#(like 'actually i know i'm good‚ you know where to find me when you get over yourself and remember you know it too'?)

[quantum1mmortality]

hihi! I saw your curly stuff, I love how you write him!! If it’s possible, nsfw headcanons for what turns him on? have a great day <3

Have I ever mentioned how much I love writing Curly? No? Well I am now. I love writing him. He's so awesome sauce, so boyfriend. My scrunkle

Tw/cw; lingerie, praise, mentions of masochism, accidentally almost wrote a one shot for the last one whoops lolololol, semi public sex IMPLIED

Not proofread

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1; Lingerie

You guys can't look at me and tell me this man wouldn't go BALLISTIC for a nice set of lingerie. He makes good money at his job, good enough to be able to buy multiple sets of high quality, lacy lingerie for you to wear for him; then make you do a fashion show for him when you get them. Curly definitely comes off as a thigh guy, so he'd pick out all the sets with garter belts, specifically so he can slip his fingers under the seam and let go to see all that thigh movement. It actually drives him wild. Those sets can be pretty expensive, so hopefully he gets a raise soon since he's tearing apart every set he gets you.

2; Praise

I know it's overdone to say a character gets turned on by being praised but idc. This man has a praise kink and I will DIE on that hill. For anyone else, a praise to him wouldn't matter. He hears them constantly in his line of work, so at this point it's just noise. But from you? You like something about him? Oh no, he's hard. You could compliment him on the most mundane of things, say his uniform looks good on him and he's thinking about that the entire time he's at work. By the time he gets home, he's in genuine pain at how turned on he's been ALL DAY and not being able to help himself. He could, but he'd rather you do it. He's quite the masochist.

3; Titles

Imagine this; you're the wife of a well respected captain at Pony Express, and you decide to be a good wife and bring your beloved husband lunch. How sweet! You go to his department and call out to him, "Captain, I've brought lunch for you~" you giggle, drawing out his title. He looks up from.. whatever he was doing only to find you, holding a lunch box with a smile. Okay stop imagining, it's headcanon time.

Obviously the first thing he's going to do is thank you for lunch, he was famished. But after that, it's all blurry. It's like being with you has unlocked a bunch of new experiences for him, he never thought being called his title, the title he earned, would turn him on so much. It's like hearing it come from you was completely different from anyone else saying it. You ended up staying his entire lunch break and talking to him, only for your words to fall on deaf ears. He could barely even focus on what he was eating, let alone what you were telling him. Eventually he just had to excuse himself from the conversation, leaving you alone as he attempted, ATTEMPTED to satisfy himself. After a while he just gave up and went back out to where you were, told you the situation, and asked for your help. He was practically begging you, what were you supposed to do? Leave him there? No, you're a good wife. Of course you'd help him, right?

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A/n; sometimes I forget I'm supposed to be writing hcs and accidentally lock in too much and go on little tangents. I'm suffering from success but it kind of fucks the vibe up ngl

[mae-gi-writes]

let it be me | kuroo tetsurou (1)

In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.

genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers

---- part one | next part >>>

You know Kuroo Tetsurou before you officially meet him.

Why? Because he's practically a legend to your current four-year-old who's been talking about him nonstop from the moment you've strapped her into the car on the way back home.

"Apparently he was a--a volleyball champ!" Sakura chimes from the back as you swerve into the right lane in the direction of your tiny flat, "he knows how to serve from faaaar away, and --and when he serves, it's like--kapow! and boom! and whoosh! like that!"

You can't help but laugh because seeing your daughter so excited about volleyball is something you hadn't been expecting, not when you have two left feet and a stamina of a tiny pet rat.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your first week back," you meet her eyes in the rearview mirror with a smile, "that's good isn't it? Better than last year then?"

"Yes! I love Kuroo sensei!"

It seems that this particular teacher has specifically changed Sakura's view on school, and you had made a mental note to thank him.

But all thoughts of thank-yous and praise had flown out of your head the moment you bump into the said PE teacher in the corridor leading up to Sakura's class the next morning.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" You cry out, bending down to help him pick up the stack of papers that are now flying about and scattering at your feet, "here, let me help you--"

"It's Kuroo sensei!" Sakura chirps suddenly, causing your eyes to snap up at him.

Oh. So that's the PE teacher she's been gushing about all week. You're quick to shove the papers into a messy pile before handing them out to him, "I'm really sorry about that," you say sheepishly.

"Nothing to worry about," his deep voice is what catches your attention at first, followed by his height as he straightens up so that you get a clear view of his facce; angular features, honey-golden eyes that blink slowly at you in a way that makes you want to squirm, and messy dark raven locks that looks like he's just rolled out of bed five minutes ago.

Not that you won't mind if he rolled out of your bed, you mind chanted without warning.

You stop it as soon as it surfaces, horror and panic crashing into you at the same time. This man is--what? Probably half your age?

"Kuroo sensei! Do we have class with you later?" Sakura, unknowing of all the tormenting thoughts flickering past your brain, seems all too excited to see her PE teacher.

He chuckles lightly before ruffling her short bangs, "not today, little munchkin," he leans down to see her face, "but I'm pretty certain that we have class tomorrow. How about that?"

"Oh really? Yay!" Sakura claps, beaming up at him like he's just put a new sun in her sky, and Kuroo grins before straightening up once more, gold eyes clashing against your dark maroon.

"I don't think we've met," his voice, it's so deep and gravelly that it makes you want to swoon. You snap out of it the moment you spot his outstretched hand, "I'm Kuroo Tetsurou, the new PE teacher."

"So you're the new teacher that Sakura's been talking about all this time," you send him a shy smile as you shake his hand, realizing that his palm practically dwarfs yours in comparison, "it's nice to meet you. I'm Sakura's mum. How are you enjoying the school?"

"It's been really great actually," his grin widens. He has a beautiful smile, one that will easily make all the ladies of staff fall at his feet, "I'm slowly finding my way around the timetable, but other than that it's been smooth-sailing till now."

You nod, "that's great. I'm glad to hear," and then turn to your daughter, "you know where your class is right?"

"Of course I know mum," Sakura folds her arms across her chest indignantly.

You laugh, ruffling her hair before ushering her onwards, "alright alright. Yes, you're a big now. Then off you go."

You both watch her teeter down the hall, sometimes almost falling off-balance due to her newly-acquired skill of running with the weight of her bag around her shoulders, and fondness explodes across your chest. It's sweet and bitter at the same time, watching your daughter grow day by day. She's always changing, you realize, every day is a new one, maybe her hair gets longer, or you find a new mole along her face. It's like she's growing so fast you barely have time to savour it.

"Cute kid you have there."

You realize you're not alone upon hearing the familiar scratchy alto, and quickly blink back to reality, "ah--thank you. She can be a handful when she wants. Sometimes."

"All kids are," Kuroo tilts his head towards you, a smile on his face, "but sometimes I think they know more than we do."

You can't help but chortle, "definitely. Sakura's practically a know-it-all. She's in the phase of correcting everything that I say."

"Ooh, a bit bossy huh?"

"Tell me about it."

It's then that the bell rings, disrupting any kind of moment you might have with the PE teacher.

"Anyway," you dip your head into a small bow, "thank you for taking care of Sakura."

"It's really no trouble, miss...?"

"It's Y/N. Y/N Kosuke."

"Y/N," his golden orbs locks on yours, swirling with a kind of playfulness, with a warmth that makes your heart stutter, "well, I shall see you around, Ms. Kosuke-san."

And with that, he swerves away with a small wave as you watch his broad back disappear down the hallway, wondering whether it's stupid to imagine whether he'd winked at you or not.

Probably not.

Because why would anyone be interested in a mom right?

-----

The second time you bump into Kuroo Tetsurou is during Sports Day.

You remember back when you were in high school, how you'd always find an excuse to skip out on the activities -- feigning your period or cramps just to get to the nurse's office and away from your classmates -- just so that you could sit and daydream about anything and just about everything. You weren't that popular in your cohort, making it easy for you to disappear whenever you wished. But despite that, you could count on your hands the number of times you'd replaced someone and failed to deliver, causing wave after wave of disappointment as you lost team points as a result.

But now, as a grown up responsible for a child and always accustomed to doing whatever they liked even if that meant bringing you unhappiness or shame, you were obliged to attend such events. Actually enjoyed being there and watching Sakura giving it her all despite her short limbs and her lack of talent in sports. From what you can see, she clearly hasn't taken from her dad's side. Every single flaw in physical movement comes down from your side of the family and at the thought, a smile curves at the edges of your lips as you proceed to clap even harder.

"Is Papa going to be there tomorrow?" asks your daughter the night before as you're tucking her into bed. Her wide eyes are staring up at you like you're the one who can change anything in her world. And yet, just the thought that you can't grant her this one wish makes your heart quake.

You press a soft kiss along her forehead before smoothing over her features, "i'm sorry honey. I'm not sure if he'll be able to come tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"He has work to do. But he promises to be there this weekend," you try to smile, though it's hard when Sakura's face doesn't light up like it usually does at the mention of her father. That's when you prod, "everything okay, Sakura?"

Your daughter merely turns away to hide her face against her pillow. Her mumble comes out soft and practically a whisper. But you can still hear her loud and clear.

"Why doesn't he ever come?"

Your heart drops to your stomach. You move to hug her, in hopes of appeasing the pain she feels. But she's right, you can't do anything about it. About this. It's a selfish act, the act of divorcing the one whom you thought would've been your lifelong partner till the day you die. And yet, you hadn't been strong enough for her sake.

And Sakura's the one victim to all consequences that follow.

Because how can you tell her? That her father has decided to choose someone else -- another woman, instead of staying by his family and taking on his responsibilities as he should? How could you tell her that her own father has abandoned her?

Sakura isn't stupid. She's well aware of everything that happens around her. But such words coming out of her own mouth causes your own eyes to burn with tears.

"Papa loves you. He's just--busy with work. But you know that he loves you so so much right?" you hope that your murmur is enough to appease her.

And it does, for now.

Sakura snuggles closer to your bosom, small fingers gripping your t-shirt as though she doesn't want you to leave, "will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" she murmurs through closed eyelids.

You nod, smooth one hand over her forehead, "yeah. Sleep now, okay? Tomorrow's a big day."

Hence the reason why you're here. Burning under the midday sun. Hat poised over your head, and a piece of stray paper from your office that you're using as a makeshift fan.

Until now, it's proven itself useless in response to the heat.

"Come on, Greens!"

That familiar alto. Raspy and velvet like chocolate. It makes your eyes swipe right to the source only to see none other than the PE coach.

Kuroo Tetsurou is bathed in sweat as he stands by the sidelines, cap over his messy hair and eyes never straying from the row of students balancing potatoes across their tiny spoons. His t-shirt is practically soaked through from the back, showing off his array of muscles twisting and twining like vines around a bark of a tree, and when he crosses his arms over his chest you take note of the swell of his biceps. Taunting, tantalizing.

He's a catch, is what your mind thinks.

You shut it down immediately. What's the point of daydreaming when you're not ready to commit to anything? Not even a fling?

No. You'd much rather stay alone. You know exactly how it feels like to be loved and to lose that love by someone whom you thought had your heart as much as you had his. And you weren't in a rush to fall into that trap once again.

It's finally Sakura's turn and almost subconsciously, you straighten up in the bleachers to get a better look at your daughter all decked in Blue. She's holding out her spoon, tongue sticking out in concentration just as a teacher places a potato right in the middle of it.

Catching your eye from where you sit, she gives you a wide beam, all teeth, and you grin back, doing a silly little wriggle of your fingers. You do the mistake of glancing back towards your right only to meet the PE coach's eyes by mistake.

He grins a Cheshire cat smile, as if he knows that he's been caught but he doesn't care, and your own smile turns shy, ducking your head and soon averting your eyes.

The whistle sounds. The race is on.

"C'mon Sakura!" You yell as loud as you can, watching your daughter waddle in what you hope is a straight line. She's second at this point, trying hard not to lose her potato as her classmate -- a red -- blunders right through without hesitation, "C'mon Sakura! You can do it!"

Your daughter all but wobbles, lips parted in concentration as another boy zooms past. You cup your lips using your hands and shout with all your might, "C'mon Sakura! Faster!"

She finishes in third place, not a bad start for her sports confidence, and comes running straight up to you so that you pick her up with a whoop.

"That's my girl!" You nuzzle into her sweaty hair, "aren't you a big champ?!"

"Did you see mum?! I'm third!" she flaps her arms around, "I'm third! Will I get a medal?!"

"You sure will," you pinch her cheek, "and you did great! I didn't know you were good at balancing potatoes!"

"Next time I'll come in first!"

"Then we'll have to practice at home," you chuckle.

It isn't until the end of the Sports day that Kuroo Tetsurou finds you amidst the horde of parents making their way to the parking lot.

"Hey," he calls out to you as you're opening your trunk. You wave at him, slightly embarrassed as you recall the way he'd locked eyes with you briefly on the field. You strive for nonchalance as you say, "how's it going, coach?"

"Not bad, how about you?" he walks straight up to the car, waving at Sakura from the backseat before turning his attention back on you. You and the multiple bags you're organizing, "what's this?"

"Oh it's for an event," you huff out and pull a bag up into the trunk.

"Here," Kuroo's hand reaches for the next one, "let me help."

"Oh--uhm--" you weren't expecting such chivalry. Heat rises to the back of your neck and you're glad it's a hot summer's day, for you're quite certain your cheeks are flaming, "thank you."

"No problem," he sets the last bag into the trunk, pushing it all the way so that it's secure, "what kind of event is it anyway?"

"It's a corporate event," you explain as he closes the trunk for you, "I'm an event planner."

Something lights up in his golden pupils. He whistles, "haven't heard of that one before," a small smile curves at his lips, "what's the weirdest event you'd had to plan?"

"Oh don't get me started on that," you shudder, "I once had a themed birthday party, but they wanted their party to be set in changing rooms, with the theme 'haunted toilets'."

"Wha--no way," Kuroo bursts out laughing. He has a very nice smile, and a laugh that is contagious. You can't help but grin at him, "is that even legal?"

"Well if they pay you to hire your changing rooms, wouldn't you do it?"

“I suppose so,” you snort, “as long as they pay me.”

He chuckles once more, the sound rumbling through his chest and almost making you swoon. God, he's attractive, even more so when he's all sweaty for some unknown reason.

You hurriedly try to end conversation when you feel your tummy tingle with those familiar butterflies, "well--It was nice meeting you again, Coach."

"Likewise," he tips his head towards you, "and I think you've got yourself a pro athlete back there."

That makes you chortle, "I'm not quite sure, Sakura's been graced with my lack of coordination."

"I wouldn't say so. She came in third, didn't she?"

"You're right," a small smile curves at your lips, "well anyway, thank you. For everything. You're probably exhausted."

"I am, but you're good company," he grins.

Butterflies erupt through your chest and you know without a doubt that this is your cue to leave, and quickly bow to him, "thanks again Coach, see you around."

"See you," a pause, before he adds, "get home safe."

These are simple words, won't that do't matter as much and can be said oh-so-politely. But still, it makes your heart beat so fast you feel it echoing through your chest. You try not to show him your blush as you slide into the driver's seat and watch him raise a hand in mid-wave as you pull out of the parking lot. Sakura waves back with as much excitement and you wonder briefly whether she likes him so much because of the lack of father figure in your household.

Your phone rings then and you scramble for it from the passenger seat, barely able to press down on the green button as you keep your eyes on the road.

"Hello," you place it on loudspeaker and drop it to your lap as you make a turn for the motorway, "hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

Oh.

"Papa!" Sakura's exclamation comes from the back, almost makes you skid off the road as you quickly right yourself with a silent curse. Why in the world is he calling now? It's almost like he knows you were having a good time.

