#and I need to finish my fanfics so I can start writing a couple other things

[jaejoongs-nipple-piercing]

Forgot to do this earlier but I wanted to post something before the end of the day.

Happy Birthday Kang Daesung!! I hope you have/had a wonderful day and I hope everything you want in the next few years comes your way. I’d love to have some more songs from you and Big Bang, or maybe see you acting. But it’s ultimately up to you.

[dilf-docs]

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (cause we have a small daddy kink going on here.. hence the blog name BUT I DO HAVE A GOOD DAD), smut, this reeks of corruption kink for no reason other than me being a virgin whore, like he gets stalker-ish for a second but its logan howlett so we forgive him<3 ya está viejito, brief mention of suicide, sub logan edging on praising kink (if u squint), no protection but u gotta put the hat on the cowboy to ride the horse alr, riding, breeding kink??? angst (the depressing vibes are there cause they follow my writing like a shadow ijbol)

word count: 33,577 words (at the v crack of dawn.. i think i've gone insane FR it's 02:07 am and my brain its eating itself like im gonna start seeing logan in the corner of my room)

side note: newbie here after reading so many fanfics on tumblr but never publishing my own!! its hugh's birthday (well, its past midnight so no more but still!!! it was a couple hours ago) so i figured i should give it a try today cause that man does things to me ESPECIALLY as old man logan i can't lie and say the thought of him fucking me good and slow hasn't crossed my mind too many times 😩 we love sad hot old people in here so naturally my inaguration fic had to be done by him. also, i'm tired of scrapping for votes, comments, and interactions on wattpad so please treat me well during our first:// it's me moving to tumblr it's me hi i'm the problem it's me. i'm a feedback whore so pls leave tons of those!! also, english isn't my first language so if i make a grammar mistake pls do not tell me bc i have no respect for this language ―it just makes me cringe less to write smut on a language that isn't mine lol<3 but if there's any other mistake yes pls do tell me thank u OKAY BYE i needa quit yapping ENJOY dilf town<3

So it started something like this.

It was another simple nightshift for Logan. The weather humid, uncomfortably sticking the fabric of his white button shirt onto his skin. Even with the windows down. Those nights that the driving dragged on for long, like those cigarettes that now made him cough more than relax. The roads felt too long; his eyes too heavy.

Nothing new. Just about what to expect: money short, clients and traffic equally annoying. But that was the problem; nothing was new anymore.

He'd just finish dropping a customer close by, and since the tiring feeling didn't seem to leave his body just yet, a coffee wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, the need for a boost to make it home makes him get out of the car and limp his way into the first place his tired vision sees.

The rim of his recently adquired reading glasses slips as he climbs the stairs into the decades old diner, the decoration outdated. He understands; he feels the same way.

Neon lights flash his face when he enters the place and sits in the farthest booth he can find. The air is impregnated in grease and cheap coffee, but he waits at least fifty minutes to order, giving his body some time to rest. In the meanwhile, he tries to distract himself with the newspaper resting on the table, but God knows his eyes are too tired and his mind drifts every two words.

He hopes he doesn't get kicked out, judging from the attentive look he's receiving by a waitress resting on the bar. She looks as bored and tired as he does.

Maybe that's why he chooses her, raising his hand with order in mind. A black coffee. The waitress slides from her position and takes some steps to where he sits.

Her voice is sweet when she introduces herself, and Logan finds himself asking her again what her name is, pretending he's half deaf just to listen to it again.

"It's y/n" you repeat, oh so sickeningly sweet, he might have to skip on asking for sugar.

"Y/n" he savours the name on his lips, trying the tender sound, his eyes darting to the name tag, like he's confirming it. Testing to see if the young woman in front of him is real. Maybe his eyes linger a little too long, and the tip of your ears start to heat. Its the way he examines every feature on your face, like memorizing it in a sense, that makes you squirm. But maybe, just maybe, it's the small―brief, peak he gives to your exposed cleavage, pushing itself against the tight fabric of your uniform what truly gets your heart beating fast.

He looks like what your parents would warn you to stay away and your friends would talk behind your back. Rugged in a way that screams heartbreak, rough around edges your kind nature wishes to soften. It's unresonable to feel this way about a client you just met, but his aloof demeanor peaks your interest, so different from your usual costumers and familiar faces that pop up at the diner.

"Can I order you, darling?" his voice comes out deep, almost passing as a grunt. Just what you imagined it to sound. Why he's acting as his past self so effortlessly, after closing himself off to the point of going by entire days without talking more than three words, is concerning. Why the cute waitress who looks at him with doe eyes, expectant to take his order, is making him break the promise he made to himself not to get attached again―just live by enough to make it to the sea and put a bullet in his head.

"Well, that's just about my job" you joke, feeling confident for no reason. "But you can't order me".

"A damn shame" he chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling on his chest. It's been so long since he's laughed like that: carefree, without that pressing weight on his chest, that despite the sinking notion, sometimes feels more like a hole carved where his heart is supposed to be.

"So..." you trail off, unsure where to proceed after that sound that jolted your entire system awake, "what will you take?"

The banter dies, and Logan is dissapointed when she scribbles the dark coffee on her pretty round letter and walks away. He doesn't miss the sway of her hips, and almost calls her back just to hear her voice again. But he stops himself, because it's getting pathetic.

When she returns with her order, he almost regrets the comeback of his enhaced senses, her honeyed perfume mixed with the bitter smell of the freshly brewed coffee, creating an intoxicating mix.

His lips burn when he sips it, but that doesn't stop him from emptying the cup. Again. And again. All in the name for asking for more coffee, a magnetic force pulling him to the ground, making him forget he's a 200 and something year old man begging like a starved man for at least a fraction of her attention. He feels unworthy of your warmth.

He feigns interest on the newspaper when you return again (he's been stuck on the same paragraph ever since he sat down), the pot in your hands. If you've noticed he's emptied the cups faster than a normal person, you don't ask questions. He's thankful, but can see the amusement and confusion laced across your pretty face.

"More?" you ask, but it's unnecesary. He only nods, and you miss the chatter.

The closeness it's a challenge itself, the uniform's neckline practically shoved down his nose while she fills the cup to the brim. He hears his own heartbeat, the sound averting his attention from another "brief" glance at the cleavage. Is it intentional? Is your goodwill and act? Are you this cruel, playing with an old touch starved man like that?

God knows it's been long since he's had a helping hand during his relief hours.

He can't help it; he's a man, after all. So he seizes the moment and steals a glance. But his eyes meet yours, the wary green clashing with the cozy chocolate. There's warmth on your eyes, and he's looking at your tits like an animal. He pulls away, ashamed. The shirt feels a bit suffocating, and there's sweat on his forehead again. Great, you'll think he's a perv.

"Excuse me" you say, leaving his table. Logan is afraid of having fucked it up for thinking with this dick and not with his head. You were messing too much with his head, and now he'll pay the price. Fair, he thinks, for a perverted old man trying to woo a girl younger and far more innocent than him.

There's benevolance on her smile and blood on his hands.

The whole situation is stupid.

But then he's thinking of excuses (like saying it's his failing eyesight's fault) and something close to an apology, as if he cares a little too much about what you think. And then you come back.

"I forgot to bring you a napkin" she lies, leaving the piece of paper in the middle of the table. You laugh, and Logan let's you because 1. He deserves it, and 2. It's a sound as saccharine as the smell the freshly heated pies emit on the table across him.

You leave before he can even open his mouth, so all he's left with is the napkin that seems to have something written on it. Pervert, he reads, on the same calligraphy you scribbled on your bloc. He can't help but laugh, even with your watchful look on him.

That's how it continued.

Even if he had other rides and more energy to drive, he kept coming to the decaying diner just to see you. Almost as if he was forgetting his desperate need for the money, the boat goal further and further.

"You've forgotten about me" complained Charles, although his tone lacked of bite. "But I'm not mad that you've had".

He'd go on, rambling about living life but Logan just laughed. Yet, maybe he was right. Didn't even need his powers to know it.

Now, you? you simply couldn't get enough of your favorite costumer. Of his late stays until you closed, sometimes not muttering more than necessary, yet his company, even if curt, proved to be what you needed to make it through work, giving you a legitimate reason to yearn the before tedious night shifts.

Despite this two month weird relationship, Logan is as a stranger to you as he was the first day, no matter how many times you've tried to get him to talk. In the end, all your conversation efforts feel more of a monologue than a chat.

He knows about your mom and your dad, one strict the other dead. He knows most of your friends names, what you're studying and what you wanted to. Your dreams and your hopes, your aspirations, failures, and some other things you'd never say to anyone else out loud. All and nothing. And he listens, sometimes asking questions, but never about himself. He never takes the lead.

So frustration from the Logan enigma pours into you, the puzzle pieces layed out over your mind, consuming your thoughts. So now you're stubbornly cleaning the same grease spot on a table you've already wipped before, and that, coincidentally, it's the booth in front of Logan, the permanent resident of your head during these past weeks. You might as well make him start paying rent by now, his power and hold over you ridiculous.

"It's not going anywhere. Take it easy" he mocks you.

There's a bit of annoyance when you reply back, although it's mostly superficial. "Don't know what you're talking about" comes out your dry response, earning a low chuckle from him.

"How about you sit for a moment?" he offers, ignoring your apathy. "You're almost done cleaning up".

If his ever changing attitude isn't enough, closing this night's shift is as tiring.

Logan doesn't expect you to obey, but now you're sitting across from him, and a voice in his head says you maybe feel sorry for this lunatic old man.

You're so close, he can see the eye bags and sorrow you are far tired to try to hide.

"I have to finish cleaning" you explain, "we're about to close".

He doesn't know why he says it, or what takes over him when he says:

"I could wait for you"

He surprises himself and surprises you too.

"No need" you assure, and why does he feel so dissapointed. It's stupid. "My friend picks me up".

Ah, yes. The friend with the perfect stupid smile that picks you up every night. Not like he parks his car until you leave and sees the scene unfold each time, his white knuckle grip on the wheel a bit too much when the young boy opens up your door. Makes him see red, knowing he's your age and maybe the breathe of fresh air you need. Not a man far older, who bears too many sins and scars in and out.

"I see" he says after some minutes in silence, retracting his impulsiveness. "I'm sorry if I made you-"

"No!" you clarify hastily, "it doesn't bother me".

He smiles unconsciously in relief.

"Well, me neither. I insist. If you change your mind" he's practically begging, despite his monotone tone.

But you don't.

The place closes and Logan is forced to get in the car. He lights a cigarette, in no hurry to return home. The lighter lights up while the diner's light goes off. You and your boss come out, biding each other goodbye. She leaves and you're is left alone, hugging your body in the early morning cold. 

He sees you wearing particular clothes, for the first time. He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes running up and down your bare legs, the fragile fabric of the skirt fluttering in the wind. He exhales, watching as you dials your phone several times, getting no response, obviously frustrated.

He mutters something under his breath, and maybe there is a God after all. He starts the car, approaching her, who has already noticed it, probably because of the noise of the engine.

She looks scared, but Logan rolls down the window so she can see it's him.

"Need'a ride?"

