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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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give you my wild, give you a child | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x pregnant fem!reader oneshot

summary: your second trimester while pregnant with baby bear is way sexier than you expected.

warnings: smut, breeding kink, language, 18+ only, barely proofread.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: hi it's me with the second trimester sexapalooza smut i promised @starbritestarlite and @carmensberzattos. and with this new season, let me know if you want to be added to my carmy taglist!! i wrote this as a companion piece to the 'make my heart heart surrender' universe, specifically for the 'carmy as your baby daddy' headcanon/social media au series. anyways, i've been thoroughly enjoying season 2 and am sitting into the fact that i've created my own universe inside of their universe. god we love fanfic. anyways... this is nsfw so 18+ only.

Today 2:21 pm

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: On the way home for lunch.

You: Hurry, baby.

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: You good, sweet girl?

Your reply is almost instant, and Carmy wonders what could possibly come next as he sees the three dots appear below your message, indicating that you’re still typing.

It’s a link, his eyes widening as soon as it appears in his iMessage history with you.

You: Hottest Sex Positions For Pregnant Women | Cosmopolitan

Before he can notice that it feels ten degrees hotter in the room, that his face has turned cherry red, that his pants are beginning to feel unbearably tighter, he’s interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“You good, chef?” Marcus asks, as he passes by, noticing the red tones that have risen to Carmy’s cheeks.

“Wh-, oh yeah!” Carmy answers, almost too quickly, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

Marcus shoots him a strange look, examining his boss’ face.

“Just uh… gotta go home for lunch.”

3:03 pm

“What took you so long?” you practically growl as soon as Carmy gets through the door.

He hasn’t even had a chance to close it properly before you’re on him like a moth to a flame. Dressed in the cutest pair of white shortalls, you’ve been working from home all day – or rather, mindlessly clicking through your e-mail while waiting for Carmy to come home all day, your mind preoccupied with the fact that Carmy hasn’t been home to give you exactly what you want.

What you need, may be the better description.

It’s as if the spirit of Eros himself has taken you over, unable to focus properly as your rapidly changing body needs is practically screaming out for one thing and one thing only:

To be properly and thoroughly fucked by the man that got you here in the first place.

“I-,” he begins, attempting to explain that he was running a little behind and got caught up giving feedback to one of his new line cooks before your mouth is on his in an all-consuming kiss.

Now that he’s here, you regret even asking him, careless for the why when it feels this good to have him pressed up against your body. Your lips are desperate, hungry, intense, as you tangle yourself into him. It’s as if you can finally relax, like you can finally take a breath, now that your husband is finally here.

He lets out a little groan of surprise against your mouth, as if you’ve charged towards him like the sexual equivalent of a tasmanian devil.

And in his defense, you have.

“Baby,” he whispers against your lips. “Should we-, can we even-, shouldn’t you be working?”

He’s not wrong.

You should be working.

But the unbelievable and insatiable need for sex – for sex with Carmy – is the only thing driving you these days, holding you hostage to its unbelievable and all-encompassing power. You’re like a woman possessed as you reluctantly pull away from him to put his mind at ease. Your lust-filled eyes look him over, his curls already wild from a long day at the restaurant, as you shake your head ‘no.’

“I finished all my work for the day and signed off early. Perks of being a start-up sellout,” your well-kissed lips inform him.

Carmy’s head spins in response to your answer.

Maybe it’s the prospect of the sex.

Maybe it’s the way it’s the way your mouth feels against him as you kiss down his jawline and his neck.

“Okay, but I gotta be back at the restaurant at 4:15,” he smiles in agreement, more than happy to oblige.

“That’s plenty of time,” you coo, nibbling on his earlobe.

This time it’s Carmy who initiates, using both of his hands to cradle your face before his mouth is over yours again. The kiss starts slowly this time as he inhales deeply, taking you in. You shift closer, pressing your slightly-rounder-these-days belly against his body once more. He moans, his hands immediately traveling down your body, to your hips as he breathes you in again, wanting nothing more than to stay like this with you forever. His touch ignites something in you and you allow yourself to surrender, lost in the feel of his hands against you. His hands are everywhere – your hips, traveling up your belly, dancing across your fuller-than-normal breasts – and finally the drawn-out unrest of your mind can finally find peace.

He’s starting to get used to this.

And he’ll admit that he really, really likes it.

Carmy changes positions with you so that he can press you up against the front door as you continue your passionate makeout.

Your first trimester had been hell – mornings spent on the bathroom floor together while you hurled the contents of your stomach into the toilet, days where you barely had the energy to get out of bed, nights where you were too hot to sleep that all you could do was lay on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, frustrated tears pouring out of the corners of your eyes – your body undergoing the hardest reset of your life.

So when the fog and tumultuousness of your first trimester subsided, it was a more than welcomed change – and in so many ways. You’ve traded mornings of flat ginger ale, saltines, and sympathetic back rubs, with mornings spent tugging on Carmy’s perfect curls while you cried out his name.

“You smell like sandwiches,” you giggle in between kisses.

“Ah shit. I should shower,” he sighs, reluctantly.

He knows your sense of smell has been heightened lately, and he can’t imagine that smelling like a spicy Italian sandwich would be much of a turn on for you. He begins to pull away, but there’s now way in hell you’re letting him go as you grab his hands in yours.

"No, Carmy, I can't wait,” you whine, the sound of your voice the most needy, beautiful thing Carmy’s ever heard in his life.

“You could join me,” he offers with a raise of an eyebrow, presenting a solution you can absolutely get behind.

“Uh huh. Yes please,” you nod eagerly, a girlishness to the way you answer him.

Please.

Your usage of the word’s got him harder than a rock and he loves this side of you. Your sex life had been great before the pregnancy, but there’s something different about it now. Something about how needy you’ve been – the only thing that can possibly quell the fire inside of you being him – has him unraveling at the seams.

How could he possibly say no when he’s more than eager to give you exactly (and then some, if it’s up to him) what you want?

Your fingers are still tangled in his, licking your lips as you add, “My baby daddy thinks of everything.”

Carmy shakes his head, tugging at your hands as he leads you towards the bathroom, mentioning that he still can’t get over the fact that you’ve chosen to call him that in front of everyone you’ve ever known. You remind him that it’s cute, and though he’s not sure he gets it, he lets you do it anyway because it makes you happy.

As you both reach the bathroom, you patiently wait as Carmy turns on the shower, running a hand through the stream of water to check the temperature. One minute he’s focused on the cool water coming down from the showerhead, and then next he’s caging you in between his body and the bathroom sink.

“You miss me this much, pretty girl?” he murmurs dreamily, his hand trailing up your inner thigh.

You nod, taking note of how perfectly his top lip fits in between yours.

“Yes, baby. Thanks for coming home for lunch,” you manage to get out, in between desperate kisses.

“No need to thank me,” he smirks, a newly-found confidence in his voice.

His hands are tugging at the hem of your shorts, as if he could slide the overalls down your body this way, a small pang of frustration welling deep in his stomach as he realizes that’s not going to happen. He kisses you with a fervor that makes you dizzy, as Carmy fumbles with the straps of your overalls. Trying his best to unclasp one side, he tosses the strap over your back, a clang sounding out within the four walls of the small room as the metal of the claps hits the porcelain of the sink.

Carmy lets out a groan as he tugs at the second strap, causing you to giggle.

“These stupid things,” he huffs, a look of embarrassment running through his brilliant blues.

“Here, baby,” you say, slipping one of your arms out of the tangled strap.

He groans as soon as his eyes meet yours again, more than happy to help you out of these damn things.

He pulls the overalls down with a rigor that stops right as the overalls drop to your waist, revealing your white tank top – one that you’re not wearing a bra underneath.

“Sweetheart,” he groans, his hands ghosting over where your nipples stand erect against the fullness of your breasts.

“You been like this all day?” he mutters against your skin, leaning down to drag his mouth over your still-clothed breasts.

“Mmmmhm. Needed you,” you moan, your eyes closing as you lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you.

He’s so incredibly hard right now it’s not even funny.

“Yeah?”

By the time you open your eyes again, Carmy’s on his knees, so gentle, so tender with the way he slides the rest of the piece of clothing over the bump that’s been growing inside of your belly.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

You shimmy out of your overalls as Carmy jumps back to his feet, removing your tank so that the only thing you have left is the pair of panties you’re still wearing. Before he can kiss you again, you’re tugging off his shirt, a sacrifice, an offering to the bathroom floor.

“Should be warm enough, yeah?” you ask, gesturing towards the shower.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod, removing his shorts.

You feel all the blood in your body rush south as you see how hard he is already, swallowing hard. Carmy helps you into the shower, like the gentlemen he is, and you hope that’s where the gentleness ends.

Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you towards him, wrapping one of your legs around his waist as the warm water begins to wash over the both of you.

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl,” he hums as his nimble fingers slip between your legs. He groans as soon as he feels how goddamn wet you are.

“Fuck, honey.”

“See? I told you I needed you, Carm,” you pant, letting out a high keening moan as he draws lazy circles around your clit. You’re already bucking your hips into his hand and he’s barely started touching you.

"You're so sensitive. So responsive, sweet girl,” he teases you, as he drags his fingers through your folds. You are so unbelievably wet that he’s not sure how he managed to get so damn lucky.

"I just want you to fuck me, Carm. I’ve needed it all day. I need you to make me feel good," you beg, completely lost in the way his fingers feel as he slides two into you already.

It’s like his touch sets fireworks off in your brain, setting your nerves on fire as you cry out.

"Yeah?” he taunts you, an almost amused tone in his voice as he sets the slowest rhythm. “Think that’s how we got here in the first place, pretty girl.”

"I know,” you whimper, moving your hips against his fingers for any kind of friction. For something more. For something faster. For something deeper. But at this rate, with how much he seems to enjoy teasing you, with how horny you are, you’ll take anything.

“But nothing feels as good as you, Carm.”

Your words go straight to his dick and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to leave you alone ever again – might as well quit his day job in exchange for this all-day never-ending second trimester sexapalooza you both seem to be caught inside of.

He’s practically choking on his words as he manages to ask you:

"What’s that, baby? Did you touch yourself while I was gone?"

You nod pathetically, moaning as he buries his thick fingers deep inside of you. He pauses, feeling the way your walls pulse around him as he stays inside of you, wanting to memorize this moment forever.

In any other circumstance, he’d make you fall apart on his fingers, and then his tongue before you even went there, but with your recent admission, he’s decided that he has to have you now. In one swift motion, Carmy pulls his fingers from you, releasing his grip on your leg, eliciting a whine at the loss of him.

Before you can even protest, he’s turning you around in the shower, and you can feel his hard-on pressing against your backside as he pulls you close.

