your window, into the beautiful garden. And you were mesmerized by the whipping flowers, almost like it was your first time seeing them. With this breathtaking, familiar view you held your promise close to your heart and planned on never letting go.

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you

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xxhypersomnia · 6 months

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IMPORTANT NEWS BULLETIN ⚠️⚠️⚠️ for all fanfic writers

I’ve seen so many sad posts lately about fic writers who feel tired, unappreciated, and generally not good at what they do.

And it absolutely breaks my heart!

All of you are so wonderful. I wish I could write as well as everyone on this app, and especially everyone in the Pedro Pascal fandom. Y’all are fucking killing it.!

And I love the variety.

I love short simple stories, and long ones that I’m invested in for days.

I love simple writing that’s easy to read, and one’s that are written in a style that sometimes make me reread a sentence twice to understand.

It shows the breadth and range of ability in this world and I think it’s beautiful. It makes my heart hurt to see people who enjoy creating, especially young creators, feel discouraged by the amount of likes or lack of interaction.

That doesn’t mean it’s bad!!!

So much is based on algorithm, tags, popularity, fads, personal ebbs and waves people go through and what they feel like reading. I promise it is not a reflection on your ability.

If you are proud of something, then it’s good.

If you put effort and brain power into something, then it’s good.

And maybe it’ll take a while for someone to find you. But to that someone, it may be their favorite story. Or the story that picked them up off the floor that day. You never know.

So please keep writing. For you. For how it lets your creativity that wells inside you become something tangible. Continue to leave your mark on the internet, and improve your skills, and want to grow. I beg of you. Because I have honestly never seen a place as beautiful as this. Where creativity can flow freely and our favorite fandoms and characters can live on forever.

Send me your fics, I will read them. But I can only do that if you keep writing 💖

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic writer #pedro pascal fandom #fandom #pedro pascal #pedro #pedro pascal characters

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lemonzestywrites · 2 months

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writing patterns

tagged by @jeeyuns @devirnis ty lovelies!!

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

a foundation of trust a love we cannot see

| buck/eddie, WIP, explicit, BDSM, slow burn, fwb (3/17 ch. 61k) |

Weird calls aren’t unusual in their field. That’s a simple given with their job- one that Eddie has definitely come to learn by now.

===

let me find some warmth inside this little love of mine

| buck/eddie, teen, new year’s eve, first kiss, mutual pining (4k) |

Loud and Eddie are two things that usually have a record of not mixing well. Eddie can deal with chaotic. He can deal with crazy and hectic and adrenaline seizing his body during every call.

===

the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love

| buck/eddie, explicit, introspection, fwb, getting together (25k) |

Eddie wants to be supportive about this; really, he does.

===

the place in my heart that used to be yours

| buck/eddie, general, angst, bedside vigils, feelings realization (1.9k) |

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

===

temptation comes from wants we cannot yet claim

| buck/eddie, teen, angst, coma, getting together, dream (8k) |

There’s a soft feeling that gradually, from the depths of Eddie’s chest, finds itself being emerged as he’s eased awake. The slumber makes its way out of his body in a slow, methodical pull. It makes no rush to leave, allowing Eddie to enjoy the gentle serenity that the early morning still has to offer.

===

our sweet love (built on the unspoken things)

| buck/eddie, 5+1, getting together, mutual pining, non-sexual intimacy (8k) |

Eddie isn’t really sure he could really classify himself as a coffee person.

===

five more minutes

| buck/eddie, established relationship, snuggle, morning cuddles (2k) |

Eddie really wishes he could learn how to properly sleep in. To lie in bed, asleep without a care on a weekend like this, and wake up sometime past 9 o’clock. To him, ‘sleeping in’ has always been whenever he finds himself the luxury of having to wake up anytime past 5:45 am, but today, like most days, his inner body clock works against him. Even without his alarm, Eddie found himself easing out of slumber, the world around him growing more present and alert as the sleep rolled off his shoulders.

===

jadeite hearts could never cost this much

| buck/eddie, first kiss, sharing a bed, non-sexual intimacy (6k) |

If Eddie is being completely honest with himself, he has definitely thought about kissing Buck a couple of times before (maybe more than a couple if he’s being generous). He can’t exactly pinpoint when he started doing it; there’s no definitive moment that set it all off. Just one day, he had found himself staring off at Buck’s lips, transfixed on a phantom feeling that he could only dream to experience. His mind drifted, wondering what it would feel like, how soft Buck’s lips would be, where exactly he’d place his hands. It had taken an embarrassing couple of minutes before he had caught himself, only then realizing the severity of the situation and what that meant.

===

t-rex kisses

| buck/eddie, established relationship, late night conversations, non sexual intimacy (1.7k) |

Buck loves his job. Undeniably so. It’s probably one of, if not the best, things that’s ever happened to him, and he could never imagine life without it. It’s brought him so many amazing things in his life now: belonging, safety, love, a place to call home, people to call family, and in recent developments- the newfound love of his life.

===

exactly what you were looking for

| buck/eddie, domestic fluff, established relationship, marriage proposal (3k) |

Eddie is 6 years old, sitting in Adriana’s room, watching as his older sister plays with her Barbies without a care in the world, when in the smallest, most curious voice, he asks, “How do you know when you’ve found your true love?”

===

it’s super interesting to see my little habits all laid out like this! obviously i might have a preference on pov 😅 but i love doing little character introspections or even just random little factoids i later dive into- this is very fun!!

tagging- @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @kitteneddiediaz @aroeddiediaz @wildlife4life and anyone else interested!!

#911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #zestywrites

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go-learn-esperanto · 2 years

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I would like to have finished writing the well thought out post I was gonna do initially but I've been extremely busy today, so I'm just gonna say.

I am so distraught by what this situation has done to my community.

Right now I'm in constant anxiety and terror because I don't know which of the blogs I followed and loved, and even possible friends, are just gonna leave forever.

It hurts seeing something that was mostly build by the fandom - let's be real, the last year of Dream SMP popularity has mainly remained because we are so many and we created fics and art, and videos and everything. It wasn't the the Minecraft server. Definitely not just that.

And more than that the Minecraft server isn't just Dream. There are so many CCs who poured all their art in it, and to see the story gone? The community gone? Just like that? That would destroy me.

I spent the last 2 years dedicating so much of my time, love and happiness to it. I made so many friends in this community.

I really don't want to say I left a fandom not because I lost interest but because the fandom sinked all around me.

The last Reblogs aren't done with lightness in my heart they're made of desperation, of simultaneously trying to maybe make my followers happier with fun posts and trying to convince them to maybe not leave, or even the worst of them all, scattering trying to reblog a posts of a blog that has said they won't be here anymore.

To me the Dream SMP was ours. We all got together when there was a new Sad-ist or Late August animatic, a lot of my music library is Dream SMP fan songs, Passerine was a fanfic with fics, music and animations made out of it. A lot of us talk about the Super Hero au like it's canon sometimes, we fought to get that Ao3 tag!!! We made content in the Dream SMP canon (the white streak, YCGMA limbo).

I am inclined to say that the fandom as a whole is as much of a Content Creator as the the Dream SMP's content creators, if not more (we are a lot of people).

And now some are leaving for very valid reasons, and us that are staying know that we'll have to find way to make this work in a sensible way - that we'll also suffer consequences of having extra hate thrown at us, even if we really haven't supported Dream directly in a long time (I for example never really liked manhunts that much so outside that really small lore video of Dream I haven't touched a Dream video or stream for more than a year).

And to think of the community that bonded around an Ode to L'Manburg and still knows how to sing it today. To think of a community that is such a safe space for LGBTQI+ people. To think of the inside jokes about salmon. To think about the zines. To think about the fact that I could live of fan content!!! Because we had almost all art forms! From embroidery to book binding, to composing to drawing, animatics/animation, sculpting, cosplaying, writing, programming, etc... I have seen it all.

And to think it can all be threatened by a single person? When we are literally millions? It's a feeling I can't really describe.

I can only wish that on the best case scenario something happens like what happened to Hermitcraft - the server goes to another person. But part of me thinks we might end up like Yandere Highschool, although worse because everyone knows about the Dream SMP. I'm starting to wonder if that even is wishful thinking. Because at least people leave Yandere Highschool fans alone because almost nobody knows about it.

All of this to say - more than the lore I am worried about the people and friends I might lose because of this situation, and what I wish is for we all to come out of this the least scratched as possible, so that maybe we can still play a little melody.

#gle original #long post #the dream situation #mcytblr

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14carrotghoul · 10 days

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Fic Pride Weekend

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

Thank you to @cha-melodius for tagging me! Have added so many of y'all's wonderful fics to my list from this tag game so I wanna see what y'all are proudest of! Tagging @read-and-write- @dumbpeachjuice @sherryvalli @cultofsappho

@happiness-of-the-pursuit @suseagull04 @indomitable-love @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland

@orchidscript @xthelastknownsurvivorx @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @myheartalivewrites and anyone else that wants to share their personal favorites!!!!

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces

[...]Thirdly, and most importantly, the music that’s playing is his music, not some flowery French waltz. These are songs that he’s heard since before he could talk. Songs that remind him of Saturday drives with his dad hunting down their favorite flavors of Helados at several grocery stores (mamey for his dad; pecan for himself). Of cleaning with his grandmother when she babysat until she dropped everything to watch her novelas. Smearing masa on corn husks until his fingers went pruny on Christmas Eve. Raucous birthday parties that are responsible for his well-earned anxiety near bouncy castles.

Solo Déjame Estar Junto a Ti

Alex nods decisively and says, “H, you are my choice and the absolute love of my life. I love you and I love your heart and I love your mind and I love the way you’re about to freak the fuck out when I say you have bewitched me, body and soul – ” he pauses because Henry’s chest positively heaves with a sob “ – and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.” His smile widens and he opens the box. “Henry Fox, will you marry me?

True Blue

Henry wades further into the ocean, the Ionian lapping gently against his ribs before he tugs Alex closer and cradles him, whispering poetry in his ear, all sun-kissed skin and besotted smiles; his own private sun tucked safely in his embrace, nourishing him with his endless blaze.

Henry helps. Of course he helps but he's not always enough to cut through his cyclone of a brain; he hasn't been around when he fucks up and cracks under the pressure and spirals into panic attacks and unwise pulls of Maker's Mark straight from the bottle. Henry is there, holding him and helping him breathe and it makes him love him so much more for staying and fear far more deeply because eventually everyone leaves. Henry insists he never will but he doesn't get it he doesn't get it he doesn't get it. He is so alone and he is never alone - not as long as he's getting secretly photographed by fellow students at the library or being blasted on Fox News as their latest scapegoat for everything wrong with America or taking selfies with a barista when all he wants is a triple shot mocha and a fucking break.

Impossible to Ignore, Impossible to Ignore

His brain is a perpetual maelstrom of immigration law and prayers in Nahuatl and stupid shit like Fergie singing the national anthem. It never shuts the fuck up. However, just being in Henry's presence makes everything else fade away. Wait… FUCK. Henry looks away, alerting Alex to the fact that he's been staring at him in silence like a total weirdo. For good reason, though, because even though he never entertained the idea that he's into guys, Henry's face - even when exhausted and gray - is inarguable proof of a higher power. Like aurora borealis or the first time he heard Dreams by The Cranberries.

A Love That Haunts the Land [I am particularly proud of the bonkers plot and characterization in this, especially Pez and Raf, but also Nora's introduction below fills me with so much fucking joy]

Alex lives with his best friend/ex-girlfriend/sister-in-law Nora, who Henry meets for the first time while half-naked (and not the half he would've preferred). She waltzes into the flat with a mischievous glint in her eye, slides onto the couch with them, and steals the remote for their sound system without saying a word. A few seconds later, she's blasting “WAP” and brutally murdering whatever shred remained of the mood while Henry clutches a throw pillow between his legs and begs desperately for the ever-so-elusive release of death. "Do you, like, mind?" Alex yells over the mantra of there’s some whores in this house.

two homes (side by side)

His deep laugh kicks with the power of a bucking bronco, taking the whole room into hysterics with him – especially if the little ones are around (and they are always around). Abuelo Alex warms the space and fills it with grand and irreverent energy. He weaves tales so magical the kids don't believe him until one of them will chirp, “Is it true, Grandpa Henry?” And he nods sagely, if only to hear them gasp with delight.