Just by his reverberant sound you could accept. But you try to play cool for a while, despite your aching bones and need to get home.

"He doesn't answer" he was right, "my friend".

I know, he wishes to say, but he's the same hot headed asshole who walked through the doors of the X mansion for the first time, so his tone will be laced with irony. He doesn't want you to see him as an intense hot blooded mouth.

I could take you. His head pounds but he shuts the emotions down.

He shoves the knot on his throat down and asks as casually as possible, "do you live close?"

"Just around the corner" you answer. A beat, your frame bending so he can see your face from the driver's sit, the cleavage saying hello again. How considerate of you. "Do you really want to do this?"

Do you really want to do this?

The question rings on his ears. It holds more than just the favor. Logan knows they have a certain tension between them that he no longer wants to ignore. For the first time it seems to be reciprocated; palpable, and he is surprised to hear his heart beating loudly, so accustomed to hearing others' with his sharp senses, constantly forgetting what his own sounds like. Yours also beats erratically, despite your calm composure.

You arch an eyebrow, amused. "I can't believe you waited for me. Your family must be worried."

Logan realizes you're trying to test waters. So he raises his hand discreetly and places it on the door, so you can see the lack of a ring. As expected, your eyes travel to his free finger, and he can swear he sees you breathe with relief, which is funny, because in case you hadn't picked up until now, Logan is very much fucking alone.

"In case you changed your mind," he answers. "I have nowhere else to be."

That is enough of an invitation for you to get in the car.

"I was going to open that door for you" he protests.

You only laugh as you buckle the seatbelt. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You've already done enough for me by doing me the favor".

"It's not that big of a deal" he repeats your words, "as long as I'm of help, that's enough for me".

He smiles wistfully, remembering better times. A part of him still aspires to be that hero everyone loved and remembered, something that clearly doesn't happen anymore (or if it does, it's rare), given the lack of recognition of his former identity in El Paso. He shakes his head, focusing back on the street in front of him. It's too late to get fucking sentimental.

"I like to help too…" you confess, meekly. Logan sighs, how could he not know? "My father used to say that I had the kindest heart he'd ever met. I hope it stays that way, and that when he looks down on me, he's proud".

It hurts Logan to see you be so hard on yourself, as if he didn't do the same.

"I bet all the customers in the place would say you're the sweetest thing they've met", he sees you smile from the corner of his eye, and can't help but emulate it. "Believe me, you're their favorite".

"Thank you, Logan" you say sincerely. However, the affliction that he hates to see crosses your face. So gloomy that you don't even seem the same person.

You wipe away an unexpected tear, but Howlett is faster and notices. You turn around, looking towards the window. Then, you catch a glimpse of his license.

"So… you're a driver" you try to break the silence that Logan has put without knowing why. Maybe to give you some space after being sentimental and opening up again to this closed off wall name Logan, but he knows it's a lie. He's scared. After wanting so much to be closer to you, he cowers, not trusting himself and what he would do trapped in a small space with such an attractive woman. Besides, the tension from the previous conversation was still there.

"You judging me now, honey?" the pet name rolls off his tongue before he catches it. He tries to play it cool, continuing the banter, carrying the same tone. "The only thing necessary to make you trust me was to give you a free ride?

"I'm in your car, Logan. I got in without thinking" you laugh. "I believe that's enough trust"

"Then, I'll keep doing you favors. Maybe if I do…" he trails off.

Your voice drops an octave, provocative. "Maybe what?"

His knuckles grip the steering wheel until they turn white.

"Maybe…" he hesitates, "maybe…"

"It's here" you point out. Shit, Logan curses, braking abruptly without meaning to.

"See you tomorrow" you bid as a goodbye, getting out of the car. Logan misses your smell.

So he sticks his head out the window, like a begging dog.

"How about now?" he says a bit forcefully.

Your face shows surprise and something else.

"You're getting attached" you reply, and he doesn't know why there seems to be sadness in your voice.

"I just keep coming back for the coffee" he defends himself.

You laugh, shaking your head "Now, then. For the coffee, clearly."

"I can leave" he says. Yet, makes no move to leave.

You sigh, giving him one last look. Surrender, he reads.

"You're a driver, right?" he nods, taking in every word coming of your pink plush lips. "Then let's drive off. Anywhere" your voice trails off, and you're just so tired of everything, you'll just let go yourself with the flow. "I'll go wherever you go..."

And this is how it ends.

When you wake up, it's almost dawn.

Logan had suggested you to sleep, claming the road where he was taking you to be long. He had covered you with his jacket, even if your body was burning from nerves.

Why had you agreed? Your mom would probably smack your head in search for some sense, and your reckless friends would encourage you to do it for the sake of a story. But something about Logan makes you feel safe, despite not knowing anything from him. It's sort of a sense of protection―like he would never hurt you, that envelops him. Everyone else would call you crazy; only you can understand that.

When your eyes adjust to the light, you realize you're in a line of cars.

"Did you bring me to the border?" you exclaim groggily, still in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning" he answers instead.

You rub yoou eyes, settling into the passenger seat.

"You're not going to kidnap me, right?" you question, half joking half serious.

Logan laughs, "Not only that. I'm also going to throw your body in a mass grave"

"It's not funny," you pout, although you're laughing too.

Once you've crossed the border, Logan drives a few more minutes, until he reaches a restricted area.

“I live here” he answers before you can ask, “saves rent and questions”

After opening the locks, you can better appreciate the place. Well, appreciate may not be the right word.

“It's an abandoned smelting plant” you voice out loud.

Logan just nods. You realize that he didn't like the comment, so you try not to talk about it anymore.

“Come” he gets out of the car, going to open your door. He offers you a hand, and you fail to hide your smile.

“You didn't miss this time, huh? Quite a gentleman” you praise. Then, add jokingly, “if you choose to kill me, at least I'll die taken care of".

“Stop talking nonsense and go inside” he scolds but smiles.

Inside, the abandoned plant is exactly what you expected.

"We're alone" Logan says, after leaving to check. He opens the door to his room, letting you in. There's not much inside, just a bed and scattered things. A yellowish light begins to filter through the broken glass. "I'mma change. Be right back".

You begin to explore your surroundings, to avoid thinking about the impact of the situation. Two things could happen: leave or stay. Maybe everything was going too fast, but you prided yourself on your spontaneity, often confused with impulsiveness. Others would say it was your naive nature: too innocent for your own good.

What had led you to accept without further ado? Was trust enough, that you had even fallen asleep in his car?

"S'rry for the wait"

You notice that Logan's gotten rid of his formal attire, leaving him in just slacks and an old white tank top. His muscles flex with every movement, making you swallow involuntarily. He still retains his extraordinary physique, despite his greying hair. She can't help but stare at the scars that cover his exposed skin, her fingers itching to trace them.

"Haven't they told ya' t's rude to stare?"

You look away, embarrassed. Logan walks over to the bed, bumping into you in the process, bodies barely touching. Still, an electric shock runs through you. You hug yourself, scared, aware of the effect he has on you.

"Logan" she dares to ask, "what are we doing?"

He finally looks at you. You feel naked under his intense gaze.

"What do you want us to do?"

His voice comes out low, like a growl. You stand in place stiff, unable to form a word.

"Come on, honey", the nickname comes out of his lips so easily, it hurts. "Are ya losing your voice now? Got into my car a while ago without thinkin', what's changed?"

You slowly approach Logan, each stride calculated. He watches you in silence, a silence as hostile as the wind hitting the broken windows, watching you remove your clothes, until all that's left is your bra and that skimpy skirt, as if you knew he liked it.

"Logan…" you whisper his name like a prayer, letting yourself fall on his legs. He holds you with his hard calloused fingers, like a promise.

Don't let me fall. Don't let me go. Don't leave me.

The habit of loneliness settles in between, and the flame they thought in deep slumber rekindles, burning with their long time unattended needs.

"Use your words, sweet thing" the trepidation condenses between, "we're grown up now, aren't we? Use your words"

If by words he meant feeling your lips against his, it's enough to have Logan following his impulses, using his strength to embrace your body until they feel like one, the scars on his hands feeling like your own. Your lips move in sync, and it's almost so casual, so learned, so meant to be, that fear appears in Logan, soon forgotten with the symphony of moans that come from your lips.

"Tell me" he pauses, breaking away from the kiss (something you don't like and express in the form of a pout), "what do you want?"

Logan tastes like cigars and whiskey, a combination you hate and the reason you quit your old job at the bar, but on his lips, it's an intoxicating taste.

"I want you, Logan" you whisper, hot breath against his skin, “you”.

He resumes the kiss, an electric shock of hunger and need between you: lips parted, colliding, teeth almost clashing against each other.

His fingers hesitate with a delicacy that belies his rough touch, the tips of his worn fingers lifting the fragile cloth of your skirt first, revealing soaking wet panties he goes crazy just at the sight of. The smell is sugary, sicklingly, so now he's hard and pulling at the clasp of your bra first, exposing your nipples, which he rolls and pinches mercilessly. A gasp escapes you—then another, and another as Logan pushes his thigh between your legs. The friction is delicious, almost painful against your pulsing center.

His hand firm up his position, securing itself onyour bare legs as you digs her nails into him. His labored moans turn into a guttural growl.

“You think I’m not capable?” he mocks, stealing another moan from her, “that I can’t keep up with you, you pretty young thing?”

You deny it, but Logan takes it upon himself to show you that he can take you like he's in heat, the ghost of his old self taking over in his almost animal way of fucking you, hips arched, muscles flexed and tense, his teeth appearing every time he opens his mouth, reminding you of fangs. They dig into your exposed skin, leaving bruises that will take time to disappear from your shoulders and neck, marking what belongs to him.

The hardness of his skin meets your soft when he grabs you by the waist.

"Look at you" it slips from his tongue, ecstatic. He's a goner, saliva dripping from the messy and sloppy kisses he leaves through your collarbone, "so good and so pure. I bet you're innocent, that you haven't seen what I've seen..."

His pupils darken, a strange mix between torment and desire in his gaze. Hungry and violent.

"Will you let me show you how's a real man s'ppossed to treat a woman?"

He feels shame settle in his belly, the hunger to possess her almost virgin body fueling his dark desire of errasing her sweet smile until she's an unintelligible mess of sobs. To show her what she would complain about, so she'll never slettle for less. So you can feel what it's to be taken care of―handled. And then he'll fill you up with his seed, so no other man will take what's his. His sweet little thing. Oh, he's so going to hell for this.

But maybe he likes pain.

"That's it, honey" he plays with the fabric of your wet panties, pulling at the loose threads in the delicate fabric. "Let me show you".

You take it off, and Logan lies back against the bed, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his belt and pants―a clear invitation to repeat the previous position, except this time, his hands are on top of your hips, squeezing the soft skin. He doesn't take his eyes off you, his gaze reserved only on you. If the adrenaline from before pushed you, now the confidence gained motions you to finish the task. It's just the push you need, remembering that this is what it feels like to be with a real man as you throw a leg over his hips, sitting your ass right on top of the bulge marked on his underwear.

“Right… there…” he barely manages to formulate a coherent train of words, the years of lack of help in attending to his needs leading to overstimulation, “good girl.”