"Aoi," your mumble spills out, "how are you?"

"Good, good." a small pause. "how was sports day?"

"Was great, you missed Sakura in her potato-run," you try not to let the bitterness affect your tone, though it's harder to manage than expected, "how was Cali?"

"Very nice actually, Sakura would've loved it. It's warm, with beaches, and people are always doing stuff. It's a nice city."

Of course it's nice when his new wife owns a mansion and no fees are to be paid for the household. Especially nice when his new wife's family has a multi-national jewelry business and a cash flow that seems neverending.

So you cut to the chase, "why'd you call?"

"Jeez y/n," he laughs, "so brutal. Can't I even ask you how you've been?"

"I've been well, so has Sakura," your patience is running thin, "so tell me, why'd you call? Isn't it like midnight over there?"

"Actually it's still morning," there's amusement in his tone, the kind that makes you want to hurl something at him, "but anyway, I was calling to let you know about the papers."

He doesn't have to mention which papers. You know exactly what he's talking about, "what about them?"

"I've already signed them and sent them your way. You should be receiving them by the end of the week."

"Yes, and?"

There's a bout of hesitation from his side, "and I'd appreciate it if you could sign it as quickly as possible."

Another needle to your gut, "that's fine but...why the rush?"

"Ah well," you don't have to see him to know that he's currently scratching the back of his neck, a nervous tick of his whenever he's unsure or nervous. You hate that you know that about him, "we're--we might be getting married in a few months."

You're so shocked you almost barrel straight into the vehicle in front of you.

-----

[hxney-lemcn]

Best Friend — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: you find Daisuke different job, dodging a bullet that would've taken his life.

tw: mentions of pony express again (ew)

a/n: this was not planned, and I'm not entirely motivated, but there's not many Daisuke fics so I'm kinda left only one option :/

wc: 1.1k

Master List

Part One | Part Two

“How about this one,” You asked, showing your screen to Daisuke. Electrician apprentice read at the top, the requirements listed below. “I know it isn’t the most exciting, but you’d make good money.”

Daisuke eyed it for a few seconds, “It’s basically what I’d be doing for Pony Express.” “Exactly,” You nodded eagerly. “Except you wouldn’t be floating in space, who knows where for…how long was it supposed to be again?” 

“Like…a year and some months,” He replied back, expression darkening slightly at the thought.

“Yeah, no way,” You grumbled, reading through the rest of the job listing. “Look, they’re open to no experience, it's perfect!” 

“You think they’ll actually hire me?” He asked, brown eyes looking at you anxiously. “I mean I have nothing that makes me stand out.”

“Only one way to find out,” You shrugged, clicking on the apply button. “Besides, are you saying my resume skills suck? I made you look like a 5 star option even with your lack of experience.”

“Isn’t that lying though?” Daisuked questioned, resting his head on your shoulder as you filled the form out for him (he chipped in when you didn’t know something). 

“No,” You hummed. “Lots of people don’t have experience, but they gotta put something on their resume.” 

As you finished, you glanced down at him, “You wanna go through with this?”

“Yeah,” He nodded with a sigh. “I really don’t wanna go to space.”

“Hmm,” you hummed again, resting your head on top of his as you hit submit. “You should tell your mom before she does anything.”

“Yeah,” He agreed. “I just don’t wanna think about it right now.”

“I know,” You murmured, allowing him to play with your fingers. “But the longer you procrastinate the more likely you’ll become an express worker.”

“You’re so responsible,” Daisuke groans. “How do you do it?”

Letting out a short chuckle, you respond, “Anxiety. And right now I’m anxious I’m gonna have to say goodbye to you, which is why we’re filling out job applications right now.”

“I love you,” He mumbled, nuzzling into your neck. 

“I love you too, silly,” You murmured back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

…

You were sitting in class when you noticed your phone light up. Daisuke’s smiling face popped up, he was calling you. Glancing up to the professor, they seemed busy enough to not notice you, so you opened your messages, typing a quick message,

What’s up? I’m in class rn

babygirl: YOU’LL NEVER GUESS QHAT HAPPENEF babygirl: oh babygirl: srry, txt u later babygirl: love you 🫶

okay! Love you too you goof <3

It was hard for you to shake the silly grin off your face for the rest of class. Daisuke always managed to make you feel like a lovesick fool, heart fluttering at every little thing he’d do. He had you kicking your feet and twirling your hair. Yeah, you were totally in the honeymoon phase, but you were enjoying every moment of that.

When you got out of class, you went outside to a quiet area on campus. Pulling out your phone, you sat on a bench and quickly hit the call button. You didn’t even get to hear the ring as Daisuke answered right away, cherrily shouting your name.

“What happened?” You asked with a smile. “You seem pretty excited.”

“I got the job!” Daisuke exclaimed, not waiting a second to tell you the good news.

“Whoa! Congrats!” You exclaimed back. “Wait, which one?”

“The factory one where I’d operate a forklift,” He replied, you could hear the smile in his voice. “My mom actually approves too.” “That’s amazing,” You felt super giddy. It felt like you had dodged a major bullet. 

“Yeah,” He sighed. “It’s all thanks to you, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t mention it,” You shrugged, glancing up at the pink and yellow sky. Your classes always run later on these days, you couldn’t wait to go home after this call. “You’re my fr- boyfriend, I’ll always have your back.”

“You done for the day?” Daisuke asks absentmindedly.

“Yeah.”

“Come over?”

“Sure.”

…

“Thank you so much for helping Daisuke,” His mother gushed with a stressed smile. “You’re such a good influence for him. I couldn’t ask for a better partner for my son.”

“O-oh, of course,” You stammered, feeling flustered at the compliments. “He means a lot to me, I’m glad I could help.” Nodding at her politely, you walked past, heading towards Daisuke’s room. Knocking on the door, you heard his cheerful voice tell you to come in. Entering, you set your backpack by the door, plopping yourself on his bed. 

“How were classes?” Daisuke asks, glancing at you from over his gameboy.

“It was fine,” You shrugged, stretching out to relieve some stress. “Nothing new.”

“Hmm,” He hummed in acknowledgement, beating the level he was on before turning the device off. “Wanna sleep over?”

“Sure,” You nodded, and Daisuke plopped himself on top of you. Ever since you started dating he had become incredibly more touchy, always touching you in some way, whether it be holding pinkies or laying on top of each other like a weighted blanket. You didn’t mind though, it was comforting, and you were a bit clingy too so at least it was mutual. Like clockwork, your hands started to run through his hair causing him to release a pleased sigh.

“Should we watch a movie?” You asked, glancing over to his stack of dvds. 

“But you’re so comfy,” Daisuke whined, snuggling further into your chest.

You let out an exaggerated sigh, but made no attempt to move, instead changing the topic, “When do you start your job?”

“In a few weeks,” He mumbled. “ ‘m kinda nervous about starting a serious job, but it's better than the alternative.”

“You’ll do great,” You tried to comfort. “I just know it.” 

“I think you're biased,” He grumbles, tilting his head up to make eye contact.

“Maybe just a bit,” You smiled, pinching his cheek lightly. “But I’d be a shitty partner if I didn’t encourage you.” Daisuke watched you fondly, he’s not sure what he did to deserve someone like you.

As you both laid in his bed, soaking in the other's presence, everything was alright. Neither of you know just how much of a bullet Daisuke had missed, the ship he was fated to join if he were to work at Pony Express had gone missing. When the news broke, the both of you couldn’t help but be horrified. What if that was the ship he joined? Not to mention the news of Pony Express going bankrupt, if Daisuke went as an intern it wouldn’t have gone far. 

Daisuke and his mother were even more grateful that you managed to find him a different job. Even if he didn’t enjoy it, it was better than whatever happened to the ill fated crew of the Tulpar.

[squinch-depraved]

hi. i couldn't help myself and had to come back you should write lc!schlatt and reader at his friends halloween party,you can pick the costumes because i have no idea for that..it should totally stem off of intoxication etc whatever you want to put for your idea on this and another reason was because halloween month is here:)

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

i hope this is good i kinda just let this one take me where it wanted to take me idk

CW: intox/cnc/dubcon kinda

you knew as soon as you saw him across the party that the night would end with you two hooking up. he was dressed in a knight costume (it was a simple one, but he pulled it off really well) and you were in a cute little witch's outfit. the two of you were stealing glances at each other all night, and whenever you went to refresh your drink, he would walk up to the alcohol table just to get a chance to talk to you.

"some party, huh?" he asked awkwardly, refilling his cup with way more whiskey than he had any business taking.

you snorted, smiling, and eyed him up and down as you tried to decide what beverage to grab. you settled on taking the whiskey from him and filled your cup up almost as much as he did. "you've been eye-fucking me all night and that's your opener?" you teased him as you clinked your plastic cups together and took a big gulp.

schlatt's face flushed as he held eye contact with you. "what the fuck else am i supposed to say??" he fumbled, making you giggle. the melodic sound stuck in his mind for the rest of the night- he loved when he made you laugh like that.

"you're fine, jay, i was just messing with you. fuck, my head is spinning," you assured him before taking another long sip. about half of the contents of your cup were gone now, and he raised his eyebrows at how drunk you must be- he had been watching you for most of the night, this had to have been your fifth trip to the table.

"maybe don't drink that much that fast?" he suggested in a joking tone. he hoped you were too far gone to detect the genuine concern in his voice.

"don't tell me what to do," you squinted at him. "i'm fine." you were almost swaying at this point.

"alright," he agreed reluctantly, putting his hands up to show he believed you. "you wanna go sit down somewhere, though? it's kinda loud in here, maybe we can find somewhere to sit and talk or something."

you eyed him suspiciously. "just talk?"

he nodded and tried to look sincere. "yeah, if that's all you want."

and so he led you to the only space the two of you could find that wasn't crowded with your drunk friends- a small, dimly lit bathroom. schlatt felt a bit weird sitting down with you on the floor, backs to the bathtub, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

after a bit, you traded your cup for his so you had more to drink.

"hey!" he objected, but you weren't listening. you were just taking long gulps of the alcohol, grimacing as it burned your throat on the way down.

"y'know, i really don't mind that you've been staring at me all night. makes me feel special," you slurred. "i like when you make me feel special."

his face reddened and he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "what about it makes you feel so special? i'm just admiring you." his voice was shaky.

"just the way you stare. you've always got this hunger in your eyes when you look at me; usually, i try to ignore it, but tonight, i'm too drunk to shove the feelings down."

schlatt smirked at your admission. "so there's feelings?" he sounded more sure of himself now.

with a chuckle, you nodded and took another sip from your cup. "there are definitely feelings. i've just been ignoring them for a while because i didn't know how you felt." after swallowing a large mouthful of the amber liquid, you sighed deeply. "can't believe i'm actually telling you this, i'm gonna regret it so much in the morning. if i even remember..." you muttered.

he shifted on the floor next to you uncomfortably, moving his legs in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension in his groin. "listen, i'm not as drunk as you, but," he took a long gulp from his plastic cup, "there are some feelings on my end, too, if that helps. i dunno..." he sniffed and inspected a framed painting that was hanging on the wall.

you felt your cheeks heat up at his confession and finished off your drink hastily. "can you fuck me?"

"w-what?" he sputtered, turning to stare at you.

"can you fuck me?" you repeated. "tired of waiting for you, j. i know i'm wasted, and maybe i won't have any recollection of this happening when i'm sober again, but i need you right now."

schlatt blinked a few times, running over your request in his mind, and ran his fingers through his hair. "isn't that, like... taking advantage? ted said something about drunk people not being able to fully consent," he mumbled. you sighed frustratedly and grabbed his chin, turning him to look at you.

"i don't give a shit, schlatt. fuck me." the demand caused his pants to tighten, and you glanced down at his lap just in time to see his bulge twitch slightly. grinning, you scooted closer towards him, savoring the look of desire in his eyes. "i can tell you want it just as much as i do. c'mon, baby, please. take advantage of me." his breath hitched in his throat, and in an instant, he was standing up and extending a hand down to you to help you rise as well. as soon as you were both on your feet, he pressed you against the counter and pulled you in for a deep kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth after biting your lip. you yelped and jumped up onto the surface behind you, sitting down on it and spreading your legs open so he had easier access for whatever he wanted to do.

"mm, you're so eager," he breathed into your ear before taking it between his teeth gently. a whimper escaped your lips, any confidence you had now gone from how flustered his dominance was making you. "you've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

another whine slipped out, and you wrapped your legs around him in an attempt to hold him close.

"yeah, bet you've just been dreaming about being used by me. sounds like it, judging by how easy it is to make you moan for me." his velvet smooth words coated your eardrums, rendering you helpless as he reached and slid your stockings and panties down. using his thumb to collect your slick, he brought it up to your mouth and pressed it onto your tongue. the taste of yourself being forced upon you like this left you rolling your eyes back into your head.

"good slut," he whispered with a slight smile. withdrawing his thumb, he swiftly dove in to replace his digit with his tongue, swirling and exploring your mouth with such passion that it made you dizzy. after he had enough of the taste of whiskey on your lips, he lowered himself between your thighs and stared up at you, eyes full of longing.

"you don't know how long i've wanted to do this for you," he said earnestly.

for me. not to me, you thought fleetingly.

"then do it." the words were barely audible, but they made him grin and duck his head under your dress. as soon as his tongue met your folds, clumsy and desperate to taste you, you were a moaning mess. you tried to cover your mouth, but he reached one arm up to reach for your hand and pulled it off.

"lemme hear you," he mumbled against your core. "you wanted to be fucked here so bad, you get to be embarrassed by your choices."

a whorish noise spilled from your lips before he continued, "and say my name, too. want people to know who's makin' you feel this good."

he sped up his tongue, circling your clit over and over, and inserted two fingers into you one by one. the speed at which he pumped them in and out of you would have been cruel if it didn't make you feel so euphoric. it didn't take him long to make you cum, you were so worked up- not to even mention how drunk you were; that always made it so much easier for you to orgasm.

"please, schlatt!! ohh, fuck, oh my god!" you screamed as your legs trembled around his head. he smiled against your cunt and pressed a few messy kisses to it before pulling away to stare up at you. his face was covered in your juices, although you almost didn't notice it due to his expression of pure adoration.

he rose after a few moments of admiring you, undoing his pants just enough to expose his length and positioned himself between your legs once more. "god, this is gonna feel so good," he babbled as he fished a condom out of his pocket.

"you don't have to use that," you offered, snapping out of your daze of staring at his cock.

"'s fine. wanna make sure i'm sober the first time i cum in you. don't wanna even risk not remembering it." his words sent a shudder down your spine; did he want to do this again? would this be more than a one-night stand? you prayed that it would be as he slid the protection onto his shaft.

schlatt made eye contact with you as he pressed his tip against your sensitive bud. you drew in a small breath and clutched onto his shoulders, trying to keep the room from spinning.

"you ready?" he asked, planting a warm kiss on your neck. you nodded as you let out a sharp gasp and braced yourself for him to enter you. it hurt a bit when he did, but the hiss you let out didn't make him stop. he just kept pushing in until he was buried to the hilt between your velvet walls.

he gave you a few seconds before he started moving. it was awkward at first; you were both intoxicated, so it was bound to be a little clumsy, but every second felt incredible. once he established a rhythm, rolling his hips so hard they smacked against your ass, you were clawing at his back and chanting his name. the doorknob rattled loudly and some people laughed on the other side of the door- it sounded like ted and a few of your other friends, but you couldn't be sure.