Tiempo de Vals

Before they call it and head back, Alex warns, "FYI, June has a crush on the other guys in the court that aren't related to her. So - you know - you're in the danger zone." "That won't be a problem." Henry blushes again (seriously, does this guy have a condition?) which makes it harder to believe him. "June's not the type of person I'm interested in, and she knows it." Alex half-jokes, "Why not? Are you racist or something?" "I'm gay," Henry answers with an amused huff. Without missing a beat, Alex kisses his teeth in mock disappointment and drawls, "Dodging the question, I see." Henry rolls his eyes and can't help but smile. "You're a menace." "Well, you're not beating the racism allegations with that attitude."

#my writing #rwrb fic #tag games #im super interested to see what y'all choose as your favorite passages!!!#also fun to compare my fave passages out of my works to what gets quoted back in comments

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yanban-san · 2 years

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Does darling get days off?

If so, have the boys seen them out of their uniform (most likely they do but I like to imagine that it's a rare occurrence).

Like one day darling just comes strolling into the gear station in a cute casual outfit ready to go somewhere , BUT they're wearing ingo and emmets feather/ scale but before they leave they go to the boys because they've brought a gift for them! (maybe some homemade accessory/ food ).

Darling is just 💖 vibing💖 waiting for the twins to accept the gift- but also a little anxious because they have to catch their train soon, ( maybe even say "love you bye" by accident while they leave😏/J)

Just... the fluff that would cause is wonderful.

also, Hi Yan!! hope your doing and feeling well!!, love your writing 💜

Hello 💜! I am doing well- ADHD and general life stuff has been kicking my ass- Hence lack of posts. I am working on it, though.

I quite like this idea- Reading through this after I wrote it, I realized I went off on a MASSIVE tangent at first- Relating to, surprisingly, the ask where Emmet gives you Hair clips from another world. Ingo also bought something there, though he does not give it to Darling. I am leaving it in because "Why not?" - Irregardless, I hope you enjoy it. :) Tags: Eldritch Submas stuff, It’s all fluff. ~3.6k words?

The twins were always upset when you requested days off- But at the urging of their agents, and with how regular humans worked... They understood, begrudgingly. And so they strove instead to make your works days so pleasant and enjoyable you wouldn't even want to take time off.

And so they were still upset when you'd still request time off. The Station was dull without you. They carried on their work well enough, but...

They kept their eyes on you. Watching. Sometimes you would take a day off and spend it in your apartment- A long, hot bath, drawn with rich soaps and luxurious scents, and you'd settle in the tub and almost fall asleep in the warmth of the water, spending the day lounging around, playing games or reading or taking a short walk around the block- Or otherwise, you might go out shopping- Finding yourself in various shops and enjoying the day outside.

They were always interested in your actions. No matter what you were doing. It was curious. The idea of a "day off" made them wish they could share it with you; To curl up in that tub, with you, washing your body, washing your hair- What a reverent act of adoration. The mere thought of bring permitted to brush your beautiful hair- Your delicate, sensitive hair- Made Ingo lose track of himself many times while he watched you comb it out-

He often thought to the pins Emmet had given you. Ingo himself was never sure if there were any gifts he could make to you- It struck a strange chord with him to see Emmet's feather in your cap. A very sour chord. You loved fluffy, bright, feathery things-

You wouldn't love him, or his scales or fur- Or so he thought.

You took it gently, kindly- And offered it a precious place by your heart, which in turn struck a sour chord with Emmet. He wanted to be close to your heart! At Elesa's suggestion, both of them were figuring out a way to "fuse" their scale and feather- Into a necklace you'd be given. But... It was proving more difficult than anticipated. In the meantime, they'd had to attend to some extra-dimensional affairs- Meeting up with an ally who also dwelled within some other world, the two did something unusual- They walked through a market of this other world, near where their "ally" dwelled.

A strange pair of red clips intrigued Emmet- Who acquired them for himself, originally. Ingo had scanned the goods offered- His mind was elsewhere.

What if he brought you to such a place? The twin suns of this world beat down harshly on the people below- Yet at the same time... He was certain you would be enamored. Beast-sellers sold creatures you would not recognize- They were not pokemon. Strange fox like creatures with huge, sensitive ears- Little burrowing moles, two-headed serpents, beautiful birds from far off countries in this land- The spice market perfumed with aromas you might find familiar- And more still you would not. Strange gems for sale in some sections of the market, rocks, minerals and gems, rare herbs, medicines, pets, weapons-

And all Ingo thought would be to have you on his arm. He wanted to know what you think of the market. Would you fawn over the strange creatures of this world? Marvel at the beautiful gems, or perhaps want a dress from one of these shops- Or perhaps you would want to taste the foods being endlessly put out by the street cooks- it would be one thing you would find familiar. No matter the world humans existed within, they would always find themselves frying dough and skewering meat, drenching them in savory and sweet sauces.

"You look like your looking for somethin," A voice called out- Ingo was good at ignoring many of the sellers crying to attract passerbys, yet this man-

"You know, I am looking for something." Ingo replied, turning his attention to the merchant. A portly man, dressed in white and green robes- Built more akin to a stove pot than a human shape. His face was as round as a pumpkin, and his face was creased and worn from his pleasant smile. He stroked his beard, looking up at Ingo- Eying Ingo's own outfit, matching the robe-dress of the locals- Except his was black. An unusual color for the area. "I can tell. You've got someone you're sweet on." Ingo's hands clenched emptily. His scowl deepening. "...Why would you think that?" The merchant laughed. "I can tell by the way you've been walking. Men don't usually stare at a dress tailor, ya know. And the stalls you've been stopping at... They're the sort o' place that sweethearts'll gather." Ingo looked away abashedly- This was not something he was going to admit around... the dwelling of one of his allies. "You are mistaken." And he turned to walk away, but the merchant stopped him. "Well, even if I'm mistaken, and I'll have ya know, Sir, that I'm never mistaken about these things- I still have something you'd like from my wares."

Ingo turned back- His silver eyes scanned the tray of goods the merchant held, scrutinizing them intensely. They were indeed fine items- Trinkets of silver, inlaid with ebony or ivory or pearl or gems- ribbons and sashes of fine silken threads, obviously a very long way from their maker- Small crystal flasks and smaller crystal lamps. Some maps, some pens- And Ingo's eyes settled on one thing amid the many on the tray, picking it up gently. A brush. "Hmm. You know that's a gifting brush, right?" The merchant smiled knowingly. "I may use it for myself." Ingo retorted blankly. The merchant smirked back. "If you insist, then I suppose. Buyin' a sweetheart's gift for your own self." The merchant watched as ingo ran his hand along the spines. "Though to be fair, you've got a good eye, Good Sir. It's made of orled wood. From the West. An artisan inlaid it with black glass and silver, and the spines are from a quillet beast."

The words would have made sense to one from this world, no doubt-But Ingo's thoughts only went to you brushing your hair. He thought to the brush in his hand, the beautiful "quills" that made up the comb were delicate, yet strong. Suitable for your hair. He thought to you holding it in your hand, a gift from him...

"They say if your beloved uses it, they'll dream of you at night."

"I don't believe in such superstitions," Ingo remarked. But he did have to admit- The comb- To him, at least- Looked like something pretty. And- Perhaps- Just maybe- You would like it? "It'll be three silets." The merchant answered as Ingo turned to him. "One." Ingo retorted. Silets were a high-grade of currency-

"Three. One for the comb, one for lyin' to me about not havin' a sweetheart, and one for lyin' about not believing in superstitions."

Ingo sighed. That was a superstition in this world, wasn't it? The gods of this realm, or whatever, hated lying- And you would pay for even small ones sooner or later- So it was better to "pay" for them immediately, rather than in some form of cosmic retribution.

The cost of the item, and such foolish demands of the Gods, did not matter to the thing pretending to be human, standing in front of this merchant, playing pretend. It was a dance he'd learned the steps to. Things to be said that made him seem innocuous and average. The merchant had dealt with a curious foreigner who had sharp eyes and would not be deceived- He had not dealt with an Eldritch Demon that could tear the world apart at it's seams if he were insulted. He reached into the voidal pocket of his coat, pretending to pull out the money made manifest in his hand. And thus, purchased the hair comb.

It was to be a gift to you. Eventually. Every time Ingo went to hand it to you, he would put it away or decide against it- And it would not be today, either- For you had taken the day off. Standing in the lobby, himself and his brother-

The twins watched dully as passengers ran to and fro from the various platforms. "It's busy today." Emmet observed dryly.

"What do you think Darling is doing?" He asked, sipping an excessively sweet beverage. Ingo sighed. "I don't know. Probably resting. They will be in tomorrow."

"Mmm. Resting. Maybe they are bathing again." A mischievous smile spread across Emmet's face- Before Ingo lightly bopped him on the back of his head. "That is improper to talk about," He reprimanded-

"Mmm. As if you aren't thinking about it too," Emmet hissed back in reply. "You think about it enough to have bought them something. To use. While they are- relaxing." He hesitated as he saw Ingo's hand ready again.

"Now list-" But Ingo's words were cut off- By the sound of a voice he so dearly loved to hear- And yet, was surprised to hear. "Station Masters! Good morning!" The twins turned their heads. You- You were coming into work today-? No- You- It was your day off. And you certainly looked it.

The twins could barely process it- The outfit you were wearing was beautiful, albeit...

Very casual. Your loose fitting tunic, the leggings- The cute side bag- And the strange little box in your hands.

They loved you wearing the uniform of Gear Station. It was, in a way, a symbol of the hold they'd crept over you without your noticing. To be dressed as their creations- As theirs- Placated them. They were not anxious about having to chase you around, ensuring you were safe- You were within their house, under their control. But seeing you so frequently- Seeing you in the comfortable, well-fitting uniform of Gear Station- They had... forgotten how different you could look in other clothes.

How beautiful.

And as you approached, they realized.

Tucked in a cap you were wearing-

Was the pretty white feather and the pretty black scale.

Emmet suddenly turned, hiding slightly behind his twin. "Brother." He hissed, under his breath, his smile tensed- "My feather. Your scale-" Ingo shushed him, stepping around- Emmet quickly tucked his hands behind his back, hoping you would not notice the claws he now possessed- Ingo took a deep breath. He could not slip up, not in front of you, not like this-

You looked so pretty, and your hand reached up to brush back the scale and the feather, to make sure they stayed seated against your pretty hat-

And as you focused your attentions on your hat, nervously adjusting it, oblivious to the sharp breaths your bosses took, steeling their nerves as they looked down at you. Once again, Ingo felt your hand ghosting his back- He felt it regularly. It was pleasant to know you were touching his gift from him so frequently, and seemingly fondly- Though the random times you stroked it could prove strange and bothersome to him, feeling the sensation of his soulmate's hand ghosting along his spine- At the worst and most inopportune of times.

"Darling." Emmet blurted out- His eyes darting across your whole frame. Pretty. You were very pretty. Beautiful. The outfit you were wearing was particularly beautiful- All of it.

"What was that, Sir?" You asked- Your heart skipped a beat, it sounded almost like he called you Darling, but surely not-

"Nothing, nothing." He returned, smiling sheepishly. "How are you doing, Miss? You have today off, do you not?" Ingo interjected.

"Yes, yes. I'm going to visit some friends in Castelia. I haven't seem them in ages, goodness- I haven't been out of the city in so long, it'll be nice to get a change of scenery- Even if only for a little bit."

Emmet shifted uncomfortably at your words. Did Nimbasa bore you? Did you not like this city? Flashy and beautiful as it was, yes, it was certainly beneath you- Perhaps they ought to change it a bit- Suit your tastes more, perhaps? Ingo was more worried about where you were going. Castelia? That horrible steel-grey abomination- It tried it's best to look beautiful, fashionable- But the city was filthy, and full of ne'er-do-wells. "You're leaving Nimbasa for a bit, then?" He asked- Keeping his tone even.

