#also idk how I always end up writing them present tense - I even do it by accident in my long fic

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐕𝐈: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 ⚜

Sources: One | Two | Three

Event Host: @wickblr

Summary: Vincent toys with a candle recklessly to tempt Chidi into playing a dangerous game with him.

CW: smut, wax play/temperature play, bratting, self-harm scare (it's not what Chidi thinks), previously established BDSM relationship

What can Vincent be holding in his secret heart? What patience will win that knowledge? And how can Chidi quiet his own heart without knowing?

With respect, and with love. That is, as always, the answer. Vincent is being silent tonight, and that frightens him every time. But Chidi's worry is his own to manage. He's lucky just to be in Vincent's presence.

The most exquisite man in all the world is sitting at the window, watching the sun die behind clouds too thick to transmit the glow. There’s only a little light at the horizon, as the day turns to night without sunset. Outside, a dismal rain falls gently but persistently, and inside, the lights are off in the bedroom. The only fire of this evening is in Vincent’s hands. He’s taken up a long, white candle, and he’s playing with it more idly than Chidi would like. But then, it lends him that daring quality which Chidi loves, the dark playfulness that sometimes comes over him in the midst of fencing or even a genuine knife fight.

“Assieds-toi avec moi. [Sit with me,]” he says, without turning towards Chidi, and Chidi can think of nothing he’d rather do. He sets a matching chair next to his master.

Vincent is fresh from the bath, warmed and flushed all over. He seems so small, so fragile against the vastness of the autumn evening. Pink rosiness glows out from under the loose fur robe that he’s allowed to slip down off his shoulders. It falls around him as a blanket, giving him the look of someone disheveled, debauched even, to match his tossled, damp hair. The candlelight singes its way across his features in yellow-gold, turning his irises to honey. But Chidi can’t read the look on his face. Pensive? Dreamy? Tense?

He’s staring into the flame, unmoving. The wax pools slowly at its tip, a little hollow of mesmerizing liquid. Chidi watches Vincent watching it, tries desperately to read him. He’s so caught up in the effort that it takes a moment for him to notice how the candle is hovering over Vincent’s lap. It’s starting to tilt.

“Marquis.” He doesn’t answer. He’s doing this on purpose. Chidi’s heart goes into his throat. “Vincent.” Still nothing, not even a change in expression. The wax shimmers.

It’s pure reflex. His hand shoots out to shield Vincent’s skin, a split second before the drip can make contact. On the back of his hand, there’s a fiery sting. It doesn’t hurt as much as he expected but he’s speechless at what just happened. He notices that his hand is still on Vincent’s thigh but doesn’t dare take it away because the candle is still hovering above it. 

Vincent, to his surprise, just breaks into a smile. “Tu trembles. Pour moi. [You’re shaking. For me.]” There’s real tenderness coloring his voice. He leans forward and leaves a reverent kiss on Chidi’s lips in reward. 

He swallows, trying to focus on the problem at hand. “Bien sûr que je le suis. Monsieur, pourquoi avez-vous - [Of course I am. Sir, why did you - ]"

“C'est une bougie spéciale. Tu aimes ça ? Je l'ai acheté dans un club à Rome. La cire fond à une température plus froide que la plupart des autres, suffisamment froide pour couler sur la peau. C'est pour le plaisir. [It's a special candle. Do you like it? I got it at a club in Rome. The wax melts at a cooler temperature than most, cool enough to drip on skin. It’s for fun.]”

Oh. Chidi’s heart refuses to fall back into its regular rhythm, even as he exhales. “Ne m’effraie pas comme ça. Je pensais que tu étais… imprudent. [Don’t scare me like that. I thought you were…being reckless.]”

All he offers is a smug grin and a shrug. “Tu as ressenti un frisson, je peux le dire. C'est tellement protecteur… En tout cas, c'est plutôt sûr. Bien sûr, il y a parfois des histoires d'horreur à propos d'impuretés dans la cire qui fondent trop fort. Des cicatrices permanentes… on ne sait jamais ce qui peut arriver. Mon garde du corps devrait s'en préoccuper, n'est-ce pas ? [You got a thrill out of it, I can tell. So protective… Anyway, it’s quite safe. Though of course, there are occasional horror stories of impurities in the wax that melt too hot. Permanent scars…one never knows what could happen. My bodyguard ought to be concerned with that, wouldn’t you agree?]” His hand drifts back, threatening a spot closer to his torso, where Chidi’s hand is no longer in the line of gravity. With a lurch of adrenaline, he follows, just in time to be struck by another searing droplet. He’s farther up Vincent’s thigh now, and acutely aware of how his thumb is pressing against the inside of the flesh.

A game is afoot. Follow the fire. Protect the Marquis.

Vincent leans back, as if he’s just getting comfortable, and lets the robe fall open. Chidi can’t help stealing a glance at his erection before locking eyes with him again. They’re both breathing too fast. But he’d better keep his focus on the candle - now it’s close to the V-line of his hip. (V for Vincent. V for voluptuous.) Chidi’s hand slides up to follow, feeling the dips and the curves and the sudden hits of pain. Vincent’s thigh is all disused muscle and gentle plumpness, the innocence of a body that has never known physical labor. Chidi presses into it to convey his urgency. The sense of danger still lingers, the need to prove that he’ll never let Vincent feel even an ounce of pain on his watch. 

Vincent keeps moving the candle. Up. Back down, up again. He’s puppeting Chidi’s hand, teasing himself with it. He bites back a moan but the way it changes his breathing still halts Chidi’s. In another second he moans anyway, frustrated - he’s teased himself too much and now he can’t take it anymore. 

Then the candle is over his cock. Chidi could swear Vincent’s eyebrow twitches upward just a fraction in challenge.

There’s no hesitation. Chidi grabs it, cupping the tip in protection. The candle flickers as Vincent tenses up with sudden pleasure. “Putain… [Fuck...]”

“C'est dangereux, monsieur. [This is dangerous, sir,]” Chidi admonishes. “Si ça coule ici, ça fera trop mal, peu importe le type de bougie. [If it drips here it will hurt too much, no matter what kind of candle it is.]” He's still shaking. But he doesn’t safeword.

“Alors tu ferais mieux d’être extrêmement prudent avec moi. [You’ve better be exceedingly careful with me then.]” The Marquis' voice is unnaturally soft and heady. 

God, this man will be the death of him. “...D'accord, je le serai. […Okay, I will be.]” Chidi puts a second hand at the base of his cock, now enveloping it completely.

The Marquis grips at the arm of the chair, making the most gratified sorts of noises, while a lazy drop of wax strays onto Chidi’s wrist. Vincent throws his head back, breaking eye contact for the first time in their little game. “S’il te plaît… ne reste pas assis là. Ne vois-tu pas que ce n’est pas suffisant de supporter ma douleur ? Fais-moi plutôt ressentir quelque chose de bien. [Please…don’t just sit there. Don’t you see it’s not enough to take my pain? Make me feel something good in its place.]”

And of course, Chidi obeys. He translates the heat in his hands into long, sensual strokes that wring heavenly noises out of Vincent. It seems to go on forever in that otherworldly space of total service and devotion. The candle is their hourglass and time counts forward only by each drop of wax. With every hit, both of them jump, heightening the tension. 

Vincent’s breathing is getting heavier, his eyes half lidded. The candle is burning low, and as the flame approaches his master’s fingers, Chidi’s fear becomes more real. He accelerates his pace until Vincent’s hips start to thrust upward into his grip. Good, he’s close to losing control.

Everything is on fire now. If Chidi has a body outside of his busy hands and the bulge straining at his inseam, he has lost all awareness of it. It’s swallowed in the pure sex of those delicious sensations, in the scent of wax and smoke and Vincent’s musky-sweet pheromones, in the sight of Vincent’s parted lips and shadowed eyes, in the next huge drop of wax building up at the edge of the candle.

The final rush of warmth comes not from above, but flooding into his palm, accompanied by a high-pitched whine and a string of French expletives as Vincent melts completely under his touch. Chidi loses himself in it, in a bodily sympathy for Vincent. He realizes too late that there’s a wet spot forming in his slacks. 

Vincent giggles. “Regarde ce que tu as fait. Je - [Look what you’ve done. I - ]“

“La flamme, monsieur! [The flame, sir!]” It’s glowing right against Vincent’s fingers now. Before anything can happen, Chidi’s breath snuffs it out. With a swift motion, he sends it flying onto the windowsill where it can't touch Vincent anymore.

There’s darkness. Silence. Only the light of the blue-black sky and the patter of raindrops and the ocean of their breathing. Vincent amends his phrasing. “Regarde ce que tu fais pour moi. [Look what you do for me.]” There’s no misinterpreting the affection in his gaze now. He leans forward.

The last whisper of smoke is trapped between their joining lips.

[horrorhot-line]

do you have any writing tips or advice? i have an idea for a story i wanna write but i have no idea how to start it or what the ending would be 💔 idk i just struggle a lot with creativity and coming up with more ideas 😭

hmmm this is a hard one cause everyone has their own type of motiviation.

my first tip is consume, consume as many stories, media and music until you feel inspired enough to write. the more research you do the better, and spend time falling in love with your characters, their dynamics, their motivations, their flaws, cause if you don't love the characters you're writing for, it'll show in your work

second would be, don't wait for something to hit you, don't wait for the eurika! moment just sit down, put on some music and write, write the scenes you wanna write and make notes for scenes you're not ready for, and slowly the story will start coming together

third, don't give yourself a deadline, it's not worth it, forcing yourself to write and then feeling guilty when you can't, there's no rush, do it at your own pace

fourth, if it's ideas you struggle with, try writing prompts like '4 times x stayed quiet and the one time they didn't' or 'person a is sick, person b takes care of them, person c is there for the ride' or something, and use that as a baseline for your fic

fifth, if the piece you're writing isn't working for you, move on to a smaller or different project you wanna write and then go back to the one you're gonna post, also practice writing whenever you can and on your notes app on your phone write down small scenes or quotes that you think are good cause most likely those ideas won't come back, and then use it later when you're ready to write

and lastly, let go of the assumption that your work will be perfect the first time around, your work will go through editting and reworking until you're happy to post and that's okay, write and don't worry about the mistakes, you can fix those later, give yourself permission to write garbage, that one sentence i live by to this day because if you're worried about your work being perfect from the start you'll probably end up losing motivation to write, also watch this video if you get writers block

bonus is, please proof read, the amount of times i've clicked on fics and then seen in the description or tags that it hasn't been proof read, i give it a chance, and the amount of grammar mistakes like past tense and present tense in the same sentence, or goes from 2nd perspective and switches to 1st person perspective, and then the grammar mistakes in general, to me is a put off and most likely even if the story is good, people will drop, so i'd say if you can, once you've done writing then check over it once or twice to check everything makes sense

i hope this helps, if you need more help, please reach out through asks or on messages, my inbox is always open <3333

[anzynai]

Still The Same

Octavinelle Trio (TWST)

a/n: so hello this is my longest fic ever and i’m honestly surprised because it wasn’t intended to be?? not that i’m complaining. anyways, i’ve been wanting to write a fic with these three for a while so i’m glad i finally did. there’s also this thing where sometimes azul cries ink (but not all the time), but idk it’s when things r more intense? and in the beginning, i don’t really know the first thing about business,,, so i jusy used my experiences as a food service employee 😭 ANYWAYS, hope y’all enjoy <3

i did also attempt to make sure the entire thing is present tense, because i’ve noticed i have a habit of switching between present and past tense. though, i’m not really sure i’m liking it, but i’m not about to read through two thousand words again to change it all. i might just try past tense and stick to it.

summary: When they were young, the Leech twins learn that Azul is ticklish. Years later, they’re delighted to see that it hasn’t changed.

word count: 2.1k

——

“I’m impressed!” Floyd, the young moray, beams as Azul explains his newly mastered signature spell.

“It only makes sense that you would be the one to do it.” Jade agrees, a proud smile on his face.

Azul seems excited, which makes the twins both happy, yet they don’t say anything. They don’t mind as Azul rambles about the merpeople who are lined up, waiting to get a contract with Azul.

Well, at least Jade doesn’t mind, but after around a minute, Floyd is bored. He pokes the octopus in the tummy, causing Azul to squeak and close his mouth, tight lipped.

The morays raise a brow. That was odd. Floyd’s face easily slips into one of amusement and curiosity.

“Ah~? What was that? Did you just squeal?” Floyd asked, a teasing tone finding its way into his voice. By now, Azul’s face is already bright red.

“You just surprised me!” Azul covers his stomach, though, rubbing it as if he was hurt.

“Surprised you? Aren’t you just ticklish?” Jade cuts in once he connects the dots. Floyd’s eyes widen like a lightbulb had just lit up in his head and the smile he gives is one of pure joy. Azul’s face is pale as a ghost.

“That’s not it at a-aLAHAHAH! Wait!” Azul starts, but he’s barely able to finish as Floyd pounced and eagerly begins wrecking him to absolute pieces.

“Looks like you were right, Jade! He’s like, suuuper ticklish!” Floyd exclaims, pinching at the chubby skin. Jade chuckles into his hand.

“Yes, he’s very ticklish. I’m surprised.” Jade notes, but doesn’t miss how the tips of Azul’s ears go red. Floyd, in the midst of all the laughter, asks Jade to help him. He accepts, of course, curious to see what spots really made Azul go crazy.

They only stop when Azul begins to tear up and a few drops of ink leave his eyes. Floyd has to practically be pried off by Jade, but all in all, they had fun. Azul couldn’t be too upset, Jade thinks, because he hadn’t really tried to stop them.

Since then, Azul had been the center of majority of their tickle attacks. Even as they got older, Azul would find himself in these situations quite often, only slowing down once the three entered NRC.

Which brings us to the present.

“Is that the last customer?” Azul asks, as two Scarabian students walk out. Jade scans the area and nods his head.

“I believe so. I think it’s an appropriate time to start cleaning up now.”

“I see. You and Floyd can handle that. I will start counting the money in the register.” Azul decides, already making his way to the counter.

“Ughhhh.. Cleaning up is so boring!” Floyd groans, slouching over the couch. Azul merely sighs. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to not want to clean; in fact, it happened almost every night. Still, it was always done by the end of each night.

“Now, now, Floyd. The sooner we do it, the sooner it will be done.” Jade assures him, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Floyd responds with another groan. Jade takes that as agreement and goes to the storage closet to retrieve the cleaning supplies, handing them to Floyd.

Floyd begrudgingly gets up. Jade wipes down the tables, while Floyd sweeps up the trash. All that can be heard was the quiet lounge music and Azul muttering numbers as he counted the cash.

Cleaning had always been a relatively easy task at the Mostro Lounge, especially with the two of them doing it, so it was obvious they would be finished before Azul.

They walk to the kitchen, seeing Azul seated on a chair in front of the register. He’s almost done and Floyd slings his shoulder over Azul, snickering when the other startles and pauses for a moment. Jade sits at a nearby chair and waits. When Azul is done, he sets the money down and turns his head.

“We have the right amount.” He says, ducking his head to put the money in the register. When he’s done, he makes a move to get up but Floyd’s fingers accidentally grazes his neck and he freezes, eyes widening.