"fuck," he grunted, gripping your hip with one hand and using the other to cup your face and bring you in for a kiss. "so fuckin' good for me, you stupid little whore." the mixture of praise and degradation made the knot that was forming in your stomach tighten, and you groaned into his mouth. "you gonna cum for me again, doll?"

with a vigorous nod, you leaned your head back against the mirror and surrendered to the endless pleasure schlatt was giving you. "i think i'm gonna cum, too," he grinned. "you keep gettin' tighter and tighter around me, it's gettin' impossible to- nnggh, keep, it together, holy shit! fuck, i'm gonna cum!"

with one final slam into you, he bit down on your shoulder through your dress and groaned loudly, chest heaving. you yelped as he did so and wrapped your arms around him for a hug, which he immediately reciprocated. after pulling out of you and discarding the very full condom, he helped you down and assisted you in fixing your costume so you could return to the party with at least a little bit of dignity.

"wanna come sleep at my place?" he offered. "i feel like it's the least i can do after... that." he smiled softly and adjusted a strand of your hair that was out of place.

"only if we can do it again," you bargained.

"deal. i'll call an uber." he stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him, leaving you to have a second to yourself. you made the final fixes to your costume and applied a coat of your lip gloss before taking a deep breath and exiting the room, ready to face whatever else was in store for you that night.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate Chapter 12

Warnings: An angsty Minho

Warmth and trust enveloped Y/N's body as she woke up next to Chan. His naked body flush against hers while his strong arm wraps around her waist. Y/N looked at Chan's sleeping form and noticed the way his face was scrunched. Even in his sleep, he was fretting about so many things and none of them she knew. The only thing she understood so far from Jisung was Chan had a lot of shares in companies and ran small businesses. On top of that Chan was trying to prevent Hongjoong from looking here. Y/N knew there was a rivalry but neither Hongjoong or Chan told her. Y/N wanted to know more about his troubles but decided he would tell her when he was ready. Y/N decided she wanted to bring breakfast up for Chan when he caught her slipping away. "Shh. I'm going to get you breakfast." Y/N cooed as she pushed the alpha down. "No can do, little wolf. I promised to train Jeongin today and take him hunting. And then I have to have a meeting with the council along with some other things." Chan said sleepily as he looked around the room to collect his thoughts before looking back at his disappointed omega. "Little wolf you can't spend all the time in the world with me, as much as I enjoy having you by my side, you are the other wolves mate too. Why don't you spend some time with the beta's today." Chan reasoned. "How do you want me to spend time with them?" Y/N asked nervously as Hongjoong normally got her to have sex with them to keep them happy. She never actually spent time with them, only the omegas who she shared a room with.

Chan sat up, his brows furrowed in confusion at her words. "Talk with them. Sit with them. Do not do anything you don't want to do. Just have fun is all I ask. They are not like Hongjoong's betas. If you want to kiss them, go ahead. If you want them to touch you, that's okay. If they want to touch you and you don't want that tell them no." Chan assured as he put her mind at ease. "How is Hyunjin?" Y/N asked awkwardly. "He's chained to the bed. He's not in a good way. You did a number on him." Chan stated. "Why have you chained him to the bed? Have you hurt him?" Y/N asked worriedly, guilt radiating through her body. "No omega I have not. If I didn't you might not be in one piece." Chan stated coldly but Y/N sensed there was more to it, but she didn't want to challenge him. Instead, Y/N headed into the kitchen to greet a quiet Minho who didn't even acknowledge her. Y/N wondered if he regretted comforting her last night. "Minho ah. Have I done something?" Y/N blurted out, causing the beta to look at her. "No," Minho answered before turning back to his cooking. "Hello." Jisung sang as he came into the kitchen only to be silenced by Minho's glare. "How is my favourite wolf?" "Fine," Y/N answered. "Good, come join me and Changbin outside." Jisung gave her a slight look as he dragged her outside by the parked cars where Felix, Seungmin and Changbin were. Changbin beckoned Y/N into the car with the others. "So you're probably wondering why you are here?" Changbin stated seriously. "Shut up and get on with it Changbin," Seungmin grumbled. "Kids listen," Changbin stated, silencing them all. "It is a very important day tomorrow. It is Minho hyungs birthday! Now Minho thinks we have all forgotten because normally we plan to go out and do something but we can't in case Hongjoong finds Y/N so we are celebrating at home but he cannot know what we are planning. So, we need to get our lovely beta to run around and do chores while we set the house up." "Alright, me and Jeongin can take him into the city to get things," Seungmin stated. "Good, we need to make sure he doesn't suspect a thing. Chan did warn if we push him too far we are all being punished as Minho Hyung is sensitive at the moment." Changbin warned. "What about Hyunjin?" Felix asked. "He will be there to celebrate. I checked on him this morning he's getting better, but man he stinks." Jisung stated. "Now little wolf your job is to help Felix cook up some party food while me and Chan set up the house with Hyunjin. Are we all happy? Good," Changbin explained before getting out of the car.

Y/N felt really sad because Minho was sad. Y/N didn't even know it was his birthday and she had nothing to give him. She didn't even know how to make Minho happy. "Don't be sad Y/N, if you want to make Minho happy you can, as long as you don't tell him about the surprise," Felix whispered as he leaned over to the front seat. "I don't even know how. He seemed so sad today." Y/N admitted. "Minho Hyung doesn't really like to express his feelings when he is unhappy, but what Minho does appreciate is if you recognise them without making a fuss. Minho isn't overly affectionate but appreciates it when you offer." Felix promised as he left the car, leaving Y/N alone with Jisung and Seungmin who were sat on their phones planning Minho's surprise, when Y/N had a thought. Y/N was going to see if Minho needed any help today in hopes it would cheer him up, but when she reached the kitchen he was angrily washing up. Slamming the cup into the sink with a huff. It bothered Y/N and she felt it was cruel that that they were treating him that way so Y/N walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, making him jump. "Yah!" Minho jolted and dropped the cup that was in his hand into the sink as he felt her small arms wrap around his waist, her head pressed into his back. "What are you doing?" "Nothing," Y/N whispered, placing a bold kiss on his neck before moving away to collect the plates. She noticed the tops of his ears started to go red at her actions. "Yah, what are you doing?" Minho shouted. His voice showed a hint of irritation but his face held nervousness. "Helping my beta because I wanted to spend time with you. I didn't have to help." Y/N grumbled as she slammed the plates on the side, giving him a look. Minho looked back at the sink a guilty look boiling in his stomach as he watched you leave. He wanted to say something but he couldn't do it. What he didn't expect was you to come back with a towel to help him dry up. A warm fuzzy feeling started to embark in his stomach at the thought of you spending time with him. "Minho?" Y/N whispered as she looked at the beta who hummed at her. "Minho?" Y/N called out again causing him to look up at her in confusion. As soon as he looked up at her she planted a kiss on his soft lips. Before Y/N could pull away Minho grabbed her neck pushing her closer. He was gentle, almost unsure of what to do. "Your neck is tight go and see Seungmin to fix it," Minho stated, his voice turning cold as he faced his back to her. Did I push him too far? "Ya come here," Seungmin demanded from the other room.

Seungmin threw a cushion on the floor in front of him and beckoned her forward with the living room blanket in his hand. "Take your top off and wrap this around you," Seungmin ordered. Y/N awkwardly took off her t-shirt and wrapped the blanket around her and under her arms so he had access to her shoulders. Seungmin carefully touched her shoulders pressing different points until he found the muscle knots. Seungmin hadn't expected her to have so many that he kind of needed Hyunjin to push some of them out as he wasn't sure how to push the ones out by her jaw. "If it hurts tell me," Seungmin whispered as he carefully rubbed her neck to her ear trying to push them out without too much force. "Ah. Ah. Ah." Y/N yelped. "Shh, it's nearly out," Seungmin whispered as he slid his hand across her neck. "All done. Some of them like this one need Hyunjin because I don't want to make it worse." "Thank you Seungmin-ah." Y/N tilted her head back slightly to thank him. Seungmin smiled angelically and grabbed her head in his hands to push it up. His hands slowly played with her hair, occasionally pulling it while he massaged her head. "Minho does appreciate your kiss. You just made him nervous." Seungmin whispered in her ear. "If you keep teasing him, you'll make him snap." Seungmins words were a warning, but you were never one to listen to warnings.

[lookingforuravity]

the man who can't be moved

shoto todoroki x gn!reader

word count: 914

IN WHICH you and shoto's unspoken feelings come to light.

it seemed to always be the same story for you. no matter how many times you tried at love, you always seemed to fail. it was a repetitive cycle whenever you thought you had interest in somebody. there was a small moment of ecstasy at first, but then as it progressed, you felt repulsed, like you were meant to be with someone else rather than the person who was actually in front of you.

maybe it was your head messing with you. maybe you just weren't cut out for love. or maybe it was the effect that shoto had on you. your best friend that you'd be in love with for years and the same boy who was seated right next to you.

the two of you were engulfed in silence as the moonlight dazed upon you at U.A’s rooftop. it wasn't an awkward silence, surprisingly no, it was comforting. no words needed to be shared, but the way you and shoto's legs pressed against each other without the other pulling away was enough said. the clock currently struck midnight, way past the curfew aizawa had set for the students, but it didn’t matter to the both of you.

you don't know when you fell for him, or how, all you knew was that you fell and fell hard. it was the type of love that made your brain fuzzy and made you blank out whenever you're near him. the dangerous kind of love.

moving on would be easier than confessing, you always thought to yourself. but you never realized how his gaze would stay on you for seconds too long.

“are you… okay?” his voice cut through the silence. shoto has never been one for comforting, but if it was for the one that he loved, he'd do it a thousand times and more. you turned to face him as his eyes searched yours for any sign of pain. but for some reason, you didn't feel any pain, which is weird for someone who just got stood up. you didn't feel anything about it. you couldn't tell if it was relief, disappointment, or a mixture of both.

you shrugged carelessly as you turned back to gaze up at the sky. “just another failed date. i'm okay though, i swear.” you replied, failing to mask the uncertainty. for once, you just wanted at least *one* date to work out. one date where you could detach from the small amount of hope you held that shoto could possibly reciprocate your feelings.

“they have no idea what they're missing,” he muttered, his eyes leaving yours and facing his hands as he fiddled with his fingers. he felt your eyes stuck on the side of his face as he nervously attempted to avoid eye contact. “you're too good for them.”

you chucked awkwardly at his words, thinking that you were misinterpreting what he was trying to say. “maybe i'm just not cut out for this whole… dating thing.” you desperately wanted him to mean what you were thinking. you started to feel that same flicker of hope you got every time you'd get asked out on a date, but this time it was like an unstoppable wildfire.

“… i like you.”

his confession hung cold in the air, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“what?"

he turned his head to finally face you. his face playing a rare display of expressions, contrasting his usual stoic demeanor. “i can't be just friends with you anymore. seeing you go out with all these people frustrates me.”

all the ‘what ifs’ you stacked in your brain for years washed away. it made you feel euphoric, it had your mind spinning like a ballerina. you took your hands and pressed them against his slightly rosy cheeks. “you're serious?” you asked. he nodded, his eyes searching in yours trying to find any sign of reciprocation.

“i've liked you too… for so long,” you finally admitted. getting it off your chest felt like a breath of fresh air, all of the tension escaped from your body. “i didn't want to go on a date with all of those other people. i just wanted to get over you.”

shoto sighed and shook his head. “i couldn't tell you how much i hated it. i'm tired of sitting here and watching other people have you.”

he caressed your hair, your heart swelled at his words and actions. “let's start again,” he proposed. “no more hiding.”

you nodded as you agreed with him, gently clasping your hand on his. “i'd love that.

his lips slightly curved up, his fingers gently brushed against your cheek as he lost himself in your eyes. the shine of the moonlight and the stars was only making it harder for him to peep his eyes off of you. it made you ten times more beautiful than he already thought you were.

“can i kiss you now?” shoto asked, his tone unwavering.

you laughed at his blunt statement before nodding. “please.”

his kiss was tender, filled with all of the unspoken both of you never said. a shiver ran down both of your spines at the softness of each other's lips. his hands slowly traced down from your face to your waist, pulling you closer to his body. shoto waited for so long to have you. even if today wasn't the day, he'd wait a thousand more just to call you his.

©lookingforuravity 2024 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #30

part 1 || part 2

xxx hospital bed

"Is he breathing? Oh, fuck, Louisa, is he--"

"Just shut up for a second! Let me...Oh, thank Christ. He's got a pulse, he's alive! Where the fuck is the ambulance?"

"They're coming. Now that they know the scene is clear and they aren't going to get blown up, they should be here any minute. You're sure he's alive? He looks--"

"He's alive, Shirley! Come help me untie him! Oh, god, River."

"Jesus, that's a lot of blood...I really don't think he's breathing."

"Shit. Help me get him out of this chair, we need to lay him down!"

"You know CPR?"

"Yes. Find out where that ambulance is, will you? ...Come on, don't do this to me, River. You do not get to do this. Come on."

xxx

Louisa jerks awake, heart hammering wildly for a second as she gets her bearings. And then she takes a deep breath, slumping down in her chair. Visitors aren't usually allowed in ICU for long periods like this, but Lamb had pulled strings. Officially, Louisa is there to provide security for River. The man who had landed him here won't actually be causing him any more trouble—Louisa had seen to that—but she still can't bear the thought of leaving River on his own. She remembers the feeling and the sound, the awful snap, of his ribs cracking beneath her hands and shudders.

He looks better now than he had when they found him, which is really saying something considering he looks like shit. There are dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks, scruffy and unshaven, look sunken in. But he's not so pale as he had been, and his lips aren't blue. That's something, at least.

A nurse comes in after a few minutes to check River's vitals and surgical incisions. She looks over at Louisa with a big smile when she gets done, and Louisa has to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the cheeriness that so obviously doesn't belong here.

"Everything looks great. I imagine it won't be too long now before Mr. Cartwright's moved out of ICU," she says, her voice just above a whisper. "Do you need anything?"

A year long vacation? New job? Friends that don't nearly get themselves killed every few months?

"No," Louisa says. "I'm fine."

"How's your hand feeling?"

Louisa looks down at the bulky splint on her right hand, then glances at River's leg before looking up at the nurse.

"Better than his leg is going to feel."

The nurse winces in sympathy. "He's got a long recovery ahead of him, that's for sure. But he's got good friends to help him along the way, so I'm sure he'll turn out alright."

"I'm his security," Louisa says, and the nurse nods, an exaggeratedly serious expression on her face.

"Of course, of course," she says, and winks before going to check on the next patient.

This time, Louisa does roll her eyes.

xxx

River hurts. That's the first thing he's aware of. There's a sharp pain in his gut, and a deeper, more intense ache in his leg. He groans. Everything else sort of filters in slowly – the sensation of oxygen tickling at his nose, the stingy itch of IV needles, the antiseptic smell of hospital, and a familiar voice saying his name.

"River, you awake?"

River grimaces and forces his eyes open. Louisa is leaning forward in a chair next to him, her left hand gripping his right one.

"My fucking leg," River rasps, his whole body tensing at the intensity of the pain. "Ow."

"Here," Louisa says, placing a small plastic remote into River's hand. "The doctor says you can press this when the pain gets bad. It's all calibrated so you can't get too high a dose."

River presses the button, face screwed up in pain. "I don't think it's--" And then, relief as the pain recedes to a dull background noise. He sinks back into the pillows with a small sigh. "Oh, that's better. Thank you."

He looks over at Louisa again and frowns. There's a bluey-purple bruise over her left eye and another at her jaw. "You okay?"

Louisa rolls her eyes and almost smiles. "You should see the other guy."

"I mean it."

"Yeah, well, so do I." Louisa lifts her right hand. Her pinkie and ring finger are splinted together in a clunky brace of some sort. There's a hint of pride when she says, "Boxer's fracture. Anyway, I should be asking you that question. Are you okay?"