“Sweetheart, you can’t just say things like this,” he taunts you, playfully, as he drags his cock through your folds a few times.

“Carm,” you whimper, bracing your hands against the shower wall. “Don’t tease.”

“What’s that?” he coos, pressing his thick tip against your clit.

“I don’t think I can take it. Please, baby,” you whine, so desperate for him to be inside of you. You push your ass back against him, offering your body to him for the taking.

“Fuck!” he grunts out, because he just can’t resist you like this.

You let out a sharp cry, as Carmy pushes himself inside of you, finally giving the thing you’ve wanted all day long.

Carmy sets a slow pace at first, burying himself all the way to the hilt, so that you can feel all of him – every single ridge, every single vein of his cock with each thrust – and with how sensitive, how turned on you are, you’re already seeing stars. His hands hold onto your waist, controlling the speed of your lovemaking, as you press your hands against the shower wall, bracing yourself. You want him everywhere, all around you, consuming you with every fiber of his being, as if all you can do is hold yourself up and let him know how good he’s making you feel.

Carmy’s lips are on your neck, leaving love bites across your shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings about how well you take him and how good you feel. And then he’s speeding up the pace of each thrust, pulling you back towards him. His hands are all over you: pressing you back against his chest, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples as he takes care of you.

His wife.

The mother of his child.

The love of his life.

You turn your head just enough so that you can kiss him as Carmy’s hand reaches up to cup your face, making sure that he can kiss you properly too. This time you’re standing up taller, grinding against him, wanting to touch your husband more than you need to hold yourself up against the wall. Your hand slips behind you, grabbing at whatever parts of him that you can, bracing yourself against him, as if you could get Carmy even closer to you, while the other is guiding his across your body, your fingers tangled together.

He’s perfect.

This is perfect.

It’s what you’ve been aching for all damn day.

“I need you, Carm,” you moan into his mouth, as the consistent feel of him thrusting in and out of you has you delirious.

"You have all of me, baby,” he reassures you in the tenderest tone of voice he can muster, his other hand resting just underneath your breasts as he fucks you.

"More."

"More?"

He’s not sure what ‘more’ could mean at this moment, but the dirty talk is so hot that he’s more than willing to find out. He slows down his pace, dragging his cock in and out of you and the most delicious pace.

"Yes,” you pant, pulling away from the searing kiss, your head hanging low. Your hands return to the shower wall as you arch your back, bending at the hips so that you can take him deeper as you add:

“I want to make you a daddy."

His hips stutter for a second, caught off guard by what you’ve just said.

"You-you are, sweetheart,” he chuckles, slowing his pace down for a moment as he watches himself disappear inside of you over and over again.

“Carmy,” you groan, in response to his change pace.

You’re grinding your ass against him, begging him to speed up, but his hands return to your hips, stopping you.

The sight alone, and what you’ve just said, he thinks to himself, might kill him.

You whine as Carmy brings his movements to a halt, trying to get him to fuck you again. But he can’t let what you’ve just said go unrecognized as he stills your hips.

"What was that? You like walking around like this, hmm? Everyone knowing what I've done to you?" he asks you, holding your hips so that you can’t move.

You’ll give him anything to get what you want.

Even if it means saying it again.

“Yes, baby,” you sigh, and Carmy lets out another moan as you squeeze around him.

“I want to make you a daddy. Just fuck me. Please.”

“Oh fuck,” Carmy mutters, knowing he’s not going to last much longer if you keep that up.

He pulls out of you, and before you can protest, he’s slamming back into you in a way that makes you sob. He sets a brilliant pace this time, and you're arching your back, pressing your hands against the wall even harder – and all you can do, all you want to do, is take it. Hearing you chant his name over and over takes over him. He’s a man determined, with a single-minded focus on giving you exactly what you want.

He’s reduced you to a moaning, mumbling mess, as you chase both of your orgasms.

“Touch me, Carmy,” escapes your lips, and he’s more than happy to oblige, his fingers immediately coming to your clit.

He’s so goddamn talented, using his cock and his hands to make you fall apart.

You feel a familiar coil in your belly, and with the way you’re squeezing around him, Carmy can tell your close.

“Come on, sweet girl. Go ahead and let go for me,” his voice sturdy, confident, strong.

And seconds later, your eyes slam shut as you’re crying out his name, falling over the edge as your husband pulls the most delicious orgasm from your body.

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.”

He’s right behind you – literally and figuratively – as Carmy’s thrusts become more erratic, finally letting go after exercising an impossible level of self control. He spills inside of you with a grunt, holding you against him as he pauses.

Breathless, you throw your head back, grateful that his shoulder is there to catch you. With the slightest turn of your head, you’re able to kiss him, placing the gentlest kiss against the corner of his mouth before Carmy’s hand comes up to lift your chin towards him again, so that he can kiss you properly.

“Holy shit, Bear,” you sigh, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Yeah,” he pants, trying to catch his breath with you.

You both take a beat, a moment to let your brains catch up with your bodies, just holding onto each other – savoring the way it feels to be in each others’ arms.

“I should uh… I should probably still shower,” Carmy starts, beginning to come back down to earth.

You turn back towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, entertaining him with slow, lazy kisses in between words.

“But why don’t you dry off and get into bed?” Carmy suggests, using a quiet yet direct tone, almost as if it’s an order.

It’s as if he knows that, though the last orgasm he’d just given you had been world-rocking, there’s no way in hell you’ll be satiated today with just one.

“Really?” you ask, hopefully with a giggle.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Heard, chef,” you tease him, eliciting a playful eye roll from him.

He releases you, giving you the time and space to wring out your hair and step out of the shower.

And as you do what he says, he rewards you for it, spending the rest of the afternoon with his face buried between your legs until he’s ready to go again.

“And we’ve got a special tonight. Lemon chicken piccata. We’re talkin’ major Berzatto family recipe, ok? So let’s make sure we’re talkin’ up, alright?” Richie announces, following it up with a reminder to all of his servers of the main talking point during tonight’s pre-shift meeting.

Carmy thinks he’s been stealthy as he attempts to sneak back into the restaurant, considering he’s thirty minutes late. He feels lucky that since everyone is preoccupied with the pre-shift meeting that they couldn’t possibly notice him slipping in this late. He hears the meeting end, making a mental note that tonight’s mise has been done right, praying that tonight’s service goes smoothly.

He has, afterall, been using up a lot of extra energy lately….

“Hey, Jeffrey. We were wondering when you’d be in tonight,” Tina comments, as she returns to the kitchen, ready to lead service tonight.

“Oh uh, yeah. Sorry, got caught up with some stuff,” he mumbles, avoiding her gaze as he doesn’t have an excuse or a cover story.

“Mmmhhhmmmm,” she sounds, passing him by, because it’s no secret what Carmen Berzatto’s been up to lately.

“Yo, cousin!” Carmy calls out, in search of Richie.

Carmy makes his way into the dining room, and as soon as Richie sees him, knowing what time it is – knowing that Carmy’s running late – he smirks. A blush runs over Carmy’s cheeks as Richie shakes his head with a laugh.

It’s as if Richie can see right through him, and suddenly, Carmy’s feeling incredibly exposed.

Richie wags a finger at his cousin, his laugh beginning to build.

“Ahhhh man, cousin,” he sighs, an amused look on his face as he continues. “No one warned ya, huh?”

“I-,” Carmy starts, searching for any and all excuses he could make up on the spot, to no avail.

“Men can’t resist a pregnant woman. Sheesh. Enjoy it while you can, jagoff.”

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freakspectors · 1 year

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HELUVAKINKTOBER: DAY 3 - BUKAKKE.

A Chuuya Nakahara | BSD x Female Reader Smut Fanfic.

warnings ; smut , bukakke , sex toys , mutual masturbation , degradation , praise if you squint , overstim if you get a magnifying glass , dazai mention (you can't escape him) , minor crack , nowhere near proofread , it's 1 AM on a school night please don't mind errors.. , etc .

author's note ; girl i feel so dumb. like mid fic writing i re-looked up bukakke and found out it was MULTIPLE MEN cumming on someone's face when i couldve sworn it was just one person. IM SO EMBARRASSED. but anyways.. i'm half awake, if this is horribly written, i'm sorry, and if you find it funny, thank you. i'm funniest when I'm sleep deprived.

heluvakinktober 2023 m.list .

“Fuck yeah, Doll. Touch yourself just like that..”

Chuuya moaned, leaning back into the cool leather of his office chair. You continued to ride the Dildo under his desk, rubbing tight circles on your puffy clit as the Executive before you stroked his length right before your eyes. His strokes were languid, almost teasing. You felt your mouth and pussy moisten at the sight of pre-cum coating the tip of Chuuya’s penis, the warm lighting of his small lamp making it shine beautifully.

He taps his cock on your right cheek, chuckling as a sticky ‘plap’ sound is heard in the obnoxiously silent room. You were fighting your thoughts — the urge to wipe the wet feeling off your cheek and lick it up, finally getting a taste of the redhead on your tongue. Chuuya interrupted your thoughts immediately, as if he were an empath.

“If you move your hands anywhere other than that pretty pussy of yours, there will be some punishments; and I don’t think you want that. Do ya, love?” Chuuya asked. His tone was insincere, shamelessly mocking you with a wide smile plastered on his annoying face. You wanted to retort, but god, were his reprimands attractive. You whine out a defeated ‘No’, sighing as a boisterous laugh rang in your ears. “Good girl. Now ‌keep bouncing f’me.”

Jackass. There was absolutely no wonder why that Dazai fucker hated his guts; who would like this son of a bitch?

That’s what your mind said. Your body, however, quaked for him. Your pussy pleaded for Chuuya’s dick, fingers, tongue, anything other than the cheap plastic he had made you ride. It was pathetically obvious, too, the once pristine tiled floors now coated in a pool of your slick. You wished for Chuuya's sick and twisted game to end, for him to fold you in half and have sex with you until you were senseless—

You hadn’t noticed how sensitive you made yourself while you were fantasizing about Chuuya like a schoolgirl, your clit raw and cunt mush from how hard you pleased yourself. You could’ve cummed just now and you wouldn’t be aware of it. But you couldn’t stop. Your body wouldn’t let you, not after the gorgeous sight before your very eyes.

Chuuya looked disheveled. He leaned all the way back in his chair, his hands tangling in his copper locks as his chest heaved while staring down at you. His moans got louder, louder, and louder, sure to worry anyone that so passed by the Executive’s office. Your gut was put on a spin cycle, the tight feeling in your abdomen returning for the umpteenth time that evening. You flicked, spun, and rubbed your clit as quickly as you could without it hurting, until his left, gloved hand gripped you by the hair and pulled your hair back.