Floyd stares at him for a moment, obviously confused. Jade knows what it is, immediately, and it only takes Floyd half a second longer to realize.

“I forgot you were ticklish on your neck!” Floyd laughs and Azul brushes his arm off of him.

“Nonsense. It’s time to go.” Azul shakes his head, trying to be casual and trying to shift the topic. The thing about Floyd, though, is that once he’s got his mind on something, it’s really hard to get his mind off of it.

“Did you? He’s sensitive everywhere.” Jade muses, laughing to himself.

“Real sensitive, too! I can’t believe I forgot, Azul. Why didja let me forget?” Floyd drawls, putting his arm back up to curl his fingers against the housewarden’s ear, delighted when he scrunches up.

“B-because it’s childish!” Azul defends, covering his ears, which were pink at the tips.

“Childish? But it’s soooo fun tickling you! I wanna tickle you!” Floyd chirped, sending a glance towards Jade. Jade sits up at the unspoken invitation.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Jade recalls, feeling nostalgic. So much had been going on, Azul’s ticklishness wasn’t really the first thing on their minds. Now that he’s been reminded of it though, Jade would really enjoy tickling him. He can tell that Floyd would too.

Azul directs a glare at both of them. It’s hard to take it seriously when his face is flushed and Jade tries to conceal a laugh. “Don’t you dare.”

“Do what?” Jade asks, feigning confusion.

“Tickle me!” And there.

“Oh, if that’s what you want, I guess I can do that!” Floyd understands the second Azul takes the bait, his hands quickly finding their way to Azul’s sides. He kneads his fingers, and Azul bursts out in laughter. There had been times where he tried to conceal it, but they all knew he was too sensitive for that.

“T-thahahahat’a NOHOHOT w-WAHAHAT I MEHEHEANAT!” Azul sputters out, clearly struggling with his words. Floyd had always been the type to go straight for the kill. Jade almost felt bad. Jade gently traced his neck, satisfied when he would see Azul twisting his neck every which way to avoid the light touches.

“It must be difficult being so ticklish.” Jade teases. Floyd and him make eye contact and Floyd changes spots. They don’t want to tire him out too quickly. Floyd begins to prod and squeeze at his hips. The laughter goes down a significant level, but it’s still there.

“Y-you shuhuhut uhuhup! I k-knohohonow your bohohoth tihihihicklish tohohohoo!” Azul cried out, and Floyd laughs.

“Even so, you’ll always be soooo much more ticklish! You’re just one ticklish octopus, huh?” Azul only rolls his eyes, but it looks a bit funny when he’s cackling as loud as he is.

“Nohohoho I’m nohohot! T-This ihihis uhuhunprofehehesional!” Azul squeals, a new shade of red glittering his face when a snort makes it through his laughter. He covers his hands with his gloves. That won’t do.

Jade moves from his neck to his armpits, scribbling. Azul’s clothing proves some protection, but it’s clearly not enough, because instantly, Azul is struggling to keep his hand to his face. Small huffs make it through his fingers and the twins can vaguely hear snorts.

“Surely you can make an exception for your most loyal employees?” Jade tuts and Azul shakes his head rapidly. “I’m sure we can convince you otherwise.”

The twins have Azul sort-of trapped, Jade realizes. Jade is behind Azul, his fingers wedged in his underarms and tickling the sensitive skin. Floyd is in front, still going at his hips. Somehow, the three had found their way to the floor, which had luckily been cleaned about an hour earlier. Still, there was plenty of enough space for Azul to fight back if he really didn’t want the tickling to stop. And yet, he stayed there, letting the twins unleash their tickly wrath on him.

Jade couldn’t help the smile make its way onto is face. Azul really hadn’t changed.

“Jade’s right! After all our hard work, we should have some more perks, you know?” Floyd agrees, moving up to Azul’s ribs. Azul had become much thinner since their younger years, so Floyd could feel the bones. He poked and prodded at each bone, counting to himself out loud. He seemed to linger on the spots that would make Azul’s laughter raise an octave.

When he hit a certain spot on the lower part of Azul’s rib, the housewarden’s arms shot down to push at Floyd’s relentless hands. Jade removed his hands, hooking his arms around Azul’s to let Floyd have a bit more access. Floyd had always enjoyed tickling more than Jade had, even when Jade was highly amused.

“N-nohohoho?!” Azul’s laughter became a bit more frantic. His salty tears built up in the corner of his eyes.

“Yes!” Floyd insists, in reply. Azul does not respond, too beside himself with laughter. Another twin telepathy moment passes and Floyd goes to scratch at Azul’s stomach. The two relish in the sound that erupts from Azul’s lips, a shocked squeal that’s absolutely delightful to hear. Snort after snort leaves Azul’s lips and Jade takes a moment to just… listen.

“NOHOHOHO, FLOHOHOYD. JAHAHADE.” Azul howls and Jade examines his face. Within seconds, he can see black smudge at the corners of the octopus’ eyes. He sighs. Enough is enough, he supposes.

“Floyd.” He says, loudly. Floyd doesn’t seem to hear him. He wonders how all their intended eye contact works out, when Floyd can’t even hear him when he’s two feet in front of him. Then again, Azul is really.. loud right now.

“Floyd.” He says again, more stern this time and Floyd seems to finally get the memo, taking his hands of Azul and leaning against the bottom of the counter. He has a smug smile on his face, the same one he has when he wins against someone in a one-on-one in basketball.

Azul, on the other hand, just lays down on the floor, struggling to catch his breath. Jade gets a paper towel from the counter and hands it to Azul. The other rubs his eyes, black ink on it when he throws it in the trash can. And misses. Jade can pick that up later.

“Did we go too far?” Jade asks, though he doubts it. He had always been good at picking up the signs when Azul is nearing his limit. Azul groans and shakes his head.

“Did you two have fun?” He mutters, angrily, though it sounds half-hearted. The redness is slowly leaving his face.

“Lots of fun!” Floyd beams.

“I enjoyed it.” Jade says, a knowing look on his face. “And I know you did too.” Another groan slips from Azul’s lips.

“What time is it?” Azul asks, his eyes closed. Floyd is standing up, stretching his body.

Jade looks at the clock. “It’s a little before 10pm.” It was a bit late for them, since they usually retired to their dorms by 9:30, but clearly the trip to memory lane had taken a bit of time.

“Man, I’m sleepy. I could pass out right now.” Floyd yawns and Jade moves to stand. He holds out his hand for Azul to take, which he does, hoisting him up.

“Let me put the money in the register and do one last check and we can go.” Azul says, and the twins nod. They sit at the chairs that always stay by the counter and wait for Azul to finish his business. It doesn’t take long. The three of them walk to the dorms together and Azul clears his throat when they reach his room. Then he pauses. He looks like he wants to say something.

“You two… have a good night.” Jade chuckles. It was clear he wanted to say something about them tickling him.

“Don’t worry. We will tickle you more from now on.” Jade reassures him. Azul blushes, gritting his teeth.

“That’s not what I was trying to say!”

“Really? It looked like you liked it!”

“I.. I— yeah— I mean no!” Azul disagrees, crossing his arms.

“Have a good night, Azul.” Jade says, grabbing Floyd by the arm. Floyd seems disappointed at losing the chance to tease Azul some more, but they’re already walking away. Azul grumbles and unlocks the door and steps inside his dorm.

Floyd prattles on about Azul’s sensitivity and while Jade doesn’t say much in response, he’s already thinking of ways to tickle Azul again. He supposes him and Floyd were the same as well. They both had always enjoyed making Azul smile and laugh.

[bonesandthebees]

man i swear you're like the only author who i see use past tense in dsmp fics /neu

i used to hate present tense pov before reading fics from this fandom sakdjfkjasdf idk why but all the other fandoms who i used to read wrote it terribly lmfaooo and in turn i Also hated writing in it, it always made me feel awkward

but i had to get used to it for school (writing essays n such) and now that ive read so many present tense povs i am 100% used to it

however, it makes writing HELL

bc like . i instinctively start off in past tense, but then i'll just ??? randomly switch to present tense??? or one scene i'll write entirely in past tense, but then i'll pick up the fic the next day and write in present tense, and then the next day go back to past tense 😭😭😭

i dont know how to decide which one i wanna use 😭😭 im opting to change to present tense for one of my (many) hero aus bc i know that like . using present tense can make action scenes more effective, but damn bro i wrote the entire first chapter in past tense so now i have to change it allll 😭😭😭😭

but anyways you use past tense super effective !! even in ur highly emotional and action scenes so . it does give me hope for those fics that i end up writing in past tense that it'll still work out askdfjkasdf

yeah I didn't really notice it for a while until one day my friends and I were talking about tenses and I realized I'm the only one who uses past tense

you see that's kind of why I don't use present tense (with 17 hours being the exception bc roxy only writes in present so I forced myself to do the same). I always end up getting it mixed up with past tense anyway, especially if I have to write a character thinking about something that happened in the past and then switch back to present again?? idk the mid paragraph switches are too much for me to keep up with I get so confused so it's just easier for me to use entirely past tense

while I know a lot of people agree using present tense can make action scenes more effective, but ngl I've never felt like there's much different when I'm reading past vs present. maybe that's just a me thing, but I really don't think it's as big of a deal as people make it out to be. I'm very glad my past tense scenes still feel very effective. I just write them however I want and I've never had anyone say my action scenes are less effective because of the past tense so again I don't think it matters that much. it's just whatever you prefer writing!

[nyxneon]

1, 5, 15, 28, 34, 45, 51

hey there, thank you @milverton!

1. What was the first fandom you got involved in?

First real fandom i checked out online was the X-Files. Back in...1996 more or less, when I first got an internet connection. I was in middle school and my knowledge of english was....limited. But I learned a lot!!

(For n5 I'm copying and pasting from the other ask I got...)

5. Which fandoms have your written fanfiction for?

on an old ao3 account, I posted fic for Sherlock and Supernatural; on my current ao3 I posted stuff for the Sandman, Gotham, Bleach, and die Aerzte and their 80s film (Richy Guitar). When I was a teen (more than 20 years ago), I also posted a couple of Harry Potter ficlets on the diagonalley forum. During my final years of HS and then at university I wrote also for Death Note, but never posted any of those. I also tried something about Duran Duran, also in HS.

15. Is there an obscure ship which you love?

I'm not sure if the Rose/Kira (Bleach) ship is...obscure. But it's definitely a lot smaller (as far as fanfic production) than other ships. In the same fandom, also Shinji/Momo... I didn't get hooked on them back in the day, but now...damn... i love them.

28. If someone were to draw a piece of fanart for your story, which story would it be and what would the picture be of?

I have absolutely no idea. Anything would make me extra happy. On the other hand, i do take inspo from fanart sometimes...

34. What’s the word count on your longest fic?

I tend to write drabbles and ficlets only, nowadays. It's 1,527 words on Insignia of Despair, considering my current ao3 account. But, yeah, I write short stuff... lol.

45. What is your all time favourite fanfic?

OMG, I don't know... first of all, I have lousy memory, and anyway, it really depends on the period, the mood, the fandom... I wouldn't know, honestly.

51. Rant or Gush about one thing you love or hate in the world of fanfiction! Go!

ok, two parts, rant first. I dislike how drabbles and ficlets and even sometimes just one-shots are seen as "lesser stuff" by some people. Not just because I write short stuff, i also like reading one-shots, and they do need effort too. Some people dismiss them as... idk, not worthy. I don't understand the hate for present-tense narration, because different tenses have different effects, and they all serve a purpose. I'm not particularly fond of the AUs that basically end up being about characters that just share a name with the original character, if you know what i mean. I mean, i like the idea of AUs, but sometimes some fanfics get super-famous but the characters have changed so much from the source material to be...hardly recognisable... I can't read reader inserts at all... they... are not my cup of tea, so to say. Ok, this is not a rant, but a list of pet-peeves...ooops. I could go on...

Gush: I love the concept of fanfiction. I think it's one of the best things that has happened to me. It really... helped me a lot growing up. Also, it made me practise my English. (Which in turn kinda ruined my life a bit...but this is.... besides the point.) I like the endless creativity of the world of fanfic, the passion behind it. I mean, i don't like everything (my petpeeves are an example of that) but... I believe fanfic is a worthy hobby, a super important part of fandom in general. I like writing, I've always loved it, even if...I can only do ficlets and hardly ever finish longer stuff. But, it's part of me.

[cnderyne]

He Was Supposed To Be Yours.

Summary: In a deteriorating relationship, Kaeya looks towards someone else to love. 

Part Two: Your Happy Ending.

Part Three: You Were Supposed To Be His

Genre: Angst

Pairings: Kaeya x Reader, Kaeya x Traveler

Warnings: Cheating, Manipulation, Very messed up tenses. 

Pronouns for you and Traveler are neutral so you can imagine which sibling <3 

(Idk if its Traveler or Traveller)

Word Count: 877

A/N: I wanted to write another angst fic but about being the "second person" but you were first because I know that feeling well :D. Anyways, please let me know if you don't like how I included a narrative voice type of thing. Also, send in some requests bc I like writing but I have no creative juices or ideas.

Being someone's fool is never fun. The mere thought of only being entertainment for someone makes my skin crawl, even if I've experienced it before. Despite knowing he would only use you, you clung to him in such a desperate and pathetic attempt to keep him when the relationship was going stale. What was worse was that he enjoyed it. He basked in the attention and you just kept giving it to him. So only you can have him. 

What could get worse in a toxic relationship like this? 

I think it's finding out he was cheating. I pity you, truly. 

You caught him talking, hugging and staring at Traveler. It was the same gaze he had for you at the start of your relationship. It was the gaze you craved for when he looked at you now. However, I know you were convincing yourself that they are just colleagues, friends at most. But they are not. You might have caught on by the way he talks about them.

"Oh! Traveler?, you've got nothing to worry about dear," what happened to 'Love'? He always called you 'Love'. Did his change in pet names occur because of Traveller?  Perhaps you're looking too much into this. At least hear Kaeya out. You have known him for years. He wouldn't do that. After all, he loves you. "I am just helping them around the town. You know they are new. How would you feel being in a random town with no one to help you." But they have Amber, don't they? Traveler doesn't need Kaeya's help. They are strong, kind and "beautiful", as Kaeya always puts it. He loves to compliment them around you. Traveler is everything you are not. But if Kaeya says that he is just supporting them, then he is. They are only friends. Kaeya can have friends. Are you one of those people that controls who your partner hangs out with? You're better than that and as Kaeya said, you have nothing to worry about. 

Until you coincidentally saw them drinking together at the bar. You invited Hu Tao out for a night out. She was in Mondstadt for business but when you heard that she was around, you wanted to just drink, catch up with an old friend and to relax as stress makes your skin break out and you had to look your best for Kaeya. Well I guess you are going to break out anyways. 

"Hey, Y/N, isn't that your boyfriend? Why is he with Traveler?" Hu Tao asked in her usual bubbly yet unsettling voice. However, you were more intrigued as to how she knew them, so you asked about it. 

"Traveler is like Liyue's hero! They stopped a giant sea monster. I guess you haven't heard." Wow, they really are better than you. She went on to praise Traveler further, much to your dismay. However, as she continued to speak, she was a bit too loud, which caught the attention of the pair.  