"Better now that you showed me this." He waves the remote at her and this time she does smile, shaking her head.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. It's just to tide you over until they can do surgery on that leg."

River hums in response. He's feeling a little strange, like things are a bit hazy at the edges. Soft. Probably it's whatever meds the magical button has pushed into his bloodstream. Even with the drugs, though, memories start to piece together – being hit in the crosswalk. Being tied to that chair. Being stabbed.

Just in case, I'm gonna stay awake as long as I can.

"You guys came," he says. The words feel...mushy, somehow, as he says them. He doesn't let that stop him. "You saved me. I don't remember...Was I awake?"

Louisa's smile falters, the corners of her mouth twitching, and she blinks rapidly, looking away from him. "Uh, no, River. You weren't."

"What happened?"

Louisa sighs, still not looking at him. "You almost died. It was a trap – which we knew, by the way, before you told us. There were explosives at the entrances of the building where they took you. If we'd opened either door, the whole place would've gone up. We had to call in a bomb disposal unit, while I knew that you were inside bleeding to de--" She cuts herself off and takes a deep breath, finally turning to face him. "But we got to you in time."

River has the vague impression that there's something else, something she's keeping back, but he doesn't press it.

"Well thanks...Whose face did you break your hand on?"

"Oh, this," Louisa says, lifting said hand at him. "His name was Gabriel Rakes. He's the one who stabbed you. It was Coe that figured out where he and the others were. He knew they'd want to see their plan unfold in person. Something about the theatricality of it, I think. Anyway, you don't have to worry about any of them. Assuming he wakes up, Rakes will be joining the others deep in the basement of Regent's Park."

River smiles at the idea of the people who'd done this being stuck in tiny cells for the rest of their lives.

"Good."

Sleep is starting to tug at his consciousness and he blinks heavily.

"You can go to sleep," Louisa says.

"I don't need to," River responds. When he blinks again, though, it turns out to be much easier to just keep his eyes closed and he drifts off anyway.

xxx to be continued...

[hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf]

Ghost

ghost!mingi x fem!reader

Trigger warnings: mingi's dead so

Content warnings: names (mi amor, good girl), oral (f rec), fingering, size kink, praise, hair pulling, mingi's actually obsessed and in love

Summary: Your neighborhood friendly ghost can't stand not having you.

A/N: happy halloween babes!! i wrote this after a lovely discussion with rae and i've been dying to share it. and what better time to share than halloween? anyways i hope you enjoy and if you'd like to be tagged in future stories, feel free to comment, message, or send an ask! love you x

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

Smut below the cut

You’d known for a while that your house was haunted. You often felt like you were being watched and sometimes things moved on their own. Doors would open and close by themselves and the tv would turn on in the middle of the night. It didn’t scare you anymore given how long you’d lived there. You often spoke to the ghost as if it were a friend that you’d known for ages.

But when you awoke to feeling watched yet again, something was off. It didn’t feel like the usual presence. There was someone physically in the room with you. You laid as still as possible and kept your breathing even, paralyzed with fear and afraid to open your eyes to find a murderer in your room.

“I know you’re awake.” A deep voice resonated around the room. You slowly opened your eyes but no one was there. Not at the foot of your bed, not near your closet.

“Who’s there?” You called, sitting up and searching the room frantically. Slowly, in the corner of the room, a man materialized before your eyes. “Who are you?” You scrambled to the corner where your bed was pushed against the wall and tried to make yourself smaller.

“I won’t hurt you.” He said simply as he moved closer. “You know I won’t. I haven’t in all the time you’ve lived here.”

“How do you know how long I've lived here?” You asked cautiously, shrinking away from him when he reached the edge of the bed. You could see hints of scarring reaching up his neck, towards his jaw. They were in a pattern like nothing you’d ever seen before.

“Because I live here too.” He looked down with a sad smile and shook his head. “Or I used to.” He elaborated when you didn’t respond. “I’m the previous owner. Name’s Mingi.” He held out his hand and you noticed more of the beautiful scars traveling up his arm.

“But that’s-” You shook your head and refused to touch him, panic filling your body. “That’s impossible.” The previous owner was dead. You’d heard the story from the neighbors when you moved in.

“How come you can accept my presence when you can’t see me?” He tilted his head as his hand dropped. “You aren’t phased by my being here when I'm moving things to get your attention. Why are you so nervous now?”

“That was…that was you?” The unease began to dissipate but you still refused to move any closer to him.

“Of course it was me. This was my house.” Something about his expression changed. It became darker, more possessive. “And you became mine too when you moved in.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked quietly.

“I’ve been watching over you since day one.” He leaned down, crawling into your personal space, and you tried to lean away but the wall prevented you from shrinking further away. “I know everything about you. I know your favorite foods, I know you prefer cats over dogs. I know you have to brush your teeth before you put your shirt on after a shower so the little sprinkles of toothpaste don’t get on the material.” His eyes dipped to your lips for a moment, heating before meeting your hesitant gaze once more. “I know what you look like in your most intimate moments. As far as I'm concerned, you’re mine.” You gasped softly at the implications and he looked back at your lips, this time refusing to look away. “I’ve wanted you from the start. Wanted to know the feel of your body under my hands. I want to be the one to give you mind-numbing pleasure.” Finally he met your gaze again and found your eyes already darkening. “Let me give you that. Just tonight.”

“I don’t even know you.” You whispered, heat pooling between your legs at the confession and his subsequent request.

“You do. You gave me a silly little nickname and you talk to me every day.”

“You’re a ghost!” You whisper yelled.

“A ghost who spent every day from the moment you moved in trying to learn how to manifest just to be with you.” He leaned in closer and you reeled back, your head hitting the wall. He immediately reached behind you and cupped the back of your head, soothing over the area you’d just hit. You expected to feel body heat or maybe even an icy touch that indicated lack of life. Instead, he was the same temperature as the air around you, his cool fingers grazing over the area to make sure you weren’t injured. “Careful, mi amor. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“What are you doing to me?” You asked defeatedly, certain that some supernatural power was responsible for swaying you.

“Taking care of you.” He gently pulled you away from the wall and you suddenly realized just how small you were in comparison to him. The thought sent a thrill through your body. “Will you let me?”

Slowly, you nodded. He felt too familiar for you to truly be afraid. You were genuinely terrified at first but the moment he started listing things about you, you felt at ease. He felt like an old lover.

“Thank you.” He seemed so affected by your agreeing, his voice already rough with desire. “Thank you.” He repeated as he pulled you closer, eyes fixed on your lips. He urged you to lay back as he pulled the sheets away and you shivered as cool air caressed your body.

It felt surreal to be kissed by the ghost who’d haunted you for years. It was electrifying in a way you hadn’t expected. “Wanted to kiss you for so long…” He mumbled against your lips before moving lower. Cool lips trailed down to your throat and you shivered as a hand came to rest on your hip.

“Can’t believe I'm finally touching you. Never felt something so fucking perfect. Haven’t felt anything in so long.” Already he sounded dazed as he wasted no time in moving down the bed. He tugged your panties off and tossed them aside, immediately kissing your thighs as he pushed them apart to accommodate him. “So fucking perfect.” He marveled as he stared at your pussy.

You wanted to close your legs as you became flustered but he was just strong enough to keep you from clamming up on him. And then his lips met your cunt in a kiss so soft, so delicate that your head spun, and you couldn’t imagine pushing him away.

He groaned at the way you relaxed under his touch and did it again, this time firmer. You bit your lip at the touch and reached a hand down to tangle in his platinum tresses. It was so strange to touch someone who had no body heat. You could feel the press of his hands, the way his tongue traced over your folds, but it was all just as cool as the room around you.

The man was a genius with his tongue. It was clear he’d had plenty of practice when he was still alive and jealousy burned at your insides. Envy. You found it a bit unfair that you were only just getting a chance with someone so skilled and he was a literal ghost. The universe must hate you.

You bit your lip to stifle a soft moan when he sucked on your clit and he glanced up at you before shaking his head. “Nuh uh. I wanna hear. I know how pretty you sound. Don’t hide now.” Your cheeks heated but you slowly nodded. “Good girl.” Then he resumed his actions.

He moved slowly at first, tongue laving over your folds almost reverentially. You couldn’t stop yourself from tugging at his hair, guiding him where you wanted him. He groaned against you and the vibrations sent a thrill through your body.

“M-Mingi- I need more-” You whimpered, your grip on his hair tightening. He growled against you in response as he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer, his mouth pressing firmer against you. His tongue pressed into you and you let out a weak moan as heat flooded your body. “Oh god-”

You were soaked by now, helpless to the things he was doing to you. You couldn’t dream of stifling your sounds when his nose bumped against your clit and he noticed. He took great joy in repeating his actions, tongue delving into you as his nose repeatedly bumped your clit.

Then he pulled away and you whined in displeasure. He simply chuckled as he brought his fingers to your pussy, rubbing circles around your clit with his knuckles. “Relax, mi amor. I won’t stop until you cum for me. I need it just as much as you do.”

“Then stop teasing.” You pouted and he laughed again, kissing your thigh as he continued to toy with you. “Please? I wanna cum.” You pleaded quietly.

Finally, he slid a long finger into you and curled it as his lips latched back onto your clit. You couldn’t help but rock your hips a bit, grinding against his face. He knew exactly what you liked and you wondered how many times he’d watched you get off on your own or with a random hookup.

Tension settled in the pit of your stomach and you bit your lip hard, moaning freely as you got closer and closer to the edge. Your thighs began to tremble on either side of his head as he added a second finger and scissored them. He was letting out starved little grunts as he devoured you and finally you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mingi ‘m gonna cum- oh-” You’d barely gotten the warning out when liquid bliss flooded your veins. Your back arched off the bed and you let out a series of loud, desperate moans, rocking against his face as you came undone.

He didn’t stop until he was certain you were finished and when he finally did, you couldn’t hide your disappointment. He laughed softly at this and shook his head. “Calm down, mi amor. I’m not done with you yet.” You nodded slightly as he moved up the bed, his hand slipping under the front of your shirt and resting against your stomach. “Can I take this off? Wanna see every inch of your beautiful skin.”

You sat up just enough for him to remove the offending material and watched his face as your skin came into view. His expression changed almost imperceptibly but you noticed the adoration in his eyes as he took you in. “You’re staring.” You mumbled, suddenly shy. No one had ever looked at you like that.

“I can’t help it.” He flashed you a small smile as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your left breast. “I don’t think I'll ever get over how perfect you are.”

“‘M not perfect…” Your cheeks heated as you refused his claim and he shook his head.

“You are. Every inch of you, head to toe, is perfect. Stunning.” He emphasized his words with another kiss to your breast before moving up to capture your lips. “The most amazingly beautiful woman I've ever seen in all my time.” Then his lips finally met yours and you tentatively reached out to rest your hands on his shoulders.

You could taste yourself on his lips and when his tongue delved into your mouth, your head spun. Carefully, you reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it, eager to feel more of him. He pulled back then, hesitant to allow you to see him shirtless. You stopped and looked at him with concern. “Is…is this okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m just…it’s just not a pretty sight.” He explained quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“Is it…this?” You asked softly, one hand moving to the scars on his arm. He nodded and you leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I don’t know what happened but I think it’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Actually…it’s my first time seeing them like this.” He explained. “The last time I saw them…” He shook his head and smiled sadly. “Nevermind that.” He sat back and pulled his shirt off and you gasped quietly.

The entire right side of his body was covered in branching scars. They wrapped around his side and reached toward the left side of his chest. They traveled up his neck and down his arm. They were absolutely gorgeous and you couldn’t help but reach out to tentatively run your fingers over them, eyes wide as you took him in.

“Mingi, they’re beautiful…” You whispered, barely getting the words out before he was kissing you again, this time fiercely. More passionately. Something told you the story was traumatic for him and that your acceptance was unlocking something within him.

You fumbled with his belt as he kissed you breathless. As soon as the buckle was undone, you unbuttoned his jeans and began to push them down. The two of you were almost frenzied now, fighting against his clothes as you tried to free his cock.

Before you could, he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “Flip over.” He ordered and you’d be damned if you disobeyed a command in a tone so arousing. “Good girl.” He praised as he finally rid himself of the rest of his pesky clothing, watching you turn your ass up for him. You whimpered at the name and he leaned over you, effectively pinning you to the bed. “You like that, mi amor? You like being called a good girl?”

“Fucking love it.” You groaned, pressing your ass back against him. “But then, you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“You’re catching on.” He mocked as he lined up. “Tell me, good girl, do you think you can take my cock?”

You nodded instantly. “I need it.” His response was to sheath himself inside you in one fluid motion, leaving you feeling impossibly full. “Big-” You gasped.

“Shit-” He cursed under his breath, forehead resting against your shoulder. “You feel even better than I ever could’ve imagined, mi amor.”

You could only moan in response as he rocked his hips. He filled you perfectly and you couldn’t help but clench around him. How unfair that you were only just getting him.

Mingi set a torturously slow pace, rocking and grinding into you. You let out a weak moan with every thrust, pushing back to meet him each time. His lips pressed against your shoulder blade and you let out a soft sigh. “So fucking small and pretty for me.” He whispered against your skin and you clenched involuntarily, realizing for the second time how much larger he was.

“More.” You whispered, fingers digging into the sheets to ground yourself.

“You want more?” You nodded quickly and he gave a sharp thrust. “Like this?”

“Just like that.” You nodded again and he sat up, changing the angle of his thrusts.

“Just like this?” He was mocking your desperation as he sped up. Then he pulled out and you whined in disapproval. “Ass up, mi amor.” The name was making you impossibly wetter and you complied with no hesitation.

“Love when you call me that.”

“Yeah? You like when I call you mine?” You whimpered out a small ‘uh huh’ and he slid back in, hands squeezing your ass. “Good. You’re all mine. Been mine from the start. You understand?”

“Yes.” He set a rough pace in response and you all but cried out your approval. “Oh fuck- just like that, Mingi- oh-”

“You know how jealous I've been of all the guys you’ve brought home? Of your pillow? Getting all the action while I was left to watch…it was torture.” He sounded truly tormented as he spoke but then his voice changed. “But now I’m gonna fuck this pretty pussy until all you know is my name.” He growled and you couldn’t help but clench around him.

His hips slammed against you at an inhuman speed, filling you insanely perfectly. You’d never felt so much pleasure in your life and you were certain no other man would ever compare to him. If you ever slept with another man after this. That was still up for debate.

You let out a soft cry as he tangled a hand in your hair and pulled your head back. The tingle of pain made arousal flood your veins and you couldn’t help the way you pushed your ass further back to meet his thrusts. “Mingi-” You whimpered his name, hands curling into fists in the sheets.

“You’re so good, mi amor. Feel so fuckin’ good for me.” He groaned, his voice a low vibration that went straight to your pussy. “You like it when I talk like that?”

“Fucking love it.” You gasped, nodding despite the grip he had on your hair. “Your voice is so sexy.” You admitted and he grunted at the praise.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Keep going.” You urged. He slapped your ass with his free hand and your back bowed.

“Bend that back. Be a good girl.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he pushed your back down, urging you to arch so he could get a better angle. “There we go.”

He hit your sweet spot dead on and you let out a cry of delight. “There!” He copied his previous action and your toes curled. “Just like that, Mingi, oh my god- yes-”

“Sound so fuckin’ pretty moaning my name. Wanted to hear it for so long.” He groaned, his head tipping back briefly. Then his free hand was reaching around you to toy with your clit. “Keep going, mi amor. Wanna hear you scream my name when you cum.” He murmured in your ear and you nodded furiously, your thighs already trembling.