“Open your fucking mouth, baby. I’m gonna glaze you so goddamn much you’d qualify as a fuckin’ donut — Oh, fuck..” the Executive groans. His words were so quick, you could barely understand his sentences. But words hadn’t been the reason for your nearing climax, no. How he handled you so roughly, the way he spoke to your quivering body. It was all too much to handle and process; soon enough, you’d reach the peak of your arousal.

It did. It hit you like a bullet train.

Thick, creamy white globs gushed around the dildo as you clenched around it, moaning out Chuuya’s name as if it was he you were riding like Paul-fucking-Revere. The redhead curses your name, visibly close to his own arrival. You could count how many times his cock twitched before he came; it was almost like everything was in slow motion.

One.

“FUCK.. Take it all, bitch, I want every drop of my cum on your face..”

Two.

“You’re gonna look like such a slut after all this.. I’ll take so many pictures of you just like this and — Shit!”

Three.

And your vision goes black. Well, white.

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

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educatedsimps · 3 months

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Heyo! Quick request here because my FYP wants to make me suffer with all the Bokuto angst I’ve been seeing related to different fics (like in another life, ect). WHY DO FANFIC AUTHORS KEEP KILLING HIM OFF??? ITS DRIVING ME NUTS 😭😭 Anyway, I’d like to request some fluff with Bokuto to counteract the angst I’ve been seeing. Maybe the reader wakes up from a nightmare similar to what’s been going on in these fics and he cheers her up by being his normal happy self? Take that my FYP hahaha

(I love your writing btw! I literally pause whatever I’m doing to read anything you’ve posted! You’re my fav author on this website <3)

≪ back to fics masterlist

bokuto kōtarō x f!reader

a/n: nah bro in another life fucking broke me 🥲 i read it in like 2021 (i think??) and that angst still haunts me to this very day 😀 anyway ofc bae i literally had a fic with this nightmare/comfort idea in my google keep drafts for the LONGEST time so it's time to finally put it out there lol. ALSO I'M SO GLAD U LIKE OUR WORKS omg "favourite author"??? MY HEART ✋😭 TY FOR READING ANON ILYSM 😭💕 hope u enjoy this bae and thanku for requesting, it was truly a joy writing this!

cw: idk man just bokuto fluff and comfort typa thing cuz he’s bokuto and the B in bokuto stands for best boyfriend (b)ever

"so he’s killed in the straight aus and sent back to be with akaashi cause we will nvr recover from in another life" -yves 2024

Jolting awake, you felt fresh tears rolling past your cheeks and staining your pillow. Eyes wide, you scanned your surroundings. Same room, same bed, same pyjamas...

Was that all a dream? But... It had felt so terrifyingly real that you had woken up in a cold sweat with ugly tears streaming down your face. Heart palpitating, you tried to regulate your breathing and convinced yourself that it was just a dream.

Feeling a warm breath brush the back of your neck, you turned to see your boyfriend, Bokuto Kōtarō, sleeping soundly next to you. His breaths were slow and deep, and you watched as his bare chest rose and fell. With a beefy arm slung over your waist, he held you close to him throughout the night, keeping you warm. The dim moonlight from your window illuminated his features and his face looked so peaceful (and beautiful) you couldn't help but stare.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you soaked up the warmth radiating from his body. Not wanting to wake him, you furiously wiped the tears from your cheeks and tried to quiet your sobs.

Unfortunately for you, Bokuto's hearing was as sharp as an owl's, and he stirred with a groggy "Y/n?"

A sniffle.

He jerked his head up to look at you clearly. Your head was buried in his chest. "Y/n?"

Another sniffle. He was starting to panic.

"Babe! Babe, what happened?" He asked softly, placing a hand under your chin and tilting your head up. He swore he heard his heart go crack when he saw your tears. You responded by burying your face in his neck again.

Realising you probably weren't ready to talk just yet, he decided to distract you first. Pulling your trembling body to his, he gently rubbed circles on your back and pressed a sweet kiss to your temple.

He hummed, "You know, I was thinking the other day. Maybe we could install a small spinning light thingy in the corner of our room so it's not so dark at night. I know you don't really like it when it's pitch black in the room sooo I figured maybe that could help! I was scrolling online and saw some designs I thought you'd like, but I forgot to copy the link to send it to you but I can look for it again and show it to you later-"

He paused abruptly when you raised your head, sitting up and looking at him with a half-smile on your face.

"You okay?" He asked, concern taking over his features. He shifted so that you both were half sitting with your legs still tangled under the blanket. "Wanna talk about it?"

With yet another sniffle, you nodded. As you recounted your nightmare, Bokuto continued rubbing your arm soothingly, occasionally wiping away your tears with his thumb. His head was tilted to the side in the most adorable fashion and his eyes were fully focused on you as you spoke.

"And... and then you died," You whispered, voice hoarse and shaky. Looking into his bright amber eyes, you continued. "It was so scary, Kō..."

"But I’m right here, aren’t I?" He asked almost immediately. Bending down to your eye level, he looked at you with such a pure and genuine smile. Your heart beat faster under his gaze.

"And I’m gonna be right here forever. I’ll be here when you wake up from bad dreams and good dreams, and I’ll be here on the nights you can’t fall asleep. I’ll be your protector, Y/n!” He continued, beaming. He swiftly placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll protect you from all the nightmares, I promise! And see? I’m totally fine! Those killers ain't got nothing on us. I won’t let ‘em touch my baby.”

He concluded his little cheer-up speech with a sweet kiss on your lips. His hand brushed your jaw, pulling you closer. If you weren’t seated firmly on the bed, your knees probably would’ve given out from how sweet the kiss was. Either that or you would’ve gotten severe cavities before the kiss ended.

Pulling away, he wrapped you up in his arms and you felt your lips pull into a smile. His cheery mood really was contagious.

Gently pushing you into a lying position, he grabbed the blanket and pulled it over your bodies, essentially bundling the two of you together.

“Time to get some sleep, babe. I’ll be right here, ‘kay?” He said, now hugging you under the covers. You hummed, feeling safe and content.

“Oh yeah, we should definitely get a spinning light thingy. It might help with the nightmares ‘cause it won’t be as dark,” you piped up. Chuckling, Bokuto agreed.

“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“I love you more,” you yawned.

“I love you the most-est!”

You felt another kiss on the crown of your head before you drifted off to sleep.

a/n: UMMM i hope this was nightmarish/comfort/cheery enough?? IDK IM SORRY IF IT DIDNT MEET THE REQUIREMENTS 😭 but still, tysm for requesting and thanku for reading too!! hope u liked it :,) (feel free to request another part if you’re not satisfied)

#educated.simps #haikyuu x reader #lyssa.writes #simps.write #yves.edits #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #bokuto kotaro #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto x reader fluff #hq #hq bokuto

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boyinatown · 1 year

Text

TREAT ME LIKE A SLUT! 🎀

Pairing: lookism men x f! Reader 💗

Warning: sexual theme and make out sesh 💋

Summary: Lookism men react to the song: treat me like a slut when you play your playlist. 👀

GUN PARK 🚬

Putting on the song wasn’t such a 100% good idea around this man, whenever this song played during your playlist he’d grip the steering wheel.

Occasionally looking at your figure while Bobbing your head to the music, he knew the playlist had weird tastes but this song? It worked wonders on him.

“Gun, we can’t not in the car what if someone sees us..-“ your protests are useless against the male now setting you on his lap while his seat is lowered.

“Then let them see, didn’t you want to be treated like a slut?”

You sense mocking by his voice and roll your eyes. This doesn’t go unoticed as he quickly rips off your clothing. Leaving you naked and shivering due to the cold inside the car. You try and cover your breasts but he just grips your wrists pinning them on your stomach licking a stripe up your neck.

“I’ll treat you like a slut alright, just you wait little whore.”

Safe to say the car kept shaking , and bypassers would be either confused or know what was going on.

JAMES LEE/DIEGO 💿

While James was busy writing whatever songs and what not, you often pass by singing your songs during cleaning, when you picked up a habit of singing that one song that riled him up.

just one little : “treat me like a slut.” And he’ll turn around raising an eyebrow at you , though you were to busy doing your own stuff. He couldn’t hold back anymore and just wanted to obey your requests like a good boyfriend <3

“Oh, fuck! James..I’m..mhhmph!-“ your voice cracking and the rough slaps of James’s thighs against the back of yours. Arms stretched behind your back and ass smacking against his hips he grunts above you.

“I thought you wanted to be treated like this? What’s the matter baby? To much? , that’s to bad.”

He continues rutting deep inside of you making your head spin and stand on your toes to match his height despite his harsh thrusting you fall over on the desk and he keeps pushing you further. Your stomach now red due to how fast he was going causing friction.

“Do you like being treated like a slut? Adorable.”

JAKE KIM 📼

Usually when jake’s working on papers to keep big deal a crew, you’d be on his bed listening to music and falling asleep. He’ll tuck you in and kiss your forehead before continuing his work.

But when he heard your loud music he just wanted to listen for a few seconds, since working with music made him concentrated. Though when his ears make contact with the music his eyes widen. Looking down at your sleeping form he had a wild idea smiling before executing it and you.

You didn’t know how this happened all you knew is that the Jake Kim from big deal was currently between your thighs. Your legs dangling on his shoulders and his rough arms gripping you.

He bear hugs you for a few seconds , swallowing your whole smaller figure in his broad shoulders and muscular one.

“Jake? What, why a-re you..?” reaching hands to his black locks you tangle into his hair massaging his scalp.

“You have a very funny taste in music my love, treat me like a slut? who woulda’ know.?” he finally looks at you, his hands next to your head making you flustered and hide your face.

“Ah ah, none of that, behave like a slut and I’ll fuck you rough like one.” He says pulling your hands from your face pinning them above your head kissing your neck while slowly moving again causing you to whimper and clutch onto the sheets below you.

“God, what a pervert.”

Yes I’m back again, back with the smuts and fanfics, I’ll be taking any requests except gun x goo or male x male so just go wild

#lookism jonggun #park jonggun #jake kim lookism #lookism jake kim #james lee lookism #lookism james lee #dg lookism smut #lookism smut #lookism scenarios #samiiblogs 📼#samiiblogs

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dduane · 2 years

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With regards to etiquette regarding authors and fan-works: how does this work with authors who participate in fandom subsequently writing authorized spin-offs or...whatever you'd call "I don't own this IP but I have permission to publish a thing"? Obviously "don't send someone fic directly so they can choose whether or not to engage" is a good rule to follow, but if you — as an example — read a bunch of Sherlock fic and then get hired to write a Sherlock novel, is that then legally problematic?

Hmm.