You didn't dare to talk, in fear you would say something you would regret. You just allowed silence to fill up between the four of you. Hu Tao had her signature bright smile plastered on her face, cluelessly waiting for someone to talk. So was Traveler but they didn't bother to smile. What was your expression? Were you upset? Infuriated that he went on a date with them? Could you even call it a date? Well whatever face you made, it sure made Kaeya pleased, evident by the god forsaken smirk he does when you've entertained him. That was enough to make you grab Hu Tao's hand and drag her upstairs. Your night was ruined. 

A few days passed and you were growing restless. Not a word was heard from Kaeya and you had no one to confide in. You felt alone. A feeling you desperately avoided. You needed to know what Kaeya was doing. I mean, you think he is cheating on you. He is with Traveler all the time. "Helping" them. You knew what you needed to do to get some sort of closure. 

This time it wasn't a coincidental encounter. Well, you didn't really "meet" them. They didn't see you. But you saw them. You heard them. They were in the middle of a conversation. 

"Traveler. Do you have to go to Inazuma?" Kaeya's tone was low but clearly presented his sadness. Their reply was a quick yes, so he responded with, "It's safer in Mondstadt. You might get killed!"

"I must find my sibling." 

"But what about us? Traveler, I love you." Kaeya was growing irritated at Traveler's disinterest. "Did all the time we spent together, all the things we did, mean nothing to you?"

"Was it supposed to mean something?" Was the only response Traveler could say before Kaeya stormed off. Despite your hatred towards Traveler, what they said was amusing. Well Y/N, you got closure. Now Kaeya is only yours. He can't go to them. They don't care about Kaeya. Did you get the result you wanted? Are you happy knowing that Kaeya was able to fall in love with someone else? However, what did Kaeya mean by "the things we did"? 

Should you stay with him? Or does his brother look tempting? 

[ode-to-joy]

Can you write a kaz x reader one shot where reader is a kleptomaniac and it acts up when they're stressed so he'll just notice them stealing jesper's rings and nina's waffles and even taking his coat before he says something? Thanks!

trinkets - kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x kleptomaniac!reader

summary: fluff, idk what to call this but basically kaz talks to a reader with kleptomania? i wrote this and i'm also confused

a/n: thank you so much for the request! sorry that this is a little short plus there might be some mistakes in the grammar, i switched from past tense to present tense in the middle of writing lol. i changed some of the things that the reader takes because of some of the research i did and i'm not sure how well i did depicting kleptomania so if anything here is offensive i'll make sure to change it <3

warnings: please don't read if kleptomania triggers you! stay safe :)

it started off small, at first. y/n would take small things, worthless items. it was calming, soothing almost. it didn't matter what it was. all that mattered was the wonderful rush that occurred during the theft, the victory and rush of adrenaline that they experienced from swiping things from seasoned criminals with a lifetime's worth of knowledge in sleight of hand, people who snatched thick wallets out of fat mercher's pockets for a living.

the only thing that they could compare it to was the same rush jesper received whenever he was caught in a gunfight, the intoxicating euphoria that came with the acquiring of each thing she took.

the guilt that came after however, was something that y/n would do anything in the world to rid themself of. the box full of trinkets rattles in their hands, filled to the brim with items they pilfer off of their friends and strangers wandering the streets of the east stave or gambling at the crow club.

the ones from their friends hurt the most. nina has been complaining about her missing hair pins for months. just that morning at breakfast, jesper mentions that some of his rings that had gone missing. ones that y/n had taken from his nightstand.

it triggers something inside of them, though. the mention of jesper's rings bring back a craving for the rush they receive whenever they take something, and y/n's eyes zeroes in on the first thing that comes into their line of sight. the crow figurehead on kaz's cane. there is a pattern, they had already realized a while ago. all the things they take have some sort of metallic finish to them. from nina's steel hair pins, jesper's golden rings, inej's copper brooches, to the screwdrivers they take from wylan's messy workshop. they always say to themself that they some day would return the things. some day. and now there is kaz's silver cane.

as y/n cradled the figurehead they'd taken from the top of kaz's cane, the everlasting wave of guilt crashes over them. this is kaz. kaz, who had saved their life years ago when they were lying half-dead in an alley, begging for meager scraps of food and pickpocketing strangers on the street for money. and kaz would know. kaz was too smart, too intuitive not to know that it was they who had took the crow figurine.

the next time kaz calls the crows to meet up, he asks to speak with y/n privately.

there is an uncomfortable silence for a couple moments before he speaks.

he simply says, "you should return the things. i know someone who had the same problem. you can talk to them about it."

his tone is a decibel softer than usual. they talk.

kaz is exceptionally good at listening, y/n realizes. there's a calming nature about him, something that y/n would never had thought of. the guilt, the shame, everything flows right out of their mouth. by the time the sun sets, kaz already knows everything, and y/n leaves the room in brighter spirits than they had for months before. at the end of the day, the shoebox hidden at the bottom of their bed is filled with nothing but air.

[yan-twst]

Idk if I made it in time for requests so I'll send it in anyway feel free to delete if too late but headcannons of Yandere Malleus, Kalim and Leona with a darling who loves them back but is scared of being tied to royalty?

a/n: just a quick heads up- kalim isn’t royalty (i used to think he was like, the son of the sultan when i got into twst) like in the sense his family isn’t connected to the crown, however he is the heir to an incredibly powerful and influential family! it still works for the effects of being incredibly stressed to being connected to such important family- think of it as old money rich families- but just thought i’d give a heads up bc i don’t refer to him as royalty in this one. also i’m working off the assumption that the relationship is already like, happening because i don’t want to make these way longer than needed

warnings: general yandere themes, implied violence

❥ leona kingscholar

it all comes off as... almost mockery, really. it leaves a sour taste on his mouth- he can see how his darling tenses at his presence whenever his title is mentioned, how they seem to stress whenever leona’s brother writes about how he should bring his lover to the palace to meet him

it’s not them trying to make leona feel unappreciated or feared, but that’s what they do. he’s spent too long being compared to his brother, being whispered about by servants- it wouldn’t be too far off to say that he almost feels betrayed by his significant other because of this, even if their reluctance isn’t necessarily aimed at him

he isn’t above using pressure to keep them right by his side. royalty might be annoying, but it’s also pressuring and crushing. he knows better than anyone that his darling can easily crumple under it all, and he uses it for his own advantage before they can slink away from him

their face shown to the entire afterglow savannah. being presented to farena and his wife. cheka’s constant cheering and asking “when they’re gonna marry uncle leona”. he has no trouble taking his darling back home by telling them how excited farena is to see them- surely they aren’t about to disappoint the king, are they? and once there, it’s all in his ballcourt.

court manners, keeping up appearance, smile for the citizens, wave as leona puts his arm around their shoulder, try not to go pale and fall when farena introduces them as leona’s partner- this isn’t a marriage announcement, but it might as well be. after all, is it even possible to split off now...? now that everyone seems to think leona’s found his genuine love, that it’s a sweet love story of the ill tempered second prince falling in love with a no-name commoner and tossing aside traditions of royalty marrying royalty to bring them to his kingdom... it’s such a sweet story for everyone, except perhaps for the poor soul that’s trapped in the relationship with no exits

and oh, if pressure isn’t enough, then pain and threats surely will be. leona seems to easily pick his own desires over his darling’s comfort; after all, he so easily chose to shackle them to the relationship just because he feared their insecurities would cause them to leave. now that they’re effectively trapped to him by everyone’s gazes being in them, he just has to keep them docile and obedient, keep them from causing a scene. 

he’s careful enough not to bruise anywhere visible if he thinks punishment is needed; long gone are the days when he’d perhaps tolerate his darling not doing as he pleased, replaced by his seemingly unwavering intent to train them into absolute submission. it’s more so mortifying when he decides to drag their loved ones into the ordeal: perhaps they’re willing to withstand pain themselves, but would they want anything bad to happen to their beloved friends back at nrc, hm? 

“are you being cold to me? you should know better by now.” he isn’t necessarily angry, per se, but annoyed- by now they do know it’s already bad to have him in that mood. there’s an added danger of being back at nrc now that break is over; there’s no longer guards stationed outside the room, no longer the danger of cheka bursting in- which means leona has little to no reason to not be as horrible as he wants, provided he makes sure they can’t scream too loud beforehand. the bruises on their arms still hurt from being gripped too tightly last time he considered they weren’t behaving as affectionately as they should, and the memory immediately makes them tense. without even asking why he’s accusing them of being cold now, they apologize- meek, docile, spineless- and the grin on his face grows. perhaps they’d been to scared at the thought of being connected to royalty before and failed to realize it wasn’t leona’s connection to royalty what made a relationship with him dangerous: how many red flags had they missed before? how many of those quirks and things they chalked off to leona being a bit too possessive or territorial had been warning signs to this eventual outcome? dwelling on the past did nothing to soothe the pains of the present, though. “hmph, i don’t think i’m buying that apology. if you really want to get off without a punishment, put me in a good mood first. you can do that much, can’t you, herbivore?”

❥ kalim al-asim

sweet, innocent and cheerful kalim would seem like the sort of person who wouldn’t understand anxieties over being connected to a powerful family. he gives off such a bubbly and happy impression that such things would simply slip his mind

oh, but they don’t. he himself has suffered at being tied to his family- he’s been through enough attempted assassinations and kidnappings and poisonings that he’s almost de-sensitized to it all. he’s sunny, yes, but it’s almost surprising how cheery he is considering all he’s been through

perhaps that’s why he’s almost... sympathetic to his darling when he finally understands their plight. it’s a relief, really- it’s not that they don’t love him! he’s fine, they’re fine- it’s just a little bit of anxieties! 

he understands, really... it’s so scary to have people wanting to get rid of you. well, it’s different for him, because he’s lived this way all his life, but his darling hasn’t... it must be scary for them... kalim’s affection and his simple mind, combined with his love that runs a bit too deeply mix

good intentions or not, the result is nothing more than glorified imprisonment, really. it begins with him happily saying that he asked crowley for permission to get some guards from back home to come to nrc to make sure nobody tries to break into his darling’s dorm, to then kalim insisting they spend their nights in scarabia for added safety- it snowballs from there

don’t eat the cafeteria food if it hasn’t been poison tested! actually, don’t eat in the cafeteria at all, he’ll provide the food. they don’t have someone like jamil by their side, so try not to wander outside alone! in fact, always have him close if they go out, ok? 

... and of course, it ends up with maybe don’t leave the dorm, since it could be dangerous, and by then? it’s too late. kalim interpreted their anxiety as fear of dangers, because he’s put in danger because of his position, and so he seems to tell himself that as long as he keeps them safe everything is fine

even if they don’t want to do as he says, he’s just... keeping them safe. it’s his duty, as a good boyfriend, right? even if it’s painful to hear them cry from their room as he locks the door, even after he has to keep a chain on their ankle to keep them from trying to pick the lock... kalim doesn’t enjoy their pain, doesn’t relish in the sadism most nrc students seem to inherently have. but he still thinks he’s doing what he must to keep them safe: after all, wasn’t it them who were scared before...?

“i got you this, it reminded me of you! please, won’t you try it on? i’m sure it’ll look amazing on you, and it matches with me... oh, if you don’t like the colour of the gems i could get you another one, too!” kalim opens the box to  present a bracelet. it’s objectively a fine piece of art- surely it’s pure gold and carved jewels, a priceless piece that most could merely dream of even looking at through a glass display, and yet to kalim, there isn’t really a price too high for his lover. they’re his most beloved treasure; and he seems to protect them as such, too, if the chain connecting the cushined cuff on their ankle to the wall says anything. it’s covered in gold and long enough they can wander around the room, but a golden chain still remains a chain. it’s almost silly to think back on how this hell began, with them being anxious over being connected to such an affluent family as the asim family was- in fact, the threats of poisonings or kidnappings hadn’t even crossed their mind until kalim began to protect them from it. and now this was life- kalim seemed to willingly ignore every single time they tried to lash out, acting as if everything was fine, showering them with gifts as if new and expensive belongings could somehow soothe the loss of their freedoms. and maybe it was partly their fault too- after all, they let him put the bracelet on their wrist, let him cheer about how pretty they looked. it was so hard to lash out against him, despite him doing all of this- knowing that he genuinely had no bad intentions, that it was all born out of love and desire to protect, but they were still prisoners with no escape.

❥ malleus draconia

there’s nothing that malleus dreads more than being feared by his darling. that’s what sets them apart from others, what makes him so obsessed, to finally have found someone to show even an inkling of kindness to him, to show him a glimmer of warmth after a life of being feared, of being shunned

he... can’t understand. why are they scared of being tied into royalty? as he sees it, it’s a step up from their current life- power, riches, comfort, those are all things that people dream of, things men have gone to war over, things he can give them. malleus doesn’t seem to comprehend the pressure of it all to someone who’s simply never been involved with the crown- he’s never truly had friends outside of his parental figure or guards, always surrounded by those who work for the crown or are part of the court.

his frustration makes him turn to his instincts. he isn’t willing to lose his darling, not over something like this- even if in reality, he’d be unwilling to let go no matter the reason. what good is power and status if he can’t at least keep the one person he loves the most...? why would he not use said power to keep them by his side?

he seems to think that if he just pushes them headfirst into it, they’ll adjust. a sort of “rip the bandaid” method; they’re anxious over being tied to fae royalty, so why can’t he just show them it’s truly nothing to stress over? they don’t need to worry about ruling or about duties- their title as royalty in the future wouldn’t mean much. they’re malleus’ lover first and foremost, their only true duties would be to stay by his side as they’ve been doing

malleus makes his decision almost worryingly quickly. it’s perhaps because this obsessive attitude has been in him all along, simply brought up by the slight bump in the relationship. maybe his draconic instincts to hoard could be blamed, or maybe his lack of real relationships, or maybe he simply was never meant to love in the regular sense

it... really doesn’t help that most fae don’t think too highly of humans. when malleus drags a clearly terrified and unwilling little human back home and declares them to be his future spouse, the fae court really seems to think of them more as the prince’s pet rather than a lover, leave alone an unwilling victim. if anything, there’s more pressure added to them, the fact that in the castle there isn’t really any ally for them

he’s persistent. malleus doesn’t want to hurt his darling much, but his temper isn’t quite stable. test him too much and he’ll snap, electricity and magic humming in the air. the faster his darling learns that the best path for them is to just do as he says, to hold him and kiss him and try and hide how their body tenses and hands shake when he enters the room, the better it’ll be for them. it’s not like they’re going to be getting any other life soon- upon returning to nrc, malleus doesn’t see the need for them to attend classes. after all, their future is already decided as a docile spouse to a king, they aren’t going to be needing much of an education, as much as they simply have to learn to be a doting and gentle spouse to him.

“i don’t understand why you’re so stressed over this.” malleus sounds genuinely confused, arms crossed as he stares at his darling. the poor thing flinches at his voice, quickly composing themselves, as if trying to hide said moment of vulnerability from him- the last thing they want is for malleus to grow more upset because he once again is forced to realize his own lover is terrified of him. still, he steps closer, close enough to cup their cheek with one of his cold hands. it takes all of their willpower to not stiffen under his touch. they’re extra jumpy today, mainly because lilia dropped by to begin court etiquette lessons. the fae’s ways are much different from humans, but from what they hear, malleus doesn’t plan on having them discuss many affairs with the court to warrant more than some infrequent reminders by lilia on how to behave. still, that does little to calm their nerves, especially because they know the reason why despite the fact they’ll soon be royalty that they’ll still have little duties. malleus caresses their cheek, thumb moving to gently swipe over their lower lip (the urge to lunge and bite seems to still scream from a corner of their brain. the urge to rebel against this, to try and claw back at their old life- urges they ignore and suppress. it’s useless- it’s all useless now, and they know trying to stand for themselves is just asking for malleus to lose it again and hurt them beyond belief in his anger). he seems satisfied with their response; that is, with the lack of response, minimal flinching and tensing, things he’s slowly become keenly aware of, are good, and speaks again what weighs heavily on their mind. “you won’t have to deal with the court much. you’ll be my spouse- your title doesn’t mean anything to worry about. you’ll simply have to continue to love me as i love you; your only job is to stay by my side forever.”

[corpsedaydream]

crash

so, here i am with a new one shot.

so before anyone asks if i’m gonna be posting frequently again or anything, i process things by writing about them. if something is running through my mind over and over and i can’t think through it on my own in my mind, writing about it generally helps me. this past weekend was supposed to be a fun long weekend away w my friends but it quickly ended when i experienced something pretty traumatic. i haven’t been able to sleep at all the past couple nights and so i started working on this. originally it was just going to be something private to help myself w the panic i was feeling then i started adding a muse into it and then i realised i was still writing about corpse without even meaning to, so i guess he’s still got me feeling musey.

anyway, i thought about keeping this private bc i’m still rly shaken up about what happened but idk feels like a shame to just let it sit on my computer.

idk if i’m back to this blog yet, i still feel indifferent about it. i’m signed out on my phone and was signed out on my laptop until just now and haven’t opened my inbox.

anyway. here’s the one shot.

word count: 1666 words (i’m not kidding)

trigger warning: car crash, panic attack

__________________________________________________

crash

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up wake up wake up.

The words repeated over and over in your head. You’d had dreams about crashing your car before, but usually you woke up just before the point of impact. This time you didn’t.

This couldn’t of happened, this can’t be real, this is a a dream, I’ve got to wake up.

But you were already very much awake, this was very much real.

The colour had already drained from your face, tears were welling up in your eyes and your heart had already sunk. Your hands were trembling, your chest was completely still, you weren’t breathing in that moment. Your body had reacted before your mind had completely caught up.

“Fuck.” Was all you managed to say as realisation had hit you. You’d gotten into a car crash.

You looked around you, wondering how the others cars on the road were still moving when it felt like your world had just come to a stop when your car had its collision. You heard your dad’s voice in your head, all the things he’d told you when he taught you how to drive, had - god forbid - you ever ended up in a situation like this.

You went through the motions as well as you could. You were in a state of shock and physically, you were definitely there, but mentally, you really weren’t present. You were having an out of body feeling in the most terrifying way, it was a defence from the panic that had overwhelmed you.

-

Corpse felt a surge of anxiety. He had no idea why, either. All he was doing was looking through fan art on twitter, he hadn’t seen anything that usually would make him feel like that. It just throttled its way into himself seemingly out of no where.

It was especially odd seeing that today had been such a good day. Waking up beside was usually something that put him in a good head space.

So he started to call you, you always made him feel better. But then he remembered you were driving and you were a cautious driver, you never answered your phone when you were behind the wheel. You’d told him in the past how tenacious your dad had been as a driving teacher and it had really stuck with you.

Just as he was about to hang up, knowing you weren’t going to answer, you did.

“Hello?” Something was off. Corpse heard it right away in just that one greeting from you.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t even greet you back, he already had anxiety running through him and the unsettling tone of your answer of the phone had only made it increase.

“I think so.” You were so monotoned. Corpse had never heard you speak this way. You were a lot of things, but monotone was not one. You were expressive, bright and dramatic.

“You think so?” He repeated in a questioning way, wanting to know what was wrong.

“Yeah.” You responded so plainly again. Corpse almost wanted to ask you who was he speaking to right now, because surely this couldn’t have been you. This person had your voice, but this was a person he did not know right now.

“What’s going on?”

“I crashed my car.” You said it to him so simply. There was no emotion behind it. His heart thundered as if a terrible hail storm had just broken out. 

“What?!” 

“I crashed my car.” You repeated. Once again so eerily unemotional.

“Where are you?!”

-

Corpse shouldn’t have been driving in the state he was in, but he needed to get to you. His emotions were running so high and he couldn’t comprehend why yours weren’t.

After what felt like the longest drive of his life, he reached the crash site. His panic peaked when he spotted the ambulance, immediately thinking the worst. But then he saw you standing to the side of it. You were up and talking to the paramedics, that was at least a good sign you weren’t seriously injured.

“(Y/N),” He called for you as he got out of his own car. And just like your voice on the phone, your movements were so robotic.

You were normally so open with your emotions, you were such a readable and honest person. When you were happy, you shined, when you were mad, you yelled red, when you were sad, you cried oceans. But Corpse had never seen you in a true state of shock. He’d never seen your fight or flight response. And apparently it was a stillness and unresponsive, the complete opposite to how you were normally.

“Are you okay?” He knew you probably weren’t, but he couldn’t find any clue to how you were feeling. Until his footsteps brought him closer to you.

You didn’t respond to him at all. Even words felt like too much right now. As he neared you, though, he spotted the signs of fear your body displayed that your words did not. Your hands and arms were trembling, your shoulders were slumped, your face was completely pale, sweat dotted all over your forehead despite it not being a hot day, tears were slowly spilling from your eyes one by one, your chest was moving unevenly as you struggled to breathe properly.

“Baby, c’mere.” Corpse didn’t hesitate to gather you in his arms. Holding you so tenderly against him. That’s when he felt that it was more than just your arms and hands that were trembling, your entire body had a slight shake to it. He knew you were experiencing true terror in that moment.

-

The time between your banged up car getting placed onto a tow truck and arriving back at your apartment felt like a blur.

You’d just gotten off the phone with your insurance provider when you’d heard Corpse.

“Are you in any pain?”

"What?” You’d heard him perfectly but you hadn’t once thought about how this had affected you physically.

“Are you in any pain?” He repeated himself.

“I’m not sure.” And you weren’t, but the paramedics had said that adrenaline would be coursing through you right now and adrenaline was the biggest distraction from pain. “I’m gonna go have a shower.”

“Okay.” Corpse watched you with concerned eyes until you disappeared behind your bathroom door. He so badly wanted to help, wanted to make you feel better, break you out of this state you were in that he was so not used to.

-

You didn’t know how much time you’d spent in the shower. But it was long enough that the sky had grown darker and the moon had replaced the sun by the time you emerged. Once you’d gotten dressed, you made slow steps towards your bedroom. Your hands were trembling more violently than before and your breathing was speeding up.

The shock was finally wearing off and reality was getting ready to slap you hard across the face.

“Corpse...” Your voice was so silent, almost as if you couldn’t form a word due to the air that seemed harder and harder to breathe as a panic attack started to take control of you.

Corpse might not have even heard you had he not been on such high alert for you right now. But he was, and so he did he hear you and when he saw the state you were in, he instantly got up from his spot on your bed where he was waiting for you and was wrapping you up tight.

You were hyperventilating so dangerously, your heart felt like it was being encased in treacherous clouds that tightened with every intake of air you struggled to get.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had cried this way. You were breaking down.

Corpse was completely holding you up. Had it not been for him, you would be a crumbled heap on the floor.

-

The both of you didn’t sleep that night.

Every time you were close to drifting off, the crash would replay in your mind on an insufferable loop and you would jolt awake and the panic would restart all over.

And every time, Corpse was right there to hold you through it. He didn’t sleep due to how concerned he was about you.

-

The next day was a little easier mentally, but a lot harder physically. You’d gotten so much emotion out the night before that now the pain could have your attention.

Everything from your hips up felt sore, stiff and tense. Every time you moved your neck was scary because it felt like it was about to snap. But worst of all was your chest. It was hard and painful to breathe. The paramedics had warned you about this. The impact to your chest was going to take the longest to recover from. You kept your breathing shallow, any other kind of breathing made you wince and Corpse noticed.

“You’re hurting.” It wasn’t a question, he was stating what he noticed. He’d known the signs of someone in pain. Plus he had also taken note of the bruises that had appeared on your skin, the colouring of them looking like a painting of a galaxy, all purple and blue. 

“A little bit.”

“Mhm.” He knew it was more than a little bit, but he wasn’t about to argue with you. He looked over you laying beside him, grateful that you were still here, you were alive. A car could be replaced, but you could not.

You were flat on your back because that was really only the current position that felt even the tiniest bit comfortable right now. Corpse was on his side, one of his hands supporting his head as he leaned over you. His other hand began to soothingly run his fingers through your hair and you let your eyes flutter close at the touch.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled back, keeping your eyes shut and feeling exhaustion take over you.

“Try sleeping, baby. I’ll be right here.”

[leviiattacks]

No One Sticks Around | Levi Ackerman

note :: this was a request i just quickly wrote it because i managed to find some free time at 3am GODDD crying so hard rn i’m so upset over chapter 138 like i am in tears over it and school work T___T please i literally cried writing this because 138 made me so upset gn i’m a mess rn but if aot ends the way i think it does then idk maybe it won’t be that bad.

pairing :: captain!levi x cadet!reader genre :: angst, angst, ANGST word count :: 1.2k

warnings :: canon typical violence i guess?? not even really violence honestly but mentions of blood etc

He never understood why everyone had to leave him. Never understood why departure had to be defined as death. Never understood what he had done to be the one to witness each and every casualty caused by this misery but never become one of the bodies in the never ending bloody pile.

Living to be invincible wasn't as great as people made it out to be, neither was being as good as immortal on the battlefield.

Sometimes, Levi would look at his reflection and tell himself he had the urge to drop dead. He then would carry on to tell himself he knew he wouldn't be able to do that. He didn't want that really. All he ever wanted was to escape this cave of bloodshed.

The world was caving in and he couldn't do anything about it. No matter how powerful he was he couldn't. All he could do was watch in horror as he saw everyone else slowly die out.

He promised not to grow attached, there was no reason to grow connections or friendships.

Farlan and Isabel were bitter reminders of that.

That day he learnt death was worse when there was a shared familiarity between souls. Part of him died when he found them drenched in the damp downpour. Their blood soaked into the concrete beneath them.

The day he returned from that expedition he reeked of failure. He scrubbed his skin till it became red and he told himself to get a grip. Never grow attached Levi, no one sticks around. Those words remained stuck in his head .

But, he was stupid and made the same mistake again.

He had to redo the promise he made to himself again when he needed to put Erwin's life on a scale right next to Armin's. Another piece of him passed away when Erwin murmured his thanks. Silently, under his breath he told Levi he was grateful for all that he had done.

Levi didn't think he was grateful for it at all. In denial, he thought it was all a formality, after all, the both of them had been through thick and thin together. Erwin probably thought the least he could do before his death was to offer his thanks, that's how Levi saw it all.

Erwin died in his arms. He felt him sag and remain limp, he sensed his breathing falter and he shed a tear when it proceeded to discontinue.

When he returned from that expedition he scrubbed at his skin till it scratched and itched in irritation. He needed to be clean, needed to feel safe, needed to reassure himself that everything was okay. Everything would be okay if he followed his advice this time. Never grow attached Levi, no one sticks around. From then on those words rang in his head twice as often.

But, he was never able to learn in the past so what happened next served to be no surprise at all.

Present day.

He's only gone and done it again.

He's grown attached.

He knows it's wrong to choose you over Jean, he curses himself when he's fighting through his tears asking himself why he's being irrational and risking his own life for you, the weakest member of the squad physically, you've always been a hindrance when it's come to teaching combat. Somehow you scraped it into the top ten all those years ago because of your intelligence and problem solving skills.

As the years have passed you've also made yourself at home in one of the tiny crevices of Levi's heart.

Levi knows Jean is a greater aid to humanity than you, he knows it, he knows it, he knows it.

But, he can't go through the devastation of loss again.

His body acts before his mind can stop him, he darts to your rescue as Jean watches on in terror wondering why his Captain is acting illogically and picking you over him.

You're trying to look him in the eyes, telling him it's okay he can leave you behind and take Jean instead, "MY TIME IS UP. LOOK AT ME LEVI." Screeching and wailing the Earth is coming down to the ground around you.

He can't make himself look at you, he's not willing to change his mind.

Grunting in pain he stubbornly releases you from the grip the abnormal has on you, you're still screaming as you fall down the drop with him, your ear-splitting cries tell him he's made the wrong choice, but as he zips through the foliage aiming to return back to your base he eases up at the way you howl. It comforts him. He's sick and twisted for letting it have that impact on him, he feels like a monster but you're still alive, that’s all that matters. You'll return alive and he'll be able to shelter you from harm’s way.

"Don't let his death be in vain." He whispers the sentence into the shell of your ear and you freeze, his voice is cracking and you hold onto him tighter. You squeeze him in your suffocating grip and sob into his neck, you've both lost a comrade who shouldn't have died today.

By the time the two of you have reached safety he's still afraid to let you go, he hates himself for falling in love with you because the gap between the two of you can't be bridged. You're bound to die if you don't work on your strength and if you don't pass away before him it'll be because he'll stupidly sacrifice himself for you.

Trembling as he cautiously lets you off his back you ask him the long awaited question, "Why did you pick me over him?" Voice breaking up you attempt to keep your cool and find the reasoning behind the foolish decision he made back in the forest.

Levi turns to you hesitantly, his eyes are glazed over with tears and he doesn't know how to explain his selfish urge to you, in the moment he just knew he had to save you, knew he needed you to keep going.

Then he blurts it out without stopping to think of the repercussions of his words. "I'm not the kind of man to confess."

His hoarse voice tenses midway through, he has to cough in-between the sentence but his words are still able to sink in. They hang in the air and then what he means hits you.

You're worth more than humanity to him.

He loves you.

You nod acknowledging what has been said. "Your actions have told me as much." is all you can manage to choke out.

His eyes flick to your face, he's trying to memorize your features off by heart, he needs to commit them to his memory, he can't afford to forget how you look.

"Dying isn't an option for us." Your voice is soft and fragile.

He takes a hold of your hand and begins to draw circles atop your palm.

Edging closer to him at first you lean in to offer him a hug and tell him everything will be alright. Brushing his hair out of his face and stroking his scalp time passes excruciatingly slow

Gazing at you he Releases a shaky breath and unexpectedly grabs you by the shoulders lunging forward. His lips smash into yours, you give into his hold and the apprehension drifts away. Kissing him back you whimper into his mouth, you’ve never kissed anyone before but it all feels so right with him. His hands fly to the back of your neck tilting you deeper and you oblige. It feels like you’ve lived just to share this moment with him.

For now, he won't have to go back and scrub at his skin till it grows red.

For now, you have him and he has you.

Grow attached Levi, no one sticks around.