“Fuck- ‘m so close, Mingi. Can I cum? I need it so bad.” You begged, flames licking at your spine. You were about to tip over the edge. One word from him and you’d let go.

“Cum all over my cock then. Let go for me.” He commanded, fingers still circling your clit as he slammed into you.

That was all it took. You fell apart in a matter of seconds, legs shaking and eyes rolling back as wave after wave of pleasure crashed down on you. It was hands down the best orgasm of your life and as you came down from your high, you once again had the nagging thought that you should’ve gotten to experience this before he came to you as a ghost.

You let out a weak noise as he let go, cumming inside you. The sound he made had your walls tightening around him, milking everything he had. “Mingi…” You whined, lowering your head to the pillows as your body threatened to collapse.

“That was so good.” He panted as he pulled out slowly, collapsing beside you a moment later. “You were so good.” He turned his head to look at you and you immediately leaned in for a kiss. He obliged, licking into your mouth as soon as you parted for him. He was smiling brightly when you slowly pulled away. “Do you know how long I've wanted this? How long I’ve wanted to be with you? It was even better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

“That was…” You flipped over onto your back and took a deep breath, a grin creeping onto your face. “No one’s ever made me cum so hard in my life. Not even myself.” You looked over at him and he smirked. Suddenly, seeing his smug smile, you sobered up.

You wished you’d known him in life, wished you had been able to to experience this when he was still among the living. Though there was something terribly romantic about his finding a way to be with you in spite of everything.

As you mourned what could’ve been, he reached a hand out and cupped your cheek. “What are you thinking?” He whispered. You shook your head and he asked again. “You can tell me.”

“I just…feel like it’s too late. That it’s unfair I’m only just meeting you and won’t ever get to truly experience everything you had to offer in life. It’s upsetting to think about.” You admitted as you avoided his eyes.

“It is.” He agreed with a soft sigh. “I wish I hadn’t died so young. I wish I could take you on proper dates and give you all the things you deserve. It’s unfair that we can’t enjoy life together like every other couple.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, your throat tight with emotion. You simply looked down with misty eyes and he pulled you against his cool chest, fingers carding through your hair.

“We’ll just have to make do with the hand we’ve been dealt. Things like nights in and me making your dinner. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it? We can figure it out.” You nodded in agreement and he kissed the top of your head. “We can do this.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

[rekino2114]

I have a Halloween themed idea!

Junko Enoshima x male reader where Junko’s boyfriend is trying to spook her into a vulnerable position to tease and kiss her. Hear me out: for several weeks m!reader has been crafting out so many ideas and props, hiding them throughout the entire academy and trying to make sure she doesn’t find out. When the big day finally comes, he’s going all out on trying to scare Junko (maybe the whole academy while he’s at it) while also making sure no one’s harmed accidentally. Thoughts?

Trying to scare junko enoshima

Halloween post #9

Pairing:junko enoshima x male reader

Summary:For weeks, you've been trying to spook junko to see her reaction and kiss her later, but that revealed itself to be a way more difficult job than you expected

A/n:Thanks for another amazing request, and props for choosing junko, I love writing for her

(non despair au)

At this point, you should have probably given up.

For the entirety of October, you had planned everything for Halloween. Specifically, you had prepared everything that was needed to scare your girlfriend junko.

You obviously didn't actually want to scare her, but simply try to surprise her. You could already envision the adorable face she would make when scared and how you would tease and kiss her. She always teased you after all so it would be some nice revenge.

At least that was your plan.

When the 31st arrived, you tried everything you had prepared to scare junko but.....nothing worked. She either didn't pay attention to your props or called them cute. Everything you worked for was completely useless. You had no idea junko was like this. You almost gave up but decided to ask mukuro for help as a last-ditch effort

".....you want me to do....what?"

"You just have to put on a scary mask and chase junko with a knife. Please, I'm trying to scare her"

"........I'm not doing it"

"What? Why? You're the only one in the class that knows how to use a knife"

"junko is my sister. I don't want to do that to her. Why are you trying to scare her anyway?"

"I guess I wanna see her reaction, I already tried everything I can think of, but nothing worked. Wait, since you're her sister, do you know what she's scared of?"

Mukuro paused to think for a bit before answering you

"Nothing I can think of"

"What? really?"

"Yeah, as far as I can remember, she's not been scared by anything really, she actually likes.....disturbing stuff. Kinda like you now that I think about it, it's probably one of the reasons why you get along so well"

"*sighs* i see, I guess I should probably just give up then"

You slumped back on your chair, the disappointment setting in, until you heard a familiar voice call out to you

"Heeeeeeey babe, hi sis, what are you doing?"

Junko immediately rushed to you and hugged your form before kissing your cheek

"What a coincidence, my two favorite people in the same room together, were you talking about me?"

"Yes actually"

"Reeeeealy? I hope it was something good then,I just know my sweet, handsome boyfriend was talking about how much he loves me, right, my love?"

"Kind of"

"W-wait mukuro"

"He said he wanted to scare you"

You mentally insulted the soldier for snitching on you but sighed in defeat once again

"Really?"

"Yeah, he said he wanted to see your reaction and kiss you, like you do to him"

"Hm, I see"

"S-sorry junko, I just-"

"I had the same idea!"

"........e-eh?"

You looked over at junko's arm and noticed three large shopping bags hanging off it

"I spent all day shopping for Halloween props so that I could scare you. You already look adorable, so I thought the best way to celebrate was to see your even cuter face when you're scared"

"That's the same thing I thought too"

"I swear I fall more in love with you with every day we spend together, we really are made for each other"

"Definitely. But now that we know of each other's plans, we can't scare each other anymore"

"Uhm, true, what a shame.....wait, I just had the most wonderful idea!"

"What is it?"

"We can together scare everyone else, ahhh, it's gonna be like sooooo fun, Imagine how scared everyone will be"

"Yesss, it's gonna be great, amazing idea, junko!"

Your girlfriend grinned widely and proceeded to kiss you passionately while wrapping her arms around you. Your making out caused mukuro to sigh and get up from her chair before she was stopped

"Hey! Where do you think you're going, sis? You're gonna help us"

".......alright, if you want"

"Yaaaaas, it's gonna be great, I can't wait to see makoto's terrified expression. We're gonna have the best Halloween ever, my darling"

"I'm sure of that babe"

[rey-jake-therapist]

I really need to know what happened to Elrond at the end of season 2. He spent almost the entirety of season 2 pestering about the rings of power being corrupted by Sauron. He jumped off a cliff at the risk of killing himself, just so the Elves wouldn't have them. This scene was even paralleled in the finals, with Galadriel doing the exact same thing but to escape no other than Sauron !

This should raise some eyebrows regarding his sudden change of heart, at the very least.

This was Elrond's stance at the beginning of season 2, and for most of the season, really. For him, there were no doubts that Sauron had corrupted the Elven rings in a way or another, and guess what ? He was right. Sauron had not only touched the mithril, but he had also touched Galadriel's dagger, which was used by Celebrimbor. His imprint was all over the Elven rings, which is the reason why the Elves took off their rings after Sauron forged the One Ring :

"But the Elves were not so lightly to be caught. As soon as Sauron set the One Ring upon his finger they were aware of him; and they knew him, and perceived that he would be master of them, and of all that they wrought. Then in anger and fear they took off their rings." [The Silmarillion].

Elrond was so sure that the rings were no good news, that he would have rather see the Elves abandon Middle-Earth forever, than them wearing these rings. And it wasn't because he wanted to leave, far from it ! he's actually the one who pushed Gil-Galad into giving Celebrimbor a delay, so he could find a way to save the Great Tree. He wanted the Elves to stay in Middle-Earth as much as Gil-Galad did.

While they were travelling to Eregion, Elrond refused to follow any direction that would come "from this trinket". It turned out he was wrong, because they indeed fell into a trap.*

But it didn't change Elrond's mind, nor did the healing of Camnir's wound; it is proven by his resentment towards Galadriel, as Camnir says that she sacrificed herself to save them all.

"No, you are mistaken, Camnir. She didnt do it to save us. She did it to save the ring."

He was impressed by Nenya's power of healing (and the fact that it heals doesn't indicate that it's free of Sauron's influence, mind you, as his purpose is to heal Middle-Earth), but it didn't change his heart at all. When he pronounced these words, he seemed disgusted, as if for him his friend was already a slave to the ring, which to her (in his opinion) mattered more than her friends.

So, "tell it to me like I'm a six year-year-old" : what happened between this scene, and the finals of season 2 where he's all of a sudden all giddy when he announces Galadriel that they're "in a sanctuary, protected by the Elven rings" ? We know that in the future, Elrond will become a ring-bearer himself as he will get Viliya from Gil-Galad. So he's converted for good.

He even puts the ring on Galadriel's finger, a knee on the ground, as if he was asking her in marriage. I mean, wot ?

I can understand that faced with the imminent death of Galadriel, he realized ("told" by Nenya, probably) that the only way to save her was to put on the ring. He didn't look especially happy to do it, if you notice.

His face said, "fu*ing hell, I have to do this" to me. Did he have a sort of epiphany while wearing it, like it happened to Adar when he put on Nenya and healed himself ? It would be my guess : as soon as he put on the ring, his opinion about the rings drastically changed.

But is it necessarily a good sign ? Are the Elves deceived by Sauron through these rings, or are these rings really good for them ? And if they are good, then why all it took of Sauron was to forge the One Ring to master the Elves, forcing them to take the rings off to be free of his influence ?

Food for thought.

*Sauron wanted Galadriel in Eregion, as Elrond predicted. And he probably wanted her safe and sound, since he still wanted her to be his queen (Charlie said so). So I don't think that Sauron wanted the company to take the bad path Elrond chose.

[snarky-wallflower]

Laws of Motion AU

I write as a way for my brain to break the Laws of Motion! And here we are...

Otherwise known as I had this AU idea nearly a month ago and it's been haunting me ever since.

So, Pulp Roleswap AU! It all started when I started actually thinking about the parallels between Samuel and Kal, how it can be argued that Kal knows where to hit Samuel hard because he's been there in the past - "still all talk", etc, etc...

And then I had thoughts of evil Samuel.

I promptly lost my mind.

(No one can say I'm not predictable.)

Now there's art, at least one published fic, songs, character arc ideas, and hopefully more to come! I have a lot of ideas for this AU. They come to me like visions from an angry god. ...I don't know how I got here either. But I am, and I've dragged a lot of friends along with me.

I hope if you read it, you enjoy it! I'll put most of it behind a read-more, because it got long. I doubt I'll even be able to sum it all up here.

All current art is done by the ever-talented @midnightnautilus!

Kallum and Alessia Peregrine

The Peregrines (last name courtesy of @starlightsparrowfox!) take the place of the Stratford twins in New York City!

Kal, a cunning chemist-turned-writer, fired from his last job pre-Sun for...reasons he would definitely prefer not to discuss. He's determined to get his name out there, feeling suffocated by what he describes as a fog that surrounds in this universe, blinding him with bitterness, willing to lash out if that's what it takes to make him be known. He feels unfulfilled, trapped in this fog. He's smug and can be callous, refusing to acknowledge those he's hurt in his determination to be known. He cares for his loved ones in this AU, but they are few and far between, with Sia being one of the only ones who has truly stuck by him.

(His solo song in this universe is called Kal and the Nebula - thank you, @tapestryoftrauma! Because there is beauty in those galactic clouds of smoke above, somehow grounding Kal. That unknowable, intangible beauty making him believe that there is more than this job, more than this lie, more than the anger burning inside his chest that won't stop.)

Sia, a woman who knows a lot of things, who has a plan for her life she’ll see through. A vision she's had since she was a child, something she feels she cannot achieve trapped at this paper stand. A former gifted child, one could say. She reads as much as she can, often mysterious about just where she's taken her information from. Clutching tight to this assumed future she planned, willing to make so many sacrifices, perhaps too many, to have it come true.

(Her solo song in this universe is called Sia and the Vision. She walks along the beach of Lincoln Island, the vastness of the universe surrounding her. She accepts that she will never be able to fully carry out her great vision, letting go of it. She cannot control the future, and it is futile to try. It isn't the be-all-end-all for her anymore, no longer constraining her--she's opening her mind and heart to new kinds of passion, joy, and love, to spontaneousness and freedom.)

Together, they've written the Hoax, though it's much more...nautical in this universe. The moon is covered by a vast, gorgeous ocean, expanding all across its surface. Sharks, squids, and whales swim through its glimmering depths, merfolk swimming through it, Atlantis-esque.

And this change is because of...

Dakkar Cavendish

Dakkar Cavendish, a brilliant inventor, feels drawn in by the words of the Peregrine twins, of the way they write both the moon and the ocean combined. He has never quite fit in with high New York City Society, finding it stifling and almost…familiar in the worst sort of ways. Being mocked, being seen as not-good-enough, valued only for what creations he can make…it stings at an old scar that he doesn’t know where it came from. Valued for his skills--but what else? He opens his home to the Peregrine twins, and clicks with Kal especially. Staring out the ocean, wondering why it calls to him so deeply.

(His solo song in this universe is called Dakkar and the Depths. The depths of the ocean hold mystery and silence, unable to be truly understood by any one person. The moon reflects off the waves, illuminating just how deep those depths run--they complete each other, make each other known. There is so much about himself that he does not know, awakening from dreams he cannot fully place. A sensation that he has made promises he cannot keep, because he doesn't know who he made them to. The ocean is constantly moving, constantly transforming, and he feels a kinship to that.)

Dame Anna Hanover

(Of course, I have to credit the amazing @faery-people-of-the-future-day when it comes to Anna in this AU! She's had so many wonderful ideas for her.)

Dame Anna Hanover, the first woman to ever be knighted by the Royal Astronomical Society, a brilliant and bright mind whose words are used to prop up the Hoax. She believes that nobody should ever lose their place in the world - that everyone has a specific role, a set of rules they must follow. And when you don't know where you are, you begin to give into the panic. She arrives at the Sun with a bright smile and strain barely hidden in her voice, while Sia is mysterious and trying to pick her words carefully. She can't help but be fascinated by this strange woman, her heart fluttering at the sight. But she has a legacy, her father's own legacy of being an immigrant and a proud man hovering over her, trying to make him see her as a scientist in her own right.

(Her solo song in this universe is Anna and the Satellite - her marvelling over her great project, her first great project away from her father, that will help guide the way. All her work, all her sacrifices, all the fear she would not be able to see this through--it vanishes. It's Anna and the stars, Anna and the sky, Anna and the Earth, all possible because of the Satellite. She has created her own place in the world, one where she will never be lost, both outside and in.)

Samuellux

Samuellux, a seemingly young man with a pencil grins far too brightly, as his pencil gleams with ink, ready to take down your words, your signature, in his journal. Only your words, of course.

In this world, Samuel is a famed propagandist for Itzal, having drawn in thousands upon thousands of people to Itzal's schemes...until it was too late, blinding them all with The Light. I'd say he has Radiance and Illusion--his skill with Illusion magic and with words is what made Itzal take notice of him, to me! He's a vessel for empty words--he filters Itzal's words, but when was the last time he truly said something of his own? He may seem nice, may seem kind at first glance--but the more you speak to him, you start to realise that you have no idea whether they’re being genuine or being sarcastic and it’s a Russian roulette of trying to understand this same-y, blasé cheeriness that seems to stare unblinkingly back at you.

His new name comes from both Pollux in Greek mythology, a twin who tried to offer immortality to his brother so that they could be together, and lux, which means light!

His pen sparks with promise, a device designed by one...brilliant inventor, long ago, boosting his Ways and transforming them into something terrible and radiant beyond compare.

(Because, after all, light doesn't equal good!)