Let's first sharpen up the terminology a bit, so we can all be sure what we're talking about. The owners of a given IP may not necessarily be the ones tasked with the actual business of inviting others into the property to create new material in that universe. So for convenience's sake let's just lump the actual owners and the ones managing the IP on their behalf together as "the Licensors". The person/s allowed by the licensor to execute this new art, or to hire people to do it, is/are the licensee/s. (...It's actually a little more complicated than that, but let's leave it there for the moment.)

Now, about your first question: let me head first for a situation where I've been in the past, so I can tell you what I did.

Let's say someone who's read Star Trek fanfic—not exactly vast amounts, but some, a decade or so previously—goes pro and then gets asked by the licensor, "Hey, wanna write a Star Trek novel?" When that happened to me, I let my editor know that I'd read some Trek fic in my time, but would do my best to avoid any storyline that was anything like any fic material I could remember. And for a long time I had an informal agreement with Pocket Books—noncontractual, but one I adhered to rigidly—that I would avoid reading any Trek fanfic while I was writing Trek professionally, and would only read Trek material provided to me by the publisher themselves. (This habit has persisted for a long while, as—these days in particular—there's no telling when the phone might ring...)

Back in the day, this approach worked well enough to be going on with. For one thing, Trek fanfic was then way thinner on the ground than it is now, and (being printed pretty much exclusively in paper fanzines) was far easier to avoid. It also worked because I had no desire whatsoever to take the chance of borrowing anybody else's material to begin with. Then as now, I'd have felt that would've been seriously wrong—and anyway, I had more than enough ideas of my own. ...And it worked for a third set of reasons, peculiar to Trek.

Early on, the attitude of (first Paramount, then Gulf&Western, then... who came next? Viacom? Anyway—) the corporate owners was essentially, "We own this IP; nobody should be writing fic in it without our permission; if anybody gives us grief about one of our books being like something of theirs they wrote illegally, we'll come after them with the lawyers." This attitude was markedly not Roddenberry's (at least early on...). He absolutely knew about fic, saw it at conventions, and largely seemed not to mind. This weird dichotomy of stances contributed to an atmosphere in which ficcing fans were inclined to walk softly, try to keep from being noticed by the corporate levels, and (if they engaged with Gene on the subject) keep it very low-key.

Now around the same time I was doing my first couple/few Trek works, the profic/fanfic interface started to get spikier. This was at least partly due to the problems that followed Marion Zimmer Bradley's engagement with a fan writer in her Darkover universe. At least partly as a result of this, various pros' attitudes toward people ficcing in their universes noticeably hardened—the emphasis shifting from concerns about personal preference to sharper ones centering on the writer's potential legal exposure. (Though the two kinds of issue did sometimes get tangled together.)

So that bubbled along for a good while in the background, coming more seriously to the boil when the Internet became a thing, and fic started to percolate through it in newsgroups and mailing lists and (finally) onto easily accessible web pages; and most recently, into platforms like AO3.

And this is where the question of ease of access becomes a significant part of the equation, and the picture shifts equally significantly.

I can't help but smile at the phrasing "If you—as an example—read a bunch of Sherlock fic and then get hired to write a Sherlock novel..." Because though there may be some Tumblerini sitting at the bottom of the crater Daedalus or in the depths of Valles Marineris* who don't know about this, well, I'm a Sherlock fan... and this query is pertinent.

Let's say that Messiah comes, the King returns, and the BBC commissions Sherlock S5. And secondary to that, let's say that the production staff call my agent and say, "We hear you've got this hot licensed-property writer who's done work for all these different licensors. How about you ask her if she wants to write a Sherlock novel for us?"

And now we're up against it... because there's more than one kind of tie-in novel.

One is the kind where you novelize a script. Of agreeing to that I'd have no fear, because the boundaries of such work are tightly circumscribed. The writer's job in such a situation is to render the dialogue and visuals as gracefully as possible into prose, and otherwise to avoid unnecessary flights of fancy that might jar against the writers'/producers' creative vision. ...So if that was what they wanted, I'd pretend to think about it for a couple of days, and then have the agent call them back and say "Yeah, sure, let's do it." (And then the shrieks of delight would begin. Sometimes it's useful to live this far out in the country.)

But if they wanted an original novel? A new Sherlock story?...

I would have to say no. Because my AO3 bookmarks are hip-deep in Sherlock fics, and there is no way, NO way, I could say with my hand on my heart that I was sure I wasn't going to wind up, however accidentally, borrowing or restating something I'd seen of someone else's. If I accepted that job, and then (a year, two years, five years later) someone appeared with evidence in their hands and said, "You used a situation / language that's clearly mine", I would be utterly shattered.

And would it be "legally problematic"? You bet it would. Forgive me for not spelling out all the ways it could be Bad. But even if the situation was finally resolved in the friendliest way possible for everybody concerned, the fact of what had gone wrong would hang like a shadow over every other piece of licensed work I might ever want to do. (And there probably wouldn't be a lot of those.)

So realistically speaking, the ethics of the situation would make that a challenge I wouldn't dare take. I would walk away and try my best to keep to myself the annoyance that would follow. It'd be sad, but it'd be necessary: because the lines I expect to be drawn to protect me, I must also make sure will equally protect others. It's only right.

Anyway, thanks for the question(s). Hope I've sufficiently covered the ground; and HTH.

*I almost typed that as "Valles Marinaris". Yeah, the Solar System's biggest known crevasse now suddenly full of spaghetti sauce? I almost did that. Always proof your copy three times...

#fanfic #profic #and their changing interface

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ggjunkie · 2 months

Text

Second Chances

Part 1

(surprise! I'm starting a new Adam x reader fanfic)

In a world where love and academia clash, you and Adam are at a crossroads. Your relationship is a tangled mess of miscommunication and jealousy, leading to a heart-wrenching breakup. As you navigate the aftermath, staying with a friend and starting a new job at a skating rink, Adam's unresolved feelings and misunderstandings only add to the turmoil. When your paths cross again, will the truth come to light, and can y'all salvage what was lost?

"Get the fuck out!"

Adam's voice exploded through the small apartment, reverberating off the walls and filling the space with a palpable fury. His tone was a cauldron of rage, boiling over in a way you had never witnessed, not even during your most heated disagreements. The intensity of his glare made your heart lodge in your throat, a lump of dread and confusion.

You took a tentative step forward, reaching out a trembling hand, desperate to soothe the storm raging within him. But he responded with a sharp, frustrated grunt, and you flinched as if struck. "Adam–"

Without warning, he spun on his heel and stormed toward the bedroom. Panic surged through you, propelling you after him. This couldn't be how it ended—not in a blaze of anger and misunderstanding. Your legs felt like lead, each step a monumental effort as you forced yourself to keep pace.

"Adam, please!" your voice cracked, thick with emotion. "Talk to me!"

When you enter your shared bedroom, you find Adam with the dresser drawers pulled out as far as they can go, the contents spilling onto the floor in a chaotic mess. He's bent at the waist, rummaging furiously, tossing articles of clothing over his shoulder. As you watch, you realize with a sickening lurch that every piece of clothing he's discarding is yours.

You pause in your pursuit, the sudden wave of dizziness making it hard to stand. The room feels like it's closing in on you, spinning with the weight of the situation. You desperately need to sit down, but your legs refuse to cooperate, rooted to the spot by a mixture of fear and despair.

“Adam, please, look at me–”

His head snaps up, his eyes blazing with fury. “I said for you to LEAVE!” He hurls a pair of your socks at you. They hit your chest and fall to the floor, but the impact feels like a punch to the gut. Although the socks are soft and fuzzy, the gesture is laden with venom, and your whole body aches with the force of his anger.

You clutch the socks to your chest like a lifeline, the texture of the fabric grounding you in the midst of the emotional storm. The softness contrasts sharply with the harsh reality of the situation, a small comfort in a sea of turmoil. You cling to them, your fingers tightening around the fabric, desperate for something to hold onto as your world crumbles around you.

"Adam," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Why are you doing this? Just talk to me."

But Adam is relentless, his movements jerky and aggressive as he continues to empty the dresser. Pajamas, socks, and shorts fly through the air, each item landing with a muted thud on the growing pile. His shoulders heave with the intensity of his emotions, and you can see the strain in every line of his body.

"You know why," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "You know exactly why."

His words pierce through you, sharp and unforgiving. You rack your brain, trying to understand, to piece together what could have brought you to this moment. But all you find is confusion and heartbreak, a gnawing emptiness where certainty used to be.

"Adam, please," you beg, taking a tentative step forward. "I don't understand. Just tell me what's going on."

He stops abruptly, his back still turned to you. For a moment, there's silence, thick and heavy. You hold your breath, hoping against hope that he'll turn around, that he'll see the pain in your eyes and soften.

But when he speaks again, his voice is flat, devoid of any warmth. "There's nothing to talk about. Just go."

Adam's frenzy has shifted to your closet now, where he yanks hangers from their rods with a savage force. The metal hooks clang and scrape against each other, a discordant symphony of chaos as they fall to the floor. Shirts, blouses, and pants are hurled in a careless torrent, their colors and fabrics a blur of destruction.

Your eyes lock onto a specific piece—a cherished top your grandfather had gifted you for a family picture. The sentimental value of the shirt makes it stand out like a beacon amid the chaos.

Without thinking, you dive forward, your body moving on instinct. You catch the shirt just before it hits the floor, clutching it to your chest as if it’s a fragile piece of your heart. Anger flares in your throat, hot and fierce, mingling with the hurt and confusion that have been building.

"Oh, fuck you, Adam," you spew, your voice shaking with the effort to contain the rising tide of emotion. The words hang in the air, a desperate challenge. But Adam doesn't flinch. He doesn't even pause. He continues to throw your clothing, each piece a dismissal, each toss a clear message that he won’t acknowledge you.

His silence, his refusal to even glance your way, ignites a fire within you. The anger that had been simmering now burns brightly, fueled by the sense of betrayal and abandonment. You click your tongue in frustration, determined to break through his wall of indifference. You need him to see you, to recognize the pain he's causing.

“You piece of shit. This isn’t only your apartment,” you shout, your voice cracking under the weight of your frustration.

Adam doesn’t even flinch. His back remains rigid, his movements mechanical as he continues to throw hangers and clothes with increasing violence. The hangers clang against the floor, scattering around like debris from a storm.

“I live here too!” you continue, your voice rising in desperation. “You can’t kick me out like this.” A pair of your pants lands in a heap, further fueling the inferno of your rage and helplessness.

“Adam, baby, love, look at me. I’m sorry, okay?” you beg, your voice softening to a pleading whisper. “We had a stupid argument, I can’t even remember what it was about. Please, don’t do this.” You take a step forward, your hands outstretched, hoping for some sign of recognition or empathy. But he keeps tossing hangers behind him, a wall of indifference blocking you out.

The ache in your chest tightens as you see his refusal to acknowledge you. The pain and desperation seep through, and before you can stop yourself, the words escape your lips, sharp and biting. “No wonder fucking Lilith and Eve left you, you’re throwing a fit like some fucking toddler.”

The cascade of clothes abruptly halts, the sudden silence almost deafening. The fleeting surge of triumph you felt for finally getting his attention is quickly overshadowed by a deep, gnawing regret. Your heart pounds as Adam spins around, his face a storm of raw, unrestrained emotion.

He’s clutching one of your scarves, the very one he had given you with so much affection. The sight of it in his hands, an emblem of the love you once shared, cuts deeper than any of his earlier actions. The vibrant fabric, which once represented his thoughtfulness, now feels like a knife twisting in your chest.

You wince, the sting of the moment almost too much to bear. Yet, you steel yourself, driven by a stubborn resolve. Slowly, you rise to your feet, the weight of your grandfather’s shirt pressing heavily against your chest, a symbol of your last thread of emotional stability.

Adam’s gaze locks onto you, his eyes wild and pained, a turbulent sea of hurt and anger. You stand there, holding the shirt tightly, a protective shield against the storm of emotions swirling between you. The room is a disarray of chaos and broken promises, and now that you have his attention, the reality of the situation settles over you with a crushing weight.

You’re caught in a limbo, unsure of how to bridge the chasm that has opened up between you. The words that might have once come easily are now trapped, your throat tight and your mind racing to find the right ones. The space between you feels vast and filled with unspoken fears, and you struggle to find a way to heal the wounds laid bare in this moment.

The room is thick with tension, and the atmosphere feels as charged as an old Western standoff. Adam’s eyes lock onto you with an intensity that makes the air around you crackle. In your hands, the shirt feels like a weapon, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong, poised to fire the final shot in this painful confrontation.

Tick…

The sound of the clock seems to stretch, each tick an agonizing reminder of the seconds slipping away. Adam’s frown deepens, his face a canvas of suppressed tears and raw emotion. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his anger and the vulnerability threatening to break through.

Tick…

Your fingers twitch reflexively against the shirt, the fabric crumpling slightly as you try to maintain your composure. The weight of the moment presses down on you, making each heartbeat feel like a drum pounding in your ears.

Tick…

Adam’s hand closes around your scarf, the one he had given you with so much love. He crumples it into a tight ball, the action a physical manifestation of his turmoil. It’s a small, intimate gesture, but it carries the weight of all the unspoken pain between you.

Tick…

Without warning, he throws the balled-up scarf at you with a sudden, fierce motion. It lands against your chest, a cold, tangible reminder of his hurt and disappointment. As you let the shirt fall to the floor, you catch the scarf in a fluid motion, the finality of the action settling over you like a heavy shroud.

You’ve accepted the inevitable, the end of what once was. With deliberate calmness, you tie the scarf around your neck, its familiar softness now a bittersweet comfort. You turn away from him, the raw edge of the moment settling deep within your bones.

As you make your way to the door, Adam’s eyes follow you, glossy and brimming with unshed tears. His gaze is a silent plea, a reflection of the emotions he's fighting to contain. You catch a fleeting glimpse of his vulnerability before you step out into the hallway.

Before the door closes behind you, you call out with a voice that’s steady despite the turmoil inside. “I’ll be back for my clothes later.”

–

The movies were right—ice cream does help.

It had been a few days since that fateful night, and you found solace in the simple comfort of a tub of Neapolitan ice cream. You were fortunate to have a best friend who pulled through for you, offering a place to crash in the spare room of her apartment. Her other two roommates had graciously moved into the same room to give you some space, and you rarely saw them, which was a small mercy you were grateful for.

The only requirement for your stay was to contribute towards rent, a more than fair arrangement. Before this upheaval, you had been too focused on college to hold down a job, with Adam taking on most of the rent. In return, you handled the house chores, a partnership that now felt like a distant memory. The thought of Adam, his presence so entwined with your daily life, brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. You quickly shoved another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, the cold, creamy dessert a temporary balm for the ache in your heart.

The icy sweetness cooled your tongue and, for a moment, kept the tears at bay. You sat on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket, the dim light of the living room casting soft shadows around you. The room was a sanctuary, a quiet retreat from the emotional storm you had been weathering.

"Augh, geeze babe."

You turn around, glancing up past the couch to see your friend, Velvette, standing there with a concerned expression. Adam was never a fan of her, which only makes the current moment more bittersweet. You scoop another mouthful of Neapolitan ice cream, the sweet coldness staving off the threatening tears.

Velvette spins on her heel and heads towards the bathroom. You shift your attention back to the TV, the mindless noise a welcome distraction from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your mind.

Time blurs as you focus on the screen, and you’re not exactly sure when Velvette reemerged from the bathroom. The couch dips beside you, and you flinch away when something wet touches your cheek. Startled, you look down and see a wet rag. Glancing up at Velvette, your confusion is evident.

"Micellar water," she explains, her tone gentle yet firm. "You need to take off your makeup because right now you look like a hot mess, and not in that cute sexy way."

You close your eyes and let Velvette swipe away at your face, the once-running mascara now dried and crusted uncomfortably on your cheeks. If you squeeze your eyes shut, you can almost pretend it’s Adam taking care of you like he always did. The thought makes you lean into her touch, even if her hand is a bit rougher with your face than his ever was.

The rag disappears, and you're quick to open your eyes. Your gaze meets Velvette’s, who is measuring you with a calculated stare. Although she’s never one to show much emotion, you swear you see a flicker of worry in her eyes.

“What’re you doing out here?” she asks, her voice surprisingly soft.

“Watching TV,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Velvette glances at the TV, her frown deepening. She looks back at you, her expression a mix of concern and exasperation. “Babe, you’re just on the Netflix home screen.”

You follow her gaze and realize she’s right. The familiar red logo and rows of suggestions are all that fill the screen. You hadn’t even noticed, too lost in your thoughts to care about what was actually playing.

Your lip wobbles pathetically before you practically throw yourself into Velvette’s arms. She caringly rubs your back while you sob into her sleep shirt, her touch unsure and tentative. She’s never been particularly affectionate, and you suppose growing up around only boys does that to someone. Her awkward but genuine attempts to comfort you are endearing, and you cling to her, letting the sobs wrack your body.

Your mind flickers to the two boys just down the hall, and suddenly you’re sobering up, the flood of emotions giving way to a sharp, uncomfortable clarity.

“Did…” you harshly sniffle, pushing yourself up and away from your friend. “Did the boys snitch?”

Velvette averts her eyes, her hesitation giving her away. “...Val says you’ve been crying since I went to bed.”

You wrinkle your nose, upset that he, of all people, noticed. “Val can go shoot himself.”

Velvette laughs, even if she doesn’t verbally disagree with your disgust. Despite yourself, the thought makes a bubble of giggle escape your lips. Velvette seems satisfied that she at least made you laugh. She reaches over you, grabbing the TV remote, and starts browsing through the Netflix selection.

“What do you want to watch?” she asks.

This is the most considerate she’s ever been, and it makes you worry about how much of a mess you must seem right now. Velvette’s affection is usually shown through harsh but truthful comments, which is why Adam doesn’t like her much—or didn’t, you correct yourself. Your eyes start to feel wet again, the emotional rollercoaster catching up to you.

Velvette must notice this because she quickly turns on the first mind-numbing cartoon she sees. You don’t even have time to register the title before the first scene begins. Instead, you lean back and press yourself into Velvette’s side. She wraps a tight arm around you, and the warmth of her embrace fills you with a swell of platonic affection.

The show’s bright colors and silly antics provide a welcome distraction. Velvette’s presence, solid and comforting, grounds you as you let out a long, shaky breath. Just when you start to relax, she reaches over and steals the tub of ice cream from your hands. With a mischievous grin, she shovels as much as she can into her mouth before you manage to pull it back.

–

Finding a job as a college student isn’t the easiest thing in the world. After countless applications, interviews, and rejection emails, you finally secured a minimum-wage job that would at least help contribute toward rent. The job isn’t glamorous, but it’s a start.

You stand outside the local skating rink, the chilly evening air nipping at your cheeks. Clutching your personal pair of skates to your chest, you take a deep breath. The skates are well-worn, a testament to countless hours spent trying to master the art of skating. You’re not a pro, but you’re steady enough to monitor the rink and ensure the kids stay in line and keep safe. You hope that as time goes on, you’ll pick up more tricks and skills, gradually improving your abilities.

As you approach the tinted glass doors, your thoughts inevitably drift to Adam. What would he think of you now? Would he be proud of the fact that you’re working hard to contribute to your own survival? Or would he be embarrassed by the seemingly mundane nature of your job? The questions gnaw at you, their answers elusive as you try to focus on the present.

With a deep breath to steady yourself, you push open the doors. The lobby of the rink greets you with a burst of neon colors and the unmistakable smell of old popcorn and synthetic skate polish. The classic arcade carpet, with its psychedelic patterns and worn edges, stretches out beneath your feet. As you look around, you can’t help but notice the gross, mysterious stains that dot the carpet, remnants of the rink’s countless youthful visitors.

Well, this is what you get for landing a job catered to kids. The thought brings a wry smile to your face, a small reminder that even the messiest jobs have their charm.

You step into the lobby, the bright lights and vibrant colors reflecting off the glass walls, and you can’t help but feel a mix of nervousness and excitement. Your first shift starts in just a few minutes. You remind yourself to focus on the task at hand, to embrace the role and make the best of it. The rink may not be the fanciest place, but it’s a job, and it’s a step towards rebuilding your life.

A life without Adam.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #x reader #adam x reader

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noodles-icetea · 3 months

Text

Watching Megumi Fushiguro fall in love with someone else: A Silent Shadow's Tale

Megumi X F!Reader (Megumi is shown from teens to adult) Disclaimer: Hey there, fellow JJK enthusiasts! This fanfic is my take on the quieter side of Jujutsu Kaisen, where emotions run deeper than cursed techniques. I don’t own JJK, but if I did, Megumi would definitely have more screen time and Inumaki would get his own spin-off. Warnings: Get ready for feels aplenty! This story dives into unrequited love, awkward rooftop encounters, and enough emotional rollercoasters to rival a cursed spirit rampage. Also, brace yourselves for some serious heart-palpitating moments—I’m not responsible for emotional whiplash! Introduction: Welcome to my little corner of JJK chaos! Step into the shoes of a silent admirer, watching from the shadows as love dances around like a cursed spirit in Shibuya. It has Megumi being his usual brooding self. We’ll unravel the tangled web of unspoken words, lingering glances, and the sweet agony of watching someone you care about from afar. So grab your cursed tools, summon your inner sorcerer, and enjoy the ride, and maybe keep some tissues handy. You know, just in case. 😉

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I still remember the first time I saw Megumi Fushiguro at Jujutsu High. His quiet intensity drew me in immediately, even though I tried my best to remain unnoticed in the background. He was always so focused, so determined. I admired him from afar, my heart fluttering each time he passed by in the hallways.