The compliment makes you increase the pace of your hips, his labored breaths a sound so rich and so manly it makes you squirm.

You need it desperately, rubbing your increasingly wet clit against him, riding the fabric. His scruffy beard barely hides the smug smile that graces his lips.

“Like this?” she whispers, and Logan can no longer contain himself, staring at his sweaty, ripped body failing to please her completely. It feels so good it aches, and he can't believe this is how he's ended. But if that means having your pretty face on top of him, covered in his marks, dripping on your joint sweats, well maybe it isn't so bad.

“How can I repay you, honey?” he pleads. He'll try he's best. He just wants to give you a glimpse of the way his whole world has light up ever since he stumbled in that greasy diner.

“You said you were going to show me” it comes out almost as a purr, expectant, “and I’m waiting”.

Logan takes it as his cue, pulling down his underwear until his member is exposed, chuckling darkly when you swallow at the sight.

"Don't tell me you're scared already" he teases, "look how you have me… you can't leave me like this…"

You stifle a scream as you feel every inch of his thick cock enter your sensible walls, trying to fit his member inside of your needy body.

"So tight for me" he stammers, using his hands to keep you in place, on top of him. The only sound in the silence of that place that smells of death is that of their skin colliding―vulgar, the obscenity highlighted by being the only thing that can be heard in the small room.

Even though his stamina has dropped over the years, he thrusts into you relentlessly. Logan fucks you senseless, his balls buried deep in your dripping pussy, a constant rhythm of avid suction with each entry to your walls.

He takes a moment to see you as you take something from the nighstand he doesn't remember putting there.

"Look what I found" you whisper in the middle of your moans. Logan recognizes the shine of metal in front of his eyes, "so Wolverine?"

You say it so easily, like it's not the first time. With acceptance; it scares him.

Do you recognize him? Are you not scared? Why haven't your eyes go from curiosity and kindness to cold and rejection?

He should panic, rip off his dog tags from your hands and pretend he doesn't know who he used to be, but he's so deep inside you and so enraptured, he can only manage to gently take them from between your fingers and put them around your neck, the cold metal against your warm, bare skin creating an electric shock.

"I want to see them on you"

He likes to watch it hang over his face while you're on top, panting heavily as she repeats his name, slurring her words. It dangles with every thrust, the silver glistens in the seeping sun, just like the sweat that adorns her skin.

"Are you that needy of your old man? " he teases, caressing her. He smacks the curve of his ass, “You want more?”

His veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, more moans escaping your lips.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at the pain that begins to increase. “Yes, Logan. Just like that. Nobody ever treated me like that, nobody's made me feel like this-”

He moans, pleased with the praise, seeing he isn't as lacking as he thought. Making you feel good is his priority, but he won't lie and say he doesn't want to feel it too.

In an attempt to distract yourself, your eyes try to focus on him: searching his features, memorizing every scar, every wrinkle, every little grey hair.

“You’re perfect, Logan,” you mumble through a moan, the confession hiding more than you want to say and more than he cares to admit.

Before he can process it though, the fire in his stomach signals the arrival of his impending orgasm.

There's something delightful about the way you can barely speak, a mess of moans that sound like his name, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen alongside your messy hair.

He feels almost sick to be consuming something that doesn't and shouldn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful, young woman riding him while she clings to him like he's the last thing in this world, him: a worn, old man who can't keep up with her.

His member spasms, and it's got you feeling it all inside your walls, causing him to close his eyes in the process as well.

It's too soon, Logan thinks in shame, but it's been so long and you feels so good, he let's it go:

Thick whips of his cum shoot out of his member, drawing out more than you would've imagined. You don't have much time to think about it, for the orgasm hits you immediately, fingers curling and eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Logan feels his tip getting wetter, and the extra lubrication is a nice finishing touch.

“God,” he gasps, “what a mess…”

You avoid looking at him, taking one of his hands in yours, kissing the red and violet painted knuckles. If you do, you'll give away what you feel, the same way her memory burns in Logan's chest, more now than ever, as his mouth tastes just like you.

Dependency.

Devotion. Absolute. Sick.

Maybe that was what he felt. This weird feeling. That abyss piercing his chest but never killing him (so much for regenerating...), pressing his heart with a crushing force whenever it threathened to beat again. Logan was content with rather nothing, always a man who didn't ask for much, and since the death of his family―the X-men, less.

"You should go" he mutters in defeat, the shame washing over. Even if he'll miss your warmth, even if he doesn't want you to leave at all. "It's for your own good, y/n. Pretend you don't know me and turn around. Go away" he insists yet gets stuck on his words, "you're not stupid. Then you'll know it's good for you and you'll never speak to me again"

He looks at the ground, cowardly, because he wants your lust filled warm look to be the last memory he remembers. Not whatever look you're giving him now.

So Logan closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them, you'll be gone. It'll be a dream, something too good to be true. Short lived, like every good thing in his life.

"Logan..." you calls his name. So softly it seems like a breath.

You're still here.

"Logan" you call again, more firmly.

"Logan" you don't give up, cupping with one hand his face gently, "look at me".

When he looks up, he comes across a heartbreaking vision. You cry, tears falling like waterfalls down your cheeks. But that's not the most devastating thing, no: it's the look in your eyes, as if you've shared his pain. As if you've had suffered the same things he had suffered; a twisted reflection of him.

"Of course I understand you" you take his hands, and Logan feels that same strange warmth he felt the first time when your hands brushed his with the diner's menu. "I've also lost people… people I loved. Don't you think it hurts me to see the world go on as if nothing happened? Everyone forgets, Logan. But I can't; there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about them"

For a moment, you stop crying, and the hidden internal turmoil he tried so hard to decipher finally makes sense.

"I don't know what you've been through either, but I can promise you, that I understand you more than you think…" it seems like you'll say something else, but you stop and say instead. "Think, Lo: would these people want to see you like this?"

"It's what I deserve" he murmurs barely, his voice constipated but without shedding a single tear.

"It's not what we want, Logan. Please" you sniff, pained "stop being so hard on yourself".

"I'm not who you think I am" he insists. You're still naked on his bed, and he feels dirty for having you like this. For taking you to his home and fucking you raw out of your innocence. "I'm not a good person."

"No, Logan" you seem hurt by that statement. You trace one of his most recent scars with a touch so compassionate, that he feels your fingertips burn, "you are a hero".

Your words were so sweet, so comforting. He wanted to sink into your lap, which smelled like flowers and tasted like safety. A home; a life that had been taken from him. He wanted to believe everything you said―feel who you believed he was. Not this pathetic, tired and apathetic version of himself, but the old version: the version that inspired respect, that despite his tough exterior, had a family he loved. Because he had a heart. Now he feels like he has no soul: no purpose, nothing.

But maybe you are the answer.

Before he can change his mind, you blurt out “can I stay?”

That morning, in that old bed that creaks under his weight, Logan discovers that feeling alive again isn't so bad.

[kaivenom]

May I request something heart break high related please?

Pool Pals

Summary: a normal afternoon with Ant ended up with you two breaking into the Hartley pool

Pairing: Anthony Vaughn x reader

Warnings: breaking into places, usual parties and alcohol, they are canonicaly 18th so it's not underage drinking.

A/N: Answering this person (the first request on this blog) i am really happy to do this and contribute to increase the little amount of fanfics that this fandom has. Of course i will write about them and i will write more from now on.

Masterlist

At first, you two were hanging out on his garage, doing dumb stuff and not caring, then he said "let's break into the school's pool" and you said yes. It was exciting, just the two of you breaking the chains of your high school and like that, you were right in front of the pool. Everything would be dark if it wasn't because of the lights that came from the low of the pool.

"Oh my, we forgot swimsuits," you said slapping your forehead.

"Why we need them?" he looked at you with a smile and stripped himself into his underwear.

He threw himself onto the pool and gave you a gently hand to get into the water, with that adorable smile. You were a little self concious about entering with your underwear but at the end you did, and took his hand into the cold water.

"Are you shivering?" he asked you laughing.

"No, of course not, idiot."

You splashed him jokingly and suddently you started a water war. It was very funny, like time wasn't passing at all, each moment your bodies getting closer with the excuse of making the other one wetter.

At some point he wrapped you around his arms trying to made you stop, but neither of you could stop laughing, but his face was closer every second he twisted you with his arms. That little fight made the noise outside go unnoticed.

"What we have here?" suddently the door slammed open and an incredible amount of people entered the pool room, that voice was from Spider, "Man, you weren't answering my calls, i though you were dead, but when i tracked your phone and saw where you were i couldn't resist."

Now your relaxed oasis was full of people, drinking, partying and making noise. You didn't have the courage to get outside of the water and Ant was dragged with Spider. Now you are alone.

You spotted Amerie, Darren and the rest of your group and tried to get their attention. Once they saw you, help was provided and you finally had a towel to cover you up and went outside the pool. The next couple of hours you were with them, trying to ignore the fact that Spider ruined a beautiful moment. You couldn't talk anymore to Ant but you noticed his gaze on you.

"The police is here!!!!!" that was the sound of chaos, everyone started running and screaming.

Many people ended up on the pool trying to escape and you almost did that if it weren't for Ant's hand catching you. You two started to run and the towel fell off, you couldn't care less at that moment. The escape went for a couple of miles, until you didn't hear the sirens of the police anymore and you were sure you were alone.

That's when you realized the absence of the towel and tried to cover your body. Ant was fast thinking for once and got out his shirt to put it directly on you.

"Thanks," you said nervously.

"Nah, don't worry, it looks better on you." both of you smiled.

His hand went to you face and carresed slowly your cheek, his lips met yours in a sweet kiss.

"I've been wanting to do this all afternoon."

"Yeah, me too, but Spider..."

"Don't talk about him right now, you want to take a walk and find a nice place to seat and finish our hang out finally?"

"I would like it very much, but maybe i should go by my house before because i don't have pants right now."

"Nah, you look very good like that, but i can give you mine if you want."

His hand interlaced with yours as you two started walking down the street and laugh at Ant's jokes.

[mingismoralloyalty]

The sweetest scent

pairing: Idol! Mingi x succubus! reader (species implies that the reader is fem bodied)

genre: smut

au: fantasy au, demon au

trope: magical invocation

word count: 3.6k

rating: 18+, Minors do not interact!

summary: Mingi is down bad for way to long now. Good thing his daydreams leading him into your open arms, when you not so randomly appear on the other side of the road, driven by a spell and the delicious smell of his despair...

warnings: smut, pwp, cnc somnophilia, cum eating, unprotected sex (don't!), nicknames (honey, sweetheart, baby, pretty boy, princess, baby boy), soft dom!reader, subby Mingi, demon fucking, praise kink, nipple kink, breast play, cumming inside, kinda getting caught, did I forget something?

authors note: Heyy, this is my first fanfic in a long long while and I've never written something like this in english, so please bear with me. If you find mistakes, let me know, so I can improve myself 🩷 I'm so glad this is now out here. Please let me know what you think. Critique is welcome. And yes, I had to edit some things, I hope you like this version too. Okay that's it for now ✨

songs: BM - bad intentions

~😈🖤😈~

It was a warm friday evening in Seoul, the streets were full of people enjoying their free time, visiting bars with their friends or going out on dates with their partners. This city was full of couples much to the distress of a certain young man. Mingi was sick of this sight. It wasn't like he was envious, but he was just so done that he wasn't able to date, let alone have a one night stand. Dating would even be the safest option for him to blow off some steam, even though that wouldn't be the only reason a girlfriend would be great. Don't get him wrong, he's not an ass, but sometimes there was just something missing in his life.

Having one night stands had the potential to ruin his reputation in just a few days, so this was off the table. But to be honest he had no time to date. He had tried it and it went awful. A week long relationship wasn't even a relationship, it was just something. In the end he even had to be scared that his "ex girlfriend" - or whatever she was - would use pictures of them together as leverage against him.

Sometimes he dreamt of living a normal live, moving freely in public and having a girlfriend. But then again he loved his life like it was right now and he wouldn't trade it for anything else. Just a little adventure here or there would just be a nice addition.

That's why he decided to make the step and - even if it sounds crazy - summon a succubus.

But let's start at the beginning. It all started when he had stumbled across this link to an online forum a few days ago, where people were sharing stories about their encounters with magical beings. Guardian angels, demons, doppelgangers... you name it.

Mingi himself was sure he had seen a fairy in his parents garden multiple times when he was a little kid. He would never forget these images, this extraordinary experience. It would always live inside his head. The magical world was there, he was sure.

It was so interesting to read all of these encounters people had with these other worldly beings, that he couldn't stop reading.

Today at work it was no exception, because these thoughts of being lonely at night reminded him, that he hadn't finished one specific story he had found on that site, where a guy was writing about meeting a succubus. Well, he claimed to have summoned her. What an exciting story! Mingi read and read. Maybe this was a solution he could try for himself? The ritual for the invocation seemed easy enough to do in his little studio. He just needed four black candles (surely it didn't matter if they were scented) and a spell. So he did it.

And now he walked home, full of anticipation. Hopefully he did everything right and it would work tonight. He knew a succubus would only appear when he fell asleep (well, he thought so). How would it feel to be touched in his sleep? Probably pretty hot, he imagined. And hopefully he would wake up? Would it make sense to set an alarm? Surely he would wake up anyways.

As he was walking away from the masses of people to a more quiet area of the city, where the dorm was located, he was dwelling on this thought not paying much attention to his surrounding.

And that's where you came into play. Already from afar you could smell this man's need and desperation. Musky and sweet. Oh so sweet. He smelled like a dessert to you and you would make sure to eat him like one tonight. It was so intense, that you didn't have to look for too long for him. Feeding on humans energy could be tough sometimes, but today seemed an easy feast. But before that, you always loved to take a closer look at your prey and play a little with their mind.

It was a simple tactic but efficient, just looking cute and seemingly absemindedly walking in his way. Him playing into your cards by not looking where he went himself was downright nice of him and... boom! You felt his toned chest muscles on your bare upper arm as you dramatically stumbled sideways, letting out a soft "Oh!" and dropping your handbag to the floor.

"Ah! I'm sorry!", he blurted out instantly grabbing your shoulder so you wouldn't fall aswell. "Oh no, it was my bad, I wasn't looking myself.", you exclaimed, looking up to him with doe eyes. For a second time stood still. He froze, looking at you mesmerised, his mouth slightly agape. He smelled even better up close, like seasalt and sage. This was his cologne, not only his pheromones but the combination smelled even better. You too, were struck for a moment, before he quickly blinked and let go of you. "Sorry. ", he mumbled, before hastily grabbing your bag from the concrete to offer it to you.

"Here... uh, your bandhag...I - I mean handbag!", you grabbed the bag with a sweet smile and he awkwardly laughed while scratching the back of his head. "Thank you and thanks for catching me.", you said softly and put the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

"Sorry again, and sorry I have to go. Have a good evening.", he kind of cutely waved you goodbye and went in the direction of the dorm a bit faster and focused this time.

Your eyes follow him with a bemused face. He would be so fun to play with.

Mingi went home in a hurry, trying not to crash into another person or thing until he was able to close the door of his safe home behind him, before he could cringe in peace.

"Fuck, that was so awkward!", he grunted pulling his sneakers from his feet.

"Hm?", a curious face appeared in his sight when he came back up to step into the appartment. Typical nosey San looked expectantly with raised eyebrows at his flatmate. Mingi sighed. "There was this cute girl I ran into. Nearly knocked her over.", he explained and San snickered. "Daydreaming again, man? What's up with you these days?", he asked, but Mingi just waved it off. "What's for dinner?", he asked instead before he paused in his movement. Was his hand smelling funny? He held it up to his nose to smell it and indeed it smelled fruity, flowery and insanely feminine. It almost made him a little dizzy...

That night Mingi was almost too excited to sleep, hadn't he been so exhausted from work that he fell asleep sooner than he thought.

He had a great sleep. Forgotton was his awkward behaviour and he was only thinking about your beautiful eyes, that somehow found a way into his dream...

You giggled quietly doing a little happy dance on your tip toes, when you materialized in a dark corner of his Bedroom. It was just so easy, but you loved these games every time, before visiting.

Full of anticipation you looked over to Mingi. Black filled your eyes, instantly reflecting some of the moonlight that shined through the window, while also your beautiful black horns came twisting up through your shiny Hair. Unlike on the street today you were now wearing some black lingerie which honestly left nearly nothing to the imagination. Easy excess was important for you so this seemed appropriate.

There he layed on his bed all sprawled out, stripped of his heavy blanked in this hot weather softly snoring. He was deep in his slumber with a raging hard on visibly poking up in his pyjama shorts. You really left an imprint on that poor boy that evening.

Slowly you made your way to his bed eyeing his sleepy form up and down. He looked so cute and peaceful and you were sure the expression of pure bliss on his face would look even cuter... or maybe desperation when you would deny him of his orgasm?

"Hmm, we will see...", you mumbled to yourself, before climbing over your yet clueless prey to straddle him.

Carefully you grabbed his pants on each side and slowly pulled it down. With a little flop his not so little dick slapped against his toned torso creating a small puddle of precum below his bellybutton. A reliefed sound escaped his soft lips, when you freed his boner in the act, which made you smile widely. "My god, he's so big!", you whispered with wide eyes.

The cum looked delicious on his skin dripping from his tip and you wanted to taste it so badly. So you wasted no time and dipped your index finger into the clear fluid and brought it between your lips. Kind of sweet you'd say. Surprisingly. Sadly this wasn't often the case. But this cutie was a special one, you could feel it. You two would definitely have a lot of fun tonight.

With quick motions you opened his pyjama shirt and exposed his bare chest. Now it was your turn to release a content sigh when you viewed his seemingly flawless figure, your gaze cought by his beautiful pink nipples. You loved nipples! Another part of the human body that made so many people squirm when you touched them the right way. They looked so delicate and vulnerable, it was wonderful. Biting your lower lip you softly touched the rosy buds and earned another pleased sound of this strikingly handsome young man under you.

Mesmerised by your view your hands started to wander downwards on his body, still nibbling on your own soft lips you started to stroke his thick cock up and down where his precum smeared tip was subtly glistening in the moonlight. It felt so heavy in your comparibly small hand and you loved it. Apparently he loved your touch too, because he quietly started to moan. You looked at his face to see the slightly scrunched eyebrows. He was really a sight to see.

His whole appearance made you throb for more and you wondered who was the demon here. Even in his sleep it seemed like he actively tried to seduce you. You were dripping for him. You needed him inside desperately. His sexual energy would last a long time for you to feist on, you were sure.

Still on your knees you propped yourself up on one hand to hover over the sleeping man to rub your wet folds angainst the underside of his shaft. His body felt so hot it send a tingling sensation through your whole body as your core touched it. Your slick arousal gathering on his dick more and more before you finally pushed it inside your hole with a high pitched moan leaving your lungs while earning a surprised but undeniably aroused gasp by your sleeping cutie.

He stretched you out so good that you held still for a moment to adjust your body to his before starting to grind against his hips. Moving in circular motions while rubbing your clit on his pubic area created an appatizing sound to you not to mention a wonderfully energising feeling. And in the magic of the moment you needed to taste his lips. His oh so full and pink lips. So you did and they tasted immaculate. It seemed that there was nothing he couldn't offer you. Maybe you had to come back a few times you thought to yourself, absentmindedly stroking one of his nipples with the thumb of your free hand, never loosing your sensual rhythm.

And you knew the most interesting part would begin now, because all of this different stimulations were waking the deepest sleeper. So you curiously hovered over his face after the kiss and you saw how he struggled to lift his heavy eyelids, his body fighting against the deep sleep.

"Wakey, wakey.", you giggled, still letting you hips circle over his. "Honey, you feel heavenly, you know that?", you sighed and continued to toy with his pretty perky nipples.

"What?", he responded confused and drowsy still trying to get his body awake.

Deep sleep was so heavy on him after such a long day and it took him a little while to get conscious, but finally he opend his eyes and realised that this was not his dream anymore, even though there was the same person in front of him, just slightly different looking.

"What the fuck?!", he gasped and crossed his arms in front of his face.

"Already forgot that you called for me, sweetheart?", you smiled. You were right. Mingi rubbed his eyes and blinked at you.

He swallowed down the initial shock your demonic appearance had caused him and lowered his arms next to him.

"No, I... I just wasn't expecting...", he tried to finish his sentence, but it ended miserably in a guttural moan, when you moved your hips again. You nodded. "That's it, baby. Give in to me.", you said lowly, before you slowed down your movements and took his hand in yours, guiding it to your horns.

"Didn't expect me to look like this, hm?", you asked with a cheeky grin.

Mingi's hand shrugged away for a second when he felt the rough texture of the horn.

"I summoned you.", he simply stated, recalling his memories from the day, his mind now much clearer.

"You did, pretty boy.", you confirmed enthusiastically.

"It really worked.", he whispered fascinated.

"And you know there is only one reason why why you would do that, right?", you asked, trying to get him out of his shell now.

"Yeah.", he nodded, a slight red tint creeping on to his cheeks, before his eyes suddenly got bigger.

"It's you! We- we met on the streets today."

You laughed.

"Yes, we did, sweetheart. And when I found you today ...", you started painting invisible patterns on his chest with your fingers, "you where smelling so delicious with all your pheromones and your nearly dripping desperation. I smelled you from miles away. Haven't smelled this intensity in a while I must say.", thinking about this you put a finger on your chin, pursing your lips.

"You... You could smell my...", Mingi's cheeks changed into an even deeper red now.

"All of your desire and despair, yes.", you, smiled and stroked his cheek with your thumb.

"I knew I had to taste you, pretty boy.", you batted your eyelashes at him.

"I'm sure you're having a rough time, where you can't make room for sex. I couldn't imagine.", you pouted like you genuinely felt sorry for him and you did a bit, just because he was so extra cute.

Slowly you found it was enough of all the talking. You wanted to start the action again and you were sure Mingi agreed.

"So... how about we just fuck now, princess?", you asked him massaging his shoulders a little and you suddenly felt him twitch inside of you.

"Oh, you like that, huh?", a triumphant expression was creeping on your face.

Mingi's body felt hot. This was all he was hoping for. He looked you up and down. From your dark eyes and your horns to your sensual lips, your bare tits, just in reach for him, down to your core where he still was nestled inside of you. This insanely hot woman was already on top of him, calling him by his favourite nickname, when he was now down bad for months. Finally!

"Sure, let's continue.", he smiled back at you and let his hands glide up your thighs to grip your hips.

"Alright, baby boy, show me what you got.", you said with a wicked smile and let your hands wander from his shoulders to his upper arms where you held tight.

Mingi now began to actively push upwards to meet your hips. Oh, how he missed this feeling! It just felt so good. Oh, sooo good. After such a long time, he really needed it. Your pussy felt so hot and tight around him and you were already so wet for him. The slick sounds between you both accompanied an animalistic series of grunts he let out wich made you victoriously puff your chest. Of course this motion didn't go unnoticed by the attractive man underneath you, who took his chance to grab a handful of one of your boobs, squishing and massaging it in his big palm, making you moan appreciatively.

"Ah, fuck me good, pretty boy!", you panted as his movements got faster. You leaned down to get another taste of his plump lips, that felt so soft against yours, you could have done this all night long, but Mingi wanted more. His tongue darted out to catch yours, so you opened your mouth and welcomed him with some soft licks to it, before sucking on it a little. All the while his fingers were playing with your nipples and his hot breath echoed inside your open mouth when you release his tongue again. He made you feel so good, it was incredible.

Finally you grabbed his right hand from your tit to move it down further between your bodies and let his fingers touch your clit. He instantly understood the assignment and started rubbing rough circles on it. You were a mess by now, you really didn't have this much fun in a long time. "Fuck you're so good at this, sweetheart.", you praised him while Mingi gave you half a smirk, already broken asweat. This was extatic. You felt your high coming closer and closer to the point where it was just seconds away. "Oh, I'm coming~!", you whimpered, rutting against Mingi's movements that where going at a rapid pace now. You had completely blown his mind away. He was panting and grunting, pulling your body against his with so much force it made you tip over the edge and come so hard like you haven't in a long while. A stretched downright pornographic moan left your open mouth, everything inside your body contracted hard in waves, your pussy pulsing around Mingi's dick and this incredibly energising and relieving feeling spreading through your veins. Hungryly you looked down at Mingi, eager to see his orgasm face.

His eyes where scrunched up in pleasure, brows knitted, his mouth shaped like an O. He was so close. "Come for me, princess.", you whispered against his lips whilst contracting and relieving your pelvic muscles a few times on purpose. This was it. All this built-up frustration that couldn't be satisfied with his own hands released in one go. A moan left him so heartbreaking you weren't sure if he would literally fall apart under you. You lived for this extasy. All these big feelings releasing from one moment to another.

You could feel the amount of cum getting pumped inside your heat and it was truly the cherry on top for you. This whole act was the essence of your life and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Fuck, I feel so good.", you sighed, every part of your body tingling while you layed your head on Mingi's shoulder.

"Oh, shit!", he laughed, bringing his hands to his face. "This was crazy.", he mumbled and you snickered. "I can't deny it: I really needed this.", he carefully put an arm on your back, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. In this moment it was absolutely weired to see and he didn't know if he could trust his senses, but your eyes turned back to the color he saw this evening and your horns retrieved back between your silky locks.

"What is happening?", he asked confused, looking deep in your eyes. "This is my human form.", you simply stated, "I only have to let it go when I charche my energy.", you shrugged your shoulders and smiled.

"Oh, so you can normally walk around like this.", he nodded. "Right, I-...", rumbling was heard outside his room. Muffled voices. "Mingi?", it was Seonghwa.

"Everything okay with you?", San's voice following.

Panic widened in Mingi's eyes.

"Uh, yeah... Everything's s all right! Don't come in!", quickly he pushed himself up on his elbows. Normally there were no visitors in the dorm and if that was the case, they swore that they would tell each other.

"What happened?", San asked and Seonghwa instantly commented: "You really wanna know, if he says 'don't come in' after those sounds leaving his room?"

"Oh, shush!", San said annoyed.

"You're shushing me?!", Seonghwa retorted and the bickering began outside the door.

"Who are they?!", you giggled, sitting up again. Mingi taking the chance to lift his upper body with you, but also pressing a hand over your mouth in a hurry with a pleading look on his face.

Silence.

"Is there a woman with you?", San's voice sounded confused.

"Uh, no...", great, he sounded way to unsure.

"Can't you just vanish, like you came in here? Or how did even you come in here anyways?", Mingi hissed at you.

"Oh no, this is too much fun.", you laughed when his fingers left your lips.

"Come on in guys!", you chimed happily, you were so curious to see who was living with your little cutie.

Silence again.

Slowly the door handle dipped, the door opened and revealed two very handsome young men.

Hastily Mingi tried to cover your still connected bodies with his blanket. This was even more embarrassing than the incident on the streets with you today.

"Oh my god!", San exclaimed, trying to hide his and Seonghwa's eyes at the same time.

"Mingi what the fuck, why is there a stranger in here? ", Seonghwa tried to say while San's hand accidentally hit his face.

"It's not what you think!", Mingi whined, unsure how to solve this situation without looking like a complete maniac. So you took it in your hands to say something.

You smiled at the two guys who pointedly tried to cover their eyes and exclaimed with glee: "Oh, I didn't know there were more handsome treats living in this household!"

~😈🖤😈~

© mingismoralloyalty

This is my own work of fiction. Do not copy, translate, feed to ai or report.

[ffcrazy15]

"Just Write For Yourself"

I think the thing that gets to me the most about the whole "just write for yourself!" response to writers complaining the lack of engagement in fanfic, is that it makes me realize that there's a fundamental misunderstanding between writers and readers of how much work writing fic is.

Like, there are 2-3 scenes in any given oneshot or chapter that I want to write. I usually write those first. They'll take me a couple of, very enjoyable, hours at most.

And then I have to go back and write the whole rest of the fic. Which is work. And it's usually not immediately enjoyable.

For example, one of my best fics on AO3 is a Star Trek fanfic called Rascal'ed. This was one of the fics that was easiest for me to write, one of the ones that just possesses you until it's done. It took me less than five days to create.

And I still had to go back in and fill in blank spots and cut bad prose and revise the dialogue.

If you want to see what a difficult fic to write looks like, like my fic Leap of Faith, here's what I do for my stories that I actually plan out:

And that's just the planning. I still have to write the damn thing. And there are things in the above layout—which is just for Chapter 1, mind—that got changed between this and the final published version of the chapter. You can see that the title of the story itself was changed at some point.

So when people say, "write for yourself, not for engagement!" What I personally hear is: "I as a reader do not understand how much work writers put into getting a story into a publishable form, and I also do not realize how easy it would be for them to write the couple of scenes they enjoyed writing and then to let it sit forever in their drafts."

(Of these eight fics—averaging more than 20 pages each—only two of them ever made it to AO3. The rest remain unfinished and unpublished.)

And for the record: I, personally, have wonderful readers. Kind, attentive readers who leave me comments engaging with the work. And it's because of them that I continue to publish stories! Like, I don't want to sound like sour grapes here, because I know that I get way more comments than many great writers out there.

But I've seen, across the board, writers trying to express that they are just not getting the engagement that they desire and expect for the work they put in, and people responding with "you shouldn't expect engagement; just write for yourself."

And the thing is, I know they're not trying to be rude. I know that! Of course they don't know how hard we work, who would have ever told them? We can't blame them for not knowing what they've never been told. Which is why I just felt the need to get out here and say:

Writing fics takes a lot of work. A lot of work. Hours upon hours of unpaid labor. Any fic that you see on AO3 or Fanfiction.net or Wattpad, is not something someone wrote solely for themselves. They could have just daydreamed about it, or written a couple of scenes and then left it unfinished. But they chose to put in the hard work it took to finish it. Because they wanted other people to read and engage with it.

Please engage with it.

Because if all fic writers ever hear is "you should just write for yourself"—we might start believing it.

[callsign-joyride]

Fortnight | J.H.S

Summary: You realize that things with Jake aren't going to work out. Content Warnings: Angst (LOTS of it) Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader Lyric: "Thought of calling you, but you won't pick up. 'Nother fortnight lost in America." A note: I've been loving TTPD so I've decided to write fanfics inspired by the album! Each fic will be based on a different track/lyric, and they will all be about different characters! Some will be smutty, others not so much.

You thought that you were happy with Jake. Really, you did. Despite the fact that both of you were out of town, you had managed to stay together for almost a year and you were already moved in. You had met each other’s families a few times, and everything seemed to be going good. That was until you started to have work trip after work trip with your promotion, and he had what felt like back-to-back deployments.You only had two months and some weekends together out of the upcoming year, as far as both of you knew. 

It was starting to get to a point where you were considering leaving and moving back home. Maybe this wasn’t a lifestyle that you were cut out for. Penny would come by the apartment a few times a week when you were both gone to dust and make sure that nothing was stolen, but it wasn’t an ideal situation at all. You finally broke down and cried three months into Jake’s deployment.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore… I did the math and we’ll barely see each other over the next year. We both travel a lot for our jobs now, but I didn’t think it would be like this,” you said, over wine with your girl friends from work.

“Aw, hun, I know exactly how you feel. Things on your end should be calming down in the next few months. I wasn’t home much in my first year, either,” Estelle said.

“But that’s the thing, I don’t know if I can make it a few more months. I feel like I’m missing out on what the other couples are doing because my boyfriend is overseas doing God knows what and I’m always on another plane.”

“You should try to give him a call when you sober up. Tell him what you want.”

You finished your glass of wine and went back up to your hotel room. Calling him late at night would be too much work, and you were too tired to even try it. So, you tried to call him in the morning when you were feeling better, like Estelle said.

“Hey, this is Hangman. Leave a message.”

You sighed and heard the tone beep before taking a deep breath and taking a moment to think of what you were going to say.

“Hey, I really need to talk to you about something. It’s important. Call me back when you get the chance.”

He have good enough service to check his voicemails and text messages until it was around dinner time for you. And of course, his phone was barely working, so all he could get from the message was that it was from you and you were upst about something. 

“Rooster, man, I need to borrow your phone! My girl called, she was upset about something.”

“Alright, but make it quick. I told my wife I’d call her as soon as I got the chance.”

“Thanks, I owe you.”

Jake sat on his bed before he dialed your number. It was so relieving to hear your voice, and you didn’t sound so upset this time.

“Hello?” You asked.

“Hey, it’s me. My phone’s being a piece of shit right now so I only heard part of your message. Is everything okay?”

You sighed and sat on the hotel bed.

“No, actually. Jake, I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can make this work anymore.”

“What… What do you mean by that?”

“I love you, but I don’t know if all of the distance and us traveling all the time will work out. We’ll hardly be seeing each other at all this year, I did the math. And, you know, I thought being a Navy girlfriend would be easy, but that was before I got promoted. I know that none of this has been planned, but I’m traveling so much that I don’t know if this relationsip will work anymore.”