Rostelle

In the distance, a Traveller, Rostelle, with far too much behind her keeps on moving. She won't fail anyone else. Rose refuses to look back to the past, always trying to keep on moving forward. She carries the weight of everything that's happened in the past with her, but no matter what, she won't stop.

In this AU, I would say she has Radiance, Movement, Transformation, Perception and Protection. Some are more honed than others, of course, but Rose has always dived deep into learning new skills. Her Vision was something she had long ago, and she will be as reckless and brave as she needs to be to see it through. She won't let it vanish into thin air, won't lose anyone else she cares about to delusion.

Her new name comes from Stelle meaning stars, those that she adores so dearly!

Margaret

In her library on Lincoln Island, Margaret waits, staring up at the Moon, loneliness abated but never quite gone. A view of both the moon and the ocean clear and apparent.

The legacy of all she did as the Great Enchantress looms over her, and so does the brother she had to send away to keep him safe. To keep him safe from Itzal's designs on more of his devices used for conquest and war. She will see her father's reign destroyed, that Light that blinds her people erased. There is something to believe in, and she will clutch it tight to her chest as she trains, reaching out to a brother who cannot respond back yet.

Samuel's memory haunts her, a love who refuses to admit their connection will never be what it used to be again. He may believe there is geniune care there, but Margaret won't be lied to any more. She won't hear him refuse to admit that he made the wrong choice, that he is continuing to lie and commit horrors.

Margaret believes in truth, always. She won't lie to herself about what her home became, about what she did in the past, and where she is now.

(Other swaps include Benjamin with Charles, and Taavi and Ahlaam with Addison. John is, of course, playing Anna's role in this universe as well. I do have notes on them, but they're slightly less important to the series as a whole as of now!)

You can find the current fic series posted on AO3 here (I currently have a fic of Samuel and Kal's swapped version of Gunpowder and Rum up!) and I'll be trying to use the tag #laws of motion AU to organize any other posted work!

And, my asks are open if anyone reading this wants to know more about this AU!

What are you waiting for? Don’t be scared of the dark. That’s where the dreaming starts.

[gingerbreadmonsters]

something to believe in

or: and i am crowned king, over all the lands of wonder.

gn!reader, warnings for yandere-typical obsession and mild stalking, sweet little warden’s what-could-have-been. i beg, i beg – do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you! an AU of the AU – consider this an alternate origin story for the vega and warden of human nature, that’s a little less canon-compliant and a little more obsessive. inspired by turn around, look at me by the vogues and shakespeare’s sonnet 147, and forever indebted to the utter gorgeousness that comes from the wonderful @sincerelywhistler. don’t bother haunting me. warden getting a certain someone under their skin in 9000 words or less.

part of the skyside oops! all yandere! collab for halloween – do go and check that out to see all the spooky, creepy goodness that the server has to offer! there's some incredible talent on display in there, and i'm very very grateful to the lovely @angelicaether for masterminding it all -- thank you for letting me in to peddle my ridiculous fascination with vega and warden yet again 💕😅💫

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(...wait, what do you mean, 'vega's not the yandere one here'? you couldn't possibly mean – no, you wouldn't dare...)

He's so beautiful.

Grey light flickers coldly across the wall, and the droning chatter of the radio fills the air. The room is more crowded than usual, dull footsteps muffled by thin carpet, and it’s almost uncomfortably warm.

How long has it been? You can’t really remember. Months, at least, perhaps even a year – and yet the same thought echoes through your head even now, all this time later.

It’s oddly reassuring, to think of his beauty. A comforting thought, a soothing refrain. A smooth, well-worn groove in your mind, familiar ease as it slides into place. There are so few things that you can be sure of, so few things you can rely upon, that it’s reassuring to have something to hold onto. Something that you know won’t ever change, something that couldn’t possibly leave you.

It’s reliable, a rare constant amid the habitual chaos. It’s calm, and it’s sweet, and it’s kind. It might even be true.

I hope it’s true.

You wouldn’t know. You’ve never actually seen him.

It's become habit now, whenever you have a moment. You’re almost surprised that they haven’t asked you to start paying rent, with how often you find yourself here. Ageing monitors flicker with blurry static, the monochrome shapes of prisoners reflected exactly in your eyes.

The human officers here in the security room don't like it, but there's not actually much they can say – you’ve got the clearance to be here, because your job requires you to have access to the inmate records that are kept in this room. And even when they do try to keep you out, you're not above a little harmless cloaking to sneak in here unnoticed. Hiding is second nature to someone like you, and you’re very, very good at it.

None of them are that good at magic anyway, but it wouldn't really matter if they were. No human, Department or otherwise, could find you in a million years, even if they wanted to.

You’d actually been right here in this room, standing over by the filing cabinet, when you’d first heard of him. The Stealth who’s normally in here was sitting at his desk opposite the door, filling out some sort of incident report, and you’d overheard him complaining about it to one of the Freelancer correctional officers nearby.

It’s not as though incident reports have ever been anything unusual at this facility, but your demon’s senses weren’t fooled. The smell of blood was thick in the air, unmistakable even as it was drowned out by a stinging wave of antiseptic, along with the persistent, unsettled tension bubbling in his core. It was unusually sour, but not bitter – you remember having to fight the urge to wrinkle your nose. Something must have happened.

The story, when you started paying attention to the conversation, wasn’t entirely routine – but it didn’t sound like anything too out of the ordinary. An altercation during the morning rounds, a mistake by one of the human wardens. Six injured, and two in critical condition. A prisoner being moved from the high-security corridor to the maximum-security block.

That sort of thing doesn’t exactly happen every day at the facility, but it’s to be expected when you’re dealing with so many dangerous inmates. That’s the whole reason why the maximum-security building even exists – this place, just like the countless other containment facilities scattered across the country, is more or less a dumping ground for whoever the Department can’t fix, and whatever they aren’t powerful enough to kill.

Mildly curious, you’d snuck a look down at his desk as you walked past, trying to nonchalantly peek at the report while the Stealth was looking away. Eyes darting across the page in a split second, greedily taking in as much as you could. He hadn’t filled much of it out, but right there, at the top of the page—

An identification number, and a prisoner’s name. Vega.

Vega.

The name hadn’t been immediately familiar, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t recognised it. You remember the familiar feeling of the sky stretching out inside your skull, how readily the slim shape of Lyra had revealed itself to you, its brightest star glittering in your mind’s eye.

An altercation, eight wounded. A demon prisoner, dangerous enough that the Department had wanted to put them away in one of the most highly-guarded containment facilities in the country… but who hadn’t killed a single human warden when the opportunity arose?

There had been no picture attached to the report, but all you really needed was the name. You’d looped back around to the records cabinet, gaze darting around the room to check that nobody was watching you, before opening the drawer where the high-security inmate records were kept – at the time, you didn’t have access to the maximum-security files, so you’d been hoping that his record hadn’t been moved yet.

A-E, F-J, K-O... The file separators had been put in rather haphazardly, but luckily they’d all been roughly in the right places. Yellow folders for humans, red ones for demons. Blessedly, the Department’s insistence on keeping paper records as well as digital ones meant that the file had still been there. Silently, you’d pulled the right one free and flipped the folder open, to find—

Oh…

With him being a demon, you knew that you didn’t really need to see a picture. As a matter of course, it’s rare for any of your kind to have a consistent appearance, unless you happen to be involved with long-term human affairs like the Department. A photograph of a demon is almost always useless – all it tells you is that a demon might have worn that face once, but that doesn’t mean that they’d ever worn it before, or would wear it again.

The photo was a little out of focus and slightly distorted, courtesy of the terrible quality that so often plagues photographs of demons. Arcana tends to show up poorly on camera, so demons who don’t bother to synthesise a tangible, physical skin surface usually end up looking blurrier than their surroundings. It’s infuriating for humans, unused to their complicated electrical technologies failing, but until they invent a better type of camera, there’s not actually much they can do about it.

Despite the dim, grainy quality of the photo, the face of the demon looking out at you was utterly striking. Sharp, handsome features, somehow delicate and cruel all at once. The shape of tall horns, cut off at the top by the edge of the frame. Long, dark hair falling down past his shoulders, the suggestion of a bitter smile. A cold, empty glare that seemed to slice right through the paper it was printed on.

He’s so beautiful.

You’d only been able to stare, somehow entranced. He’d looked so… so demonic, nothing filtered out or watered down, in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever seen on Elegy. You can remember how your own eyes ached to see his, sclera unashamedly black and shiny, how your head began to pound, suddenly all-too-aware of the pressure of keeping your horns cloaked.

You’d held an unnecessary breath as you brought the photo closer to your face, as if looking harder might reveal something new you’d missed. The picture showed so disappointingly little, and all you wanted was to know more. What else about him was demonic? Did he breathe? Did he blink? Would his claws be long, would his tongue be pointed – and if he bared his fangs, how many would there be?

His file wasn’t especially long or detailed, so you’d raced through it, soaking up all the information you could. A Sadism demon, imprisoned for experimenting on humans, captured after a fight with an incubus somewhere in downtown Dahlia. Unable or unwilling to speak out loud, broadly uncooperative when approached outside of feeding periods, generally passive but highly dangerous if provoked.

Skilled manipulator, known to use violence, intimidation, and coercion. Openly admits to significant history of human experimentation, with no signs of guilt or desire for repentance. Ambivalence towards human suffering and casual threats of violence strongly indicate potential to cause significant harm and/or fatal injury. Consider a possible threat to life.

More than anything else, he sounded fascinating.

Without really noticing, you’d stopped paying attention to the rest of the security room – you jumped at the sudden whine of the radio at your hip as it crackled to life, the voice of one of your superiors from upstairs calling you back. Hurriedly, you’d jammed all of the papers into the folder before slotting it back into the file organiser, re-locking the drawer, and scurrying out of the room without looking at anyone.

For the rest of the day it had been all you could think about, this mysterious demon locked away in the depths of Block E, the maybe-shape of his once-silhouette burned into your brain. What would he be like? Would his voice be high or low? What would his aura feel like, as it curved to fit against yours? Filling out paperwork, preparing for tomorrow’s rehabilitation sessions, trudging into meetings behind your supervisor – you might as well have been a million miles away, consumed with curiosity and the thought of a distant star.

Those thoughts never went away, only getting stronger and stronger as days began to pass, then weeks, then months. The shape of Lyra seemed to call to your unconscious mind, its sparkle almost as comforting as that of your own constellation, singing out through the blackness of space to grasp the glimmer of your namesake star. You began to come into work even earlier than before, finding ever more excuses to loiter in the security room and stare at the small, faded monitor that held the camera feed you were desperate to see.

It didn’t matter that the video was always blurry. It didn’t matter that there was no sound, or no colour, or that it would skip and stutter every few seconds. He never moved, except to shift his gaze minutely from the wall to the door – he never spoke, and even if he had it wouldn’t have been aloud. With no window for the sunlight to move across, even his shadow was still, painted black across the wall behind him.

Day after day, hour after hour, a perfect statue in the garden of your mind. You watched him endlessly, unblinking eyes swallowing up each grey pixel of his being. Every halting, crackling frame of his existence, precious treasure to be hoarded in the soft fats of your simulated body.

The world had changed, and yet nobody ever noticed. Your supervisor was thrilled that you were working more and talking less, eager to push even more of her responsibilities onto you than she already was. The rest of the office followed suit, the few that had ever spoken to you before now thoroughly disinterested in your new enthusiasm for work, hardly aware of the way your eyes would glaze over as soon as you could sit down at your desk and disappear into a daydream.

It had been a surprise, even to you. You never used to dream.

When you first came to Elegy, you didn’t know how to sleep. You’d been taught what it was, and that humans had to do it, but nobody had ever shown you how it worked. All you knew was that it was something that happened at night, and that a human who didn’t do it would die.

Gradually, you’d managed to figure out roughly what it was. A sort of unconsciousness to allow humans to replenish their energy, that happens in the dark on a soft sleeping pad. It takes hours and hours, and it can only start if they lie very, very still. Their bodies move while they sleep, but not on purpose, and occasionally they see bizarre visions that some say can predict the future.

They call happy visions dreams, and scary visions nightmares. Demons, along with a small number of magical humans, can manipulate these premonitions if they like, but it’s not very kind to do it without permission. If a human finds out that you’ve been secretly messing with their dreams, they’ll get really upset.

It sounded weird. You didn’t want to sleep. It wasn’t something your body would ever need to do, and it didn’t sound like something you’d be interested in. Wouldn’t it be boring, to lie there in the dark without moving for so long? Wouldn’t it be strange, to feel your body moving without your say-so?

You did want to dream, though. What sort of odd things might reveal themselves to you? Maybe it would feel like being one of those human Seers. Demons have always been exempt from the Sight, but you’d wondered if perhaps this would be another way to look into the future.

You’d opened up your work computer and gone on the human internet to see if you could find out more about it, and daydreams sounded like just the right thing. A dream that could happen during the daytime, without needing to waste time sleeping – but unfortunately, upon closer inspection it didn’t seem like quite what you were looking for. It was just a fancy name for being bored, for thinking about random things instead of whatever was going on in real life, and you’d been quite disappointed.

That hadn’t stopped you trying, though. And once you’d started, you’d been hooked.

The life of an Inchoate is nothing if not hungry. An Inchoate demon’s body burns through Arcana faster than any other, a sick sort of penance for being so greedy in its tastes. Nothing satisfies it, nothing can satisfy it. The great chasm inside, the yawning black hole in your core shrieks and wails endlessly, crying out for something to satiate its impossible need. It’s like a child or an animal, this wretched form, thinking of nothing but more, give me more, I need more!

There’s no proof, but you’ve always wondered if that’s why you’ve ended up the way you have. When your hunger can’t eat, it starts to eat you – is it that exhausted desperation, forever staggering and stumbling away from the beast inside, that’s driven you down this path? Open wide, open wide, open wide. When your own body punishes you for the crime of its own existence, what petty rules should you even care to follow?

It’s torture. The entire earth to feed you, and your eternal curse is to starve.

Not then, though. Not when you learnt how to dream. Suddenly, the world was opened to you, the concrete walls of the facility falling easily away. You didn’t have to think. You could let your thoughts drift on the breeze, falling through your fingers like a handful of sand, letting your body do the work as your head floated far away. Papers came and went, stamped and signed, the rhythmic tapping of keyboard clicks a lullaby that soothed you into blissful escapism.

You didn’t have to sit at that dreadful desk, you didn’t have to listen to those awful humans. You could go somewhere else, somewhere good and bright and kind, where the earth was sweet and the stars danced in the sky. It would be a place where you’d never need to be alone – the deep, aching loneliness of life on Elegy would fade into nothingness, and you’d finally have found what you were looking for.

People who would never leave you behind, who would notice when you weren’t there. Who would want to spend time with you, and who would want to talk to you because they liked you, not just because there was nobody else to talk to. Happy, funny, charming people who’d smile when they saw you and sigh when you left – and you’d be just as charming, just as funny, just as happy.

You wouldn’t be missing out, anymore. The special, secret place in your head was filled with sweets and cake and shiny glitter, and every day you dreamt of the same thing. The gnawing inchoate hunger would fade, and you’d finally be satisfied. Filled to the brim with good feelings, permeating every speck of your being, stuffed with happiness and joy and contentment until you could barely even move.

Each detail painted and polished in a thousand rainbow colours, a charmed life that only you could see. The very air would be golden, and the sea clear and warm. Friends, real friends, the sort that you’d always wished for but never really known. For the first time, you’d be someone’s first choice.

As pleasant as those daydreams were, you’d never been able to entirely ignore the quiet, nagging sensation that something was missing – something deep and vital, some unspoken absence right at the aching heart of it. Some feeling that you couldn’t quite place, one you only faintly recognised in the back of your mind. It was oddly raw, tender and bloody like a bite and a bruise all at once. A bitterness, a loneliness, a new sort of hunger that had no name.