Years passed, and I never mustered the courage to speak to him. I watched him grow stronger, more confident. He became friends with Yuji and Nobara, and while they laughed and chatted, I remained in the shadows, content with my silent adoration. Whenever he glanced my way, my heart would race, and I'd quickly find somewhere else to look, afraid that he might see the feelings in my eyes.

Megumi always tried to include me in conversations. He'd ask about my day or share a comment about the latest mission, but I’d just mumble a response and retreat, my cheeks burning. He probably thought I was just shy or not much of a talker. How could he know that each word I spoke to him felt like a monumental effort, that his presence alone made my heart feel like it was about to burst?

As we graduated and continued our missions as jujutsu sorcerers, I watched him from the corner of my eye. I saw how he looked at others, how his expressions softened around certain people. There was a girl, a fellow sorcerer, who caught his attention. Her name was Aoi. She was strong, confident, everything I was not. They worked together often, their bond growing with each passing mission. I saw the way he looked at her, with a mix of admiration and something more. It broke my heart, but I couldn't blame him. Aoi was incredible.

Years slipped by, and I remained the silent observer. We were all 27 now, seasoned sorcerers who had seen too much, lost too much. Megumi and Aoi were inseparable. It was clear to everyone that they were in love, even if they hadn't said it outright. I stood on the sidelines, a silent witness to their blossoming relationship, my feelings for Megumi buried deep within me.

There were moments when Megumi would still approach me, his eyes kind and inquisitive. He'd ask if I was okay, if I needed anything. Each time, I'd give a small smile, nod, and find an excuse to leave. My heart ached, but I couldn't bear to be close to him, knowing he belonged to someone else.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, Megumi found me sitting alone on a rooftop, the city lights twinkling below us. He sat beside me in silence, and for a moment, it felt like old times, when we were just students at Jujutsu High. He turned to me, his eyes searching mine.

"Hey," he said softly. "Are you sure you're okay? You always seem to be running away."

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look at him. "I'm fine, Megumi. Just… tired."

He nodded, his gaze still intent on me. "You know, if there's ever anything you want to talk about, I'm here."

My heart twisted painfully, and I managed a small smile. "Thank you, Megumi."

He smiled back, a gentle, understanding smile that made my heart ache even more. He stood up, offering me a hand. "Come on, let's get back. Everyone's waiting."

I took his hand, my fingers trembling slightly. As we walked back to our friends, I couldn't help but steal one last glance at him. Megumi Fushiguro, the man I had loved in silence for so many years. My feelings would remain unspoken, locked away in the depths of my heart. But I would always cherish these moments, these fleeting interactions that meant everything to me.

And so, I continued to walk by his side, a silent shadow, content with the little pieces of his world that I could still be a part of.

Author's Note: Hey lovely readers! So, this little story came to me when I saw this playlist tagged above, fueled by way too many late-night JJK marathons and an unhealthy amount of caffeine. 🚀 Remember, unspoken love is like a cursed spirit—it’s always lurking, just waiting to mess with your feelings. Feel free to drop a comment if you laughed, cried, or if you just want to yell about how much you love Megumi (because, same). Disclaimer: The characters, settings, and original storyline belong to Gege Akutami and the creators of Jujutsu Kaisen. I do not claim ownership of any original Jujutsu Kaisen characters, concepts, or plots. This work is purely fan-made and created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. The specific plot, original characters, and any unique dialogue or scenes in this fan fiction are my own creations. Please do not reproduce, distribute, or re-post this work without my explicit permission. Feel free to reblog and share this post with proper credit, but please do not copy and paste the content elsewhere. This story may contain themes of unrequited love, emotional turmoil, and angst. Reader discretion is advised. This work is rated [appropriate rating based on content, e.g., "T for Teen" or "M for Mature"], and is intended for audiences of the appropriate age. Constructive feedback and comments are welcome and encouraged. However, please keep interactions respectful and kind. Any form of harassment, bullying, or inappropriate behavior will not be tolerated and may result in being blocked or reported. While I strive to provide appropriate content warnings, please be aware that certain themes or topics may still be triggering for some readers. Proceed with caution and take care of your mental well-being. This fan fiction falls under the fair use doctrine, as it is a non-commercial work created for the enjoyment of fans and the celebration of the original series. Thank you for reading and supporting fan fiction! Enjoy the story, and feel free to engage with the content responsibly.

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barblaz-arts · 2 months

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Hello!! I'm a big fan of your artwork and you make just amazing ocs for Fandoms that exist and I wanted to know do you plan to make your original story and characters there. I would love to see it. I think you could make something that would go really popular!! (I don't know did anyone ask this before I couldn't find it😭) and also as a person I really get interested about artists real life so do you share anywhere it?

Thank you! I do in fact have some original stories and characters. I've never posted art of them online because I made them before I had social media when I was a teenager. Back then I'd always draw my original comics on sketchbooks that my classmates would pass around. I might revisit those stories and characters again someday, and now as an adult i for sure wanna make some adjustments. If ever I share those stories again I hope you guys like em too

I do have plans to maybe make something out of some recent-ish original characters I made. They were from a fanfic I posted sometime ago about my idea of a spin-off story for Cassandra from Tangled, but I might make it a story of their own without Cassandra. Since I restricted my AO3, I'll share their backstory under the cut

Summary from AO3:

To pay for a debt that Cassandra owed to Princess Liana of Verdania, she's tasked to find the princess's estranged sister born from the king's affair with a handmaiden. As Cassandra's journey lets her uncover the royal family's secrets, she comes to realize how closely these people's tales parallel her own

The cart rattles and bounces as the terrain becomes more and more uneven. They must not be in the capital city anymore. The little stowaway continues to watch in awe from the back of the cart, blue eyes taking in every thing they could from the flap's opening. All the fields and trees in this part of the kingdom... What a shame that she had to sneak out to finally see how beautiful her home is.

When the horses stop, the little girl jerks forward and almost falls out of the cart.

"Please wait here."

The girl's heart stops when she hears her mother's voice. For second, she thought she'd been caught. But her mother was only talking to Alan, the young guard she convinced to take her here.

She watches her mother get off the cart. To the little girl, it's so marvelously strange to see the usally regal woman clad in what commoners would usually wear. Her mother heads to the little house the cart parked in front of. She merely stands there at first, looking so uncharastically unsure of herself.

Eventually, her mother knocks. Someone opens the door, a woman with dark skin and thick curly hair tied back revealing herself.

This must be "Lucille", thinks the stowaway.

She can't hear them from where she's hiding, but it seems her mother is saying something. Lucille stares, shocked. Soon, her mother is let inside the house. The girl pouts at this development. She can't see what's happening if they're inside.

Luckily, the girl didn't have to wait long for something interesting to happen. The door swings open again. This time a girl slightly older than the stowaway comes out. She's a near splitting image of Lucille. The beat of her heart quickens.

It's her! It's her! she thinks.

She could barely contain her excitement as she jumps out of the stuffy cart. The older girl is skipping ahead of her and the stowaway watches in awe as she follows. She's humming a happy tune, her voice beautiful and light with innocent joy. She must live a happy life in that small but cozy-looking house.

Lucille's daughter arrives at a grassy field, descending down the inclined plain with a trail of gleeful giggles. The stowaway lets herself watch for another moment before following after her. But something like a rock catches the tip of her shoe, and the stowaway comes stumbling down the hill into a bruised - and humiliated - heap.

She pulls her face off the grass before it reddens when she sees that the older girl noticed and likely saw her fall.

"Are you okay?" Lucille's daughter says once she's crouched in front of her.

Now that she's so much closer, she can see her face. She can see that despite being oppsites in most of their physical appearance, they have something in common. Blue eyes, dark blue like the night sky. She feels a grin stretch her lips.

"Oh, well." Lucille's daughter giggles and picks out grass from her red hair. "If you can smile like that, then I guess you're okay." She holds out a hand. "I'm Stella. What's your name?"

"I'm Liana." She forgoes taking Stella's hand in favor of wrapping her arms arouns her neck. Breathlessly, she says, "I'm your sister." She laughs in sheer delight. There may be tears prickling her eyes. "I'm so happy. I finally met you!"

"Whoa. Wait a second. Sister?" Liana's smile melts away when Stella pulls herself out of the embrace. She looks confused, taking in Liana's pale skin and red hair. "Missy, we look nothing alike."

"We have the same father," Liana explains. With Stella's cautiousness, Liana's excitement has gone away, all that's left now is insecurity. "I overheard Mother arguing with Father the other week. She was really mad, so I couldn't help listening in. She got angry at Father because she found out he has a daughter with a woman named Lucille."

Stella's eyes widen as she takes all this information in. "Is your mother the woman in our house right now? Queen Eloise?"

Liana nods, eyes down at her folded lap. Stella doesn't look as happy at the discovery of having a sister. Now there really are tears in Liana's eyes. She stands, too humiliated to bother brushing off the grass and dirt that have clung to her dress.

"I'm sorry," Liana says, already turning to leave. "I'm not even supposed to be here. I'm going to --"

"Hey, wait," Stella softly calls after her.

A hand takes hold of Liana's wrist, and she lets herself get turned back to Stella. The older girl sympathetically looks at Liana's downtrodden face before gently wiping away the tear tracks on her cheeks.

Then, without warning, Stella pulls a face, eyes and nose scrunched up and tongue poking out of her mouth. Liana is so surprised that she gasps out her laughter.

"What are you doing?" Liana asks in between giggles.

Stella relaxes her face to a more natural grin. "Just wanted to make you smile, is all. What kind of sister would I be if I made you cry?"

Happiness blooms in Liana's chest. Before she knows it, fresh tears are leaking out of her eyes.

"Oh no, what's wrong?" Stella panics.

Liana shakes her head as she continues to sob. "I'm just really happy."

At this answer, Stella is back to her giggly self. "Aww..." she coos, continuing to rub at Liana's cheeks. "You're a bit of a crybaby, aren't you? Come here."

Stella takes Liana's hand in hers and pulls her to where the flowers are abundant.

"I was going to make a flower crown for the queen," Stella starts to say. "She looked really sad, you see..." Something somber flashes in Stella's eyes. "... but I guess I understand why now. Mama wanted me to play outside so she could talk to her alone, so I thought this could cheer her up a little bit." She takes a daisy off its stem to tuck it behind Liana's ear. "But it looks like you could use it, too. You want to make one with me?"

"I don't know how," Liana sheepishly admits.

"Not a problem! I'll teach you."

But Stella doesn't get to teach her. Lucille had come looking for her daughter, and she brought Queen Eloise with her.

"Liana! What are you doing here?" Eloise pulls Liana to her feet, away from the flowers and away from Stella.

"I wanted to see my sister," Liana says, already desperate to run back to Stella.

Eloise blinks. She takes deep breaths, fingers tightening the slightest bit around her daughter's wrist. When she's calmed down, she gives Lucille and Stella a meaningful look before telling Liana, "You'll have to say goodbye now. We're going home."

But their castle isn't a home. In the castle, her father doesn't like playing with her. Her mother is often so sad, Liana doesn't feel like she's there. But here, there are tall trees and fields of flowers and Stella ready to wipe away her tears.

Liana pries her wrist out of Eloise's grip and begs, "I don't want to leave."

Someone stands between them, and Liana stares at her sister's back. "Please stay a little longer," Stella pleads. "I want to talk to her more."

For one second, Eloise looks like she might give in. But Lucille finally speaks up.

"No, sweetie," Lucille says and pulls her daughter to her side. "They can't stay any longer. The king might look for them. And he can't..." Lucille trails off without finishing what she was about to say. She looks at Eloise. "Please, go."

For reasons that Liana can't yet understand, Eloise looks pained. She takes Liana's wrist again and hastily pulls her daughter to their cart.

"Princess Liana?" Alan says, bewildered. "Why are you here?"

"That's not important right now," Eloise says, voice tight. "Take us back to the castle. Quickly."

"Of course. As you wish, your highness."

This time, Eloise doesn't sit with Alan at the reins. She gets inside the cart with her daughter. Liana prepares herself for another lecture, but her ears pick up on someone else's voice.

"Liana! Hey! Sister!"

Liana scrambles to the back of the cart and lifts open the flap before Eloise could protest. Stella is running after them, panting and shouting her words at them as best she could.

"For the record! I'm really happy too! I'm happy to know! That I have such an adorable sister!"

Like Liana at the hill, something makes Stella trip and fall to the ground. Liana gasps, worried, but Stella pulls her face out of the dirt with a huge grin. Liana laughs despite herself, despite her tears.

She watches until Stella and Lucille are so far away that she can no longer see their faces. The tinier they become, the tighter Liana's chest becomes. She turns back to Eloise, surprised to see her mother look as sad as she feels.

"Mother?"

Eloise only wipes at the wetness in her eyes. Liana takes the flower in her ear, crawls back to Eloise, and tucks the flower into her mother's ear.

"Stella was going to teach me how to make a flower crown," Liana says. "She thought giving you one might cheer you up, because you looked really sad. But this is all I have right now."

Eloise's face softens. She takes her daughter into her arms and Liana buries her face in her mother's chest.

"I suppose..." Eloise says, "... we might have to go back so you can learn how to make one."

....

And that's it! I had their story all laid out. Liana and Stella are separated at some point in their teens. Liana eventually is required to be married off to another king, so she tries to get Stella to see her again before she's whisked away to another kingdom. On Stella's journey on her way back to her sister, she's supposed to discover that her mother's "affair" isn't what it seemed, and the two sisters help rekindle an old bond that their mothers had.

I'd like to have this drawn out. At least some of the key points and my favorite scenes. Or even just to show how they look like.

And yes, I know. If you've seen my Next Gen Nevermore stuff, you may notice that I used the name Eloise again. That was honestly a coincidence. Queen Eloise was the one I made first. Eloise Johnson was a name my brother chose because I was too lazy to think of one. I realized too late that I'd used the name twice 💀

#asks

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varian-secretportals · 2 months

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What makes a good Varian love-interest?

For my upcoming coming-of-age adventure story for Varian I have plans to give the adorable alchemist his own love story. While I'm certainly not implying that he needs a love interest to be happy, it's something I imagine he does want someday.

I imagine that Rapunzel and Eugene are an example of the kind of romantic love he wants, e.g. a best friend, partner and someone to grow old with. Even his father's undying love for his (supposedly) late mother gives him hope that maybe it could happen for him. At the start of the story I imagine he has a lot of insecurities when it comes to love, partly as result of Cassandra rejecting him (though he's accepting of the fact they'll always be "really good" friends) and the other part because he wonders if he's deserving of it. While he's mostly forgiven himself for his past sins, there's still a scar there and it still stings when he faces rejection from anybody who is not willing to forgive or trust him (I imagine Nigel is one of these people). So throughout my story I imagine he's still learning to forgive and accept all these parts himself and learns how much more he could be.

While I certainly don't ship Cassandra and Varian, I do admit I found Varian's unrequited crush to be very cute. Plus, their friendship was very cute as they truly have a mutual empathy and understanding of each other. Plus, I loved their amazing duet.

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I kind of wish we saw more interactions between these two in the series finale. It would have been good to see them apologise to each other for attempting to hurt and/or kidnap the other in order to get to Rapunzel. While they clearly didn't hold grudges against the other, I just wish they could have had a moment like that. 😔 I'm certainly writing a flashback moment like this into the story for the sake of showing they forgive each other and that they want to build a healthier friendship.

I know a lot of people believe Varian was attracted to Cassandra due him being an Amazon Chaser, e.g. is attracted to strong, warrior women, but @o0whiterabbit0o made a good point that Varian's attraction to Cassandra began as a result of her "choosing him" in choosing to save his life. He was attracted to her because she kindly and selflessly made the effort to protect him, and therefore he felt she was really something special.

While I'm certainly not against this headcanon of Varian being attracted to (or at least strongly respecting) strong women, I think it's safe to say he's attracted to selflessness, kindness and loving devotion in potential partners as well.

I also think intelligence would be an attractive feature for a potential partner. She doesn't have to be at Varian's level of intelligence or even have an interest or skill for alchemy. Still, I think having her own intelluctual interests and hobbies would certainly make her stand out as a potential romantic candidate.

No offence to Varigo shippers (Varian and Hugo V&7K AU ship) but I personally imagine Varian with a girlfriend rather than a boyfriend. I certainly think we need to be respectful of each other's opinions on the subject of Varian's sexuality, but in my opinion I think he's interested (or at least more interested) in women romantically in canon. Therefore I plan for his love interest to be a girl.

So far some of my favourite Varian love interest OC's include Lashanie by @o0whiterabbit0o and Instagram and Cara writer/artist dlimpy's (Links to her accounts can be found below) OC, Danielle. I love their designs and the fanwork these amazing artists/writers have done. Both girls sound like well-rounded and likeable characters with very different but nonetheless fleshed out relationships with Varian. I hope my own OC love interest will be as fleshed out and likeable.

dlimpy's Instagram account:

https://www.instagram.com/dlimpy?igsh=MW52OXlpZ3R2ZzJlNQ==

dlimpy's Cara account:

So far I have two OC's that I am considering as potential love interests for Varian, though I'm currently trying to flesh out their character and story arcs for the sake of making sure they don't fall into the Mary Sue or Satellite Love Interest territory. I want them to be their own person and have other goals to simply being Varian's love interest.

I will eventually introduce you to my OC's in spoiler-free character profiles once I'm done writing them. Maybe eventually I'll share more fleshed out spoiler profiles with backstories once I actually get to writing and publishing my story.

For now I am curious as what you think makes a good and fleshed out Varian love interest? Do you think Varian has a type or least an idea of what he wants in a romantic partner? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

#rta varian #tangled fanfic #tangled spin-off fanfic #varian the alchemist #varian tangled #varian tts #Varian love interest #what would make a good love interest for Varian?#Youtube #varian x oc #varian spin off fanfic #cara app #instagram

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tangledbea · 4 months

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Who is Hugo? I often see that name being mentioned in the tangled fandom.

Hugo is one of the characters from Varian and the Seven Kingdoms, which was a Varian spin-off graphic novel concept that Kay Hayes, Anna Lencioni and Alexa Bosy, all who had worked on Tangled the Series.

Here's everything you could want to know about Vat7K, as the minds behind it released to the public.

In a phone call with Kay, back in the day, they revealed to me that Hugo was going to be endgame for Varian, thus making Varian canonically bi. And though the project never came to fruition, and they released their notes so that the public could do whatever they wanted with it (thus solidifying that Disney will never pick it up as a spin-off, because it's officially a fanwork), people ship Varian and Hugo a lot. So there's a lot of fanart of them and fanfic of them (I assume -- I don't read fanfics about Vat7K, or which are Varian-centric in general).

But he is not an official Tangled character and is, in fact, an OC.

#Tangled #Tangled the Series #TTS #OCs #Varian and the Seven Kingdoms #Links #Answered

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the-tmnt-ficfinder · 2 months

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Ficfinder finds: firefight

Chapter 1

Chapter 1 Summary: Donnie collided with Leo in a tangle of limbs. There was an instinctive cling in return from his twin, before the realization sunk in. "No." Leo breathed in his ear, immediately shattered. "No, no, no, no, no!” Every muscle in Donnie's body was shaking like an earthquake from the amount of effort he'd just expended. The explosion caught up to them, sending the twins spiralling away into space and debris. For one singular moment, Donnie allowed himself a burst of victory. His heart was still thudding a thousand miles an hour in his chest, having been absolutely terrified he wasn't going to make it in time. But he did. And he held onto Leo, his prize. Then they hit the ground, the sudden tumble bursting them apart. Donnie felt the world spin, rapid and disorientating, before he slammed into something rock and cracking under his impact. or: donnie doesn’t let leo go to hell alone

firefight Chapter 1: Appraisal and Ratings

(Don't know what fanfic "Appraisal and Ratings" means? Check out my explanation on my Main Masterpost! Looking for a different fanfic to read? Head on over to my Fanfic List Masterpost!)

Disclaimer: This fanfic is unfinished, and as such, this post will be updated as fanfic updates. This fanfic is written by, @remedyturtles so go show them some love and support!! They write top notch fic's!

The fanfic ratings are not based on quality, favoritism, or how good I think it is, but rather, how intense a subject may be. Like a movie review, or the tags on Ao3, letting the readers know what to expect.

Plot: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Plot is four out of five!! Right off the bat, the plot for this chapter is entertaining, entrancing, and attention capturing! This chapter, is the catalyst for the whole story. Donnie following Leo through the portal, and into the prison dimension is what creates this whole story, like an alternate timeline."

Suspense/Mystery: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Suspense/Mystery is three out of five!! While there is little to no mystery, the entirety of this chapter is built on suspense! What's going to happen? Why did Donnie follow Leo? ARE THEY GOING TO SURVIVE?"

Angst/Hurt: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Angst/Hurt is two out of five! Reading it for the first time, there is less angst to be found, and more drama instead. However, once you get further into the fic, I would highly encourage that you come back and reread the first chapter again. Everything hits SO much harder after that."