“Fuck, okay, well, maybe there’s something I can do, right?”

“I don’t want you to lose your job because of me, and I don’t wanna jinx it but, it seems like I’m the only reason you’d come home early, and there isn’t an emergency.”

“So, what’s next?”

“Well, I’m gonna start looking for places soon. There’s a chance I’ll be moved out by the time you get back. I’m really sorry, Jake. Truly.”

“I am, too.”

You weren’t in a rush to move out, but you did start to put non-essential things in boxes while you looked for apartments. There was a brief moment where you thought of moving back home to New Hampshire, but it wouldn’t really work out because of your job. Between traveling for work and awkwardly exchanging texts with Jake and the Dagger Squad, you were finally moved out after a month and a half. 

The last time that you saw Jake, it was when you met up to fill out paperwork to be removed from the lease. You still felt awful about everything. He’d try to call you over the next few months, but you never answered. You never read any of his texts, either.

“Hey! If you’re hearing this, I’m busy. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you!” 

He quickly got used to hearing your voicemail, and eventually stopped calling.

Taglist:

@littlebadariell @cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty @littlemisstopgun @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @justanothermagicalsara @caitsymichelle13 @smoothdogsgirl @adoringsebstan @cherrycola27 @alexxavicry @mrsjaderogers @mak-32 @thefandomimagines @tallrock35 @caatheeriinee07 @bradshawseresinbabe @atarmychick007 @3sriracha @genius2050 @halstead-severide-fan @withakindheartx @Lolliepops2501 @avengersfan25

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[choicesficwriterscreations]

June Creator of the Month: Thosehallowedhalls

Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month is @thosehallowedhalls.

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I can't remember exactly. 2021, I think? Laws of Attraction was on its tenth chapter.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined in January of this year. I was upset with Crimes of Passion 2, so I wrote a couple of stories about it. I had deactivated my old Tumblr long ago, so I had to open a new one.

3- How did you pick your blog name?

I love old buildings - the history, the ambiance. I tried hallowedhalls, but it was taken, so I added the article.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

I… have zero recollection of this post. But I'm big on nostalgia and mourning past times, so the fact that this was my first post tracks.

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both?

I write fanfiction. I've been teaching myself to draw, but I'm not anywhere near close to sharing what I do.

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

I started writing fanfiction way back in… 2010? For about four or five years. Then I stopped until December 2023.

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

Crimes of Passion on both counts.

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

That would be The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm, inspired by The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. I do still like it, but I would tighten up the writing a bit. I had barely written any fiction for several years at that point, and the lack of practice shows.

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created?

I keep going back and forth between The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm and Home Without. Both are angsty short series.

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I was taken aback by the comments on The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm. I'd posted it on AO3 a few weeks before, and had gotten a handful of kudos and one comment, but within 24 hours of posting it here, I had several lovely reblogs. It was a welcome surprise. Stories with fewer comments… I guess Home Without. The first chapter got quite a bit of love, but by the time the final chapter rolled around, fewer people were interacting.

11- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

I love a balance, but I'd say angst with a happy ending. I enjoy the breadth of emotions angst lets you explore.

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

There are bits and pieces of me in all of them. Emma has my sarcasm, and Raine has my need to look for the best in people. There may be more, but if so, it wasn't done intentionally.

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Perfectionism. Like I said before, the lack of writing practice shows. I know that the only way to get better is to keep writing, but I hate seeing the gap between what I do and what I want to do. Catch-22.

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

My Sebastyan x Emma fic, Of Cloudless Climes and Starry Skies. There are only a couple of chapters left, but I've been struggling with it for a couple of months now.

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first?

Oh, hell no.

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

So many writers have influenced my writing throughout the years, including authors I do not currently read. The Brontë sisters, Charles Dickens, Nora Roberts, Jane Austen, Courtney Milan, Alyssa Cole… I could go on and on. Fanfic writers… There are a lot, but off the top of my head, @inlocusmads, @coffeewithcutcaffeine, @gaiuskamilah, @aria-ashryver, @jerzwriter, @dutifullynuttywitch, @aces-and-angels, @petalouda85, and @storyofmychoices. I know there are more.

17- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Home Without. I'm a sucker for good pining, and I'd love to see all that mutual longing play out onscreen - not to mention that reunion.

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art?

I do. I'm currently working on a horror short story, a MG novel, and a dual timeline mystery that's still in the research stages.

19- What other hobbies do you have?

Reading, non-fandom writing, drawing, learning new things (especially languages!), going on walks, and drinking enough coffee to alarm medical professionals anywhere.

[pebblume]

I never realized how liberating writing fanfiction would be. I hadn’t written creatively in years. It’s been so long that I kind of forgot what it felt like. The childlike rush of pouring your heart out onto a blank page, not caring about the results as long as you were having fun. I’ve tried writing fanfic a couple of times, for different fandoms across the years, but never finished anything I was really happy with, nothing that I felt comfortable sharing with the world. But something just clicked for me this past week. I realized how much fun it was to stretch out my writing muscles, to get inside the heads of my favorite characters. I realized that it didn’t have to be perfect to be worthy of being shared and loved by others. I realized that I had so many stories inside myself - more than I thought possible. 

But perhaps what I’m most in awe of is fanfic readers. The people who read my work and leave kudos and bookmarks and comments - one word comments, sweet comments, silly comments, paragraph-long comments. I love them all. I used to be afraid of leaving comments on AO3, afraid I wouldn’t have enough words, wouldn’t have the right words, to depict how I felt. But when I felt firsthand how much those comments meant to me I started leaving more and more of them, spreading a digital paper trail of love to all my favorite authors. More and more often I recognize the profile names and images in my comment section and think, Hey, I know you! Now I’m not just a guest on AO3, or a passive reader. I belong here. 

I won’t lie and say I don’t miss drawing a bit, my previous creative outlet. There are plenty of drawings inside me too, itching to be realized. I really just don’t have the time for two time extensive hobbies, not when I need to balance school and practicing and little things like sleeping and eating and relaxing. I miss it, but not as much as I thought I would. There’s a level of investment to sharing a story online that feels…special. When I post my art, I get engagement, and it feels nice, but ultimately, most people are only spending about ten seconds looking at the work I spent eight hours on, if that. When someone reads my fics, we’ve now spent time together. You’ve lived inside my head for a bit, made it your home. It’s about feeling seen, I think. Writing makes me feel understood in a way visual art sometimes doesn’t. It makes me feel vulnerable in the same way performing music does, but less exposed too. It’s interesting to me. 

The only downside, if you can call it that, is now that the writing bug has infected me, I’m finding it harder and harder to stop. I’ll have an idea and then suddenly five hours have flown by because I’m on a creative streak and I just want to write one more idea down, which turns into two, and so on and so forth. I dread stopping, because what if I forget something? What if I get into a writing block later? Suddenly I have people who want to read the things I write and I want to provide it, I really do, but I also have responsibilities. I say, as I write this, ignoring my audition tomorrow afternoon. 

I still have a bit of embarrassment attached to fandom works. When I tell acquaintances that I like to draw or write, I rarely tell them I mean fanart and fanfiction. As if loving something that deeply, that sincerely, is inherently shameful in this age of irony and soulless remakes. Especially when my interests usually consist of media marketed towards children, nevermind the fact that it has more emotional maturity than most ‘adult’ works. But I’m trying to get better about it. A lot of my closest friends know about my hobbies, and some I’ve even let see my work. It’s terrifying but also giddying, seeing them like an art post or comment on a fic. After all, to reap the rewards of being loved, one must submit themselves to the mortifying ordeal of being known, or something like that. 

I realized today that I’ve written over 30,000 words in the past two weeks about about two characters who don’t belong to me, but whom I’ve made my own.

And I’ve never felt happier

[openphrase123]

What's your workflow for planning and then executing a long-term project, like the massive fics you write?

this is how i do fanfics And also original stuff and it's how i've been writing for like ten years (your mileage may vary though i think long project planning is a different kind of beast depending on the person.

also this is the same process as i have for making other media too but obviously with the language tweaked to fit the media (like this is how i plan and execute my game, too!)

have a scene or concept haunt me so thoroughly that i write a short speculative piece about it. if you get here and it's good but can't get past the next step, that's a sign it's meant to be a cool oneshot instead of something multichaptered

decide why i'm making it. what question am i trying to answer, what themes am i trying to explore?

write 2-3 chapters of it freeform style, not caring about where these scenes are going or how they flow into each other (for things that aren't fics, this can just be like. a small section of what it Is). if you're not feeling it here this is a sign to make the scope smaller and make the piece as short as you can tolerate it for. if you are feeling it, this is where you're figuring out the overall tone and style of how the wider work is going to go

figure out the ending. write the ending scene now if you have to. you can change it later but you need to know generally where you want to go

make an outline. how many sections do i need to get from the opening scene to the ending scene? what happens in each chapter?

for ME and how i post, if this is a fanfiction, write at least 25% of it before posting a single thing. or if nothing else write 3 weeks of updates.

start posting

vibe and write at least 3 weeks in advance. if you need a break you need a break. it's free fanfiction, people get it.

now, some creators will be like "whatever you write, take out 10% of it to be economical" this is the modern writer's equivalent of the devil talking. you need the fluff. you need the downtime. you need the epilogue. slow your fucking stories down. let people marinate in them. yeah if you're writing something short form or in a specific format you might need to take stuff out but if you're writing fanfiction or a novel or a game and there's no limit on how long it is. don't worry about spending a couple pages dicking around. every piece of human media from the dawn of time has had interludes, B plots, long meandering pieces of fluff... it makes the parts where the story Hits really stand out. inutile's tragic moments wouldn't be as effective if there weren't fun jokes or levity interspersed in between

that said you need to know when to stop adding shit. only put things in that you think you have a reasonable time to address fully and completely. you will learn this the hard way one day and i cannot teach this or stop you from making this mistake. i learned this mistake writing homestuck fanfiction when i was 13. but in my defense it's really easy to go overboard with homestuck fanfiction

panic because i'm like 90% of the way through and tired of it and start doubting whether the story was ever good at all and if this was wasted time

finish it. celebrate. wait like two months

reread my own work and say "this is sick as hell"

(if this is original work, this is where you start editing it. this is a different beast. i will not elaborate here. fanfiction is for fun and is at the same level as my original fiction drafts. on a rewrite everything will be more polished and purposeful)

repeat forever and ever as long as there are stories to tell

also. this one is just me because it's how my brain works. but ideally i work on two/three longform projects at once, so that when i get tired of working on one my brain will go "ooh shiny" and latch onto one of the other ones effortlessly. if you have adhd this will either work for you perfectly or it will ruin your life

[jubileeena]

BEHOLD: MALWARE AU

So. We all know Turbo. He's kind of the flavour of the month right now. He's a horrible little piece of shit and we love him for that!

As a result of a couple posts that I'll link when I'm on desktop (or you can look through my blog its some of my most recent reblogs) and That One Video Essay I got to thinking about how much of Turbo's actions came from his nature, what cropped up out of desperation and jealousy, and what came from the nightmare virus that ate him. Then I got to writing. A lot. And now I have a monster fanfic that might or might not ever get written but I might actually explode if I don't share some of it.

This snippet revolves around Vanellope, mostly, and my continuous ongoing realization that modding/slightly retexturing video games is actually a lot easier than I thought it was. Enjoy!

Prologue

Vanellope hasn't been a part of her own game for 15 years. It's long since figured out how to function around her, but now King Candy's been dealt with via hot cola insecticide and she adamantly refuses to ride in his little vanilla-white kart. Not with her own baby waiting right there for her.

Except the game really really wants her to.

The kart bakery is supposed to be a fun side minigame. The kart lasts until the player stops feeding the game quarters, then it will restore itself to the default kart for the racer.

She's been carefully ignoring the crackling parts of code that bubble up around her when she revvs the engine too hard for days now, telling herself it was just remnants of her own glitch messing with her driving. But right after she crossed the finish line at the end of the final race of that day, it glitched so badly she was left lying on the track as it rammed itself into the boundary.

She'd spent most of that evening moping around and complaining under her breath about the mess her predecessor had left her - - until she thought huh. If Turbo could program his whole throne-stealing butt into the game, why couldn't she just... Slip in and fix her kart?

Sour Bill didn't seem happy at all when she slipped behind the curtain of her throne room (bleh. Needed to redecorate that soon. Way too princess-y for her taste), but he dutifully agreed to stand guard as she followed the instructions on the handy little piece of paper that lay discarded on the floor.

Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, START

Yes! She jumped into the darkness without thinking, entranced by the nebula of nodes and string of information that made the glitch constantly buzzing under her skin sing.

This is what she was meant for. This was why the game kept her around. It loved her.

Her node was easy to find, set in the center as it was with streams of code coming from it. She blipped up to it, and kicked her feet excitedly as she floated in place, and tapped it to enlarge it.

Wow, it really was easy. All she had to do was find her primary kart file, and swap it with the one in the Bakery's subfolder that held the information for her baby, and that was that. No wonder King Boogerface managed to mess things around so much, if what was all it took.

Task complete, she turned around to try and reorient herself to find the exit again, but a flickering node caught her eye.

It was strobing worse than any of the others, and there was no visible text on it to give any clue as to what it could be. She blipped over to it and tapped on it-

Only to be thrown backwards as it quadrupled in size, mangled streams of code now visible through it's translucent surface.

She glitched again to lose her momentum and stop somersaulting through the void, then back towards the code box. She reached a hand inside and flicked her wrist in a movement she instinctively remembered, and pressed confirm when the prompt came up to clear the cache memory.

It spluttered for a moment, then as if expelling a sickness the darkness bled from the body of the node and dissolved into the void, leaving behind a little red code box, smaller and less defined than the rest, connected to everything with only a thin strand but with it's pixelated text quite clear for her to read, and her breath hitched.

Turbo

[mandoriana]

The case of the mad king

sorry for my english

I don't know what I'm doing, but I recently watched "Dead Boy Detectives" and now I'm unable to stop thinking about them, so I decided to create a brief eight-chapter plot for a fanfic that i most won't write, but would love to share with everyone.

I'll start with the structure of how it will all work. Firstly, the story would take place after the first season and each season would have a special focus on one character at a time, for example:

First season - Crystal

Second season - Niko Sasaki

Third season - Thomas/King Cat and Edwin

Fourth season - Charles and Edwin

Fifth season - Crystal and Niko

Anyway, each of these sequences that I thought about writing would have a focus on a different character and the development of each of them as well, for the Crystal/Charles fans I'm sorry, but they won't be a couple for long, the Same goes for the Cat King/Edwin shipp, the main couple will be Charles/Edwin, but it will be a slow burn.

London, England

The story would begin just a month after the events of the series. Crystal continues to live with her parents in their chic apartment, but plans to move into Jenny's apartment as soon as the woman opens her new butcher's shop in London. It's another normal day when Crystal intends to go on an adventure with the boys in a new investigation, everyone is focused on working and trying not to suffer from the loss of Niko, Crystal and Edwin are the most affected in this situation and Crystal continues to learn to be someone better. Just as Crystal is finishing packing her backpack to spend another night up investigating, her parents come home looking genuinely angry with her. They bring a newspaper in hand and show her the news on the cover, which alerted the people of the city about a suspicious girl breaking into houses (It wasn't an invasion if the ghost who lived there gave her permission to enter), Crystal tries to explain that she was just helping a lady who needed her help (hiding the fact that the lady is already dead), but her parents don't believe her and decide to put an end to her "mischief", taking Crystal against will to Reddam House Berkshire school. She leaves Jenny a voicemail, but her parents confiscate her cell phone before she can send a message to the office computer (Edwin doesn't use the laptop, but Charles does).

Office

Unable to communicate with Crystal, the boys are not informed about her going to school and begin investigating her disappearance. Charles begins his search at Crystal's parents' apartment, there he finds her phone but doesn't see his friend anywhere. Her suitcases and bags are also in the apartment and Crystal doesn't seem to have left, just disappeared suddenly (Her parents forbade her to take anything other than her school uniform and some clothes chosen by them, the rest of her belongings would be handed over in the schoolroom, when classes started)

Edwin investigates the disappearance of his friend in Jenny's apartment who lives an hour away from the boys' office, he questions Jenny, and she explains about the end of the vacation and Crystal's parents took her to a school where he would spend his days until the end of the year.

The boys gather in the office to gather information and begin a search plan, but Charles let the office laptop run out of juice and without Crystal they don't know how to recharge it. Out of options and wanting to help, Jenny lets the boys use her laptop, on the condition that Charles doesn't touch the device (no one knows what Charles did to make Jenny so suspicious, but Jenny doesn't comment and neither does Charles.)

During the search for schools where Crystal could be, the Night Nurse appears with a new case, something for them to deal with as quickly as possible and not bother her until everything is over. Left with no choice, they stop their search for Crystal and prepare for a new investigation.

The new case

The case seems simple, three boys died on a nightclub, but since the police closed the place there still seems to be supernatural activity in the nightclub. The living continues to complain to the authorities about the loud noise that continues even when the party should have ended, but the police have already gone to the scene and even though they are able to hear music playing, when they enter the club there is nothing inside. Edwin and Charles go to the nightclub and soon discover that the place is not just inhabited by ghosts, but by many supernatural beings. Edwin tries to investigate by asking questions to a vampire, a skinwalker and a witch, but everyone seems too drunk to understand what he is saying. When Edwin is about to tell Charles what he discovered, he is surrounded by the other ghost boys, who end up getting involved with him rudely. Charles is not around after he got distracted by some girls dancing, he tries to find Edwin, but ends up going to stairs and meeting a giant man who calls himself “King of the Mad”.

Edwin manages to escape the other ghosts with the help of a black cat who takes him to the bar where Edwin meets the Cat King and his sister the Cat Queen of London. Upon seeing the teenager uncomfortable, Thomas takes him to a less chaotic place (a place similar to the one where he takes Edwin to talk in the first season). Thomas changes into his cat form and allows Edwin to stroke his fur until he can calm down. When he manages to recover from the overload of emotions, Edwin takes advantage of company to question whether the Cat King knew what was happening and Thomas explains that Dionísio had been throwing parties since 1960 when the first disco appeared, as a way of getting more and more worshipers, but things got out of control in the last few days, as two humans managed to enter the party and die there. Thomas explains that Dionysus would get supernatural creatures drunk and strengthened by their worship, then he would free them and go to other places to get more worshipers. As Dionisio needed constant adoration, he only ended his parties when the last guest left, but thanks to the ghost boys he had already been having the same party for two whole weeks and couldn't leave until they left.

While Edwin is with Thomas, Charles and the King of the Mad talk about what was happening at the party and Charles discovers the same thing as Edwin and promises to help with the situation as soon as he finds his partner, in exchange the King of the Mad would pay for the detectives' services, giving something of value to each of the boys.

Reddam House Berkshire

Crystal gets a room of her own at the boarding school, at first everything seems fine with the place, but things go wrong as soon as she introduces herself to her new class and notices four girls looking at her threateningly. When Crystal sits down next to one of them, a shiver runs down her spine, and she feels the same strange feeling she had when she first met Esther.

To be continue...

Okay, so… that was it, this is just one of eight chapters, they're just ideas, but I think it would be interesting to write a fanfic about it, I'll keep posting more and maybe I'll decide to write it, in case someone likes this idea.

(+BONUS+

Charles was banned from using Jenny's laptop after unintentionally accessing 18+ websites, he was just playing some online games when advertisements appeared offering "a fun night", Charles innocently believed it was another type of fun, when he clicked ended up coming to a website full of naked women AND men. Jenny arrived at the wrong time and saw the terrified teenager staring at his computer screen.

She has a long, awkward conversation with Charles afterward, but neither of them brings it up after it's over.)

Parte 2, Part 3

[gotstabbedbyapen]

Too Long; Didn't Read: I'm working on a trilogy fanfiction for Apollo and Hyacinthus called "Singing For A Flower" because I have way too much time :)

Too Short; Need More: For those who don't know (actually, I don't think anyone knows), I've been writing fanfics for a long time now. I've written for many fandoms, couples, and characters, but never in a million years I'd thought I would dedicate a portion of my life to writing a whole ass trilogy fic for an OTP I only started to ship in the summer of 2022.

How did I get into this?

Well, for starters, I've taken a ride to Greek mythology since June 2022. And as you may know (you must know if you've been sticking around long this blog enough), the myth of Apollo and Hyacinthus is my top favorite. And you probably know that I have lots of thoughts for them. Like, a lot. I'm storing too many Apollo/Hyacinthus ideas inside like an inflated balloon and if I don't dump them out soon, I will explode into a million pieces.

So in that case, I decided to write a fanfiction to pour all my OTP heacanons into it.

No, really. I won't even call it a retelling because it is not qualified to be one. Let's just say it's a high-effort fanfiction written by a foreigner who was raised and lived in a very different culture and always be more to learn.

Introducing:

Singing For A Flower

At first, I only planned it out as a meet-cute oneshot. But the short and sweet story soon branched out and couldn't be contained under 10K words anymore.

I want to write Hyacinthus and Apollo flirting but also having anxiety about their relationship.

I want to include Polyboea and give her a character arc about joining the virgin huntressess.

I want to explore Clio and the Muses' relationship with Hyacinthus, their mortal son and nephew.

I want to flesh out the other occurring characters who are in or related to the myth.

Endless scenarios and questions keep coming and they don't stop coming, and now I'm left with bits of prompts to string into one coherent plotline. There will be a lot for me to rewrite, add in, cut out, and more before I finish the first draft.

The "Singing For A Flower" trilogy will be written in Vietnamese and then translated into English (the VN version will be posted on a different platform, but you don't need to care about it). I can write the whole thing in English in the first place of course, but as with the second language, I can't convey all my ideas as fluently as in Vietnamese. When the English version is done, I will publish it on Archive Of Our Own and maybe other novel platforms.

It will take time to do everything all by myself. You'll have to wait a long time - we're not counting weeks or months, but years. But not to worry, because along the way, I will publish some (translated) WIP snippets to keep myself motivated and keep you guys up-to-date. So, we cool?

If you're interested in my planned Apollo/Hyacinthus trilogy and wish to see the final product, I admire your dedication - thank you a lot! And if you can't stick around to the end - it's okay! I'm glad we can be companions for a while.

Let's hope all of the gods above, my sheer determination, and an unholy amount of coffee will help me make it to the end of this project and not crash and burn before that!

[iloveyou-writers]

Hi! I'm sorry this ended up longer than I intended to. I really needed to let it out, and I hope you can share some wisdom with me.

I am feeling hopeless about my writing today. Lately I've been fighting with thoughts about how I'm not getting better, and some jealousy completely pushed me to the edge.

For the past couple of months, I've been working on one of the biggest fanfic projects of mine. Normally I don't read on a fandom if I'm actively working for it, exactly because then I compare my writing to others', but since this is taking more time than my other stuff, I allowed myself to take a look today. I immediately found a story that I haven't seen before, and I was exited the whole time! It was great, and have me so much joy.

At first I was full of admiration towards the writer, and inspired to continue woekint on my own story. It was one of the best things I've ever read, and I immediately sat down to write a comment. Then something clicked. My story can't compare to this. The topics are so much different, but the way they write the characters, dialogues, everything, it's so much better.

I tried to tell myself I'm going to get better, but I just hate that despite having great ideas, the finished work will never live up to stories such as the one I read today. Because even though I know I've gotten better in the many years I've been writing, I never had any work I'm proud of, or one that fit the idea I started with. That what makes me feel the most hopeless.

This broke my heart, so I don't want to ignore it, even though I'm "technically" retired from tumblr.

I do want to offer my utmost respect to you for giving yourself boundaries due to knowing yourself well enough to acknowledge that you have an issue with envy.

It is so healthy that you try to work with what you know your attitude tends to be and that you set a boundary for yourself not to read fanfic while you're writing. It isn't that you're not allowed to ever read it, but while you're writing in the fandom. That's great. That's wonderful. I'm proud of you for that.

It can be really easy to fall into the hole of "I'm never going to be good enough." You read something and you can be so amazed by others. I'll bet, though, that if you wrote the exact story you just read, you would likely feel differently about it. Why? Because we artists are HARD on ourselves. It really is true when they say that artists are our own worst critics. We judge every word, every movement our characters make. Why? Because we know the story we're trying to tell. We know what we envisioned when we started typing.

To us, we're comparing our writing to what we wanted it to be.

Readers? Yeah, they can have expectations or hopes for writing, but they ultimately didn't know what we were envisioning while we wrote it. They only know what they read. So they see it with fresh eyes and they see it for what it is, not for what it was supposed to be.

So it's really easy for readers to see the amazing aspects of a writer's work when a writer might only see what they did wrong or what they had to change in order to make the story work.

It's still the same incredible piece. It's still wonderful and I'll bet you're a much better writer than you feel like you are. 💗🫂

Maybe take a step back. Maybe take a few days off, so that the feeling of being "worse" isn't so fresh. Maybe do something else or work on a totally different story. Busy your mind so it isn't focused on what you feel you're not doing right.

No one's perfect. I guarantee the writer that made the story you read is nitpicking the things they wish they didn't have to change or that they feel they could have worded better.

So cut yourself slack. Remember to love your writing, to love where you're at. Writing is a journey. It isn't about getting to the destination. It's about enjoying the ride there. :) You'll get there, just remember to appreciate your writing for what it is now. And one day, you'll be where you want to be. Just keep working at it and loving yourself and your work.

Thank you for reaching out and I really, really hope you find comfort in this response.

Happy writing, my dear nonnie. 💗 I'm wishing nothing but happiness and pride in your work.

~Hannah

[canonicallyobserving911]

“You know, it’s like that thing when you meet somebody and you just… click.” - Ficlet

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

New Buddie Fanfic and New Buddie Series

The third ficlet in the "What do you want?" Series in now available on AO3. “You know, it’s like that thing when you meet somebody and you just… click.” - When Buck comes face to face with Eddie’s new friend; he hates it but since he’s only told Maddie about his breakup with Tommy, Eddie’s still under the impression he’s taken. Therefore, Eddie makes plans to spend even more time with his new acquaintance.

“You know, it’s like that thing when you meet somebody and you just… click.” - 5.1K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

___________

Here's a snippet from an emotionally angsty conversation Eddie and Buck are having just before their shift ends.

___________

Buck asks, “So uh… yesterday you said you and Chuck spent a lot of time together over the weekend. You went to a couple of festivals and he cooked for you, right?”

“Yeah, we had a good time.”

“Hmm… so who exactly is this guy? I—I mean you said you two were in the academy together but Eddie… that was more than 6 years ago so how did you two get close so quickly?”

He shrugs his shoulders and he knows he’s about to be petty as hell but Buck broke his heart and the longer he stays with that ass clown Tommy Kinard, he’ll keep breaking it and he doesn’t want to keep trying to mend it with band-aids and duct tape.

“We have a lot of things in common but when we were in the academy, we both kept our heads down and we did the job because we weren’t there to showboat or be in competition with anyone.”

“What kind of things do you and him have in common?”

How will their conversation end? 🤷🏽‍♀️

Will Buck finally tell Eddie that he broke up with Tommy several days ago? 👀

___________

"What do you want?" - A Series of Ficlets

Currently 3 works completed; 13.4K Words: Rated; Teen and Up Audiences:  This is a series of “Ficlets” that I’ll be writing over the course of the next few weeks and my goal is to keep them under a certain number of words. I’m challenging myself to do it this way for multiple reasons but mainly because I want to see if I can write a full Buddie story by including smaller fics in a series in comparison to the multi-chapter fic I’m still in the process of writing titled, “I’m still in love with you but… I needed to learn how to love myself too!” I only have 9 chapters left before I finish it but once I’m done, I’d like to continue writing Buddie fanfics. However, this time I’ll start with my dislike for the way season 7 ended instead of the way season 6 did. Finally, I have a lot of WIPs that I want to finish and I figured I can turn them all into ficlets to build the full story for Buck and Eddie.

Since these ficlets will be posted in order, it’s imperative to read them one after the other. Each part ends at a specific point with a cliffhanger and the next part will begin with the ending of the previous part. Therefore, part 1 should be read prior to reading part 2 and the series will continue in that manner until it’s complete.

"You don't know math!" - 3.3K Words; Rated Teen and Up Audiences: Buck is forced to choose while Eddie might be presented with another option.

"Math is a universal language." - 5K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Eddie reconnects with an old acquaintance and they spend a lot of time together. However, now that Buck’s single, he finally tries to understand math is a universal language but when he sees Eddie talking to another guy, he wonders if it took him too long to figure it out.

“You know, it’s like that thing when you meet somebody and you just… click.” - 5.1K Words; Rated: Teen ad Up Audiences: When Buck comes face to face with Eddie’s new friend; he hates it but since he’s only told Maddie about his breakup with Tommy, Eddie’s still under the impression he’s taken. Therefore, Eddie makes plans to spend even more time with his new acquaintance.

Now Available on AO3

[my-name-is-bunnyfoxy]

~ Courting A Salamandrian ~

Courting a Salamandrian, or CAS for short, revolves around Raphael wanting to propose to Mona Lisa. They have been dating for many years and he believes it's time to take their relationship to the next step. However though, unfortunately for him, many obstacles come towards their way. Because a guy who's name literally starts with bish can't seem to handle happy couples and needs to be a controllive freak. Luckily everything works out in the end and Raphael and Mona lisa can finally have their wedding.

The fanfic was created by @fabuloustrash05

As of now, the fanfic is finally coming to it's end. With the epilogue yet to be released as of the time I'm writing this. This fanfic brought me immense amount of joy and it's probably one of the only real TMNT fanfics I enjoyed and stuck around to read. When I first discovered it, I didn't think much of it but then picked up on it. I red it from the beginning and ever since then I have waited patiently for every chapter to release. I can see that genuine passion was put into this work and this whole fanfic just felt like a love letter to the Ramona ship.

Overall in general just, I'm gonna be sad and upset after the fanfic is finished. Although I'm definetelly gonna come back and reread it whenever I have the time and or energy. I never thought to feel so many things over just one fanfic.

To Maria, a.k.a the creator, thank you for this. I can tell you are very passionate when it comes to how you write your fanfics, you clearly take it seriously, and I respect you for it. Even outside of being a writer, you are genuinely a wonderful person and I love talking to you and seeing your posts on my dashboard. Even when the fanfic finishes, I'm gonna stick around to read your other future fanfics. I gotta catch up with turtles in the roaring 20s ngl...

So uhm.. yeah-!

Amazing fanfic, I love it, even if you aren't a massive ramona shipper you can still enjoy the fanfic.

If you do want to read it, links are right here:

Anyways that's all for now. Until next time my dear bunnies and foxies. YEET-

[ebiemidnightlibrarian]

𝑬𝑩𝑰𝑬'𝑺 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

Hello, everyone!

First of all, before the list begins, I feel that I need to warn you that English isn't my first language, so might happen you find some writing/grammar mistakes, I also don't have a beta reader, again I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Most, if not all my fanfictions are 'x ofc/c', however, I write them as reader fics. That means that the only differences from a 'x reader' fic is that the character will have a name and the narration will be in the third person. But no details about the embodiment of the character will be given, with a few exceptions in a couple stories, but I'll be warning in the notes and warnings of the piece when that happens.

Also, I made this Google form, so you can tell me where you want to be tagged. That's all for now.

Enjoy :)

Update: ALL my fanfictions are on indeterminate hiatos. But, I'm not abandoning them, I promise 😘

Update #2: Some changes in the Masterlist, I'm reorganizing the whole thing to get a better view of what I'll be doing, hopefully I'll be able to post something soon.

𝔖𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔅𝔩����𝔤 𝔇𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝔇𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔡 𝔅𝔬𝔴𝔦𝔢

𝐉𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑯𝒂𝒚𝒘𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔

𝔇𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔩 𝔅𝔯𝔲̈𝔥𝔩

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐙𝐞𝐦𝐨

𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐨 𝐊𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐄𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐭

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔰

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑳𝒆𝒏𝒛 𝑴. 𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒏

𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓

𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒐 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐

𝔇𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔡 𝔇𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔞𝔫

𝐀𝐛𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 [𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐚-𝐃𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐧]

𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔰

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑯𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑮𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒅

ℌ𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔏𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐇𝐢𝐥𝐥 | 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐭

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐊𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐡 𝐓𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐊𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔰

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑯𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒚 𝑮. 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒕

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖘

𝔓𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔰

And that's it for now.

I'll make a separate post for each fanfic and one-shot, with the specs of genres and warnings.

𝑰𝑴𝑷𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑵𝑻!

These stories are 100% mine, that is, I created, started and will finish them the way they were planned within the proper time. That said, I do not consent anything originally posted on this blog being copied/pasted/translated/or any other form of reproduction, to any site other than here, on this blog, without my permission. In short, not even over my dead body.

Thank you in advance for your attention and I hope you enjoy these stories made with great care and effort.

Good reading!