"Only for today, Sir-"

The older twin interjected. "Ingo," He corrected. You were off work. Call him by his name, even if only his human name-

"Sorry Sir?"

"You're- You're, uh, not at work right now, so you may drop formalities. We would- We would hope, as long as you are comfortable with it, Miss- To refer to us by our names, as a normal passenger might- Please?" "O-Oh, my apologies, Ingo." You smiled sheepishly, dropping the title.

The way his name rolled off your tongue- Filled the other brother with jealousy.

"And me of course!" Emmet added- His smile as neutral as he could keep it- "You may always refer to me by name. Like a friend would, yup." You couldn't help but smile bashfully at such an admission, and even laugh a little. Emmet could be silly, the way he seemed to always seek out attention- And even if you felt a little guilty at the way your heart suddenly picked up- Seemingly, suddenly, making the upgrade to actually being called the friend of the Subway Bosses- You quickly pushed aside those strange feelings in your heart.

"Of course, Em-Emmet," You stuttered. Emmet cocked his head at you, his silver eyes unblinking. "Verry nice, Miss. You are going to Castelia? We will be there later today."

"Really? I thought you two only stayed in Nimbasa, normally."

"Nope! We go alllll over the stations. Make sure they are running smoothly, yup."

That made sense, you supposed. You squeezed the package in your hand- And remembered it's existence. "Oh, that right! I was bringing some cookies for my friends in Castelia- And I packaged a few extra. Would you guys like them?" You offered. If they would consider you a friend, then surely they would like this gift-

The package was gingerly taken into your hand, Emmet surprisingly reaching out. The soft, light feeling of his glove ghosted over your own hand as he took the box gently, as though it were a delicate piece of glass. Your hand shivered.

"Oh my, thank you, Miss. I'm sure we will enjoy these late-" "Mmm. Yes. They are quite delicious!"

Ingo turned to his brother to see he'd already flipped open the little paper box- Happily munching on one of the deliciously sweet treats you'd provided them with.

You laughed. "Whenever you guys decide to enjoy them is perfectly fine. I'm glad you like them, Emmet!"

"They are verrry good. You should bring more sometime." He added, as Ingo swiped the box from him. "We will enjoy the snack at lunch. Miss- I wish you safe travels. And perhaps... we shall see each other later in Castelia," Ingo finished, his eyes falling to the box of treats he was now holding.

Sweets had an unfortunately powerful hold over most of their kind. Anything rich, decadent- And the feelings that went into making a "gift"- As they understood it, an "offering"- were important too. And so the cookies were impossibly delicious and tantalizing to them. Perhaps because you had been their maker- And Ingo took the smallest of bites from one, desperate to savor it. There were only ten, after all- And they were such small little things.

"Mmm, you guys enjoy them!" You turned, waving. "I need to go catch a train now- Love you, bye!"

You caught yourself, the words having already left your mouth. And you turned back, your cheeks turning the same shade as an overripe pecha berry- "I- Sorry, Sirs- That just- That just slipped out-"

"I-I-It's no worry, Miss-" Ingo reassured- Pulling at his hat, his other hand clutching the box of cookies tightly- He turned away suddenly, his coat seeming to flare behind him-

"Emmet! We must- We should- We should report to the multi-line at once. Come!" And without waiting for a reply, Ingo grabbed his brother's coat collar aggressively, dragging him away- And the conductor in white waved back to you, his arm looking like a bright blur of reflective white- Leaving you to cower in your embarrassment as you walked at an ever quickening pace towards your own platform.

"Love you."

Ingo had already dragged the two of them out of sight of the public- The two demons were rapidly degrading- Unable to maintain their semblance of mortal human forms. The pair of them were still vaguely-humanish, but not quite. Humanoid figures of fur and feather amid the glow of ethereal light and the growing shadows of darkness as they walked, gently and methodically towards- Where? Their office, they supposed, halfheartedly. Their minds were elsewhere.

"Love you."

Ingo traced the contours of his chest. Empty and hollow as it was, if he had a heart- He was sure it would be beating as fast as yours was.

"Love you."

The phrase echoed in themselves. The way you said it, so naturally- The words you spoke to so many, but not them-

The effortless way you had uttered those words, and the adorable way you responded- Why were you embarrassed? You were cute. It was cute. It was an admission of your love. It was a slip of your inner thoughts out to them- And it tore them apart.

"They're so sweet. They're faarr too sweet." The half-human, half-monster whined. His wings flicked around him eagerly as he ate another of the small treats- And yet another set of wings seemed to spring forth from his back as he sighed contentedly. "These are verry good."

The shadow-creature ate another cookie, darkness pooling in the corners of the hall as they walked. "...Yes, yes they are." He answered gently. His heart and mind were elsewhere.

Kudari trailed off. His wings brushing against the side of the halls, burning them with light- Changing them to something else, before the resettled as walls made of wall-material- Nothing more, nothing less. Your admission made his heart sing. And he had shown remarkable restraint in not grabbing you immediately and turning his chorus of voices towards you at once. It was bothersome talking with only one voice- There were so many things he wanted to say. So many things he wanted heard- And you wouldn't have been able to understand him anyway, much to his sorrow-

Ingo took a deep breath. sinking into his chair.

"Darling loves us." He muttered. His hands drumming- Scales flexing and shimmering against the light his brother gave off- "Darling loves us, Darling loves us and they said they loved us-"

"They meant it, right?-" "Of course-" "Of course they meant it, I'm just nervous-" "It is fine. They love us." "They love us and they want us. We should- We should bring them flowers, brother." "But of course, of course. We should tell them we love them. Because we do." "Of course, of course." "Do you think flowers are enough? I want... to give them pretty clothes." "Treasure-" "They've wanted to head to Alola for some time, perhaps we could take them there..." "Perhaps we may buy them a villa." "It would be closer though, we could buy them one in Undella." "None of them are suitable for our beautiful mate, brother." "We could make them one, them- As a present-" "Yes, yes I like that verrry much..."

And you went on your way- Completely unaware of your bosses' plans. The two would continue on- Talk of their sweet plans, their wishes- And the high they rode off of your admission, no matter whether you'd meant it or not-

And they would continue, until Agent Jackie had the intelligence to message Miss Elesa about the twin's... elated state. Hopefully, he half-prayed, she would talk some sense into his bosses' oh-so-empty heads.

#Demon AU #Monster AU #seth.asks #seth.anon #💜#Emmet X Reader #Ingo X Reader #Eldritch AU

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fizzyginfizz · 9 months

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“Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.”

― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

It's been forever since I posted anything - fic or tumblr - and I wanted to pop in and let the six beautiful, wonderful, enthusiastic people who follow Quidditch is for Losers know that I am, indeed, still working on it.

But, I'm also in the phase where I've written way too many words and I'm streamlining storyline and killing darlings.

This hurts me. Editing hurts. I always write waaaaay too much. So every now and then, I might bury some of my dead darlings in this tumblr graveyard.

You six beautiful, wonderful, enthusiastic people? I hope you find and enjoy this microfic that used to be the beginning of the next QifL chapter.

But no longer is. Because it's dead. I've killed it.

Little dots splashed on the page as Ginny shook her quill, muttering her scratched words out loud, wondering what she could possibly say next. Dear Bill, Got back last night to unpack-then-pack-again to find smuggled stack of parchment with “Dear Bill” already doodled on each sheet. Also - dozen quills with tiny tags labelled “Me, too. Charlie.” “Ginny! We’re leaving for the Leaky now!” Ron’s voice shot up the stairwell. From her cross-legged position on her bedroom floor, Ginny yelled through the door. “You lot go on without me, I’ll follow in a few!” Her quill hovered over parchment. “And take my trunk with you!” she added, before turning back to her letter. Not subtle. Couldn’t - “Ginny?” Percy’s voice yanked her off her train of thought. “Your trunk is on the landing.” “Maybe someone who can legally use a wand can levitate it downstairs?” Ginny huffed, jabbing her quill back into the ink. “Since you’re all packed for school, Bill should know we’ve arrived home. Maybe you should-” Percy was cut off with a loud thump. Ginny could hear Fred’s oomph through the door. “Who left their trunk on the landing?” “Someone,” Ginny groaned, “who’d like someone else - perhaps with a wand and a blatant disregard for underage magic law- to levitate it to the floo?” “Oi,” George said, too casually from the other side of the door. “Did anyone let Bill know we’ve arrived home?” “Wish I had some parchment,” Fred added, sounding like his mouth was aimed right at the keyhole. “And quills,” George added. “Ginny?” Percy called through the door. “Do you happen to have parchment and quills?” “Perhaps tucked into your travel trunk?” “If you were to stumble upon some parchment and quills in your travel trunk-“ “-you could write Bill and let him know how you’re feeling.” “Best Brothers like to know stuff like feelings.” “Thoughts.” “Written down.” "On parchment." "With quills." “Oi!” Ron’s abnormally large feet thumped up the stairwell. “Which one of us was s’pposed to make sure Ginny writes Bill?” Ginny flew to her regular-sized feet and yanked open her door to find four brothers huddled around her trunk. “Go. Take my trunk, kick it down the stairs if your wands are broken. I’ll meet you at the Leaky after I finish writing the brother who is not Best Brother because no brothers are best.” She slammed the door in their faces, her trunk thumping down the stairs as she sat on the floor to finish her letter. Let’s discuss boundaries. Deceptively casual (totally overbearing) Best Brother has deputized four local spies to micro-manage sister’s existence? Is this how it’s going to be this year? I’m fine, got home fine, will have a fine year. Everyone needs to stop being mental. I’ll write you and Charlie every other week. Am off for an overnight at the Leaky before picking up train tomorrow morning. Never stayed at the Leaky, excited. “Never stayed at the Leaky, excited.” Ginny tried the words on her tongue as if they were an over-sized robe that could disguise the bloated subtext beneath, which went something like: “Harry accidentally blew up his aunt so we get a complimentary family night at the Leaky paid for by the Ministry, but I have no idea how these things are related because nobody tells me anything and they just want Harry to think something-they-aren’t-telling-me is perfectly normal even though seven Weasleys at the Leaky is about as normal as our gnomes donning garters for a delightful summer evening can-can.”

#ginny weasley #quidditch is for losers #qifl #qifl cut scenes #weasley siblings

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deepperplexity · 1 year

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Prompt: 13. Repetitive Carols

Pairing: Turpin x Wife!Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Setting: London

A/N: So, let’s leave the magic of Hogwarts behind for a bit and jump over to the biter English winter in London today. I had quite a rough time coming up with a story for this prompt, I don’t know why but I guess after so many days of coming up with new Christmas fics and having written quite a few long ones in the past few days I was a bit tapped out. However, I do think you will enjoy this one even if it’s not until the very end that things turn bright.

And, I would like to add a small note here as well… If you don’t mind…

I hope that these fics offer you something during this cold and harsh December. All around the world people are struggling - hell, I’m sitting with three layers of clothing on, thick socks, slippers, a warm wheat bag under the blanket draped over my legs as the heating is just too expensive - and I know money is tight, for many of us this year with the inflation and sky-rocketing expenses of everything.

So, I hope these fics grant you something to look forward to, something to be excited about, something that offers you a feeling of being connected with others around the world. For we are all connected. We are all in this community together and I wish I could do more, be more, offer more. But I do not have anything but my hard work, creativity and words to offer during these hard times. I’m giving every spare minute I have to RICKMAS, late nights, early mornings, lunch breaks - all of it. And, to see you here - your comments, your reblogs, your likes and the tags you add - warms my heart. It makes me so happy to know that you wish to spend your time reading my words and communicating your thoughts and feelings about it in return too.

Thank you, for warming my heart and being here with me. I am ever so grateful for this little community of ours where we share love, friendship and support. I really wish you all the best and for these hard times to pass ❤

+A/N: I know the gramophone wasn’t invented until 1877 but this is fiction so we are just moving that invention a few years for the sake of this fic - so don’t come for me about that 🙈😂

Tags/TW’s: Kissing, Anger, Guilt, Worry, Lots Of Love, Taking Responsibility.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

You couldn’t help but feel protected and comfortable on his arm. Strolling through London could be dangerous, but not with your dear husband so close by — who would ever dare to bother you as the wife of Judge Turpin with him right there? None.

However, he appeared to have lost some of the initial warmth and joy from when you had first asked him to take a stroll through the buzzing city with market stands on each square, big or small. For nearly two hours you had been walking about with your butler, Mr Stokes, a few steps behind carrying everything your husband had graciously acquired for you. No item was too small and no price was too high when it came to spoiling you.

That had been hard to deal with at first, the guilt of suddenly being presented with all things you had ever wished for and far more than you could ever need. But he had insisted, time and time again, that you deserved it. That he wished to lavish you with gifts and that it brought him joy to provide for you in every manner possible.

However, something was bothering him no. You could feel the annoyance radiate from him in a manner you had not previously experienced. “Angel, perhaps something hot to drink?” you asked, wondering if it could perhaps lighten his mood with something warming. “If you wish,” he said in a dark murmur. “Are you fairing?” you asked quietly and he glanced down at you, raising a brow towards the rim of his black tophat. “You seem, out of sorts, perhaps we should return home?” You continued in less than a heartbeat. “When you are ready to return, we will do so.” “But I—” “Love, I am well aware you adore this time of year, so when you are ready, we shall return.”

You tilted your head and looked at him, nodding after a moment while he smiled in a restrained way — as he usually did when you were out and about where others were present. I still feel as if something is not right with you. Perhaps I should say I’m tired?

The sound of a children's choir reached you that moment when you turned onto a bigger street leading to the main square. Oh, such a lovely sound, you thought to yourself and smiled as the sound grew louder while you walked on. The smell of hot chocolate was in the air, people calling out prices and haggling being done by each stand you passed until you reached the giant tree where a small platform had been placed for the choir to stand on.

“Isn’t it lovely?” you said in a manner that was a question yet also a statement. “Mmh,” Richard murmured in a slight drawl while you both stopped to listen to the children sing. “Mr Stokes, if you please, a pound for them,” you said and your ever-jolly butler scurried forward to place the coin in the bin collecting money for one of the orphanages in London.

You smiled at the children while Richard seemed to stiffen beside you, becoming further annoyed it seemed. You glanced up at your most beloved grump of a husband who wielded far more power in the city than you could truly understand. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes cold and harsh while his pale skin held a slight hint of pink from the biting English winter. Something was most certainly wrong. He never acted in such a manner when you were on his arm unless someone said or did something he took offence at.

“Darling, are you sure you’re—” “Love, stop,” he gritted without looking at you. It stunned you for a moment as he never spoke in such a manner to you. He never withheld his attention from you either.

You felt your shoulders droop as you looked away from him, unable to hide the slight hurt marring your facial features while you looked at the singing children. “I’m tired, Richard,” you said quietly. “Can we return home, please?” “As you wish,” he said in yet another grumpy drawl and wasted no time turning the two of you around to march towards your home not too far away from the square with its prime location. Mr Stokes were hot on your heels, balancing the packages and basket he had been clever enough to bring for smaller items, most likely Mrs Marsh’s idea. She’s such a good housekeeper, and certainly thinks ahead each and every time. I wonder if she’s had time to bake those Christmas cookies she spoke of this morning?

The thought of those sweet treats made you smile for a moment as the two of you turned the corner and your home became visible. Richard was still stiff and cold beside you thought so that smile quickly vanished while your hand tensed around his arm.

Mr Stokes opened the door for the two of you and stepped aside. The house was beautifully decorated, thanks to you and the staff, and it felt wonderful to be back in the warmth. Only, you still felt cold when your husband behaved so strangely with you. He had never behaved in such a manner before.

“I shall be in my office,” he announced while rather quickly switching his boots and taking off his outer layers before you had barely had time to unbutton your winter cloaks two buttons at your upper chest. “Would you like some—” “No.”

You blanched at his interruption, stunned at the harsh tone of his voice. He stalked off before you even had a chance to ask what was wrong. “Are you alright, my Lady?” Mr Stokes asked which brought you out of the stunned state. “I don’t understand what’s gotten into him,” you confessed while removing your outer layers and switching your shoes for a more comfortable pair of slippers lined with fur to keep the chill of the floors away from your feet.

“Ah, my Lady,” Mrs Marsh said as she came from the hallway leading to the kitchen, “you have returned. And at just the right time,” she continued with a broad smile making her wrinkly face look happy. “Oh? Time for what?” you asked, feeling a bit warmer under her smile. “The first batch has just come out of the oven, piping hot, as you like them, my Lady,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes and you beamed at her. “Well, what are we waiting for? Lead the way!”

You groaned and hummed at the delicious treat as you bit off the head of a reindeer-shaped one. “So good, you are a fabulous baker, Elenora!” you called out to the housekeeper. It wasn’t quite proper to call the staff by their given names, and you had agreed to only do so in the house when no guests were present. “Thank you, my Lady,” she smiled as she pulled out the second batch from the wood-heated oven. “Can we turn on some music?” you asked the butler who beamed at you and instantly turned to start the gramophone already loaded with a disc of Christmas music.

The very same song you had heard all over town during the stroll played, filling the house with music while the smell of Christmas cookies wafted through the air. You had nearly forgotten about your husband's bad mood while you danced around the kitchen to a sweet carol when thumping, rushed steps grew louder.

“TURN THAT INFERNAL RACKET OFF!” Richard shouted in fury from the doorway. His dark baritone voice cut through the air like thunder overhead, making the air vibrate and your body stiffen. His cold eyes glared at the gramophone before he stalked over in long strides and yanked the disc out of it, throwing it on the floor.

Your breathing turned ragged as you backed away from the man you didn’t recognise. Never had he raised his voice in your presence. Never had he glared at you with such anger. Never had he acted with such fury in the proximity of you.

The joy seeped out of you instantly, the warmth in the previously happy kitchen stolen in a mere second. Mr Stokes and Mrs Marsh back to the stoic staff members you had met when you first came to London nearly a year ago. Their heads bowed, their bodies stiff under Richard’s glare for those three seconds he stood in the kitchen.

Your bum hit the back of the long table for preparations, your chest felt tight and for the first time a sliver of fear shot through you because of him. He looked so, enraged. Dangerous. And then he turned on his heel and rushed out of the kitchen with gritted teeth and clenched fists. “What in the world,” you asked the universe as you looked after the man you had never thought capable of looking at you with such fury in his eyes.

Your hands shook as you looked towards the disc on the floor, having skidded along the stone it was most likely ruined. Tears began to rim your eyes. “Now, my Lady, you’re alright,” Mrs Marsh said quietly as she stepped around the table while you tried to speak — opening and closing your mouth without a single noise leaving you. “You’re alright,” she said once more as she took one of your trembling hands in her warm and slender one, the other she stroked your back soothingly as your breaths turned into short pants the moment tears began to roll down your cheeks.

You looked at her. “He’s never-, he’s never-,” you began to say but your weak voice never turned into a sentence. “I know, it’s alright,” she said gently. “His Lordship struggles with Christmas. It is not your fault, my Lady,” she comforted but it didn’t feel right. He had been happy when you decorated the house, he’d been happy when you put up the tree, he’d been happy when you presented him with the stocking you had ordered for the fireplace with your name and his stitched on them.

“Now, let’s get you a warm bath, my Lady. You are shivering.” You nodded at her words, knowing full well both of you knew better. You weren’t shivering. You were trembling. Yet you allowed her to lead you to the bathroom two floors up. Allowed her to sit you down on the chair in the room while she filled the tub with steaming water. Allowed her to help undress you and assist you as you stepped into the water a moment later. All while your mind ran rampant, wondering what had happened to your husband and the happy mood he had been in for the past couple of days when Christmas had been all around him.

“I shall start supper, I’ll return in a moment to help you get dressed, my Lady.” “Thank you,” you whispered as you sank down further into the warm water, allowing it to reach your chin and cover you completely with warmth. It helped very little though.

After a while, you began to hum on one of the carols you’d heard over and over during the day, one of your favourites. The bath soothed you slowly but your heart hurt at the way your husband had acted, at how he had frightened you for the first time ever.

A knock came from the door and you stopped humming. “You can just come in, Elenora!” you called, but as it opened it wasn’t her. Richard stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped and the harshness gone from his face. “Richard,” you said as he stepped inside the humid room and closed the door behind him. He looked at a loss. Much unlike your commanding and decisive husband, the man you loved so dearly despite all his faults and flaws.

“Love, I…” His words died out quietly while he avoided looking straight at you. It hurt seeing him look so lost, so uncertain. But the furious manner he had acted in a while ago still lingered in your head.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward until he sank down on one knee by the edge of the tub. “Love, I am sorry. I did not mean to behave in such a manner,” he confessed quietly, his baritone voice barely above a murmur while he kept avoiding your gaze, as if he felt ashamed of himself. “You frightened me,” you said. “Why did you act in such a way? You’ve never-, with me you have never behaved like that,” you continued and he sighed deeply. “I apologize,” he pushed out, worry evident in his dark voice. “Tell me why instead,” you prompted while reaching your soaked arm out only to grasp his hand with yours despite the water dripping from your skin.

He squeezed your hand before lifting it to his thin lips, placing the softest of kisses edged by some harsh resolve. “The carols,” he said and looked up at you, finding your eyes for the first time. “The carols?” “Yes,” he murmured, “the damned, repetitive carols.” “You don’t like music? But you play so beautifully, Richard.” “No, love, it’s not music. Merely, carols,” he gritted while looking down at your hand in his. “You don’t like carols?” “Every year, over and over, the same carols. The same tunes, the same words, the same notions of joy to the wretched world we inhabit. Over and over. Every damned year.”

It made sense. Your husband wasn’t fond of traditions, he wasn’t fond of repeating things or having to repeat himself beyond his daily breakfast habits or listening to anyone communicating something he had heard before. He abhorred words spoken more than once when they did not offer new meaning or a truth of some sort. Partly due to your occupation I presume. And he certainly wasn't fond of the world, which he'd confessed to being a gloomy and dreary place before he met you. Meaning every Christmas the world sang about joy he had been deep into the darkest depths of it.

“I didn’t know, angel,” you said, trying your hardest to see it from his perspective when you yourself loved the comfort and security of repetitive things, traditions, habits and words spoken over and over in reassurance. In love with Christmas and the warmth it had always offered you when the world turned kinder.

“I won’t play carols at home again. I’m sorry, Richard. I truly didn’t know,” you said gently and he looked at you once more, his features softer and less creased as his worry melted away under your words. “You are blameless, love,” he said. “I should not have allowed myself to get to that point. You asked me if I was fairing and I avoided admitting the truth, and then you took some of the annoyance, the anger I had pent up. I am the only one to blame, not you. And I truly am so sorry, love.” You smiled at him, vowing to keep your home a carol-free place in the future for his sake.

“Thank you for being honest with me, Richard. For taking responsibility for your emotions and actions,” you said and leaned towards him. He met you halfway, your lips touching and instantly your heart fluttered. “You are the most wondrous woman, my love. I am most sorry, and I love you most dearly. Your patience with me—” he sighed deeply and pecked your lips once more “—is beyond what I deserve.” “Oh, Richard, you deserve all the patience when you work so hard to be open with me. I know you struggle with it, I know it’s hard for you. But one repetitive thing you can always count on is my love for you,” you said with a small giggle at his half-smile that softened everything about him. “That is something I do not mind being repetitive, as I do not mind hearing you speak the words over and over, every day, my sweet.”

“I love you,” you said, just to tease him. He chuckled and looked at you with wonder in his eyes. “I love you as well.” “And no more carols in this house,” you laughed out as you tugged on his hand to get him even closer, your noses touching. “Except when you sing them, love… Anything spoken in your voice is beautiful music to my ears.” “Richard…” you breathed out, tears in your eyes at his lovely words spoken with ringing truth.

Then, he kissed you. He drew you in without caring about his clothes getting wet while he held you tightly with only the rim of the tub as a barrier between the two of you.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

A/N: I hope this tugged on your heartstrings a bit darling 💚 Sometimes people own up to their mistakes, their wrongs, and I find it beautiful to have the courage and strength to do so. And, when it happens, I find it just as beautiful when the wronged offer forgiveness and understanding when the regret is honest. Forgiveness takes strength - both to ask for it and gift it - but I find more often than not that when it is done genuinely, things tend to sort themselves out one way or another.

Taglist: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @elizabeth-baelish @severuslovebot @leah1243 @thethotthatbreathes @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @commodoreseverus @reinekefoxart @reiketsunomizunomegami @lokisbjchn

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2022]

#rickmas2022 #rickmas #judge turpin #turpin #turpin x reader #sweeney todd #alan rickman #rickmaniac #rickman #christmas #christmas fic #fanfiction #writing #fanfic #deepperplexity fic #deepperplexity #plex

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frosty-the-killer-doll · 6 months

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20 questions for fic writers - tagged by the lovely @supergirlboy !!!!!

How many works do you have on ao3?

What's your total ao3 word count?

274,783

What fandoms do you write for?

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

how do i look? (mm, frightful) - Heroes of Olympus

two rights can feel so, so wrong - Stranger Things

when the sun loves the moon - Wednesday

if flynn rider was out there, i'd probably reject him - Brooklyn 99

snow laughing matter - The Flash

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Of course! I want to let my readers know how much I appreciate their feedback 💕

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I couldn't decide between these three:

There’s a beautiful warmth in Felicity’s watery gaze when she talks about how straight-laced and good, how wonderful, Laurel had been as a teenager. Student body president, y’know! Always the smart kid you knew was going somewhere. Felicity hadn’t even known her back then, but that never really mattered. Laurel was sharp, kind, friendly— but she could hold her own. And she had, all her life, no matter what. Until… “Until... Damien Darhk.” Barry knows, at the vile hatred burning in Felicity’s tone at that name, he isn’t going to like this part of Laurel’s life story. And he’s right.

- finding out

Somewhere in the darkness of night, she makes the choice to leave. To run away from the monster, push past the angel, barely give any thought to the hunter. Tomorrow, when the sun comes up and her body works again… For now, she stirs in the memories of Randy’s blood and Salinger’s touch. She’s going to get out of here if it kills her.

- wounded

Khione will never know them. She wishes she got to know them. She wishes she could have been made for a different purpose. She wants to be the one that hears Frost inside her head and listens to Caitlin’s bad singing. Khione is grieving the lives she never led, but the lives that her body remembers so loyally. She doesn’t remember them. But that means she’ll never forget them.

-- and if it had to perish twice

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

maybe this oldie from smoak signals?

Laurel looked around at all these people. She’d known so many of them for years. Some were still strangers to her. She wouldn’t pass up this night for the universe. Even if she could go back to Earth-Two, she loved that so many of the people around her were alive and happy because of Prime. Eddie Thawne didn’t have to die to ensure Eobard’s defeat. Here, Barry didn’t have to break Patty’s heart. Livewire wasn’t just undead, but she was genuinely a force of good. Here, William had siblings—not blood ones, but blood didn’t matter much to them. He chose to be the brother of Zoe Ramirez and Ruby Arias, the polywogs. Maybe things weren’t always perfect. But as far as Laurel was concerned, this overwhelming linked group of outcasts was her perfect family. She loved them all, so, so, so fucking much, she didn’t know how to put it into a sentence. And she didn’t even know some of their names. That was amazing.

Do you get hate on fics?

bitch, every time I post about Max Mayfield. Her haters are alive and well in the comments of any ao3 fics that portray her in even a somewhat positive light

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I've written smut literally once and it's kinky Smoaking Canarrow threesome. I would love to write more smutty works...

Do you write crossovers?

Assuming we're not counting crossovers between media that exists in the same universe, not generally, but I did manage to sneak Crazy Jane of the Doom Patrol into an Arrowverse fic!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

shit not that I know of

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so?

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

RAO no

What’s your all-time favorite ship to write for?

:3 teehee

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

probably bare my old, diseased soul. I haven't touched it in years; I've lost interest in soulmate AUs, even polyamorous ones that star my darling Caity.

What are your writing strengths?

shrug emoji

What are your writing weaknesses?

it's hard to spell things right when you're dyslexic so I fear there are spelling and grammar errors in some places, tho I try to reread my works a shitton to fix any I may find before posting

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

make sure to always research the shit outta whatever you're trying to say!

First fandom you wrote for?

if writing multiple novel-length fics based on the adventures of my Warrior Cats OCs counts, then Warriors. Considering those works featured literally no actual Warrior characters, I like to say The Flash.

Favorite fic you’ve written?

true to form, a fluffy pre-relationship Killersnow~

UM UM UM let's tag @the-feral-gremlin and @icedteaandoldlace and @laurensxdeath

#tag games #fic writers

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trinidaddy888 · 1 year

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Strictly Professional (Chapter 2)

After living with your family for most of your life, you finally get to move out and find an office job in Devildom. The cost of living is low and the income is high and you make Devildom your new home. But no one is nice to you and ignores you. Except for the white-haired, tall demon that works a few floors above you. You want to get to know him. You even get a crush on him. You want to ask him out but is that a good idea?

Characters: Mammon, Reader, MC

Ship: Reader x Mammon

Genre: Romance

Tags: Office romance, Office AU, Alternate Universe, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Reader character is not the MC who went to RAD but is a post RAD MC, Mammon has changed after going to RAD, I do not know if there will be smut in this so I’m tagging it T for now, fluff, gender-neutral reader, race-neutral reader.

A/n: I'm not sure how many chapters there will be but this is a multi-chapter fic. I thought of this while working at my office job and wished I had a coworker like Mammon to crush on. I think he'd make a good office worker because then he'd find a reason to try to work towards something. Check it out on AO3.

Masterlist

You spend that night dreaming of the kind-hearted demon who gave you his umbrella. You wonder if you would see him again. If you do, you promise yourself that you would have a real conversation with him. You are not sure what Devildom social norms are but he seems friendly enough to oblige in conversation with you.

You wonder if your slight obsession with seeing him again is because of how lonely you feel in Devildom. You have no friends or family here. Just coworkers that find you incompetent and annoying. None of who you see yourself befriending in the future. You still video call your friends from the Human World but it was not enough to fill the aching void in your heart.

It could be all of that or… that you just wanted a relationship. Either way, you still need to make friends. Maybe you could start with the silver-haired demon. The insanely hot silver-haired demon.

Your commute to work this time is easy. No rushing. You even get to pick up some coffee from the closest cafe to work. You do not see the hot demon that morning but you hold out hope that you would see him again.

A week passes without seeing him until you are running late to work, again. And there he is in the first-floor lobby, waiting for the elevator. He’s sniffling. Maybe from a cold? You hope it wasn’t because he gave you his umbrella last week.

Much to your dismay, there are more people there, also waiting for the elevator. A woman says good morning to the hot demon, without mentioning his name and he replies with a smile and a “Good morning.” Would it be weird if you said that to him?

Once you all get onto the elevator, a conversation between the demon and the woman arises. They talk about work. You guess that they work in the same department. They make an inside joke about “strategy” and then you are completely lost on what they might do in their department.

You get off at your floor and make a note that you might see him more, the later you are. Maybe the next time you see him, you will get to ask for his name. It’s something so simple to ask but you do not know what asking for it would signal to him.

You go through the motions of the day, this day being better than you expected. And by the time you leave for the elevator, you feel a tad bit less burnt out than you usually would. You are happy to go home and enjoy streaming this week’s show of choice. You make it all the way to the train station and realized that you left your wallet back in the office.

Shit.

You might have left it on the desk when you took it out to buy a snack from the vending machine. You make it back to the office in a short, sweaty sprint and take the elevator to your department. You collect your wallet that’s lying on your desk, thankful that no one snatched it. You make your way to the elevator and press the call button.

And then, as if the heavens were blessing you twice, you see the demon again when the elevator arrives. He’s loosening his tie and sighing. He looks exhausted. He makes eye contact with you and smiles.

“Yo,” he says casually. Usually, in an office setting a hello would be more professional but you feel a bit special that he’s being casual with you.

With his tie loosened, you notice his long, elegant neck and the prominence of his Adam’s apple.

“Hi,” you say, boarding the elevator.

“You were working late today, too?” he asks.

“Not really,” you respond, “I just forgot my wallet. I made it all the way to the train station before I noticed I didn’t have it.”

“Damn.”

“What about you?”

“I had to put in some overtime to make the deadline for this project.”

“Damn,” you say, “That sucks. I hope it’s all worth it in the end.”

He grins. “It will be. I’ll be making extra bank by the next paycheck.”

“What do you do?” you ask. Finally, you get to ask. You’ve been making guesses all week as to what he did for a living.

“Financial management,” he says.

You think to ask what exactly that is but you feel you would look dumb if you did.

“What about you?” he asks.

“Uh… customer service. Not as cool, I guess.”

“No, that’s pretty cool. You can deal with total assholes with ease. Couldn’t be me.”

You laugh, “I wish I did. It stresses me out, still.”

The elevator reaches the lobby. You both make your way to the door.

“Well,” he said, “ Nice chattin’ with ya, but I gotta make my way to the train station.”

“Me, too.”

You both realize that you are walking in the same direction. This is interesting.

“I guess, we’re walkin’ together,” he says

You try to hide your grin. You’re getting to spend more time with him than you ever expected.

“What do you usually do when you get home?” you ask him.

“Usually, I play video games and then sleep. But tonight, I’m just goin’ straight to sleep. You?”

You tell him about your goal to finish bingeing the show you’ve been watching by the end of the week and he tells you about the latest video game he’s been playing. This continues until you both arrive at the station.

“What line are ya taking?” he asks.

“I’m taking the Belladonna line to out of town.”

“Ah, I’m taking the 6 line.”

You start walking to your respective tracks and then you stop.

“Hey!” you call out, “What’s your name?”

He turns around to look at you. He smiles.

“Mammon.”

You tell him yours.

He repeats your name, as if testing out how it felt to say it.

“Thanks for walkin’ me to the station,” he says

He heads off to his track and you stare at him until he is out of sight. You miss your train and have to wait the next half an hour for another one, but you do not mind it. When you slumber, you dream of Mammon again.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me fandom #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon x you #strictly professional

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sapphicsandscience · 5 months

Text

20 questions for fic writers

Not going to lie - no one tagged me in this lol - but I am doing it .

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

47.

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

322,829.

Crazy number for me. I know some have literal millions but I can’t believe I’ve written that much in like the last two or three years??

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Star Trek (TNG/VOY/PIC & some DS9). ER and Criminal Minds more so in the past. But ER I’ll never leave you.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Aster

- my labor of love - no pun intended.

- i WILL finish her (manifest it pls).

A Flame In Your Heart

- going to be honest writing post s3 isn’t something that interests me the most.

- however, this is a cute story and i wish i had some more ideas for it as i feel like i lack direction.

I Should Have Moved Moons For You

- ahhh.

- a fic I really should have pre-written before posting but i do have fun with it.

- i am half confident she will be finished in time but it stresses me out thinking about it and my outline lol.

- but like most of my WIPs the chapters are all outlined and i do have semi-concrete endings for them or at least know the main plot.

A Lot Of Things Can Happen In Two Months

- like the concept but i think i could have written it better ?

- feels a bit messy but also there are a lot of feelings in it.

- but happy i got it finished !! and i am proud of it overall.

Eighteen Minutes

- ngl I forgot I wrote this lol.

- the only one-shot here.

- def benefited kudos wise from being posted after the second episode aired.

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

Yes! And I love to give comments regardless if I get a reply from the author. But personally, I like to reply back as the commenter has taken their time to do this. And you can have some really lovely and funny interactions in the comments haha … I just love talking about fic.

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

Well…it would have to be either of the ones I killed Beverly in - Last contact or Too Late.

Not sure which is more angstiest?

However, as for a multichap ending that ends the most angstiest and wasn’t written to be a character-death-fic - maybe - A Lot Of Things Can Happen In Two Months. Which sucks cause it’s pretty much canon compliant LOL.

Hmm now I am tempted to write another multichap with a less than happy ending…

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

Most of my fics that have an ‘ending’ are WIPS that I haven’t finished yet lol.

But maybe Our Turn - it’s just Beverly and Jean-Luc enjoying everything wonderful in their lives <3

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Not really - I doubt anyone cares enough lol. But I am ‘fortunate’ that some of the more ‘controversial’ ships I may write have had writers come before me and take the brunt of any crap :(( but they’ve created a lovely sandbox for the rest of us to play in <3

9. Do you write smut?

Not often but I have yeah…and *deep breaths* … I have no idea if I am even acceptable at it LOL. It’s definitely something I sometimes want to add to my fics and lately I’ve been giving in a little.

Okay, someone tell me if I am terrible and I will stop.

10. Do you write crossovers?

It’s not my go to thing but yes I have. Including the fusion ER/TNG fic that three people have probably read (but three people I love).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No but that would be cool as!

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

Yes! With my lovely and supportive ER fic buddies ❤️

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Not sure how best to answer this. It is very dependant on my current hyperfixation and I am one of those sapphics that very much is into the woman more than the man in terms of interest in f/m ships…

However, at the moment it’s Beverly/Jean-Luc and I can say I am definitely more invested and interested in Jean-Luc’s character than I have been with other men in f/m ships. So that’s another reason.

But I love to read/write Crusher/Janeway ❤️ and LOVE those characters. Kerry/Sandy too is special to me.

Can honestly say apart from helping me give Emily Prentiss a baby in my fics I never cared that much for any of her ships I wrote (sorry 😭).

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but probably won't?

Probably better I don’t answer this. It stresses me out cause I want them all to be done 😭

I’ll answer with a WIP I never posted which was a dystopian AU with Kerry and Sandy. Field medicine, babies (it’s me so ofc) and friends trying to survive together.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm - I think I can come up with some good ideas. I can be good at description and introspection … probably more than dialogue.

And I am very strong in the art of giving Beverly Crusher lots of babies. And also making her go through angsty stuff. But I make up for that with the babies I think.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Long intricate plots ? I would love to be better as balancing many themes and plot points in one story. I struggle with dialogue sometimes as well.

Also I am very word count preoccupied at times which is a hindrance as a writer. I sometimes really struggle to get anything out in a session then can overcompensate later by writing too much? But honestly either way I just let myself go with the flow these days otherwise I stress about it.

Yeah and I probably need to edit better.

And smut.

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

Is this controversial?? I don’t have any issue with it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

(redacted)

20. Favourite fic you've written?

These are both not what I would consider my best work (idk what that even is) but probably Gone (Ice)fishing or It Takes A Village.

Both were written as gifts and out of my comfort zone (for different reasons) but I am really proud of them both.

But I also love some of my Kerry/Sandy one-shots I did here on this blog. And Aster is definitely a personal accomplishment in terms of length as a writer. I love it too ❤️.

Oh, also - To Build A Home - cause it’s tragic & angsty but also BABY🥹 - it’s just my brand.

—————————————————

Okay -I’ll shut up now.

Anyone feel free to do this and tag me.

#fic ask #ask meme #fanfiction #writing

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roccinan · 1 year

Text

2022 Fic Review

(Tagged by @natures-marvel thanks for tagging!)

End of the Year Fic Review 2022

1. What is your AO3 account?

Rocinan

2. How many words did you write total in 2022?

131,168

3. How many fics did you publish in 2022? How many multichapters vs oneshots?

6 fics total (1 of which was an art piece)

1 oneshot and 3 multichaptered (2 still unfinished)

4. What was your longest fic? Your shortest fic?

Longest : Birdcage at 45,596 words

Shortest : Café for Your Trouble with 0 words LOL, or Over the Hills and Far Away at 1279 words

5. What was your most popular fic? Your least popular fic?

Most popular: Grand Hotel, A Tale of Love and Intrigue

Least popular: Over the Hills and Far Away

6. What fic didn’t perform as well as you thought it would?

Hmm. They all sort of performed how I expected, as in I was pleasantly surprised to get more than 10 kudos for anything XD Maybe chapter 2 of The Contract? Not sure if people like it less than ch. 1. But in terms of the fics themselves, Over the Hills and Far Away already received more hits than I ever imagined lol but I guess I thought it’d earn at least 10 kudos.

7. What fic performed way better than you thought it would?

Grand Hotel, hands down.

8. What was your favorite fic you wrote from 2022?

This is a hard one, but probably Birdcage! Because I actually managed to finish it in 2022 asdfasdf Also it gave me the chance to write some extreme Andres whump, so there’s that!

9. What was your favourite fic that somebody else wrote in 2022?

I can’t settle for any one fic, so here’s some that I personally enjoyed the most and had the time to read in 2022! Most of them lean dark, so with the exception of “Upon paper wings” and “The way to a man’s heart,” do mind the warnings and tags!

Did I ever leave the lights on (could you ever find your way back home?) by @nharidy A crack concept (berlermo switch souls out of the blue) on the surface, but a story that’s so much more than that. Legit one of the most selfless, genuine depictions of Martin’s love (and that shred of nobility under all the asshole in his blood) I’ve ever read, and I still get emotional thinking about this story.

something borrowed, something -- by anonymous; I swear I’m not biased but I must say, I was insanely lucky to have such a talented writer take a post of a scenario I made and publish a full story based on it. Like WHEN will that ever happen again?? It’s like I threw a coin down a wishing well and it happened! This is a fantastically written (but Very dark!) character study, and even though there’s no upfront gore or violence, the story pulls no punches with the premise: injured, amnesiac Andres thinks Gandia is Martin and suffers all sorts of sexual, domestic, and psychological abuse as a result.

Those Violent Delights by @aceraphaelsantiagos Ongoing but well worth the wait! It’s an ongoing berlermo thriller told out of chronological order and watching the puzzle unfold is like climbing deeper into the spider web. AU but amazing characterization, and with my favorite dynamic: Dom/Dom!

{ Upon paper wings. } by @moneyheist-fam Their first berlermo fic! And a truly wonderful one at that. One of the rare completed AUgust fics LOL. There’s a warm fairy tale like quality to this, and it’s just a very sweet and beautifully written tale about soulmates.

A Lamb for Our Love by @the--sound--of--rain Ongoing, but definitely a story that stuck with me since the first time I read it! Another “Gandia abducts Andres and-” story, but the fic is about what happens after Andres comes back to Martin. A rocky, angsty piece with heartbreaking characterization and a look at what would happen if these two made the worst possible choices thinking that’s what’s best. The first chapter is definitely worth the read, and I’m sure the second will be equally good, if not better!

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach by @alfredo-kesmann Why yes, this is my gift haha, but alfredo-kesmann went above and beyond a very simple prompt and gave us a story that’s insanely funny and endearing all at the same time. Truly one of my favorite fics of 2022 and I rec it to everyone, especially everyone whoever thought “hmm what if Andres being a good cook is just headcanon and he really sucks at it?? would Martin lie and pretend he’s good?” Answer: yes Martin would

Vinum Stygis by @signorin-anarchia Another ongoing fic! But very underrated and promising. A period gothic romance with all the creepy and dark elements you’d want from the genre. It’s a creative spin on Crimson Peak that somehow manages to make the premise work for berlermo, and definitely deserves more attention. Wonderful atmosphere and toxic assholes all around~

Last but not least, The Fatal Drive by NaturesMarvel! Kal’s longest fic yet, and my favorite 2022 hit from her. It’s filled with lots of twists and turns (and a plot that’s blockbuster material for sure!), including a few that actually fooled me haha Also features badass Martin, a satisfying amount of hurt!Andres (thank you for your service Kal), and cameos from just about everyone. This is an AU where everything starts with Andres receiving a pen drive (saying anything else would be a spoiler!)

#natures-marvel #berlermo fics #realized nharidy and I recced a lot of the same stuff haha but what can I say? we have similar tastes asdfasdf

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mairyuu · 2 years

Note

Post - Canon SubKam - 7. “please don’t stop” and 36. “you’re mine”

Since I either write smut or angst nowadays, I decided to combine those. Post-X, set somewhere in 2002. Apocalypse was settled, world semi destroyed. Subaru and Kamui moved in together shortly afterwards and were living together ever since.

As I promised to tag you @theanimepsychologist thank you for validating that my angsty psychological smut ideas seem in canon :D

NSFW so under-cut. Around 5.3k long, I went off the rails this was supposed to be max 3k. Also I've been wondering if to put it on Ao3 because of length; maybe I would if people like this angsty sin

7 - "Please don't stop"

36 - " You're mine"

Fingers withdrew from his body. Sensation stung but Kamui didn’t register the pain.

Brief pause followed. Instead of immediately pushing in, Subaru glanced up to his face; worthlessly sought permission. Of course he would. Even after all these years they’ve been together, after night and nights they spent in each other’s embrace, Subaru was never anything but considerate with him. Kamui cherished that trait of his yet sometimes wished he’d disregard it.

This was one of those moments.

Closing eyes and nodding affirmatively, Kamui wrapped legs around Subaru’s waist and hopped they’ll finally get to it. With accented exhale Subaru leaned on forearms above him; waited a second more like Kamui would abruptly change mind so far in; pointless but considerate. Then gradually began entering him.

Pain shot through body. Even if just a tip, stretch of penetration hurt. Kamui gripped sheets and groaned; felt insides clenching around Subaru’s cock. Beside strained grunts Subaru didn’t say anything, kept still until he adjusted. Kamui wished he rammed inside, just so pain could sedate more. No, not physically, he wanted to feel touch of this one special person, even if it was imposed on him oh so many times before; but emotionally, he craved numbness.

Grunting and gasping Subaru withdrew, then pushed his erection halfway in; back arched from sheets, Kamui squeezed eyes shut and moaned. Pain was gradually vanishing, much to his dismay. Another shallow experimental thrust, Kamui heard Subaru groan, expression one of raw pleasure; per expected, Subaru kept wordless. It wasn’t usual for him to stay refrain from almost any conversation during sex, but felt fitting on this occasion. No matter how dense tension of sexual nature was at the moment, it was still overshadowed by one of conflicting emotions; as well as unspoken lingering between them, taunting to come out in open yet always dying on lips. One needn’t be a genius to figure out something, simply, was amiss. After few more testing pushes, Subaru finally pulled out and rammed inside to the hilt.

“Ahhh, is this alr -”

Kamui kissed him, silenced rest of unnecessary consideration. Little by little Subaru began thrusting into him properly; little by little last scraps of pain evaporated from system, leaving nothing but pleasure behind. Kamui wished pain persisted, just so body state could match inner one of disarrayed mind and heart. One particular push brushed against all right spots; both of them groaned. Kamui writhed and encircled arms around Subaru’s shoulders. Cotton felt soft under fingertips. Subaru usually undressed completely for sex. Today he kept yukata on. It was black, Kamui knew very well what that meant.

It all began close to week prior. Upon returning from part-time job one evening, Kamui noticed Subaru got into one of his ‘episodes’, so to speak; sat secluded on veranda and barely reacted to his presence, or anything at all. Nothing novel, tale old as time for mental well-being was never Subaru’s strongest suit; nor his, while they were at it. Even if circumstances of our tragedies are similar, your and my pain, they’re not the same. At first Kamui took those words for granted, examined them at face-value. Ever since their relationship progressed after apocalypse was settled, as they got more intimate and he got to see past Subaru’s kind and selfless facade – Kamui gradually began understanding true meaning of those words.

Subaru promised he’ll try to not self-destruct for Kamui’s sake; however not his own, Kamui realized only few months afterwards. Back then he assumed issue was dealt with, that it was last of Subaru’s self-neglecting tendencies; couldn’t have been more wrong as there was no overnight remedy for rotten corners of one’s mind and heart. Kamui experienced said doldrums and brief depressive episodes on own skin, but always managed to snap out of them in reasonable amount to time proportional to intensity. With Subaru, matter wasn’t nowhere that simple or systematic. His ‘episodes’ arrived out of blue, without rhyme or reason.

Actually no, that didn’t sit as right. There was always a reason. Trigger existed, no matter how miniature, associative or abstract.

“Ah, s-so good…” Subaru hushed into his ear, voice strained. Usually he’d say more.

Kamui wanted to respond with a praise; with something, anything. Words died in throat when tip of Subaru’s erection brushed against prostate. Eyes squeezed shut as bliss swept through every cell of being; he could only tremble and groan; let sensations overtake him and briefly push anguish in corner of mind. Kamui brought hand up to Subaru’s head, tugged uninhibitedly at hair strands; silent plead for Subaru to speed up the pace, to be rougher. As much as Kamui reveled in slow tender way of love-making, one drenched in emotions and devotion, he couldn’t turn blind eye to tension lingering between them; within both of them. No, they agreed on working against any arising issues, not against one another and -

Without warning Subaru eased out, waited a second or two, then pushed his erection inside to the hilt. Electricity bolted down spin, high-pitched scream ripped from Kamui’s throat. Instead of repeating that electrifying motion, Subaru settled on series of deep brisk thrusts, barely pulling back at all; Kamui did his best to met them all, simply to intensify pleasure he was undergoing; as well as to silence anxieties from within, leastwise for time being. Task easier said than done. If raw carnal bliss in arms of this person special to him couldn’t make him forget, just temporary, then nothing would.

Buckling up, Subaru arched his back as well; raised on forearms and stared directly into Kamui’s eyes. Even if lust was present in mismatched gaze, vacancy was just as palpable.

During those ‘episodes’ Subaru becomes distant. No less kind and empathetic, but it all gets sense of forcefulness attached to it, akin to platitude. During those moments strings that held fragments of Subaru’s heart and soul together after it shattered more than decade ago, they’d collapse under weight of years worth of grief and desolation. Then he simply won’t be there. Physically present yes, but mind and heart would wander down beaten paths of self-reproach, even self-destruction; that part worried Kamui, perhaps, the most. He disliked seeing Subaru down in dumps, it made him melancholic in turn. But that was where catch-22 laid: when witnessing his sorrows, leftovers of Subaru’s innate empathy would evoke and he’d catch said dolefulness as well. A full circle, no grand solution to human reactions to seeing loved one in anguish and being unable to provide relief. So when minor trigger for one’s low mood set off, other aimed to provide comfort without trying to magically ‘fix’ all dark corners of psyche; any more of a endeavor would doom everything to failure.

Those were regular occurrences. Minor things. Few hours worth of loneliness and blues. This week worth of passive self-destruction and absolute emotional seclusion, presence just in name – whole different matter altogether.

Remotely Kamui felt pressure on lower lip; Subaru slowly rolled it between teeth; no bites, just sensual licks and nibbles. Despite not being much of a romantic soul or mushy generally (thankfully on one hand, even within psyche Kamui had issues conjuring image of Subaru being gushy or cheesy talking), Subaru was surprisingly passionate during sex; perhaps an outlet for all emotions locked up within him, who knows. Kamui tilted head so their lips would properly meet into kiss; complying instantly Subaru grunted into contact and glided tongue over his.

Thrusts lost speed and force. They focused more on ardency than carnality; nonetheless desire floated through veins, Kamui couldn’t keep scorching arousal on rein. Subaru stilled within but Kamui tried to grind both on erection inside him and his own over Subaru’s waist; ecstasy washed over, but Kamui wished pain awoke along it.

Withdrawing from kiss, Subaru panted into his lips; saliva tangled between them, tension ever-present, or Kamui was simply projecting inner turmoil. Tracing kisses along jaw, Subaru lowered lips to his neck; panted and groaned into unmarred skin there as he finally began moving. Heat spread through veins, every nerve aflame; Kamui curved spine and threw head backward. Snapping eyes shut he saw white dots swirling in pitch-black darkness.

Just like any part of Subaru, Kamui learned to accept lack of self-worth as inseparable fragment of his soul; tragically quite major one. Unfortunately just due to it Subaru was bent on keeping anguish locked within iron gates; mind-cage really, Kamui would like to think bars on his own weren’t so thick. Kamui was aware it wasn’t matter of trust or lack of emotional intimacy or something of those kinds. Nevertheless whenever Subaru withdrew into his little secluded bubble of affliction, Kamui felt matching echo of misery. First time Kamui noticed such major depressive episode in March of 2000, month after they started lived together. Oh how panicky and distressed Kamui was back then, thinking he, somehow, was a trigger behind such drastic mood shift; Subaru was inclined to sporadic blues (or not so sporadic, considering his life story was quite grim one) and melancholia, but there was a significant difference that time.

Week later Subaru finally broke from his shell – anniversary of his twin sister’s death. Fog clarified but anguish did persist for some time, lingered very much like memories of those calamities did; both Subaru’s of those two he lost and Kamui’s own endless list of preventable tragedies. World was healing from apocalypse at slow rate, Kamui couldn’t help but wonder if two of them were at all. Perhaps there was no remedy for what was unsalvageable, shattered beyond hope. Still, Kamui would like to think some progress was made, even if results weren’t so clear-cut. I don’t want to forget. I’d wish for break in a clouds, for day without a anguish lurking within deeply embedded within mind. But I do have them when I’m by your side. What I wish for is upon realizing I spent a day without lamenting about them, guilt wouldn’t evoke.

Pushes gain speed; finally, Kamui through dazedly as utter bliss sedated him. Strange, he felt sensations being imposed on him, felt warmth of Subaru’s breath over nape; felt hardness inside of him, felt intensity of own arousal; yet all behind a veil of heart’s ache. Subaru slowed down, then thrust into him rather forcefully, for once; moaning and whimpering Kamui’s eyes rolled into back of his skull, lust eating him from within. In response Subaru grunted soft apology into nape and settled on gentler pushes and slower pace. Not what Kamui wanted but he didn’t have it in him to protest.

Frustration overtook, both sexual one of body and anguish of heart that didn’t know peace for a week. Kamui lowered hands to Subaru’s shoulders; instead of heated skin he felt soft cotton under fingers.

Kamui was no fool, immaturity from year 1999 was long gone; he learned life lessons with hefty price. It was that ending week of August. Three years ago previous Sakurazukamori died around that time.

When he and Subaru reunited Kamui expected to see milky whiteness of dead right eye; instead was met with piercing gold. Pieces of puzzle fell into their places, brutal truth clear as day – Subaru took over a role as a Sakurazukamori. He became an assassin. At that point there was no denying ardency of his feelings for Subaru; person cannot be divided into parts, keeping only good ones and discarding everything undesirable. He loved Subaru as he was, not mental image of person he could be; that childish projection of own ideation was long gone, he paid the lesson heftily. Kamui learned to accept all sides, including everything that predatory golden eye implied. Still, from time to time, couldn’t help cursing that man for breaking Subaru in such fundamental way; for stealing life away from him. Despite accepting Subaru broken as he is, part of Kamui wished him healed. Not for his own sake or even sake of removing ‘obstacles’ from their relationship; no, never that. But for Subaru’s own sake. Perhaps core of the tragedy laid in fact Subaru couldn’t allow himself to be healed; guilt would eat him alive.

“You, ahh-ha, f-feel so tight”, Subaru moaned into his neck, then finally nibbled on it. Sensation more enticed than ached; Kamui felt his cock pulse, precome roll down shaft.

No, he wasn’t in control of own emotions; hypocritical of him to be downcast upon witnessing Subaru’s despondency, but he couldn’t help the way he felt. Neither was Kamui in control of body’s reactions. Involuntarily insides clenched around Subaru’s erection; he stilled immediately, maybe even to prevent himself from cumming; squeezed eyes shut and groaned. Such mesmerizing sight, Kamui never failed to be captivated to expressions and sounds Subaru made when they were making love; it felt intimate, not solely in physical aspects.

After few seconds Subaru resumed with thrusts; withdrew all the way out; waited few seconds, then steadily pushed all the way in. Kamui felt each second of prolonged thrust to the bone, ecstasy so overwhelming he had to ground himself on sense of touch. Easing yukata of shoulders, Kamui dug nails over bare skin of Subaru’s back. Perhaps he scratched too roughly for Subaru hissed in pain; oddly Kamui wished he was one on receiving side.

For couple of days Kamui let Subaru be; not because he wanted to, but because he simply did not know what to do. They’ve talked over meals but it was all blank, evidently skimming around the topic. Subaru existed only in name as vast majority of his thoughts weren’t simply there; locked within past’s calamities and self-blame. Well-known story no amount of consolation and ‘it’s not your fault’ would be of any real comfort; they’ll serve more as a platitude, only add salt to wound that never healed. Kamui had his fair share of bad days but at the end of each opened up and let Subaru in on tainted state of his mind; no magical ‘fix-it’, no overnight improvement but mere talking about inner turmoils devoid of fear of being judged, patronized or his problems being minimized - it did come off as healing. Only natural to expect reciprocation would be established right off bat; but it wasn’t. Perhaps it was due to years and years of having noone to lend a shoulder to cry on, or maybe just instinct to conceal hardships from close ones so they wouldn’t worry; perhaps Subaru, ironically, still didn’t want to burden him with own issues or maybe thought he wasn’t worth the effort. Or maybe it was just depression whispering lies, telling seclusion is only option viable; or complex mix of those reasons, maybe even more. Kamui simply did not know and that was crux of a matter.

Whichever way – realization hurt. Whenever he was down Subaru knew exactly what to say and not say, what to do and not do to make him feel better; perhaps it was natural empathy. What if Subaru concealed his hardship because he knew deep down comfort he’ll receive won’t be adequate? Or even worse, damaging. Mere through of that – it ached. Another proof of his incompetence, that, perhaps, not much has fundamentally changed since year 1999.

Numbly Kamui realized hold went limp; slowing down Subaru managed to reposition his legs around waist. Kamui found enough strength to rigidify the hold and lifted hips off sheets for better angle. Waiting few seconds for a green light Subaru rolled hips experimentally; they both groaned at how deep he could push inside. Temptation allured, no human couldn’t resist it forever. Subaru lowered forehead over his collar-bones and began thrusting repetitively; on every inward push head of his cock brushed against prostate; each time white dots played in Kamui’s peripheral vision, each time electricity bolted down legs and spine.

Finger ended up combing through Subaru’s hair; other hand kneaded at nape. Unconsciously he was trying to pleasure Subaru even more, offer as much comfort as possible; even if via touch, wordlessly for no amount of consolation could heal unknown wound. They regularly had sex, but they rarely over did it; Kamui was aware Subaru cherished those moments of intimacy and passion as much as he did; perhaps even more as he was touch starved for almost a decade, had no close human contacts; not a hug, not a kind word. Subaru had lower libido than he did; during peak of puberty, Kamui sometimes craved sex every day, even multiply times per day. Being too bashful of his needs since Subaru was modest about own, Kamui frequently took care of it himself.

When Subaru found out by accidentally walking in on him, he explained there’s no reason for Kamui to conceal his desire, he’ll gladly take care of those licentious longings. Such mundane thing, yet Subaru conformed to his need, even if it might inconvenient him. I wish you’ll allow me to take care of you too. And if I do something wrong, please don’t bear with it. Tell me and I’ll correct it, for sake of both of us.

Instead of laying over him, Subaru raised on knees and gripped by hips; levitated them up for even better access. Pulling out until only tip was inside, Subaru reentered him to the hilt. Distantly Kamui was aware scream ripped from his throat.

“Tell me if it’s too deep or rough”, Subaru rushed out before he repeated the motion. Even when carnal urges were tempting him to disregard every bit of consideration, he still thought of Kamui’s satisfaction before own.

Kamui was aware his whole body was trembling but couldn’t focus on anything but raw pleasure and arousal flowing through veins. Subaru found the right pace, one of deep slow pushes and rough pulls out; he repeated that, again and again. With eyes squeezed shut, Kamui could only tremble and moan uncontrollably; he tried to meet thrusts the best he can, but own body betrayed him, moved out of own volition. Cock pulsed at every push, every grunt and moan leaving Subaru’s lips; he was soaked already, indication this round won’t last for too long. Bitting lip and clenching muscles on stomach, Kamui tried to postpone orgasm as much as humanly possible. No, it wasn’t solely for sake of physical gratification; more because of said bliss pushed all ruminations and worries in back of mind. Once they both finished, silence drenched in tension where neither could ease other’s grief would resume.

Said ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ lasted all until one of them reached breaking point. Seeing as Subaru still found comfort in own pain and could bask in said anguish for period of time Kamui wasn’t nearly fine with, Kamui decided to put halt to tense silence, one way or another. Since neither could he provide emotional comfort for unsolvable situation nor could wordlessly ask Subaru to offer comfort, Kamui opted for physical source of intimacy. Snugged up to Subaru on couch, nuzzled against his chest and traced palm over thigh; silently asked for attention, for being certain he occupies Subaru’s thoughts, even for a little while. Subaru was no fool, they slept together too many times for him to not gasp onto ulterior motive.

And that’s how they found themselves in bed. Perhaps just as much as Kamui wanted offer solace he wanted it received. Foreplay stared gently yet passionately, even if unspoken lingered. After making out a petting for couple of minutes Subaru asked him if he wants to take it to the bedroom. Six in evening, yet those were first words they exchanged for a day.

Subaru wasn’t upset with him or anything in particular, he was simply hurting; didn’t even wish he was getting better. Maybe that was why Kamui wished to feel pain too, so it could be shared; one from being unable to relieve his boyfriend’s hardships wasn’t nearly enough. Still, Subaru adamantly refused to hurt him in bedroom, even if he were to explicitly ask. Kamui didn’t crave pain per se, more something to ease the tension coiling up within him. To dispel clouds of self-doubt over head. To make himself feel better by easing Subaru’s anguish, even if a fraction; even if in this crude manner. To simply feel connected to -

“Kamui are you alright? Do you want me to stop?”

Awareness of lack of stimulation arrived first; displeased grunt, Kamui opened eyes and was met with Subaru’s flushed but concerned face. Only upon processing the words did Kamui ground himself back to reality. He really was out of sorts, wasn’t he? No wonder Subaru felt the need to check on him. Don’t ask if I’m alright when you’re not yourself. You kindness, sometimes it hurts. Especially when you direct it towards everyone but yourself. No, no amount of sexual pleasure would overshadow intensity of conflicting emotions within him. What he craved for was more than physical closeness.

Kamui wrapped arms around Subaru’s neck, legs higher up waist; brought Subaru close to him as much as humanly possible; all in amendment to temporary distance of hearts. Barely audible whimper, then he uttered, voice raspy - “Please don’t stop”

Subaru didn’t immediately obey, remained leaning over him; inspecting. Kamui couldn’t let any of inner disarray show on expression otherwise Subaru would insist on stopping; even if he managed to persuade him to go on, it’d be a major buzzkill. They were both aroused out of their mind, Kamui could feel how hard Subaru’s erection felt inside (how he managed to hold back, no clue), how his body trembled in effort to not slam into him relentlessly; his own cock throbbed, precome covered tip and upper part of shaft.

“Can you… touch me too?”, Kamui asked breathlessly, gazed directly into mismatched eyes.

“Of course”, Subaru replied in heartbeat; one later resumed with thrusts and reached between their bodies.

Initial push, first stroke – they electrified. All coherent thoughts left mind, leaving only pink hazy cloud of lust behind. Thrusts were tender yet firm, strokes steady but lacked the roughness; Kamui grinded back like an animal, tried to feel complete intensity of those raw sensations; craved for more. He tightened hold over Subaru’s waist, drew him closer. Still itched for even more closeness. For something primal and intangible; amorphous but oh so ardently desired. Instead of leaning forehead over his as they tended to reach climaxes, Subaru lowered head over shoulder; grunted and groaned as thrusts gained speed. At the moment they were connected; intimate just with their bodies. No, he said he won’t focus on those anguishes but even throbbing arousal and urgency of desire couldn’t diminish all traces of perturbations.

His body was no longer his own; primal need overtook. Writhing and moaning all Kamui could focus on was how oh so mind-blowing this closeness felt. Yet still traces of – no, don’t think about that. Groaning incoherently Kamui scratched nails over Subaru’s back, tries to ground himself on something tangible. Desire flared up, level of lust within blood threatening to topple over edge. No, not yet. Just a little bit more. He needed more time of this escapism.

Subaru rested palm over small of his back, tried to bring him directly against himself; angle of thrusts even deeper, both of them moaned in synchronicity. Sweat and shivers covered him completely, Kamui knew he won’t last too long. Not pent up like this, frustration sexual and emotional.

He felt anxious; insecure and tense. Emotions too conflicting and abstract to be formed into any coherent shape. He was also afraid that this one particular person, his one and only special someone would get taken away from him. Not necessary physically, even if they had a major fight Kamui doubted Subaru would tell him to pack his things and leave. Still, not to say he wasn’t alarmed at having Subaru fall quiet on him for one could never truly know what was dwells in someone’s heart and mind; he did have a death wish back then, after all. More mentally for shadows of mind still threatened to overtake him; bars on cage too thick, claws of isolation pulling further and further back into captivity. Perhaps Subaru never left that shadowy place, fraction of mind and heart always locked behind decade of self-annihilation. Kamui would like to believe he himself wasn’t there, back at square one; feverishly wished to believe restrains of maladaptation lost their firmness but traitorous parts of psyche still nudged at him that nothing fundamentally changed since 1999. I’m a hypocrite, blaming myself for not being able to offer solace when you’re blaming yourself over things that weren’t your fault. Why is it still the same? Will light ever shine at the end of a tunnel?

Distantly Kamui was aware of electricity bolting down spine; of heat spreading through whole body and trembling in thighs. Feeling toes curling and muscles contract on lower stomach, Kamui knew he was about to climax; it was matter of seconds. On every thrust heat spread through body, on every stroke Kamui felt his cock twitch; Subaru had to feel it too. Kamui wished for wave of passion to finally topple over edge, for week worth of frustration to reach the peak in most cardinal way possible. But also craved to be locked inside a moment of utter bliss of closeness of this one special person; where both burning desire and wandering thoughts were kept at bay.

He was so tense. Also on seventh heaven. Kamui kept meeting thrusts the best he could, grinded into Subaru’s hand with such speed and ferocity he might find laughable under any other less desperate circumstances. Subaru seemed enticed by his unrestrained side; kept grunting and groaning into his neck. Given how breathing pattern unregulated and how Subaru’s whole body trembled, Kamui knew he was close. Heat pooled in lower stomach, Kamui felt his toes curl and cock twitch repetitively. No, he couldn’t. Not yet. Clenching all muscles he tried to postpone orgasm; must have squeezed insides too as Subaru let out a raspy groan and taunted the hold over his back. Rare instances of roughness made Kamui moan loosely and see white dots behind closed eyelids. Usually by this point Subaru would praise how amazing he feels; they’ll be moaning each other’s names like mantras; gaze at each other. This way of lovemaking was ardent too, but simply felt amiss. Intimate and distant in same breath.

Subaru brushed against that one spot that set him aflame. Scream ripped from Kamui’s throat. All pleasure, none pain. It existed only within mind and heart. Sweat ache swept over whole body. No. Let it last longer. Subaru teased tip of his erection with a thumb, smearing precome over length; then giving him swift strokes down to base and back up to tip. Kamui felt his cock pulse repetitively, no way he couldn’t keep himself in cheek. Not with blood boiling in pure lust. Not yet. More. He craved more time of mental peace. More of this intensity. More of passion. More of -

There was no way of stopping sensation as self-shattering. Snapping eyes shut Kamui let himself go. With a prolonged moan he started releasing long and hard all over Subaru’s fingers and their chests. Oh the utter bliss, then pure ecstasy, one could get intoxicated on that addicting sensation; his cock twitched once more as he ejaculated in one more wave. Shiver after shiver bolted down spine, Kamui squeezed around Subaru even tighter; sensed insides clench around his cock. Kamui heard guttural groan, felt wetness being spilled deep inside him; looks like witnessing his orgasm pushed Subaru over edge too. Nothing novel, emotional connection served as trigger for one to cum upon witnessing other do so; if topic wasn’t so crude, Kamui would label said synchronicity romantic. Nonetheless there were no hints of synchronicity here, save for ones of bodies.

For couple of seconds nothing existed. Post-coital bliss sedated to sleep; lethargy only thing Kamui was aware of. It hurt. Everything hurt except for body. Numbly Kamui was aware of cum drying on chest, of moist breath leaving his nape; of his own panting and hammering heartbeat; of fingers combing through hair, of limbs going limp and collapsing on sheets; of how shivers passed down spine as coldness swept by when one was drenched in sweat; of body above him raising up, potentially planing to leave; of tense silence of anguish that was to return; of glass orb of temporary tranquility being broken and -

“What’s the matter Kamui? Did I hurt you?”

Only upon hearing concern in Subaru’s voice did Kamui became aware of tears sliding down cheeks.

Kamui momentary opened eyes; was met with disquieted expression and equally tender look in mismatched eyes; it never failed to throw him off loop when he witnessed gentleness in golden one as well. Subaru loomed over him, still panting, still flushed and disheveled. Traced thumb under his eye to wipe away the tears; Kamui let out a whimper but otherwise keep quiet. What was there to say really? How to explain conflicted inner state when he couldn’t form emotions into anything intelligible even within psyche? He wished to hide, to cover face with forearms and tell Subaru to leave him to bask in own agony, but it was exactly that maladaptive trait of Subaru’s that caused this domino effect to occur; going another round of infinity’s lemniscate would serve no good, only deepen already bleeding wounds and never-ending circles.

Subaru withdrew from his body and started lowering down. Irrefutably planned to survey nonexistent damage.

“Let me see if -”

Sentence died in throat when Kamui entangled limbs over his frame and abruptly pulled him closer; he let out a startled gasp but didn’t protest. Embrace felt uncomfortable, even a bit sticky given they were covered in sweat and semen. In Kamui’s mind it was perfect remedy for insecurity and unease from within. Subaru said nothing, perhaps understood what that wordless desperate gesture meant. No, it wasn’t mushy or lovely; sensitive and petrified instead, showed ugly side humanity and darker side of double-edged nature of bonds.

Kamui let out another sob. “You’re mine”, he uttered through tears, voice cracking. Under any other circumstances Kamui would try sounding less desperate, less broken, but simply couldn't find strength to hide.

“Please don’t abandon me” not even to your own pain.

Subaru kept silent. Kamui didn’t expect any other way. Since that fateful night three years ago Subaru dropped last bit of fake optimism he put on for Kamui’s sake; no, he never needed platitude but couldn’t deny false sense of safety felt comforting back then. Now however, Subaru would rather keep silent that offer promises he cannot keep; they both knew fate was cruel, that one could never predict in what state of inner disarray they’ll wake up tomorrow. And day after that. And so on. Burden was their to share however, that’s why they had each other. But it still hurt. In time Kamui grew to realize the more you care about someone, then sharper pain upon witnessing them in misery cuts.

It took him even more time to realize that statement was applicable to other people too, including those that held him dear. He wished he didn’t learn that lesson a tad bit too late.

“I’m sorry”, Subaru hushed into his chest; broke the silence and apologized equivocally. No elaboration needed, Kamui intuitively knew what he meant.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault anyway”, he uttered and raked through Subaru’s hair; held other arm firmly around Subaru’s shoulder, legs sill wrapped around waist. Sill insecure, still afraid, still craving. Kamui wished they never needed to let go.

“But - “

“Stay”, Kamui interrupted firmly. Subaru exhaled, gave impression of wanting to add something but eventually rested cheek over his chest and fell quiet. For first time in a week Kamui’s mind also fell quiet. Ruminations and endless spiral of what-if’s was still lurking somewhere deep inside subliminal, he was in no denial regarding presence of the unknown; not anymore. It still hurt, that they’ll be doomed to wearing shackles of sporadic anguishes for rest of their lives; keys never within reach, not in reality, not even within wildest flights of imagination. Subaru encircled arms around his frame, finally returned the hold. Letting out a whimper, Kamui felt another tear slide down cheek.

“Just stay like this for a little while”

#thanks for prompt!#fics #sorry not sorry based on those prompts you probably didn't expect angst #subkam #x1999 #subaru sumeragi #kamui shirou #subkam fic

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