[suck-on-a-fire-ball]

Anders / f!Hawke / Justice - Together

This is... believe it or not... part of the 28 Days of Fluff challenge... idk HOW I got this idea when trying to write fluff but --- I suppose... technically... there's a bit of fluff present?

Anyway - my masterlist for the challenge is here!

You can read this on Ao3 as well here!

Summary: Because of Justice, Anders doesn’t age. When the time comes for Marian to leave this Earth, neither of them leave her to face it alone. TW: Death bed. Angst.

“Here you go,” Anders says with a smile, putting a fresh glass of water down on the bedside table.

“Thank you…” croaks Marian, offering a warm smile back.

Anders sits down on the bed beside her legs and worriedly tucks her further in. “Anything else I can get you?”

She answers no with a gentle shake of her head before relaxing back down against the pillow’s her fragile, old body is propped up against.

“Tomorrow,” starts Anders, going through what was slowly becoming a daily routine with her so she would have something to look forward to, something to keep fighting towards; “Tomorrow… the kids are coming to visit again. Ava is bringing little Bethany too. That’s always nice, hm?”

She nods her head weakly.

He doesn’t like that she’s this weak. She’s not been this weak since she collapsed.

He’s a healer and knows just what this is, but he is also her lover and husband… and he does not want to believe what his healer side is telling him.

“And Varric sent a letter that he’s two days away. You wanna talk to him again, right?”

“One last time…” Marian whispers, earning a shake of Anders’ head.

“No, of course not. Just… He’s just visiting. He’ll come back as much as we want.”

A silence settles between them. It’s tense, nervous. But it was not because of Marian. It was Anders. He fiddles with the end of a sheet, avoiding glancing at her the same way he had been avoiding the truth he undoubtedly knew just as clearly as Marian herself.

With a smile, Marian decides to continue playing along. “Of course…” she offers, but he sees right through it.

Wrinkly hands reach out to his smooth and young one, and she moves it shakily up to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

He frowns.

“You don’t deserve this…” she says quietly, holding onto his hand still.

He attempts to smirk, “Hey, that’s my line. I’m meant to be the one who wishes you had chosen someone else.”

She smiles. “That changed a while back… When we realized…”

Anders shakes his head. “Hush…” Gently, he scoots closer to her and brings her hands to rest in his lap. “Remember what we said? On our wedding day?”

The smile on Marian’s lips now reaches her eyes fully. “Let’s wait until our wedding night?”

He nearly chokes at her words. No matter how old she got, her personality remained the same. And she even offered him a wink. “The other thing,” he says with a chuckle.

She nods her head knowingly. “That no matter what our slightly abnormal lives would look like, we would always do it… together.”

“Together.” Anders turns his head to the side and points to a mirror, where the image of Justice watching Marian with worried eyes and a hand against the glass was visible. “All three of us. Right until…”

He stops talking, emotions interrupting him as he clutches onto her hand, bowing his head with a sniffle. So she finishes for him, placing a calm hand over his. “Right until the end. So please stay here…”

Anders looks over at her in alarm, but her warm, calm smile only makes him more emotional. But he doesn’t fight her on it. How could he? He is a healer, not a miracle worker. “I’m staying. Right until the end.”

She smiles and settles down in the bed, keeping a gentle hold of Anders’ hand. With a deep breath, she closes her eyes and says: “Now, if you please… remind me of our wedding night again.”

He laughs in disbelief. She laughs in joy at hearing him happier.

Justice rolls his eyes at Marian’s ways.

It stayed that way right up until the end…

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 3

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

“Going off the information I have listed here, it appears as though you’ll be receiving subject N-45, today. She’s a healthy 22 year old female. Her short, but muscular body weighs 95lbs with a childish height of 4’10” tall. She possesses primarily Romanian and Filipino ancestry, with some Dutch or Finnish or... whatever, thrown in there as well. And according to the various items we found on her person when she was first brought in, she’s apparently a graduate student at the University of Bucharest, or, at least she was, before she drove her car into a tree while driving up the mountain and was recovered by Heisenberg” Miranda explains robotically, reading aloud from a piece of paper held inside a thick manila envelope. “Of the 4 remaining test subjects, N-45 is easily the most violent and difficult one to work with, having to be either anesthetized or restrained every time I wanted to so much as take her vitals or stabilize her condition. When given smaller doses of sedatives she-”

For the first time in his entire life, Salvatore completely ignores whatever unimportant nonsense Mother Miranda is going on about, continuing to take in and analyze the strikingly unique appearance of the young woman before him.

Upon first inspection, N-45 appeared to resemble that of a normal woman in just about every way possible. Her hair was scruffy and very short, barely long enough to reach her eyes, and a deep black color that looked so soft and luxurious that Salvatore ached to run his fingers through it. Her face was slightly round, giving the young woman a very youthful appearance, with her sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones being some of the only things keeping Salvatore from mistaking her for a child. And lastly, her... figure, if Salvatore had to put such an embarrassing idea into words, was similar to that of Mother Miranda, only shorter, more compact even. It reminded the hooded man of those small packets of candy Duke occasionally gifted him that said “fun sized” on the label, in reference to them being much smaller than the standard sized candy bars and yet somehow being… better, despite technically giving you less candy.

She was already perfect as she was, but it was not just N-45’s beautiful human features that pulled Salvatore in and refused to let him escape the stupefaction he’d been placed under, but also her mutations.

A soft royal blue coated her from head to toe, giving way only to a large patch of solid white located on her chest and stomach. Her skin catches the light in a way that reveals areas of tiny overlapping scales, glimmering like stars in the midnight sky, or freshly polished armor, perhaps, along the bony ridges and tender curves of her figure.

Small white dots distributed like paint splatters across the colored sections of her flesh give a similar visual effect as freckles, starting from her hairline and extending all the way down to the very tips of her toes. These galaxies of white were invisible only on the white patch along the front of her torso, as well as on the lighter blue hue taken on by both the palms and webbings of her hands and feet.

Long Fin-like extensions grew along both her forearms and lower back. The former extended outward and inward like a windshield wiper, likely used to decrease water resistance. The latter, however, perhaps used to increase fine motor maneuverability while swimming at greater speeds or in tighter spaces, grew straight downwards from her lower back in an overlapping fan configuration that marginally covered her rear end, though not by very much. The fins looked like a soft, delicate material that was probably very flexible but very durable, if Salvatore had to guess just from looking.

And to top everything off, N-45 even appeared to even have gills, 2 different sets by the looks of it. The first set of 3 breathing slits was located horizontally along both sides of her neck, while the second set could be found on both sides of her torso, following the downward angle of her ribs but stopping just underneath her soft, plump-looking breasts.

Salvatore feels a sudden wave of heat cascade over his body and he turns his face away in shameful embarrassment as he suddenly realizes that N-45, much like every test subject undergoing cadou treatment, was still very, very nude at the present moment.

“I can’t make any promises regarding her disposition, but physically speaking, she’s ready to be released to you whenever you’d like. I’ll have some of the villagers transport and release her into the reservoir later this week” Mother Miranda says, pressing a button to close the pod now that Salvatore was no longer staring at her.

“W-wait just a m-moment” Salvatore calls out, prompting Mother Miranda to halt the closing of the pod.

“Yes? What is it?” The woman asks curtly, clearly not wanting to stand here and watch Salvatore any longer than she has to.

Wringing his hands together nervously, Salvatore meekly asks, “C-could… could y-you wake h-her up… s-so that I can s-speak with her… j-just for a m-moment?”

Mother Miranda remains silent for a moment, blank face staring directly at Salvatore as she contemplates what to do.

“No, Moreau,” she says finally. “I’ve had a very busy day today and I'm quite tired. N-45 is a menace that I struggle to deal with even on my best days. The last thing I need is something going wrong and her getting out and causing all sorts of chaos.”

Salvatore’s shoulders slump in disappointment, but he makes no further attempts to argue.

Mother Miranda rolls her eyes at the incredibly childish display, walking over to place a gentle hand on Salvatore’s head. “Would it make you feel better if I agreed to have N-45 be the first of the subjects to be dropped off? It’ll be more difficult than my original plan, but I suppose it was a bit unfair that you were the only one who didn’t get to “pick” their gift.”

“Yes, M-Mother Miranda… I-I’d like th-that very… very m-much” Salvatore says, leaning into the touch as Mother Miranda begins guiding him back toward the hallway leading to the exit door.

It wasn’t until after Miranda had exited the lab and begun walking down the long hallway toward the exit that Salvatore dared cast another glance back at the pod that contained N-45, wistfully thinking of how amazing her hand had felt in his, and how much he wanted to speak to her.

Just as the disfigured man was about to turn back and follow Miranda out of the laboratory, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, prompting Salvatore to tense and snap toward the 4 pods, frantically trying to figure out what it was he saw. A few seconds of stillness pass before Salvatore sees movement again, not freely moving about the room like he originally expected, but from within one of the 4 pods, his pod to be exact.

His curiosity momentarily outweighing his nerves, Salvatore slowly approaches the metal capsule, trying to get a look through the small pane of glass that allows visual access into the holding pod.

Another flash of movement has Salvatore flinching, jumping back as though he’d been advanced upon. After several seconds of stillness, however, the hooded man regains his confidence and once again inches his way toward the capsule, moving his head up and down to try and get one more glimpse at N-45 before he has to leave. One last look before she lays eyes upon his vile and disgusting body for the first time, screaming and calling him a monster as she runs away, leaving him alone and without anyone to call his own. Just like always.

“ Hello ?”

Salvatore froze dead in his tracks, his heart pounding and his lungs refusing to take in air, as a soft, muffled, questioning voice reaches the deformed man’s ears, followed by two golden orbs with narrow black slits running vertically through the center, that slowly peek into view from the bottom of the glass window. Salvatore’s eyes widen in shock as he quickly realizes that the orbs of gold are not, in fact, just spheres of color, but rather a pair of eyes, staring intently at him from inside the pod.

“Uuuuuh… u-u-uuum… I-i… I w-was just…” the disfigured man stuttered as he struggled to move his body, seemingly paralyzed by the bewitching gaze currently locked onto him, looking at him with an intensity that makes Salvatore wonder if this is what it feels like to be a cell put under a microscope.

It isn’t until Salvatore notices the golden orbs moving and shifting from one corner of the window pane to the other that the hooded man realizes, to his immediate horror, that he might not be the only one trying to get a better look at the figure located on the other side of the pod door. Panic and fear immediately fill Salvatore from deep within, growing strong enough to allow him to finally overcome his temporary paralysis and skitter away from view. Pulling his hood even further over his petrifyingly grotesque face in shame of himself, Salvatore flees the laboratory as quickly as his hobbled limp would allow.

His heart pounds to the beat of the soft, but desperate pleas of protest coming from N-45’s pod in response to Salvatore’s rapidly retreating form, yet the hooded man cannot bring himself to believe what he hears as true. Perhaps believing that the siren-like voice he hears echoing off the metal laboratory walls to be nothing more than a trick of his sick and lonely mind, Salvatore does not stop, nor does he turn back around until he’s met up with Mother Miranda at the exit to the surface, lungs burning and legs aching from running for so far and long.

“Oh, there you are, Moreau,” Mother Miranda says suddenly, stopping just before they are about to exit the laboratory. “I’m glad you chose this time to finally catch up, because I just realized a second ago that I’d forgotten to give you N-45’s previous name. You can name her something else if you’d prefer, of course, but I offered the information to your siblings so I suppose I should offer it to you as well. Would you still like to know N-45’s name, or would you rather abandon her given name for one of your own choosing?”

After a few seconds of silent contemplation, Salvatore lifts his head, “I… I-i would like to k-know… her n-name… please...” the mutant man says softly.

Mother Miranda briefly raises a questioning eyebrow at Salvatore’s nervous body language, but ultimately rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders, all but tossing the Manila envelope containing N-45’s information at the hooded man before disappearing out the large metal door.

“If you’re going to read that now, feel free, but return to the meeting room once you're done. And be sure to lock the door to my laboratory behind you” Miranda commands, her voice having grown echoey due to how far away she now was.

“Yes, M-Mother” Salvatore calls after her as he scrambles to catch the thrown file and prevent any loose papers from falling out. Once he’s got a solid handle on the thick envelope, he opens it, casting a quick glance back in the direction of the pod room, where Nadine and the other 3 gifts were being held for the time being.

Returning to the file, Salvatore frantically flips through every page, trying to find the one that held N-45’s personal background information.

After several minutes of desperate flipping back and forth, Salvatore finally focuses on one particular piece of paper that looked to have been in the file for the longest. Pulling out the particular page he’d found, the disfigured man drops the rest of the folder onto the ground and begins rapidly skimming through the information printed on the page, his hungry eyes refusing to stop until they finally zeroed in on the information he’d been looking for.

Project: E.V.A. Resurrection

Subject: N-45

Parasite Administered: Cadou (Series- N; Strain- 45)

Family Name: Bogdan

Given Name: Nadine

“N… Nadine” Salvatore said slowly, feeling slightly lightheaded and out of breath as each individual letter of the young woman’s name rolled off his tongue like Camembert cheese; smooth, creamy, decedent, and likely to keep him up all night with an upset stomach and a racing heartbeat.

Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine.

The name quickly became a broken loop played over and over and over again inside Salvatore’s head, his mind unable, or rather unwilling, to think of anything else as he read, reread, and then re-reread Nadine’s name at least 100 times, before finally setting the piece of paper down.

“Nadine...” Salvatore breathes the name once again, his voice carrying a wistful tone. “E-even your n-name is wonderful...”

An already beautiful woman, made even more perfect through the power of science and Mother Miranda’s grace, only for all that potential to end up wasted in the hands of a desperately lonely and horrifically mangled fish mutant, who was more likely to accidentally dissolve her in stomach acid than woo her like some kind of aquatic Prince Charming.

“Y-ya right... e-e-even with a-another mutant… I’m s-still so disgusting a-an… and horrifying in comparison… n-not even my o-own kind can b-bring thems-themselves to love me f-for who I a-am… not th-that there’s much of m-me that’s worth l-loving to begin w-with” Moreau laments to himself, wondering if it was even worth holding out hope that things with Nadine could go his way. As if one look at his monstrous form wouldn’t be enough to ruin everything Salvatore already has an agonizingly low chance of ever having with that magnificent specimen of a woman.

Even with Nadine’s own external mutations making it clear that she was no longer fully human, her form had still retained such a beautifully strong, yet womanly shape to it, and her face still looked so young and innocent despite everything that she’s been through. Someone as beautiful as her was far too good and pure to be tainted by his filthy hands.

‘Maybe I should just kill her when the villagers arrive with her at the gate? At least then... I could say I put her out of her misery before she had to experience it for herself…’ Salvatore sulks mentally.

However, despite the self degrading thoughts running through his mind, the memory of the curious look Nadine’s shockingly bright and mesmerizing golden eyes held when trying to look at Salvatore through the pod window made the hooded man shiver, having never been looked upon in such an innocently curious manner before. Most people who got that close to Salvatore didn’t even need to see his face in order to start screaming and running away in terror. However, if the deformed man allowed himself a brief moment to believe that it was indeed her who’d been calling him to come back and show himself, then from the tone and rushed quality of her voice, it would seem as though Nadine was unsatisfied with the fact that she hadn’t seen all of Salvatore’s face and body, not terrified.

How strange...

How very strange indeed…

[futurewriter2000]

Taking a Risk

A/N: I think I just fell in love with Ron with this one. God, I love that man. Also ginger men should have more loving. I’m so glad I got this request because I enjoyed writing this every bit.

REQUEST by @tmrwriter​: I was wondering if you could write a imagine about the reader and Ron Weasley being really obvious that they have a crush on each other, but Harry and Hermione try to push them to get together? IDK but i <3 the work u do! Keep up the great work!!

XX

It takes a lot of strength and time for a person to admit their true emotions and if emotions weren’t complicated, maybe everything would be much easier. 

You tried to ignore the butterflies and the uncomfortable heat on your cheeks as you were in the same room as him. Harry was digging deep into his potion’s essay, as well as Hermione, who was reading so fast. Both you and Ron have been trying to write the assignment for Flitwick’s class. He was sitting next to you, pretending to read the instructions for the assignment. Harry and Hermione already finished theirs, thanks to the brilliant Hermione Granger, who likes to finishe everything ahead. They had partnered up immediately after Flitwick said that the assignment must be done in pairs. Ron and you have decided to partner up as well.

That was harder than it sounded. Every time he was close to you, your body would tense up, your hands would become clammy and your cheeks were in this nice rosey colour. Every time you would glance at him, he was already watching you. His piercing blue eyes were soft on you, always were. The way he admired every little feature on you. The lines at the corners of your mouth whenever you smiled, the blush on your cheeks and the tension between your eyebrows. Every single bone in his body was telling him that everything pointed to him- that the blush on your cheeks were caused by him. 

When you caught him staring it was his turn to blush. His freckles that matched his eyes so perfectly hid under the blush of his cheeks. Sometimes you could see it reach his ears that almost glowed in a red colour. Just like him, you thought that all the signs pointed at you- that maybe, just maybe, in a glimmer of hope, you were the cause of his frustration. 

You’d bump into him- just gently enough to shake him out of his thoughts. He’d look at you with a grin and stared into your eyes until you felt your stomach twist and turn inside of you. It made you uncomfortable but excited in a pleasing way. You smiled and turned your eyes away, back into the book that you had to focus on but to God’s will, you couldn’t do it with his knee touching yours and spreading all sorts of feelings through your body. 

Oh, he did it on purpase. He wasn’t the shy, awkward kid you had met in your First year. No, something happened during the summer that made him so much more confident in himself. He’d bump his knee continuously,  teasing you even. 

You’d smile through your blush. “What are you doing?” you asked and he’d turn away with a grin. 

“Looking.” he dragged the word out as he flipped through the pages. 

He looked up at Hermione, still grinning and it didn’t last any second longer to let Hermione know what that meant. She moved her elbow a bit too fast until it hit the mug of tea and spilled it all over Harry’s essay and his robes. 

“Hermione!” Harry glared at her, feeling the boiling water scorch his skin. “That’s my assig-”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Harry!” she quickly got up, catching all of your attention. “Here- let’s go to my dorm. I think I have a book that can fix all of this.” she pulled his sleeve but Harry pulled back.

“I have all of my stuff here. Can’t you bring your book here.” he started to calm down a bit yet a little bit of anger was still present in his tone. 

Hermione couldn’t believe his brain. “No, Harry. No, I cannot.”

“Why not?” Harry kept looking as she continued to spread her eyes widely at him, glancing over at the pair.

“Because-” she tried to come up with an excuse. “-it would be faster if you take the essay before it’s too late.” 

“What?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Oh, for God’s sake Harry.” she grabbed his sleeve and started pulling him with him, grabbing the essay in as well. You could see and hear them whispering something to each other, Hermione gently hitting Harry over the head with the essay.

“What was that for?” he rubbed the back of his head.

“How dim-witted could you be, Harry?” you could hear as both of them turned around the corner and disappeared.

Both you and Ron laughed at their disappearance. 

“Tossers.” Ron chuckled under his breath, catching your attention and making your realize that you and him were completely alone in the common room. Not a soul left.

It caused the blush to creep back to your cheeks, even your ears but you tried to focus back on the book... the book that was on his side of the table. 

“Okay, so how about we finally finish this assignment today and-”

“Isn’t it due till the end of the week?” he furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“It is but don’t you want to finish it sooner?” you asked, completely oblivious to his intention.

His smile fell into a fading frown as he turned around to the book and kept looking at you. He was a bit frustrated if he was honest with himself. This assignment gave the two of you time to spend together and you just wanted to finish this. So did that mean that you didn’t have feelings for him... not even a little bit. 

You could see him hesitating in his answer, making you a bit more aware of the true meaning of your question. 

“I guess so.” he said, forcing a smile on his face as he looked at you. 

It took you his answer to realise that you wanted to hear the opposite of what he said. It took you his answer and his hesitation to realise that this assignment gave both of you time alone and that you had done nothing but love that time alone with him. 

“Afraid of losing your reputation?” you bumped into him, trying to lighten up the mood that you had apereantly ruined. 

“What reputation?” he furrowed his eyebrows, feeling your knee pressed against him and causing him to get a bit more flustered. 

Seeing his face glow red, you felt the adrenalin pump your heart and risk the chance of getting it broken. You were done waiting for answers. You wanted to know now and the adrenalin gave you an enormous amount of courage to do so. You leaned forward, face to face as he swallowed thickly. 

Everything told you to just go for it. Every single bone in your body but you chickened out, so you reached for the book on his side and backed away slowly. 

Your heart was thumping, not only in your chest but you could feel every vein in your body press against your skin. “The one where you do everything last minute. Imagine shocking Flitwick with giving him the assignment  a day early.” you let out a nervous laugh, flipping through the pages but not really knowing what you were looking for.

He was silent for a while, trying to gather his thoughts and his body funtion because suddenly, he couldn’t move a thing- not even his mouth. 

“Uhm-” he cleared his throat, smiling a bit awkwardly. “Yeah.” he let out a gentle laugh, staring at you.

What did you just do? You leaned forward, close enough to kiss him and he caught you staring at his lips but it took you a milisecond to change your mind and back away. 

Merlin, all he wanted was to kiss you- to touch you, to hold you so close but all he did was watch you from the end of his couch. 

He stared into the piece of parchment. There was nothing written on there. The two of you have been sitting here for an hour and there was literally not even a draft- not on his side and not on yours. What did the two of you do for the entire hour if not do the assignment? 

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked on your side of the desk, finding another piece of parchment completely empty. He found you flipping through the pages of a book but your eyes were directed somewhere at the floor and your thoughts somewhere at the clouds. 

He felt himself lick his lips. You were about to kiss him, weren’t you?

He felt his confidence come back from the shadows it hid. He put the book on the desk, seeing as you have noticed it with the flick of your eyes but decided to ignore him. You didn’t say a word, only pretended to read as fast as Hermione and flip a page. The funny problem was that nobody else could read as fast as Hermione.

He felt himself smile as he approached you, slowly sitting closer and closer to you. His large hand placed itself on the top of the book and you could see nice veins pop define the lines of his hands. His nails weren’t bitten like Harry’s were but they were nicely taken care of and healthy. He pulled the book away and closed it, then putting it gently on the desk. 

You didn’t dare to look into his eyes. You knew that the moment you do, you’d melt away into a puddle of emotions. 

Your heart was pumping so hard in your chest you thought it would burst. When his nicely large hands removed themselves from the book, they followed up to your thighs and up to your own hands. They were so small compared to his and you found your fingers wonder on every freckle they had.

He smiled at the wonderfully nice and gentle reaction he got from you. It only boosted his confidence. He came too far, he was not about to back down now. 

“(y/n).” he spoke softly and quietly. “Look at me.” he continued. “I have to tell you something.”

With all your might, you looked up into his blue eyes, feeling your soul catch on fire as you did. He was smiling at you with courage but you could see flashes of anxiety come and go. 

You wanted him to tell you, tell you now. Right now!

So, you took his hands into a firmer grip and pulled them a bit closer- watching him with eyes that almost pleaded him to tell you what you wanted to hear. 

He took a deep breath in and out. This felt so much harder that he ever imagined it to be. You were his best friend and now, you were looking him with eyes that expected something and all he could hope for was that he would exceed in your expectations. 

“I like you.” he seemed to spill out, softer than he intended to. Your grip tightened and he could feel his hands squeeze as if you were expecting more. “More than friends.” he continued, raising gaze from your hands up to your eyes, only to find them glimmering in joy. Your smile was sincere and gorgeous- just like the rest of you. “And I would really, desperately want to kiss you.” he started leaning forward, seeing as you nodded gently and moved in as well. 

He was so afraid yet eager to finally get the chance to kiss you- no, not the chance. To actually, finally kiss you. 

It was just a small touch of your lips and as soon as he felt them against his own, he slipped in his tongue and deepened the kiss. His hand removed itself from yours and went up to your jaw, pulling you closer. Both of your hands went up from his abdoment to his chest, gripping and twisting the shirt in your hands. He smiled as he had felt your urge to kiss him, to feel proud of himself risking his heart to tell you what he had felt because he had felt it for so long, he almost felt himself burst. 

He removed his hands your cheeks and slid them down to your waist, gripping you firmly and pulling you onto his lap. The two of you parted only for a moment, a second, to take a breath, to look each other into the eyes filled with joy and lust. He wanted to lean in but you pressed your thumb on his lips, dragging it down and brushing it all over his lower lip. He smiled at your touch yet he still wanted more. 

“I like you too.” you said and it took him by surprise to hear you say that. He didn’t know he needed to. He thought that the kiss was just enough to prove him that you shared the same feelings as he did but saying those words to him felt even better, like a conformation. 

“Good. Because this would have been awkward if you didn’t.” he smiled and you laughed, pulling him into another kiss. 

[buckyownsmylife]

white winter hymnal - tom hardy smut

The one where you’re Tom’s PA and you two get snowed in.

Warnings: smut, boss/employee relationship, dirty talk, kind of sexist remarks?, that wasn’t my intention, but maybe that’s how you’ll see it, so I should warn you about it, reader is very sex positive in this fic, idiot in lust, PA!Reader, jealous!Tom, kinda possessive! or maybe asshole!Tom, again it wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to write some dirty talk, use of the term cockslut and another that I can’t remember, or maybe it was cockslut twice

A/N: I’m not really satisfied with this collage, but this will have to do 🤷‍♀️ Anyway, here’s another anon request I received a while back. Please take everything Tom says as nothing more than dirty talk. Also, I did that thing where I wrote a pre-POV intro, idk if it’s any good but when the inspiration hits, I just roll with it ✌

Y/N wasn’t having a good week at work. It wasn’t that something wrong had happened - actually when you considered the cold facts about what had left her feeling so high strung that a simple touch almost made her moan, anyone would think she was crazy. Those were nice things, good situations that she’d found herself in.

But she’d disagree emphatically. There was nothing nice about the fuck-me eyes with which Tom, her boss, had regarded her when she arrived on set with the pencil skirt that she knew made her ass look great. There was nothing nice about the way he’d commented on how she was out to get him, making his life more difficult because of the way she was dressing. There was nothing nice about how he had kept on complimenting her, telling her how pretty she looked with her hair down, or how he joked about how it must have hurt when she fell from heaven.

And especially, there was absolutely nothing nice about the subtle, fleeting touches he’d decided to shower her with, leaving her burning and more aroused than she cared to admit, considering how innocent they actually were. Tom had been flirting with her ever since her job interview, it was nothing new and she should have gotten used to it by now.

But the truth was that she didn’t, she couldn’t. And who could really blame her, when every day it seemed like Tom stepped up a notch, making it harder and harder for her to ignore his advances and keep things professional between them?

Especially considering just how badly she needed to get off and just how attracted she was to him and his stupidly perfect body and damn hypnotizing smirk. She was only human, after all. A human woman with healthy desires that seemed to revolve exclusively about her boss.

God, she was pathetic. At least, she could always count on Saturday nights. That was the time she managed to escape the acting world and the craziness of the set where they had been filming for the last month to go to the bar and find someone who’d take her home and help her deal with her growing levels of horny.

If it weren’t for random strangers who knew what to do in bed, she wasn’t too sure she wouldn’t have succumbed to Tom’s spell and climbed him like a tree already. And that’s where she was headed, just after she stopped by his rental house and went over their schedule for the week ahead.

She’d get through this, she thought as she made sure her coat was tightly wrapped around her waist before exiting her car and running towards the front door, ignoring the snow that had been lightly falling since that morning. Just two more hours and she would be on her way to drowning her needs in another stranger’s body, just to pretend that she didn’t think about Tom during the entire act.

Yeah. She could totally do this.

Tom was screwed.

He had been since he first laid his eyes on her, some five months ago, just before they moved to this fucking freezing country to start filming for his next movie. He knew even back then, he should have thanked her with a smile, explained that she wasn’t right for the job, and asked her out. The fact that she was the best person for the job shouldn’t even have counted, because he was head over heels for her in that first meeting, how the fuck could he keep himself away when she was supposed to be working by his side every minute of every day?

In the end, the idea of having to wait until the end of filming to actually get to spend some time with her made him take the impulsive decision that led him to this situation. Having her so close, but nowhere near what he wished for.

It was hell on Earth. Especially since he knew she felt the same way, he could see it in her eyes, in the way she squeezed her thighs together every time he so much as looked her way. If only she wasn’t so unbelievably professional.

“Tom?” He heard her sweet voice calling out from downstairs and casted a glance at the window. The snow had been gradually building up since that morning, it was a surprise she had managed to reach his house in the first place. But of course, she would never let something as silly as the weather keep her away from her responsibilities.

With a low chuckle, he made his way to the living room, rubbing his hands together to create some warmth despite the heaters that were working overtime since he arrived at that house. It didn’t matter, it was still too fucking cold.

“Ready to go over your schedule?” He trailed his eyes over her body, taking notice of the dress she was wearing over the warm leggings. What day was it? Oh, right. Her day off started the minute she finished this one last task, and then she’d be off to…

He knew where she’d be off to. Thinking about it made him see red, especially since he didn’t have the opportunity to do the same where they were. He envied her, but he envied the lucky bastard that got to fuck her tonight even more.

“Of course,” was all he said, assuming a spot on the seat next to hers on the couch. She visibly tensed, but then threw him a small smile that seemed to try to ease her own nerves, to which he returned with a grin of his own.

“What are you all smiley about?” It was nice to see her more laidback, it was clear that the prospect of letting off some steam tonight was relaxing her. Tom could work with that. In fact, it just made his plans that much easier.

“I can’t imagine how someone could be near a woman as beautiful and not be happy, sweetheart.” Her smile immediately dropped, her eyes growing twice their size as he maintained his grin. “But let’s get on with it, shall we? I have a lot to plan out with you.”

She raised an eyebrow at his lack of interest in continuing to mess with her but shrugged it off before opening her planner. They did have a lot to talk about before she could finally leave to the nearest bar.

Tom chanced a glance out the window as she tried to locate their current week on her faithful notebook. This might just turn out the way he needed it to be.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Aaaand… I guess this finalizes your schedule for the next week,” I commented as I made sure to correct the time for a phone interview Tom would be having on the following Friday, before glancing up at him. He’d been mostly quiet for the last few minutes, a stark difference from how he had behaved during the entire meeting. Through all my time working for him, it had been the first time he was actually really present for the scheduling of his following week, making changes and trying to be sure that it would go as smoothly as he wanted it to be.

It wasn’t an unwelcome change, but it sure was peculiar. And by now, I knew him enough to get that there was definitely a hidden reason for him to be behaving this way. Still, I couldn’t yet grasp what it was that he had planned, so I resigned myself to getting through with what I intended to do for the day, and thankfully, that was now done.

“Well, if you won’t be needing me anymore, I’ll be getting out of your hair now.” I smiled softly down at him when I left the sofa, making quick work of my scattered papers and random pens before straightening out to say goodbye. “What?” I had to ask since he was looking at me like he was trying to contain his laughter.

“Well, first of all, sweetheart, I always need you. Perhaps not in the way you’re supposed to help with, according to your job description, but it’s the truth.” I had difficulty maintaining eye contact after that, opting to stare at the mountain of documents in my hands while I fidgeted from one foot to the other, feeling the arousal inside of me sparkle before starting to burn even more intensely. Why did he have to be so honest about wanting me?

“Second and perhaps most importantly… I think you’re stuck with me for the rest of the evening, love.” That made me look at him again, desperate to find any signs that he was only toying with my emotions, anything to show me that he was only playing. But all I got was a nod of his head, pointing towards the windows, and that’s when it hit me.

We were snowed in.

A lot of different feelings took over me at the realization. First, there was despair. What would I do now that I couldn’t go to the bar? Then, there was anxiety. How the fuck was I supposed to survive spending the night with my boss - to whom I was attracted to - in a house with a single room in it?

Finally, sheer panic set in, making me shake my head in frustration. I’d never be able to find enough control to resist him without the release that my weekly escapades granted me. And by the way he stared up at me, with those darkened eyes filled with lust, I could tell that he knew.

I watched with a trembling body as he slowly rose from the seat and made his way to me until we were chest to chest. His eyes ran up and down my body until they finally settled on mine again, and I had to bite down a whimper. 

That’s how weak I was for him. He could reduce me to a wanton mess with a fucking stare.

“You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question. Both he and I recognized it as a fact. Still, I whispered into the air between us, “Yes.” Immediately, he pressed on. “Of me?” I almost melted at the sight of such a burly, strong man, towering over me and devastated at the prospect of threatening me.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I waited for her answer with a heavy heart, but the hopeful expectation that she did actually feel just the same as I did: scared at the prospect of what could happen between us, but equally excited. 

“No.” I tilted my head at the word, curious as to what was her explanation, then.

“Then what?”

“Of what could happen if I let go of my control. Of what I would become.” Slowly, a smile took over my face, and I finally felt confident enough in her feelings to feel like I could touch her. So I raised my hands to hold her hips, rejoicing in just how small she was in comparison to me. It felt like I could very easily pick her up and take her - in whichever way I wanted. And there were a lot of them.

“Let go,” I whispered in her ear, having leaned down so I could compensate for our difference in height. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you without that precious control of yours.”

Goosebumps had spread all over her skin at the difference in temperature of my breath and her skin. I watched in fascination, following their trail, rubbing my nose across her jaw before finally, her lips were inches from mine. And then they were mine.

I possessed her mouth just like I’d fantasized for so long, desperate to make up for the lost time, for all the nights I spent alone thinking about her while she was off with someone else. And she responded just in kind, her arms barely able to embrace my body, but her palms were spread over my back, pulling me closer, and that was more than enough for me. 

For now, at least. Now that I’d captured her on my web, there was no way I was letting her go before I fulfilled each and every one of the dirty, dirty dreams I had about the two of us. I was going to ravish her. I was going to ruin her.

She let out a tiny whimper when I pried her lips open with my tongue, before melting in my arms as I explored her mouth, basked on her taste. “You know there’s no way I’m letting you go now, right?”

By the way she looked at me with hazy eyes, it was clear that there would be no resistance from her whatsoever. She was pliant and soft in my hands, easily following when I picked her up and climbed up the stairs to my room with her in my arms. And then, when she was on the bed, there was just no way I could control myself anymore, not even long enough to take off our clothes properly. So I just flipped her skirt up, before ripping apart her leggings and finding her underwear absolutely drenched for me.

“Fuck,” I whispered, already reaching out to rub my thumb over her nub, making her gasp and cry out for me. “I can smell you dripping through the fabric, sweetheart.” To my pleasure, she didn’t seem coy about it at all. 

Oh, no. My little assistant, the picture-perfect of professionality was licking her lips, frantically nodding to my indication. “For you, I’m always dripping for you.” A smirk took over my face at her confession, my cock hardening even more at hearing that while I was suffering silently all that time, so was she.

So I ripped her underwear to shreds, spreading my hands over the inside of her thighs to get the perfect view of that pussy that had been haunting my dreams. “Shit, I can’t wait to eat that.”  And with only those words as warning, I dove right in, attracted by the sweet smell that made my mouth water.

She was just as sweet as I thought, but the sounds with which she filled my bedroom were what drove me crazy. I couldn’t close my eyes to fully appreciate her taste, too transfixed by her beauty, unable to believe that I finally had her, that it was her pussy I was currently lapping.

“Damn, look at you,” I hummed against her clit, making her jerk and try to pull away for a split second before I threw an arm over her hips to secure her position. “You fought so hard against your instincts, only to end up right here, spread open for me.”

With each word that left my lips, she seemed to get closer and closer to her release. “And to think you could have had my mouth on you all this time. Tell me, darling, do you think a stranger could make you feel better? Were any of the people you fucked, trying to ignore our connection, this great at making you cum?”

I could feel her muscles quiver under the soft skin of the inside of her thigh, and I doubled my efforts on her pussy, determined to see her cum at least once before I finally got my cock in her. It was throbbing now, begging for any sort of attention, but I was too transfixed by the sight of her reaching her high, the way her chest heaved as I quickly rubbed her clit with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth.

“Gimme your cum, baby. C’mon. Been waiting so long to get you in my bed…” She came as I hummed against her, the sensations obviously flipping her over that edge. “Fuck, you’re sweet.”

I kept on slowly cleaning her up, mindful of not hurting her, as she struggled to get her breathing in check. Despite her sensitivity, I couldn’t get myself to part with her taste just yet, even considering the possibility of eating her out some more, making her cum one or two more times before I fucked her properly.

But that was all before she fractured my control with two simple sentences. “Want some help with that? I’ve really been looking forward to getting your cock in my mouth.” I hadn’t even realized that I had been grinding against the mattress as I pleasured her, just to relieve my needy member at least a little bit.

What I knew was that I most definitely would not be able to hold back enough to feel her mouth around me. At least this first time. So all she got was a growl as I pounced on her, forcing her to taste her cum as I kissed those gorgeous lips and held her knees open to accept my weight between them.

“Right now, I’m gonna fuck this little pussy until you’re sobbing for me, okay, love? If you beg nicely, I might let you taste me later.” She whimpered in response, and a smirk took over my face. “Wow, you really are cockdrunk for me, aren’t you sweetheart?” The whine I got only made me laugh, giving me a little bit more control to tease her some more.

“You think you’re ready for me?” I asked, pressing the head of my cock against her clit, rubbing it with my member. “Are you sure you can handle my dick, darling?” Watching her thrash around the bed in an effort to get me to push into her was something I never thought I’d get to see. It made that moment of victory just that much sweeter.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was trembling in anticipation to finally have him inside of me. To feel that fat cock stretching me open, filling me up like I’d always wanted it to. It was enough to drive me absolutely crazy with desire.

“Yes, yes, please, I can handle it. Please, stop teasing me,” I begged, my hands not able to choose what to hold as I struggled to keep myself from losing my mind over my boss’ cock. From the depths of my desire, I took notice of the way he smirked, one eyebrow raised up as he stared down at me, still slowly running the head of his cock between my pussy lips.

“Teasing? This isn’t teasing, love. Teasing is what you did to me, every single day since we met, parading everywhere with those fucking skintight skirts.” And with those words as preamble, he finally slid home, only stopping when he was completely inside of me, hitting my cervix and difficulting the now herculean task of remembering how to breathe again.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be this tight. I just fucking knew it.” Those were the last things I heard before he started pounding me against the mattress, barely having given me any time to get used to his thickness. 

If I thought I was losing my mind before, it became clear from the way he was bruising my insides that there was no possibility of me ever leaving this bed as a sane woman. Tom had managed to reduce me to a blubbering, stupid mess. He truly had turned me into his cockslut, I realized. I’d do anything just to keep being filled by him, over and over again.

“See? This is what you could have been having this entire time. Me and my cock. Instead, you just had to leave me for those random men. And while you were out, having your fun, all I had to keep me company was my own hand.” Tom never stopped the torturing pace with which he kept on fucking me as he slowly drove me crazy with his words. It was just unbelievable how great he was at dirty talk, I felt like I could cum already from the rhythmic attack on my sweet spot and the filth he was spilling. 

The mental image he elicited of him touching himself didn’t hurt, either.

“You’re so egoistic, sweetheart. Wasn’t it your job to serve me? Instead, I had to get off all by myself.” Despite the teasing nature of his remarks and the still brutal pace of his thrusts, his touch over my body was gentle, as he gathered my hair away from my face so he could bury his head in the crook of my neck.

“You… You could have had anyone you wanted,” I managed to remind him, starting to mirror his movements, fucking myself up on his cock. “You could have had anyone at all.” Abruptly, he stopped hiding his face against my skin, pushing away just enough to watch my expression - or maybe to show me his, in all of its seriousness.

“The only one I wanted was you. This was everything I wished for, since day one.” Tom raised himself slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts in a way that had me gasping in surprise, while also preventing me from being able to figure out what I could possibly say to that. So he continued, slowing the movements only a bit, but fucking me deeper, his eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t pinpoint. 

Tom’s P.O.V.

She gasped, finally giving up that last little bit of control and allowing herself to relax against the mattress as I did all of the work. “But now I have you, huh? And this is where you should be spending your days, with my cock deep inside of your pussy, keeping me warm, keeping me happy.” I kissed her before finishing, “Keeping me fulfilled.”

With a moan that electrified every single cell of my body, she came and prompted my own orgasm, and I spilled inside of her with a roar, momentarily losing my strength and falling on top of her body.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, darling. Let me get out of you.” But she stopped me from leaving her arms and her pussy, hugging me to her chest until I had no other choice but to cuddle her.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers lightly running through my short hair. “I like it.”

I fell asleep that night happy because I understood that was her way of saying that she was satisfied with this development in our once strictly professional relationship. And I couldn’t wait to wake her up with another reason why she shouldn’t regret this.

[loversamongus]

Controlled Emotions | Zuko x Reader

a/n: all these fics end up being the reader as an advisor, I have zero creativity. anyways this is inspired by the song “every single night” by computer games because I was listening to it one day and the first lyric just screamed zuko to me idk so here it is. also i didnt proofread this oops

word count: 1.5k

fic taglist:

Advisor meetings have been tense lately. While a mixture of advisors in age, gender, and political leanings was ideal for gaining multiple perspectives on an issue, it also led to frequent arguments about what was best for the Fire Nation and deadlines being pushed back until the majority of advisors have come to an agreement. Though rewarding at times, the job was certainly frustrating. But all that paled in comparison to the most recent audiences with the young Fire Lord. 

Frustrated by another deadline requested to be pushed back, the Fire Lord’s temper had surged throughout the throne room. You didn’t disagree with him either. People in a small fishing village were becoming seriously ill and many signs seemed to point to the mutations and disease in some of the fish from the river as a result of years of pollution from war efforts. 

“It is not your fault the regime before yours was so ignorant of the people’s needs and other environmental factors.”

“In all honesty, who in their right mind would eat a fish with two heads anyways?”

“The river had been supposedly cleaned by the Avatar and his friends shortly before the end of the war, shouldn’t the responsibility lie with them?”

One after another, an advisor countered the Fire Lord’s efforts to financially back abundant medical aid for the fishing village. One after another, flames grew higher and higher nearly scorching the ceiling as the Fire Lord sat quietly. You noticed his scrunched up expression and knew it was only a matter of time before--

“Am I not, as Fire Lord, responsible for everyone living in the Fire Nation? Am I not, having been Prince of the Fire Nation during the war, responsible for how the war had affected our people? How can we sit here and deny help to our own people who are suffering?!”

After an uncomfortable silence, only one advisor stood up to speak. “And what, Fire Lord Zuko, do you plan to do about those injured in the fights breaking out in the colonies? Or the troops returning home from war injured and jobless? Or the villages in the Earth Kingdom burned down by our nation’s doing? There are many responsibilities this nation bears but solving these problems must be done with appropriate organization and objectiveness, not youthful bullheadedness.”

And with that, the audience was dismissed. 

With no clear resolution in sight, you had made your way to the advisors’ chambers to work on new proposals despite the late night. Getting down the business is usually easy but the otherwise empty and quiet workspace was not as calming and focused as you had hoped. It may have been well past sundown, but bright bursts of light kept erupting and peeking through the windows of the chambers, distracting you every time you went to read or write a new sentence. Having been an advisor for some time now and becoming familiar with the layout of the palace, you knew exactly where the light was coming from.

Abandoning your work, you walked the grounds until you reached the gates of the training space. Sure enough, your suspicions had been correct as you eyed Zuko in the center of the pitch running through different firebending forms. It was a surprise however that only the fire blasting from his fists and feet was what distracted you from your work. You hadn’t heard the angry grunts and yells from the advisors’ chambers.

The sound of the gate closing behind you was enough to make Zuko stop and look up at you. But he simply acknowledged your presence with a nod before continuing into the next set of firebending forms. You took a seat to watch on the sidelines. The silence did not bother you. In fact, it gave you time to relax from your role as advisor to the Fire Lord into friend. Or something more. The details of your relationship with Zuko have not really been sorted out or discussed but either way, you knew your role right now was to be supportive yet honest.

“He was right, you know.”

Zuko let out a low grunt as his response before letting more fire blast from his fist.

“It’s not that the other advisors don’t want to help the village. It’s that we have to divide our resources and aid equally. If we send all our healers to the village, none will be left to take care of the returning troops or the colonies or the elderly in the capital city.”

There was no grunt this time but more flames spat from his fist as he punched it forward through the air.

“And it’s incredibly admirable to see you so compassionate about your people but it would be nice to get through one meeting this week without scorching the ceiling tiles.”

“So am I supposed to rule without a conscience?” he asked coldly without looking at you, the anger he was restraining palpable in his voice.

“No,” you replied levelly. “You heard what Ji said. Objectively does not necessarily mean without a conscience. Actually,” a bit of laughter bubbled up into your conversation. “He suggested you talk more with Katara. ‘Now that’s someone who can keep their emotions in check,’ he said.”

“Having been on the receiving end of her wrath, I beg to differ,” Zuko sighed and released his fists before joining you in the stands. “And I have talked to her. She just laughed at me. She said, ‘Now you know what it’s like not to be taken seriously because you’re too emotional.”

You shifted your body when he sat down beside you so that you could still face him. He did not face you, however, and continued to stare forward at the training grounds and into the night sky. “No one is telling you not to feel or have emotions, Zuko. Just that they shouldn’t control you so much, or cloud your judgment.”

“You sound like Uncle,” he groaned before flopping backwards onto his back. In moments like this, you really realized how young the Fire Lord was. He was still mature and doing his best with such a large responsibility, but despite being five years into his reign, that moody teenager still presented himself at times. 

Leaning onto one arm so that you were closer to Zuko, you laughed softly, “I’m wondering if I should find that flattering.”

Zuko ignored your lightheartedness and continued. “People are always telling me, ‘don’t let your emotions control you.’ But why? Without them, I never could know you.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyes remained fixed on him as you tried to sort out your confusion.

“Do you remember one of the first advisor meetings you were a part of?”

“The one where we were discussing having the Kyoshi Warriors acting as your bodyguards over well-trained firebenders much more familiar with the palace and the land? Absolutely. That was when we discovered your throne wasn’t fireproof.”

“Right. And I came here to blow off some steam and you followed me to say that you were on my side and would work on getting the other advisors to agree to letting the Kyoshi Warriors be my security.”

“I didn’t follow you...”

For the first time that evening, Zuko looked at you with a knowing and pointed grin. You rolled your eyes and urged him to continue making his point. “Anyways, go on.”

“If I hadn’t been feeling so angry, I wouldn’t have come here and you wouldn’t have followed me and we wouldn’t be... I don’t know... us.” He sat up and was so close now that your shoulders brushed against each other.

“It’s not just through anger that I’ve gotten to know you either,” he continued. “When I was anxious about a speech, you were the one who volunteered to work on it with me.”

“You made fun of the way I clapped and said people don’t clap that enthusiastically for common budget updates,” you drawled.

“When I was excited about Uncle coming back to visit, you helped to make sure everything was arranged to his liking.”

“You told me never to tell your uncle that my taste in tea may be superior to his,” you proudly added.

“And when I was sad that you had to leave on a trip to the Earth Kingdom, your letters made me smile because I thought at last someone who has worse handwriting than I do.”

“You take that back!” you gasped, pointing your finger menacingly at Zuko. 

“My point is,” he grabbed your hand in his. “If I was cold and stoic as some of these advisors seem to want me to be, I wouldn’t have gotten to know you. So I’m not going to change the way I feel.”

You smiled softly, happy to see this side of Zuko. The nature of your relationship still felt undefined and you were sure the two of you would figure it out. Eventually. It was a discussion to be had, but one for another day, as this day was nearly over.

“That’s nice,” you playfully patted his hand. “But the next time you decide to feel something, maybe you could do so without destroying the ceiling. Or distracting me with your firebending while I’m trying to do my job.”

You stood up and began to walk away from the stands and out of the training grounds, leaving a smiling Zuko behind you.

“You’re the one who followed me!” he called out.

[ahsbitch]

Something Strange In The Air (Part 2)

Word Count: 2544

Summary: In the aftermath of your...incident with Michael, you’re still tumbling to figure out what you’re doing. 

Warnings: It’s probably bad idk, oral (male receiving), face fucking, degradation, Mean!Michael & Being Mean To Michael, blue balls, waxing poetic, lots of cursing (as always), idk i can’t think of any others 

A/N: Sorry this is really short and sorry it took so long I’m in college so I’ve been busy and I was writing a oneshot for a different fandom which took some time, the next chapter will have more plot to it and stuff I promise, my apologies for shitty writing and being a super slow writer, I’m doing my best I promise. As always, comments (even just in the tags) are always ultra appreciated!!!!!

Mini Tags: @wroteclassicaly @1-666-coven @michaellangdonstanaccount uhhh there are others but i can’t remember if i forgot to tag you i’m sorry pls remind me 

ALSO I PUT IN THE KEEP READING THING BUT IT REFUSES TO WORK SO SORRY ABOUT THAT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was poetry flashing through your mind.

Some say the world will end in fire

Bits and pieces. 

Death, be not proud

You couldn’t get him off your mind. 

Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart 

Couldn’t get your dream off your mind. 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams 

The way he had looked at you, in it, how he had held your hand.

He kindly stopped for me-

Michael often called you little witch,

Leave my loneliness unbroken 

But he had never called you his little witch, as he had in the dream. 

There will be time to murder and create

He was beautiful, almost angelic in appearance, you had to admit.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

And he pulled you in, in spite of how hard you tried to ignore it

I can no longer remain away from you

It was almost disgusting, how much you thought about him. 

Curse, bless, me now with your tears, I pray

There was something about him that frightened you.

One short sleep past, we wake eternally

A lot about him that frightened you, actually. 

A waking on a morn

“Y/N,” Cordelia spoke, and you could tell from her tone that this wasn’t the first time she’d said your name, “Are you with me?” 

Shit, you’d gotten distracted. 

You’d been called to a meeting in Cordelia’s office, made it to one of the chairs, and immediately spaced out. 

You hadn’t really seen Michael in almost a week, nothing more than passing glimpses in the halls and quick pulses of his energy in the air. You’d been avoiding him. Or maybe he’d been avoiding you. Honestly, you couldn’t remember. You hadn’t spent a single night in your bedroom, instead floating around to parties and going to the swamps to practice your magic rather than spend time in the study room. 

Fuck, things were getting complicated.

“I’m with you,” You smiled cautiously at her, “I’m sorry.” 

She smiled back, something you couldn’t quite determine just behind her eyes. Concern, of course, her whole aura was clearly very concerned, but something else, and then she was speaking, her voice as calm as ever, “Don’t be sorry. Are you feeling okay?” 

Of course not.

“Of course I am!” 

“Try again,” Her hands were folded neatly on her desk, and you dropped your gaze to look at them, Cordelia’s words making you feel a strange sense of shame, “I’m a little worried about you, Y/N.” 

Your ears were burning, your heart jumping wildly in your chest, “I’m sorry.” 

She sighed, shaking her head, “Don’t be sorry. Just... what’s going on with you? What’s going on between you and Michael Langdon?”

Shit.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t been sleeping in your room, or studying in the house,” Cordelia looked at you strangely, and you held your breath, “Have you still been fighting?”

She didn’t know.

Thank fuck. 

“Yes,” You responded, perhaps a little too quickly, “Yes, we have. We just can’t seem to agree on anything.”

Not entirely untrue.

She nodded sympathetically, and you were relieved to feel that she believed that was it, “I’m sorry. I feared something like this might happen. But Y/N, you need to return to your room.You can’t be out every night, and you can’t do all of your studying in the swamps. You’re still a student here. You have to be present, at least sometimes.”

“Okay,” Nodding, you worked on getting your breathing fully back to normal, “I’ll be back in my room tonight.” 

“Good,” Cordelia reached out and squeezed your hand gently, “I’m proud of you, Y/N. You are a powerful witch, and a good woman. I believe in you.” 

Not able to make yourself respond, you simply flashed her a smile and bolted for the door, blinking back tears.

Fuck, she’d bee so disappointed if she knew the truth. 

You were barely out of the office when the door to a closet opened and someone tugged you inside, slamming it shut. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck, Michael?” You snapped, blinking into the darkness. 

Michael’s hand clamped over your mouth as he let out a growl, “Be quiet, little witch.” 

You worked your mouth until you managed to clamp your teeth onto the skin of his palm, biting as hard as you could. 

“Fuck,” He hissed, jerking away from you, “That hurt!”

“Good,” Glaring, you reached for the cord on the light and tugged on it, the weak bulb flickering overhead, “What the fuck?”

Glowering at you in the dim light, Michael crossed his arms, “What did Cordelia want?”

“None of your business.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Shaking his head, he scoffed at you, “It was about me, wasn’t it? Does she know?” 

It was childish to play dumb, and you knew that, but you were doing it anyway, “Does she know what? Why would we want to talk about you?” 

It took only a single step for Michael to back you against the wall, pinning you there with his hips, "Don’t even bother with that shit. Answer the fucking question.” 

You shoved at his chest, although even you had to admit that it was a halfhearted push. His proximity, especially after so long away from him, was overwhelming, and you felt your mind slipping to a place you didn’t want it to be, “Get the fuck away from me, asshole.” 

Another shove, and he wrapped his hands around your wrists, holding them over your head, “You weren’t asking me to do that last time we saw each other, were you, little witch? Now. Does Cordelia know?” 

“No,” Growling, you tried in vain to pull your hands back, “We talked about you, but she doesn’t know about that. Now let me go.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Michael laughed at you, “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not the one in charge here.”

“Fuck you,” You spat, beginning to shake with something between fury and a feeling that you didn’t quite want to acknowledge.

“This is a pretty color,” Michael shifted both of your wrists to one hand and brought the other down to trail across your lips, tapping at the soft flesh, smudging a bit of the golden sheen, “Did you put this on for me?” 

Ever since that day in the study room, not that day but the one before, you had taken to wearing more and more lipstick, coating your lips in a new color everyday. 

Today was gold, one that shimmered when the light hit it, and if you were honest, yes, you did put it on for Michael. Every time you reapplied a coat of lipstick, today and every other, he flashed through your mind, the sneer on his features, the echo of his words in your ear when his fingers were down your throat. 

“You look good like this...Gagging...You wear revealing clothes and you act like you’re doing it for yourself...But really you’re just a dumb, depraved, desperate little whore who wants nothing more than to be dicked down by your rival.” 

Fuck, just thinking about it sent a wave of wetness gushing through you, and you tensed your legs in an effort to ignore it, and the smirk on Michael’s face told you that he had noticed. 

Yes, you were wearing it for him. 

“No,” You had to crane your head to glare at him with how close he was, “I don’t know if this is the first time you’re hearing this, but not everything is about you, Boy Wonder.” 

He hummed, drawing his fingers along your cheekbone, and you cursed yourself for the way you leaned into the contact ever so subtly. After a moment he pressed his lips against yours, and although you fought to keep yourself in control, to keep from kissing him back, cursing yourself once again when you couldn’t hold yourself back, your noses smashing against one another, your mouth slipping open with a groan, quickly intruded upon by Michael’s tongue, which battled fiercely with yours. 

And then suddenly he pulled away from you and stepped back, and you fell to your knees as he chuckled, his hands unbuckling his belt, “All the same, little bitch, I think that color would look wonderful smeared all over my cock, don’t you?” 

“I fucking hate you,” You glared up at him through your eyelashes as one of his hands gripped your hair, the other pulling his dick out of the confines of his slacks. 

“That just makes this all the more pathetic, doesn’t it?” He slapped your cheek with his dick gently, and it wasn’t lost on you how perfect it was, the size and the ridging and and the pulsing veins and the furious pink of the tip all making your mouth water, “Get up and walk away if you want, little witch bitch. But I don’t think you will. I think you want this. I think that being a little whore is the calling you’re pulled to most.” 

Get up and walk away.

You could do that. 

He pulled his hand from your hair, letting your head drop back, and you knew that if you moved to stand he would release you, would let you go. His precum had leaked onto your face as he continued to hit your cheeks, waiting to see what you would do. 

Just get up and walk away. 

But you couldn’t, couldn’t bring yourself to walk away without having the chance to taste him, not when the very thought was sending arousal roaring through you, and while you wished you could directly blame this on Michael, could say that his magic was holding you in place, that simply wasn’t it. 

You opened your mouth as wide as you could and in an instant his cock was down your throat, Michael setting off to fuck your face at an intense pace. 

Gagging, you brought your hands up to his thighs, and when your nails scratched against his legs through the fabric or his dress pants Michael let out a high, desperate groan. 

Although you couldn’t quite smile at that, with how full your mouth was, there was a little voice gloating in the back of your head, and you squeezed his thigh tightly, drinking down his moans as you moved until his own back had hit the wall, his hands desperately moving from your hair to your shoulders to simply slamming down on either side of his body. 

“Your mouth is good for something, I guess,” Michael grunted, as though he wasn’t as desperate for you as you had been for him a week ago, “You’re much prettier when you’re not talking, did you know that?” 

You managed to flick back your middle finger enough to flip him off, although you didn’t pull back to make a verbal response. There was something urgent about this, and the idea of dropping him from your mouth seemed too great a sacrifice to make, when the harmony of Michael’s shockingly soft, animalistic moans mixed with the lewd, wet noises of his dick hitting the back of your throat was so disgustingly lovely. 

Michael’s hands twitched, as though he was going to grab at your hair again, and at that moment he seemed to finally notice your own magic in the air, holding his wrists in place.

“You little bitch,” He snarled, straining against the magic, but all he could do was buck his hips into your mouth even harder, letting out a hiss as your teeth grazed him, as your tongue swirled around his head, “Let me go.” 

But where’s the fun in that? 

You didn’t let him go, and you didn’t stop. If anything, you grew more intense, your hands managing all over him, sneaking past the fabric of his clothes to leave angry scratches on his skin, so smooth underneath your touch. Eventually one of them trailed to his balls, tugging and toying with them roughly as he began to strain even harder, began to make a choked noise at the back of his throat that made your thighs clench, and you knew he was going to cum soon. 

You pulled your mouth off of him. 

He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, panting, desperate, watching as you trailed your tongue over every inch of his dick, pulling his balls into your mouth and sucking them slowly, and finally you pressed a kiss to the skin just above his cock and leaned back with a grin.

“What the fuck,” Michael growled, although his face showed a kind of manic desperation that he clearly wasn’t used to, “Get back to it!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Your smile got even wider, although your mouth was sore and your voice scratchy, you decided it was worth it, “You call me a little bitch all the time, but who’s the bitch now, Boy Wonder?” 

“Y/N, I’m serious. I will ruin you,” Snarling in spite of the pained expression starting to grow on his face, he thrusted against you, and you let out a giggle at that. 

“It’s so cute that you say that while you’re humping my leg like an unfixed puppy,” Shaking your head, you took a step back, out of the range of his hips, and looked down to admire his flushed, throbbing dick, “You were right, y’know. The gold does look good on there .Especially the contrast it has with the blue of your balls.”

He looked down to see that your words were true, the skin becoming overtaken with a pale, bruise like color, and when Michael looked back up at you there was something murderous in his eyes, “Quit fucking around. Let me go, and finish.” 

“Why should I?”

Arms straining against their magical containment, face twisting with the growing pain in his balls, Michael’s voice had grown croaky, “Do it. I will never touch you again, if you walk away from this, do you get that you desperate little whore? You want me. You need me. Do what I fucking tell you.” 

“I think there’s been a serious misunderstanding here, Langdon. I don’t need anything from you. You keep saying you’re the one in charge, but look at you. You’re nothing but a little blonde bimbo. So fuck you,” You scoffed, trailing a single hand across his chest and giving his nipple a harsh pinch, letting out a laugh at his angered whine, “And by the way, Cordelia says I have to move back into our room. I’ll be back tonight. I’ll see you whenever you get around to being the powerful warlock everyone thinks you are and break through my magic.”

With that, you pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his lip and turned away, not bothering to fix your own appearance before you went out, turning the light off before you closed Michael in the closet. 

You were proud of yourself, you had to admit. 

Scared, perhaps, of what he might do, and curious as to whether or not he’d keep the promise that he’d never touch you again-not that you wanted him to, of course, you were just curious-but you were proud all the same. 

Fucking Michael Langdon.