No name, that is, until him.

Paper rustling as you flicked through his file, the song of the computer cables and the air conditioner and the CCTV. He was just so irresistibly, incredibly singular, a tantalising mystery. You couldn’t let it go – the perfect image of him, in bright and painful clarity, cutting through the distortion. You wanted him, you want him, in a way you can’t possibly hope to explain.

It’s like a disease. Your daydreams are filled with thoughts of Vega, outlined in passion and coloured with longing. How he’ll hold you like a lover, the smooth slide of his tail against yours, how he’ll smile as your horns knock softly against his when he kisses you. His fangs will surely be sharp as they carve their way into your soft neck, and his claws will surely sting as he takes your waiting hand in his. The saccharine fantasy is as beautiful as it is hazy, vague impressions of flowers and ribbons and sparkles stamped across the inside of your skull.

Perhaps your mind has been warped by the shallow trappings of human romance, the miserable weakness of their feelings – is it truly demonic to want those things, or have you just been on Elegy for too long? Even if you have, does it matter? It doesn’t make the cravings go away. He’s the answer to your prayers. Contentment, companionship, escape.

There’s another feeling, too, that seems to flicker to life when you think of him. Imagining him so close to you, his hands and his fangs and his voice, the drag of your fingers across his simulated skin. The quiet fizz of Arcana as you finally touch him, again and again, the eager harmony of the magic that makes you as it begins to sing with him. It’s dark and rich, settling somewhere deep in your body and making you feel all… all strange. This facsimile of a human body starts to rebel – your mouth suddenly seems too dry, your skin too hot and your heart too fast. You gasp for deep breaths you don’t need, unusually restless, struggling to push down the bubbly, sparkling sensation that crashes over you like a wave.

You don’t know what that feeling is, and it’s frightening and thrilling in equal measure. There’s something addictive about it, the way it drips and pools in the soft tissues of your body like honey, thick and warm and slow. Your body feels elastic, muscles stretching and contracting in the heat, and your eyes close without you even really noticing.

When you meet him, you’ll have to ask him what it is. He must know. Perhaps he’ll teach you.

The plan was always going to be tricky to pull off. Most of your work takes place with human prisoners, so you weren’t even allowed into his cell corridor before he was moved, but now that he’s being kept in the maximum-security block it’s even harder to get access. That place is so heavily surveilled and guarded that it’s practically impossible to get near it – you have to get signed approval from your department head, book in a timed entry window so they know when you’ll be there and for how long, then pass through several high-level security checks before you can go inside.

Even if you could fake your way through all of that, you wouldn’t be able to go in alone regardless. Nobody is allowed to enter unaccompanied, no matter the reason. It's a facility policy that technically applies in all the cell blocks, but in practice it’s only the maximum-security and demon-holding areas that enforce it. Those are the most dangerous places for officers to go alone, where the inmates are far too dangerous or powerful to be dealt with one-on-one, so it makes sense – but for your purposes, it’s an infuriating, insurmountable roadblock.

You’d need to find someone to go with you who wouldn’t mind what you’re going to do, and what are the odds of that? As far as you’re concerned, it’s basically impenetrable.

Unless you count Camelopardalis, that is.

He’s only a temporary fixture at the holding facility, on loan from the headquarters in Dahlia as part of the biennial staff training initiative, and he's so lovely. You'd never had the chance to really meet him before, seeing as this is the first year he’s been assigned to your department, but he’s just so effortlessly friendly that you can’t help but like him. He’s always saying hello to you in the corridors, or striking up a short but sweet conversation at your desk when he passes by, his quiet smile somehow infectious despite his understated nature.

Once, he even managed to miraculously convince your department head to let you take an extra half-hour’s break during lunch, and you’d spent it chatting away together in the cafeteria about all sorts of things. It turns out that he’s remarkably funny once you get him talking, all dry wit and wry observations – you’d almost cried laughing at his impression of the superintendent from upstairs, one hand clinging to his arm to keep yourself upright, and you can still remember the sparkle in his eyes as he lightly rested his free hand on top of yours in return.

The walk back to your desk together had been far too short. He’s such a gentleman, you’ve always thought, so charming and polite.

You find yourself bumping into Camelopardalis – or Cam, as he insists you call him – quite a lot these days, now that you come to think of it. Not that you’re complaining, of course. He makes for extremely pleasant company, kinder to you than you remember any of the humans who normally work here ever being. In fact, you’d probably say that he’s the closest thing to a real, proper friend that you’ve ever had.

It’s not his fault that he’s just a little bit too late.

If only it had been him, this would all be so much easier. In your mind’s eye, you can see it all now, as clearly as anything. He’d do it properly for you, you know he would – flowers and letters and kisses on the doorstep, a shy smile on his face every time he held your hand. Nothing would hurt, and nothing would go wrong. He’d be happy, and you’d be happy too. You would have loved to fall in love with Cam.

The great tragedy of the solar eclipse. In another life, perhaps he could have been something more. But here, now, the jagged shadow of your secret fascination looms too large for you to ever ignore, drowning the small shape of a lone Serenity daemon in its all-consuming darkness.

“After you.”

Harsh, white light bears down on both of you as Cam holds the door open, gesturing to you with his other hand. Dipping your head in thanks, you hurry through the doorway and into the screening room, permit papers in hand.

He’s told you before that he’s been trying to push for more focus on the treatment of demonic prisoners, especially considering how human-heavy the facility staff is, but the higher-ups are never willing to put enough resources into training to make any sort of meaningful difference. Apathy – or maybe just laziness, I guess, he’d said mournfully, over a paper cup of dreadful-tasting office coffee. All these years, and it's like they haven't realised how dangerous it is for humans to even attempt to incarcerate demons. Considering the state of this place, it's a miracle there hasn't been a riot already.

You'd just shrugged, resigned. It's not like they care about any of the inmates, anyway. What made you think they'd do anything special for the demons?

Wishful thinking, probably. But what else can I do?

It's not as if you disagree with him. He's entirely right, and the treatment of demons here needs to change before something goes horribly wrong. But if it just so happens that his attempts to increase staff development might overlap with your curiosity about a certain, very well-guarded demon, then can you really be blamed for what might unfold?

You’d asked him to bring you here as part of your training – a mostly made-up excuse about wanting to get better at working with demonic inmates, rather than being restricted to just human ones. You have clearance to speak to the human maximum-security inmates, and you've seen most of the areas where demonic inmates are kept, even if you can't speak to them. So, you’d managed to persuade Cam that you needed to see the difference between the human and demon restricted areas for yourself – that the only place it would be worth taking you would be the one place you've never been allowed to enter.

Fortunately, he seemed to swallow the excuse easily enough. He even said it wasn't that difficult to get your entry clearance temporarily modified upwards, so that he could take you – it seems like your recent industriousness has paid off with your supervisor. Cam says he thinks it's because she's recognising how efficient and obedient you are, but you suspect that she's hoping to promote you so you’ll be allowed to take on even more of her work. Useless, lazy idiot. All she does is complain about the work everyone else is doing, instead of actually doing anything herself. What do they even keep her around for?

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. You know what you’re here to do.

The security checks go quickly, the two of you ushered through a variety of metal detectors and aura scanners. It’s still kind of funny to you whenever they make you do biometric scans, considering how easy it is for you to fake your way through – you hadn’t even had fingerprints before you started working for DUMP – but it’s probably just so the process is the same for everyone who comes through here.

“Ready?”

Cam gives you a soft, kind smile as he waits by the door to the cell corridor, one hand already on the unlock mechanism. “You remember the plan, right?”

The air in this block is thick and sugary, so heavily saturated with magic that it feels like toffee sticking your teeth together. You nod, trying not to look as jittery as you feel.

“Right hand side, cell number 1028. You’re going to do the talking, and I’m just there to watch.”

Cam dips his head in acknowledgement. “And your panic switch?”

You push your sleeve up just a little, so he can see the flat, orange band around your wrist. It’s coded to your magical signature, just like your normal green one, but an ordinary bracelet wouldn’t be able to get through the intensity of the wards in this block. This one is specially made to work in such a high-saturation environment, and you can feel the powerful magic inside it resonating faintly through your wrist and making your fingers slightly numb.

“Very good,” he says, and the door swings silently open. “Let’s go.”

The cell corridor is wide and bleak, just like every other, all concrete and painted metal. It’s bright, as is standard, grim floodlights blasting the space with blindingly-white light, and the lack of windows makes it impossible to tell whether it’s night or day outside. There’s no breeze, but you grimace at how cold it is, any warmth you might have had leached away in an instant.

Following Cam down the corridor, it’s impossibly quiet. The warding magic in the air is so dense that your footsteps don't echo, layers and layers of energy folding over themselves and slowing your movements so much that it’s difficult to walk – you can imagine that a human would have a hard time even breathing normally. No wonder none of the human officers want to come here. You don’t know for sure, but you imagine that this is how it would feel to walk along the bottom of the sea, the unyielding, compressive power of all that water constricting your body as it bears down on you. Uncompromising force, inescapable pressure.

Your unwitting companion doesn’t know it, but you’ve come prepared. Thanks to your idiot supervisor, you’ve had access to the maximum-security prisoner files for weeks now, so you know exactly which cell you’re really looking for. You’re almost there, you’re almost there! As you pass by, you can’t help but hold your breath in giddy nervousness, the zing of adrenaline fizzing in your mouth as you fight to keep the excitement off your face.

Cam stops outside cell 1028, the reinforced door heavy and imposing, and you have to dig your nails into your palms to stop yourself from turning your head to the left. The cell door you want is so, so close, but you can’t give the game away just yet.

We’re here, he murmurs into your mind, seemingly unwilling to break the silence. Still feeling up to it?

Resolutely, you meet his eyes. Yeah. I’m ready.

He knocks softly on the door, probably out of habit – it’s not like the sound would be able to get through the wards on the cell, no matter how hard he knocked – and presses his palm to the unlock switch on the wall. His magic surges, swirling through his hand and into the mechanism, before the panel flashes green and the door unlocks.

“Regulus, yes?” he says to the prisoner inside, and you follow him into the cell before the door locks behind you. “My name is Camelopardalis. I’m here to speak with you about the events of last week, if that’s alright with you.”

The temporary ward that activated when the door released keeps the prisoner, Regulus, from actually reaching you, so he sits on the bed while you conjure two chairs for you and Cam to sit on. You already knew that he was an Empathy daemon before you came in, and that he’s not even meant to be in this block at all – that’s the only reason Cam had been allowed to bring you. He’s not actually very aggressive, so he’s normally in one of the lower-security areas, but apparently there was some incident a few days ago that means they’ve moved him in here for his own safety while his ordinary cell is being repaired.

Cam and Regulus talk for a while, but you don’t really take in much of the discussion, to be honest. You’re mostly just distracted by your own racing heartbeat, choking on the tension that nobody else can feel. Why does it matter, whatever it is they’re talking about? Why should you even care? There’s something much more important going on, something so deeply, intensely vital that you couldn’t possibly focus on anything else.

He’s here, he’s here. Right now, at this very moment, you’re just a few metres away from Vega. The object of your obsession, the mystery that you’re longing to solve. You might never get this chance again. In just a few minutes, you’ll see him – at last, you’ll see him with your own eyes, see all the things the cameras can’t show.

Oh, if only you could have come here alone. You could spend hours here, you’re sure, making up for all the days and nights spent looking at the poor facsimile of him that decorates the surveillance screens in the security office. How close will you be able to get? How long will you be able to look? If you’re lucky, you might even—

“Is there anything else you’d like to speak about while I’m here?”

Cam’s voice jolts you from your whirling thoughts, leaning forward slightly in his chair as he speaks to the prisoner, and you try your best to look like you’ve been paying attention.

…Yes.

His voice is faintly muffled, as if through glass, and it belatedly occurs to you why that is. You hadn’t really noticed, but you realise that Cam has been the only one speaking aloud, while Regulus has been using telepathy to project his words through the temporary ward. Perhaps it’s that he doesn’t know how to speak, or maybe that he just doesn’t like to.

You’ve often heard that Empathy daemons have trouble learning how to speak out loud, partly because they develop at a different rate to other demons, and partly because they’re not meant to be observed by humans who aren’t their charges. They’re taught to speak telepathically as much as they can, so that other humans nearby can’t hear their disembodied voices when they’re invisible, but that generally means that they have difficulty remembering how physical speech is meant to work.

In any case, he must say something to Cam that he doesn’t want you to hear. You feel a tiny burst of Serenity-flavoured magic bubble against your aura, a polite warning, and the conversation goes entirely silent as they continue to speak.

This is it – now or never. Catching Cam’s eye, you blink once and incline your head ever so slightly towards the door. He blinks in reply, and you can tell that he’s not entirely sure why you want to leave, but his aura seems to acquiesce. Gratefully, you stand up from your chair and hurry out of the cell, bracelet letting you slip easily through the door and the wards.

You’ll have to hurry. Cam shouldn’t technically have let you do that, seeing as it's facility policy for you to stay together at all times in the maximum-security areas, but you’re hoping that he thinks you’re just being polite to Regulus by not staying when he obviously doesn’t want you to overhear him. He doesn’t seem to pose much of a threat, so why would you need to worry? Even if he tried to break through the ward and do something to Cam, he’s got a panic bracelet just like you – and from what you can tell of Cam, he seems like he could hold his own if it really came down to it. He’ll be fine.

Steeling yourself, you turn your back to the door and cross over to the other side of the corridor, one door to the left. The small, metal plate above the door says 1025.

It’s such a short distance, yet it feels like a lifetime. Creeping closer and closer to the cell, your eyes are fixed on the small, rectangular viewing slot. It’s heavily warded, just like the rest of the door, so there’s no need for it to ever close – you’re told that it’s a security measure, installed so that prisoners can never know when they’re being directly observed. All they can see is a bright, clouded blur, regardless of whether someone’s looking through it or not.

Paranoia seeps through your brain, freezing water soaking through the back of your skull. You’ll surely be on camera right now, but nobody’s really watching, are they? Unless something happens, nobody ever really pays attention to the CCTV – and nothing’s going to happen, right? There’s nothing suspicious about just looking, is there?

Something moves, a trembling blur just at the edge of your vision. Your head snaps down, eyes instinctively searching for the danger, but it’s – ah.

Your hands are shaking. That’s never happened before.

How… human of you.

The crushing silence seems to clutch at your ankles as you come to a stop, terrifying in its totality. It feels wrong, somehow, for it to be so quiet. Like this place is somehow separate from the rest of the world, an unearthly space out of step with the rest of this plane.

Reinforced metal lines the walls, cell doors towering over you. The air feels even heavier in your chest than before, so thoroughly saturated with power that it seems to pop and crackle with each breath. Was the ceiling quite this low before? White light floods the corridor, and its reach is so complete that you cast no shadow.

It’s too late to back out. You’ve got to do this now, before Cam comes out of that cell and asks you what you’re doing. Your whole body feels on edge, pulse hammering in your throat and stomach all strange and fluttery, like a fizzy can of soft drink that’s been all shaken up. Careful of the ward alarm, you don’t touch the door, but you lean slowly towards the viewing slot, and—

and—

Oh…

You can’t move.

You can’t even think.

All you can do is stare.

Demonic bodies are inherently static, in a way that human bodies just can’t replicate. There’s no need to breathe or blink or swallow – there’s no real need to do anything, except feed, and you don’t have to move to do that. Behaviours like nodding or fidgeting are entirely cultivated, learned habits from an age-old history of human coexistence.