Fluff/Comfort: 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Fluff/Comfort is zero out of five!! No comfort to be found in this chapter, along with zero fluff! Just pain and stress ^^"

Emotions Conveyed: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Emotions Conveyed gets a two out of five!! This chapter contains a wide variety of dramatic and stressful emotions, though I predict that the only thing you'll feel while reading this chapter, is a sense of confusion, stress, and the urge to read the next chapter lol."

Drama/Tension Level: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Drama/Tension Level gets a four out of five!! The moment Leo and Donnie get a chance to speak, tension is high, drama is drama-ing, and things are bad!"

Triggers: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Triggers for this chapter are two out of five!! This chapter is not a very triggering chapter, so you folks are safe for now! Keep in mind though, that there are still triggers, and that it may be a good idea to read the tags before starting this fic."

Legibility (Reading): 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Legibility (Reading) is four out of five!! This chapter is a rather enjoyable one to read. The writing style is easy on the eyes, and fun to read, especially as many of the words are emphasized through the use of italics."

Legibility (Audio): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Audio) gets a five out of five!! To be honest, I adored listening to this chapter in audio book form! The writing style sounds very nice when spoken aloud, making it a fun listen!!"

Length: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Length is three out of five!! Chapter 1 of firefight takes about 24-25 minutes to listen to!!"

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Next Chapter ->

Firefight: Story Ratings and Chapter List

Personal thoughts on chapter below cut (Contains Spoilers)

At the very start of the chapter, this is displayed.

It's firefight and I, I won't run There's spit and spite all through my blood For you and me, there's nowhere left to hide Except you and me, there's no one else alive - Firefight by Jimmy Eat World

At first I thought, this might be a poem, then after some research, I realized that this is a song called firefight, and the lyrics are;

This is where our diligence has lead The waves roll in to claim our patient steps Can we become more than just ourselves? And leave the sand, I wonder will I doubt

It's firefight, I won't run. They're spitting spite all through my blood For you and me, there's nowhere left to hide Except you and me, there's no one else alive

This is now the moment after next. All these still the eyes of the temptress Why open the door if you won't go? Don't ask twice if you don't wanna know.

It's firefight, I won't run. They're spitting spite all in my blood For you and me, there's nowhere left to hide Except you and me, there's no one else alive

Is there an answer? If it's an honest one, honestly worth this question There's no question The city has no witness I am who I wanna be, but you could be anything Just be anything here with me. Love is quartz and breaths the secondhand If you let go then that's where time will stand.

It's firefight, I won't run. They're spitting spite all through my blood

For you and me, there's nowhere left to hide Except you and me, there's no one else alive It's firefight, I won't run. They're spitting spite all through my blood For you and me, there's nowhere left to hide Except you and me, there's no one else alive.

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To be honest, I feel as if this song speaks perfectly for firefight, and completely frames the story plot.

Each verse followed by the main chorus, represents an arc of the story. Now, I really want to delve deep into this, because I feel like I've found something really cool, however, I'll restrain myself and only focus on the beginning bits, as they apply to the first arc. Though, I will continue to reference the song 'firefight' as I go through the chapters.

In the very first verse it says;

"This is where our diligence has lead The waves roll in to claim our patient steps Can we become more than just ourselves? And leave the sand, I wonder will I doubt"

I feel like this is incredibly symbolic of the fight against the Krang, and the twin's struggle in the prison dimension. Their diligence lead them to the prison dimension, effectively erasing them from their brothers lives, like footprints in the sand. They left their lives behind, to be forever changed. Donnie, upon coming into the prison dimension, tells Leo he has no regret. No doubts.

In the second verse, it says

"It's firefight and I, I won't run There's spit and spite all through my blood"

To pair with that;

There was distant shouts from his brothers, but it didn’t matter because they were okay, they were fine and Leo was about to not be. The urgency pushed his ninpo, twisting back his bo and summoning veritable jet engines to propel him towards the portal. There wasn’t enough time. He just needed a little more time.

Donnie didn't run away from danger, but rather towards his twin. He made it to him, through pure spite, fighting to reach him. The writing for this is incredible!!

"Are you okay?" Donnie asked, because Leo still had that lost-panicked look, fingers fluttering uselessly at his side, mouth parted. "Am I okay?" Leo repeated, incredulous. "What the hell, Donnie?" "Ah." Donnie let his head thud back, swallowing his sore throat and finally catching up to what was going on. "So you were trying to die, then."

I find these few paragraph right here to be very impactful, especially with how the story progresses. Donnie says this with such causality, like its a fact to be stated, and Leo is completely frantic. Donnie almost seems as if he knew something like this was going to happen all along.

"You're going to hurt yourself." Donnie said, tiredly. "What?" Leo snapped, swinging the sword back down to his side with an audible slice through the air. "You don't want me to try and get home after our family just lost both of us? What the fuck, Donnie?"

To further emphasize how completely panicked Leo is, he blames Donnie, gaslights him, and is downright harsh. He's scared, upset and confused, and was cheated out of his so-called heroic death, and as such he's directing his anger towards the first and closest person, who happens to be Donnie.

"I wasn't going to leave you to die alone." Donnie told him, completely unshaken in his decision, even in the face of Leo's true anger. Mostly because he was pretty annoyed too. "And since you'd decided, quite ridiculously I may add, that you were going to die. Then I was coming too."

I don't want to reference later chapters often, as I'd prefer to stick to the chapter I'm working on in the moment, but this paragraph right here just hits so hard after reading chapter 31 where Donnie and Leo have the following conversation.

Donnie was so done. “I know what you think. And I'm saying, if you, then me.” There wasn’t enough room in this space for how much volume the silence that followed inhabited. Full to bursting. Leo’s face drained of colour, a trembling mouth. He said, haunted, “… What?” “If you, then me.” Donnie repeated, stubborn and shaking just as hard.

All this time, the whole time, Donnie tells his twin, "If you, then me." Right in the beginning, all the way further on in. "If you, then me."

This whole chapter is so impactful, starting off with a bang, and ending with a heartbreak.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt fanfiction #disaster twins #rottmnt disaster twins #TMNT #TMNTficfinder #ficfinder finds #ficfinder finds firefight #firefight #Youtube

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watcheraurora · 4 months

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I just wanted you to know that I have developed so many short story continuations of like, all of your fanfics its not even funny. Like, I gave sheriff jimmy a whole ARC where he ends up in conflicts with Joel and then flees the division. BRUH!! you've given me brain rot, I demand compensation, I'm loosing actual sleep over these AU'S XD

Oh my goodness! I'm so honored that I've inspired you so much! <3

You're actually Dangerously Close to Tango's history with Joel when he left the division. Because they did end up in major conflicts around the time Tango left! But I'm very happy that you've created more based on something I made!

May I offer you a piece of the as-yet-untitled Even Ice Walls Fall Down Role Swap I'm working on as compensation? XD

For context: When I first thought of the idea of "superhero and villain AU for the Ranchers" I really loved Deepfrost and Sheriff as a villain and a hero respectively, but my friend who I ranted to about it (@soemthingsparkly who also did Deepfrost and Sheriff art in the fic :-D) really loved the idea of hero!Tango and villain!Jimmy instead. And I promised them I'd work on a version where Tango is the superhero Blaze and Jimmy is the villain Canary because as Ice Walls demonstrates, I am Not Creative™ at coming up with hero or villain aliases. And I'm still working on it but I do enjoy it

AKA the version of the story where if they manifested different powers, they might have taken different paths?

—

"Blaze, watch out! There are civilians nearby!" Joel barked in Blaze's earpiece as he loosed a wheel of fire. Canary squawked in alarm as Poultry Man tackled him out of the way of the wheel. The two hurtled to one side in a tangle of white and yellow feathers.

"I know that," Blaze ground out as he focused on conjuring another wheel. He liked wheels of fire more than fireballs, due to being a little more precise and effective, in his opinion. "So maybe step off my back a little."

"I will when you stop acting like you're out of control!" Joel snapped.

Blaze's whole body went rigid, the fire wheel spinning around his fist. "Out of control?" he demanded, his other hand holding the earpiece firmer in his ear as he ducked behind a concrete barrier to hide. "I am never out of control, and I resent the implication otherwise." An animalistic growl built in his throat. "Do you understand how much I work to remain in control with powers like mine?"

"Blaze—"

"N-n-n-n-no. Between the two of us, only one of us has the one-hundred-and-sixty IQ. And that would be me. So don't you dare lecture me about not knowing how to use my own powers. I'm not you, Lore. I'm not a danger to myself and others because I don't know how to leash myself. So shut up and let me do my work." He ripped his earpiece out of his ear and vaulted the concrete barrier to throw himself back into the fight, hurling the fire wheel in Poultry Man's general direction. The villain squawked like a chicken and dodged out of the way.

"Blaze! What are you doing?!" HoTGuY shouted as Blaze lowered his head a little and charged forward. His Blaze Rods appeared around his head, orbiting fast. They lifted him off the ground and he was flying, his gold-blond hair turning into pure flame. It would return to normal later.

Canary saw him in the air and snapped out his wings—enormous and vibrant, rich yellow. They beat the air once and shot him up to be almost level with Blaze. "Look who we pissed off!" Canary teased, voice singsong and high-pitched. "You here to play games, Fire Boy?"

Blaze's eyes were entirely the same shade of red while his fire powers were active and his Blaze Rods orbited his head. Iris, sclera, pupil—all the same. It was why he didn't bother wearing a mask. No one expected the green-eyed nerd to be Blaze because everyone assumed Blaze was red-eyed all the time.

Blaze bared his teeth in a frustrated snarl, sparks shooting between the gaps. He spun two fire wheels into existence. One spinning around each hand. "Let's see how playful you are when your flight feathers are ash, birdie," he spat. The inside of his mouth glowed like there was fire in his throat, its light reflecting outward.

Blaze had a temper. Blaze knew he had a temper. A bad one. One with a short fuse and a big explosion. He knew it was a side-effect of his powers. He didn't used to be so easy to set off. He used to be a lot more patient with people and situations.

But here he was, eleven years after his powers manifested, ready to burn a whole city block down and trying to stop himself from actually doing so.

But man did Canary piss him off. Even more than Poultry Man. Poultry Man was a pain in the neck. He was chaotic and antagonistically playful. He took nothing seriously. But Canary—Canary was little more than Poultry Man's lackey. But he targeted Blaze like it was his life goal to see how much fire he could withstand.

Canary's eyes widened behind his mask.

"Take the shot, you idiot!" Poultry Man shouted.

Canary moved to aim his crossbow, but Blaze's fire wheel spun into existence faster. He hurled it across the distance like a chakram. Canary's wings flapped hard to go over it and avoid it. Blaze rushed after.

#answered #ViriV 💜#Even Ice Walls Fall Down

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