Stillness makes humans uncomfortable, so your species has learnt not to stand still. It’s half courtesy, half pragmatism. Skin changes colour to blush without blood, the hand pulls back from the flame half a second too late. At its core, it’s about survival. Codependence, long exposure. The mimicry of a predator.

Yes, a predator. The creature before you, utterly unmoving as he sits on the side of the bed, is something much, much worse.

No photo could have done him justice, no blurry camera footage could have captured him in enough delicate detail. You can only see his side profile, and yet you’re struck by how immensely, instantly handsome he is – you can’t explain exactly why, but something about his face is just so captivating that you can’t tear your eyes away.

He’s like a sculpture in a museum, all strong lines and clean angles. Sharp horns jut cruelly away from his face, starkly silhouetted by the bright light from above, and you briefly wonder if they’d draw blood if they were to touch your skin. They’re not glossy, as such, but they do seem to reflect the light slightly. Soft white illuminates the tiny ridges and curves in their surface, glinting off the vicious-looking points in a way you’ve never seen before on Elegy.

It’s like the light doesn’t quite know how to react to his magic, fracturing as it crashes over him, splintering and shattering like stained glass. Is it because of his form’s composition? It must be. You’ve never seen a demon able to do that – to take a physical, corporeal form in a way that permits existence on Elegy, but that still holds the qualities of the raw magic it’s composed of. It’s completely enchanting. You’re not sure a human would be able to see it.

His hair is long and smooth, parted just in front of his horns so a little of it frames his face on either side. The rest is gathered up high somehow at the crown of his head, before falling gracefully down his back. His stillness makes it impossible to tell, but you imagine how it might move if he were to turn his head, dark strays fluttering lightly in the nonexistent breeze. Your fingers ache to reach out and touch it, to brush your claws across his jaw and push his hair back behind his pointed ear.

The dull prisoner’s uniform he wears is in perfect shape, not a single crease or stain to mar the coarse, sand-coloured fabric. Your gaze drags across his form, searching eagerly for what few hints of his shape you can discern, but it’s not much. You can see that he’s tall, certainly taller than you – which, to be fair, you already knew from his file – and the apparent litheness of his frame does nothing to betray the strength that you know must hide there. The half-sleeves of his uniform finish just above the elbow, leaving his forearms bare where his hands are folded in his lap. His tail disappears as it curves around past the far side of his body, and the tips of his claws are lethally sharp as they catch the light from above, long and elegant.

However he does it, the illusion is incredible. If you really focus, you can just about see the delicate shimmer of Arcana across his skin through the wards, so subtle as to be almost imperceptible. Although you can’t feel his aura, he looks old. Powerful.

Greedily, you drink in every millimetre of Vega’s being that you can see. He’s entirely mesmerising in his stillness, smooth and perfect like a statue of an angel. So immediately, inexplicably fascinating – how does he do it? What is it about him that draws you in? Your core longs to reach out to him, to call him to you, aura pressed up against the surface of the ward like it might slip right through.

Your whole world, filtered through a few inches of missing metal. Everything narrows down to now – this one, most vital moment. Fire seems to surge through your body, the blind faith of your conviction forged into something new, something raw, something hungry. It’s the feeling of falling, the blistering heat of a tumbling star. There’s no doubt in your mind – you can already feel it, strong hands digging into your waist, and you’re sure he’ll catch you. The cold blackness of space. A new type of gravity, falling into orbit.

It’s so much. Without really noticing, you stagger back a few steps, eyes still locked on the door in front of you as your body tries to grapple with the immense weight of this strange new feeling. You’re breathing far too harshly, teeth rattling as you tremble, your physicality unable to keep up with the seismic shock of emotion that ripples through your core. You’re changing, the feelings that make your form melting and morphing like water as your mind struggles to reckon with itself, the world around you coming into a new sort of focus.

You’re mine.

Silently, your unblinking eyes begin to cry. As you shudder, clinging frantically to the shape of your physical body, the words seem to take root at the awful, weeping heart of you. The delicate balance of emotion is undone and remade, that careful mixture that shapes everything you are and everything you want to be. You’re mine, and I want you, and I’ll have you. I want you, and I need you, and it’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine.

This shrieking, struggling sensation, thrashing in your chest like a bird in a cage. Wicked talons claw your ribs to pieces from the inside, catching on the bone, ripping and rending the fat and flesh and organs – you’re shredded into ribbons, coughing up feathers. Let it out, let it out, choke it down. How can you get away from the thing that’s inside you? The cruel beak peck peck pecking through the skin to get to him, and you’ve never wanted anything so horrifyingly, terrifyingly much.

Don’t make me stop. Mine, you’re mine. I can’t, I can’t, I need it – I want you, I want it, let me have it…

Do you even know what’s happening any more? Does it matter? All you know is this new and lovely creed, frightening in its intensity and dreadful in its desires, and you smile blackly as it blossoms deep inside your body, soaking into every astral part of you. It’s not a human sensation. It’s all-encompassing, a demon’s feeling. This incredible oneness, body and mind so connected as to be inseparable. To think it is to become it, and the only thing you can think about is how much you want – crave – need him. How it howls, how it hurts, an aching pressure that wraps around your heart like a snake, writhing as it crushes th—

“Is everything alright?”

“Cam!”

Your brain instantly floods with paranoia, sharp and white like a camera flash, the acid fear of instinctive shock lighting up your whole body as your head snaps inhumanly fast to the side, whipping around to see the confused-looking Serenity daemon standing right beside you.

“You…”

Stunned, there’s not much you can do except stare wide-eyed at him, desperately trying to hide the terrible storm that rages inside. He can’t know. He can’t.

“I, um… I wasn’t expecting you to be – you know, to be, like, right there…”

You trail off into a laugh that probably sounds as forced as it feels, breath still not quite back in your control. Cam doesn’t look entirely convinced, a tinge of worry bleeding through his aura, but he tilts his head slightly and puts on a smile that in any other case would be reassuring.

“Sorry for the surprise,” he murmurs soothingly, one hand coming to rest lightly on your shoulder. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He’s gentle, so gentle as he brushes the wetness from your face, the pad of his thumb just below your eye. “How about we head back to the office, hm?” he suggests. “I know this place can be… ah, it’s quite intense, isn’t it? Especially the first time.”

You nod vaguely, not really listening, but you can’t help the sudden flare of panic that races up your spine as he tries to nudge you back down the corridor. Not yet, not yet! He’s right there, your Vega, your Vega, you can’t just leave, can you? You have to do something, but wh—

“Oh!”

Cam freezes, stumbling slightly as you drag him down towards you – one arm around his waist, the other over his shoulder. Instinctively, his arms wrap around you in return, palms flat across your back as you press the side of your head into the curve of his neck. You can feel every breath he takes, chest to chest, slotting easily against you.

Just… just a second, you whisper into his mind, and you don’t even have to pretend to feel overwhelmed. I just need…

He nods, so sweet and adoring, like he could ever understand. It’s alright. We’re not in a hurry. Take your time, okay?

From the outside, it probably looks like nothing happens.

That’s good.

You don’t stay there long. Only a few seconds – maybe half a minute, at most. Then, Cam leads you out of the cell corridor, and out of the maximum-security block entirely. Nobody stops you, and nobody says anything.

It’s not a very long walk. Inside, upstairs, through the badge check. He takes you back to the office, and sits you down at your desk, and the rest of the day passes entirely normally. Grey clouds drift past the window, threatening to rain but never quite managing it. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

Yes, it’s very normal. Paperwork comes and goes, keyboard clattering non-stop until it’s dark outside, and you reach down to pick up your bag from underneath your desk. The front office is almost empty as you leave, only one or two people still around, and the man behind the desk doesn’t even look up from his computer as you sign out.

Yes, that’s it. Normal. Perfectly, exactly ordinary.

He hadn’t noticed a thing.

Perhaps he’d been distracted, or perhaps you really did pull it off. The cold air of the cell corridor, freezing you from the inside out as your eyes began to change – getting wider, darker, sharper. Focus changing, pupils expanding. Magic simmering beneath the surface of your skin, filling your eye sockets, dissolved into the liquid that a human would call tears.

Cam must not have realised how close you were to the door. He must not have thought how easy it would be to look through that thin, irresistible viewing slot, just one more time.

The bright sugar of temptation, fizzing sweet and tart on your tongue as you drank in the scene. A single figure, painted against the stark white of the wall behind him, sitting tall and graceful on the edge of the bed. The unmistakable shape of horns, viciously sharp, worn proudly like a crown. Long fingers twisting into light fabric, wicked claws threatening to tear right through. The pointed spade of a long tail, not quite hidden from view.

And two curious, pitch black eyes, staring straight back at you.

Caught between ticks of the clock – it was only for a moment. He couldn’t have known. He couldn’t. Considering the strength of the wards that envelop his cell, layers upon layers of complicated warding magic, it just isn’t possible that he could have sensed you at all – let alone seen you. He doesn’t know you even exist. There’s no way.

Inhuman perfection, the stone tears of the statue of an angel. Head tilted to the side, dark hair falling slightly over one shoulder. Frozen air turned to dust in your lungs, a still heart stuttered over a beat it couldn’t take – and slowly, ever so slowly, Vega had turned his head to look at you.

Head over heels, falling through space. He’s mine.

It’s always been so easy. The doors out of the front office are automatic, and they take a little while to close. It doesn’t take much to just step right back in, unnoticed as the guard looks away, and disappear back down the office corridor you came from.

In the morning, you’ll go and speak to your supervisor. ROLE AMENDMENT REQUEST: REHABILITATION OFFICER (DUAL SPECIALITY). You’re already certified to deal with humans, anyway, and the higher-ups don’t care about demons at the best of times – the form you’ve left on her desk is neatly filled out, block capitals in black ink, and you think she’ll say yes.

In the meantime, things are a little bit slow. It’s been dark outside for a few hours, and the night shift is only just starting. There’s a few security officers in here, dotted around at their desks, but they’re all too busy staring at their own computers to really pay any attention to the rest of the room.

Although the ceiling lights are always on, bathing the room in their harsh fluorescent glow, you’ve always thought that they leave the room remarkably dark. It’s the mass of screens that covers the far wall that really illuminates everything, the huge cluster of monitors where the CCTV feeds flicker endlessly. They seem to tower over you, a great monument to your grand ambition, a silent siren’s call. Magnetic, addictive. You can’t resist their pull.

It’s like a dance as you pick your way through the office, the imaginary rhythm of a waltz playing in your head with every step. Past the Earth Elemental who sits by the door, past the photocopier, underneath the ceiling fan. The stacks of paper in that Stealth’s intray don’t move as you skip happily through the gap between desks, your steps make no sound on the cheap carpet as you twirl past the nest of filing cabinets next to the coffee machine. Nobody looks up as you pass them, totally unaware of your presence, and that’s exactly the way you like it. They can’t see the brightness in your face or the lightness in your heart – it’s a special surprise, a secret just for you.

The Freelancer who’s meant to be watching the tapes is already sitting in the chair, so you have to stand. The electricity thrumming in the air reminds you of the thick magic of the maximum-security cells, that heavy taste of ozone coating your teeth and sliding slickly down your throat, and it makes you swallow involuntarily. How much longer will you have to do this? How long until this room is nothing but a distant dream?

You already know it’s going to be wonderful. All the glass and the plastic will fall away in a shower of sparks, cracking and popping as they hit the floor, and when you reach out to touch him you’ll find more than just a monitor. It’s a love story, isn’t it? He’ll be there, right in front of you, to touch and taste and feel. He’ll see you and he’ll smile, he’ll say it’s alright, my love, I’m yours. You’ll be safe, and you’ll be full, and you won’t ever be alone again.

Just a little longer to wait. Without you even noticing, a great big smile spreads across your face, and you’re struck with the sudden urge to press your face right up against the cold, flat surface of the monitor. The future has never been so close. At last – at last! – you’ll finally be happy.

Grey static, harsh and grainy. The buzzing song of the CCTV soars ever higher, a beautiful melody that rings like a bell, echoing through your skull. And there in front of you, immortalised forever in your eyes and your mind and your core, is the still, silent blur of pixels that makes up the perfect form of Vega, Vega, Vega.

He’s so beautiful.

The night shift carries on. You smile as the dim light goes through you, and invisible fingertips brush gently across the smooth glass of the screen.

He’s mine.

-

in the mood for more? here’s the series masterlist

main masterlist

oops! all yandere! collab masterlist

this is an original fanwork by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute.

[aurumalatus]

how do i get good at writing like you 🥺👉👈

being "good at writing" is def a process, and since "good writing" is subjective it can kind of be all over the place. i don't really consider myself a good writer, and i was never an english major or anything when i was in college, so i'm probably not the *best* person to be giving writing advice, but i've been writing fanfic for a long time so this is my genuine advice in that regard! (below the cut)

serina's totally legit (maybe not) writing advice

start with an idea this one seems obvious. like, serina, no fucking duh. but starting with an idea that YOU like and are passionate about can make all the difference. for me, this is the difference between words naturally flowing on the page, and me writing shit like "he laughed laughily while laughing". if you can really get into an idea, it makes the process a LOT easier.

flesh it out if you're not an outline person, that's okay. i'm not really either, unless it's for multi-chapter fics. i just kind of skip around writing scenes that i think of as it goes, but warning this can get VERY disorganized very quickly, which is why i ALSO have a habit of restarting like 8 diff drafts of one piece LOL. everyone works differently so find your vibe. if your idea is something like "kinich and reader kissing", figure out WHY kinich and reader are kissing. where are they kissing? is it awkward? what's the vibe?

set the tone for me, every piece has a bit of a different style. pixelprincess has a lighter style, which means more basic descriptions that essentially serve to lead into the funny dialogue and other things. "brighella, the hellraiser" is one that i wanted to have a more evocative tone and a frigid vibe, which means it has more flowery-esque prose and metaphors, rather than straightforward description. turnfire is somewhere in between. for me, setting the tone can be helped by a lot of things, like making moodboards or playlists. for me personally, the music i'm listening to while writing matters SO MUCH.

don't be afraid to start over/change as i said before, i have a habit of starting over my drafts a LOT. i think the last chapter of turnfire had something like 6 drafts. but i always think "if this is dragging for me to write, it's probably dragging for them to read too". and sure, maybe that's not always true, but why would i keep writing something that even i don't like? i'm really not afraid to start over or put things in a different direction than i originally intended if i feel it's more interesting. if you're someone who likes to stick to your outlines though, do that! like i said, i don't really outline, so that's up to your individual preference.

write things down as they come i find ideas everywhere. you guys might have noticed that i like to write a lot of aus, and it's because i truly get ideas in every single media i consume. games i play, music i listen to, etc. if i think of an interesting wording or metaphor, i'll write it down. seeing these things really helps when i'm writing, and it often helps me branch out my writing.

don't be afraid to put it down. you might have also noticed that i have TONS of wips going on at any one time. THIS DOES NOT WORK FOR EVERYONE. some people find this very overwhelming which is understandable! for me, it gives me other things to work on when i'm feeling stuck in one piece. by switching between them, i can keep my ideas fresh and stay in better form without burning out for longer. again, this is a personal preference! if you want more specific advice regarding ACTUAL writing, like sentence flow, descriptions, etc, let me know! again, i'm REALLY not the best LOL but i also want to encourage everyone to get started on writing however they can if they feel the urge! the fandom can always use more writers :)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!

[coquelicoq]

i fucking love prereading. getting documents about what's going to be discussed in a meeting and reading them and then going to the meeting and having context for all the things that are happening. if i could do this in all areas of life i would. send me a list of the words i'm going to need the definition of in order to understand what you will be talking about. give me a rundown of what topics might come up during this social encounter. provide detailed documentation of what to expect in a new setting. i will read the fuck out of that shit.

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk