#constructive criticism and general comments welcomed as always

[natsgrave]

WHISPERS OF HEARTACHE | angstober

╰┈➤ synopsis: one day whether you are, 14, 28, or 65, you will stumble upon someone who will start a fire in you that cannot die. however, the saddest, most awful truth you will ever come to find is they are not always with whom we spend our lives.

╰┈➤ welcome and short message: hello, my sweet gravels! i am thrilled to welcome you to "whispers of heartache," a collection of angst-filled one shots centered around the compelling characters of natasha romanoff / scarlett johansson, wanda maximoff / elizabeth olsen, and a female reader. this book is a labor of love, crafted from my deep admiration for these characters and my passion for storytelling. in this book, you will find a series of emotionally charged stories that delve into the complexities of love, loss, and heartache. each one shot will be written in the third person point of view, offering a broad perspective on the intense and often tumultuous emotions experienced by the characters. i must share that english is not my first language. therefore, you may encounter some grammatical errors or awkward phrasing throughout the stories. i appreciate your understanding and patience as i strive to improve my writing skills. my goal is to convey the depth of emotions and the intricate dynamics between the characters, even if my language skills are still a work in progress. angst has a unique power to connect with readers on a deep, emotional level. it explores the raw, often painful aspects of human relationships and personal struggles. through these stories, i hope to capture the essence of what it means to love and to lose, to fight and to surrender. each tale is crafted to evoke empathy and reflection, inviting you to experience the characters' journeys as if they were your own. your reblogs and feedback is incredibly valuable to me. as i embark on this storytelling journey, i welcome your thoughts, suggestions, and constructive criticism. please feel free to leave comments and reviews. your input will not only help me grow as a writer but also ensure that the stories resonate with you, the readers. thank you for joining me in this exploration of the whispers of heartache. i hope that these one shots will touch your heart and leave a lasting impression. happy reading! warm regards, G.J ps: i will be adding the first few angst that i already wrote in this masterlist even though it's technically not part of this masterlist. but, it's angst, so...

╰┈➤ tolerate it

while you were out building other worlds, where was i? you assume i'm fine, but what would you do if i break free and leave us in ruins? ── .✦ pairing: elizabeth olsen x gf!reader

╰┈➤ new year's day

i want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year's day. please, don't ever become a stranger whose laugh i could recognize anywhere. ── .✦ pairing: sister's bsf!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ midnight rain

she was sunshine, i was midnight rain. she wanted a bride, i was making my own name, chasing that fame. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ you're losing me

how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? do i throw out everything we built or keep it? and you know what they all say, you don't know what you got until it's gone. ── .✦ pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

╰┈➤ in the next lifetime

but in those photos, i saw us instead and, somehow, i know that you and i would've found each other in another life. you still would've turned my head even if we'd met. you're always gonna be mine, we're gonna be timeless. ── .✦ pairing: general's son!steve x general's daughter!reader, maid!natasha x general's daughter!reader, scarlett johansson x fem!reader

╰┈➤ the manuscript

the only thing that's left is the manuscript. one last souvenir from my trip to your shores. now and then i reread the manuscript but the story isn't mine anymore. ── .✦ pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

╰┈➤ the smallest woman who ever lived

and i don't miss what we had, but could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived? ── .✦ pairing: avenger!natasha x ex hydra!reader

╰┈➤ favorite crime

i hope i was your favorite crime, 'cause baby, you were mine. ── .✦ pairing: bsf!wanda x fem!reader

╰┈➤ mean it

on your lips just leave it, if you don't mean it. ── .✦ pairing: scarlett johansson x gf!reader

╰┈➤ love me nicely

i know you love me, but could you love me nicely? ── .✦ pairing: toxic!elizabeth x gf!reader

╰┈➤ if the world was ending

i know, you know, we know, you weren't down for forever and it's fine. i know, you know, we know, we weren't meant for each other and it's fine. but if the world was ending you'd come over, right? ── .✦ pairing: avenger!wanda x fem!reader

╰┈➤ soulmate

what a shame, didn't want to be the one that got away. taking down the pictures and the plans we made. big mistake, you broke the sweetest promise that you never should have made. ── .✦ pairing: fiance!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ greatest what if

someday when you leave me, i bet these memories follow you around. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ heart

i knew it from the first old fashioned, we were cursed. should've known i'd be the first to leave think about the place where you first met me. ── .✦ pairing: elizabeth olsen x crush!reader

╰┈➤ too late

words— how little they mean when you're a little too late. ── .✦ pairing: avenger!natasha x avenger!steve, husband!bucky x avenger!reader

╰┈➤ i miss you

now, i fear i have fallen from grace and i feel like my castle's crumbling down. ── .✦ pairing: actress!scarlett x actress!reader

╰┈➤ wedding

sometimes giving up is the strong thing, sometimes to run is the brave thing, sometimes walking out is the one thing, that will find you the right thing. the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul, you know when it's time to go. ── .✦ pairing: elizabeth olsen x event planner!reader

╰┈➤ last memory

if i didn't know better, i'd think you were talking to me now. if i didn't know better, i'd think you were still around. what died didn't stay dead, you're alive, so alive, in my head. ── .✦ pairing: agent!elizabeth x agent!reader

╰┈➤ thank you

why'd you have to lead me on? why'd you have to twist the knife? walk away and leave me bleedin'. ── .✦ pairing: scarlett johansson x fem!reader

╰┈➤ we both had our chance

i persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? ── .✦ pairing: avenger!natasha x avenger!reader

╰┈➤ i hate you

remembering her comes in flashbacks and echoes, tell myself it's time now gotta let go. but moving on from her is impossible, when i still see it all in my head, in burning red. ── .✦ pairing: shitty!scarlett x annoying!reader

╰┈➤ on bended knee

can we go back to the days our love was strong? can you tell me how a perfect love goes wrong? can somebody tell me how to get things back the way they use to be? oh god give me a reason, i'm down on bended knee. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x actress!reader

╰┈➤ the cut that always bleeds

oh, i could be anything you need, as long as you don't leave. the cut that always bleeds. ── .✦ pairing: scarlett x gf!reader

╰┈➤ backburner

i'll always be in your corner, 'cause i don't feel alive 'til i'm burnin' on your backburner. ── .✦ pairing: agent!natasha x agent!reader

╰┈➤ the great war

we can plant a memory garden, say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair. there's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair and we will never go back. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x gf!reader

╰┈➤ enough for you

and maybe i'm just not as interesting as the girls you had before but god, you couldn't have cared less about someone who loved you more. 'cause all i ever wanted was to be enough for you and all i ever wanted was to be enough for you. ── .✦ pairing: agent!natasha x insecure!reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ to be written:

╰┈➤ 1 step forward, 3 steps back

do you love me, want me, hate me? boy, i don't understand. no, i don't understand.

╰┈➤ better woman

i know the bravest thing i ever did was run.

╰┈➤ strange

isn't it strange how people can change. from strangers to friends, friends into lovers, and strangers again?

╰┈➤ lose you to love me

we'd always go into it blindly, i needed to lose you to find me. this dancing was killing me softly, i needed to hate you to love me.

╰┈➤ almost is never enough

almost is never enough, so close to being in love. if i would have known that you wanted me, the way i wanted you then maybe we wouldn't be two worlds apart, but right here in each other's arms.

╰┈➤ wish you were sober

kiss me in the seat of your rover, real sweet, but i wish you were sober.

╰┈➤ same ground

because i have learned that love is beyond what human can imagine, the more it clears, the more i have to let you go.

╰┈➤ the way i loved you

but i miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain and it's 2 a.m. and i'm cursing your name. so in love that you act insane and that's the way i loved you.

╰┈➤ champagne problems

your mom's ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won't remember all my champagne problems.

╰┈➤ last kiss

you told me you loved me, so why did you go away?

╰┈➤ maroon

the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me and how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was. the mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones, the lips i used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon.

╰┈➤ loml

you said i'm the love of your life about a million times.

╰┈➤ consequences

loving you was sunshine, safe and sound, a steady place to let down my defenses but loving you had consequences.

╰┈➤ casual

i thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn't lose.

╰┈➤ illicit affairs

they show their truth one single time but they lie, and they lie, and they lie a million little times.

╰┈➤ forever and always

oh back up, baby, back up, did you forget everything? back up, baby, back up, did you forget everything?

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: Toru Oikawa x female reader

Requested: no

Genre: smut, female receiving

Warning(s): cunnilingus, figuring, degradation

Summary: Toru eating out his freeuse slut aka you

Word count: 743

Other works

Beta reader: none

disclaimer: this is my first time writing smut, so dont expect it to be stellar (do lemme know if it was good or not)

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

-----------------------smut under the cut--------------------------

Oikawa was your pretty cute roommate. You both had met during your college days and as dorm partners and had bonded over time. Now, three years after finishing, you both are still going strong as roomies.

He has settled into his big-boy job of playing volleyball full-time, and you have the most boring nine-to-five ever. Although the big-time celebrity he is, plus the wealth that is flowing into his bank, says he is a richie rich dude, but the boy still refuses to move out, and who are you to say otherwise?

Now, the refusal to move has some ulterior motives, but it's not like you were not aware of that. The man is obsessed with you, more like your pussy, so much so that he refuses to let you have a moment of peace in the house when you both are alone.

The fact that neither of you are in a relationship helps a lot in contributing to it, not like a simple boyfriend would stop the man from bending you over in the most obnoxious place and ramming his cock into you, but surely it would create a bit of hindrance, and no one likes those.

To put it in the most simplest from, you are his personal free-use slut; that’s what you are. You could deny it, but you know it as well as he does, that you'd bend in the middle of a crowded street if he wanted you to.

Not like he actually wanted that to happen, but you get the point. So, as a general rule in the house, it is forbidden for you to wear panties or a bra, not like you liked to do so anyways. He liked having access to your pussy at all times of the day so that he could always take you anywhere and everywhere.

 Just like this time, when he came back from the gym all sweaty and thirsty, for your pussy.

Walking into the house, he looks around for you only to find you on the balcony tending to those basil plants you have started growing a few months ago. Leaving his gym bag on the couch, he strides over to you and without a single word, he pushes you towards the railing of the balcony and, bending down, he settles himself between your legs.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he says from between your legs and without letting you answer, he pulls down your shorts to get the view of your glistening pussy, with its puffy lips.

“Did you play with yourself while I was away?” he asks, looking at you, only for you to let out a flustered whine.

“I just edged myself, Toru, I couldn’t cum,” you say, thoroughly flustered.

“Dumb whore can’t even make herself cum without my cock, that’s what you needed, wasn’t it?” he laughs as you vigorously nod.

Without wasting another moment, he dives into your pussy, licking a long stripe of it and sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. With each and every lick it becomes even harder for you to keep your voice lower, eventually your screams pierce through the quite evening, making sure to let all the pedestrians know who is eating you out so well.

Latching his face further into your heat, he adds two fingers inside you and immediately starts curling them. Your essence dripping onto his tongue is like heaven, sweeter than any candy he could ever have.

While letting out lewd breathy moans, you grip his hair hard as he keeps abusing your cunt.

“To-toru, ahh-”

“Yes, scream my name, slut, let the world know who makes you go all dumb over his tongue,” he groans.

“Toru, I’m gonna-”

Before you could complete your sentence, the waves of pleasure hit you harder than anything else. With a loud scream of his name, you come all over his face and like a starved man, he drinks you up till the last drop of your cum is gone and you are shaking with overstimulation.

Emerging from between your thighs, he gives your pussy a quick slap, saying, “I'm gonna go take a shower, I expect you to be naked on your knees beside my bed, slut.”

With that, he is out, leaving you to shakily walk into the house towards his bedroom, because what Toru wants he gets, and you are no one to deny him the pleasure he so politely asked you for.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: again if you have read till the end do tell me how you liked it, and thanks for reading.

[evolnoomym]

The Night We Met🌠/Pt.2

Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Pt. 1 🌌 | Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: You return to Texas after being gone for 5 months.

Rating: 18+ content mdni!!!!(there’s nothing explicit, still I want the minors to stay away.)

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: no use of y/n, pregnancy, female reader, reader has no name only a nickname, size difference, loss of a loved one, grief, food and eating are mentioned, age gap,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: The part 2 some of you wanted, hopefully you’ll like it 🫶🏻

Shoutout to @thecutestgrotto and @cafekitsune for the dividers 💙

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that(and me being high). I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 🌠🫶🏻

+Bonus at the end 🥰

Song’s I listened to while writing:

To Build A Home - The Cinematic Orchestra, Patrick Watson

Twins - Gem Club

Space Song - Beach House

Silver Soul - Beach House

Santa Monica Dream - Angus & Julia Stone

Sunset Lover - Petit Biscuit

Big Jet Plane - Angus & Julia Stone

you. - Oscar Lang

Home - Catie Turner

I would - Torri Weidinger

Hearing - Sleeping At Last

My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

I miss you, I’m sorry - Gracie Abrams

Everywhere - Fleetwood Mac

* 5 months later *

You haven’t been in this place ever since leaving all those months ago. So much has changed for you. The sickening feeling you used to get when entering didn’t seem to return once you stepped onto the property. Now as you sit across from him, it does not feel as if you’re being torn apart by each second you spend here, perhaps it’s also because you have a little helper to make this less painful. 

His grave looks just like you remember and once you sat down you noticed that somebody must’ve taken care of it in your absence. Your favorite flowers are placed on top- blue chrysanthemums. 

It’s a beautiful warm spring day, birds chirping in the distance, sunshine warming up your skin, fresh breeze blowing through your hair and finally more color being added to the scenery. 

You smile softly because it’s a good day and you’re happy to see him. 

And as some sort of Déjà vu, a father comes walking down the dirt path with his daughter and the little girl is cheerfully giggling while taking in all the beautiful flowers adorning the graves. 

When the girl reaches the blue chrysanthemums she lets out a stunned gasp, it seems like she might have never seen those flowers in her life before. 

When her dad spots you he immediately starts apologizing profusely for his daughter’s behavior but you let him know that it’s more than welcome and you think to yourself how the little girl reminds you of the past. 

When they are out of sight you start laughing and then say “You Funny old men, sending me a sign aren’t you? Thank you Papa.” He’s still here, always with you and he was even when you were so far away. 

(Flashback beginning )

The first few weeks were rough for you, so incredibly far away from what was supposed to be home and with Joel’s distraught face burned into your memory. 

Luckily Sunny was there to catch you in the darkest moments, if it wasn’t for her you wouldn’t have made it. 

When you called her out of sheer desperation and told her you’d need to be somewhere far away, Sweet Sunny, without thinking about it, offered to take you in. 

The flight over there was incredibly stressful for you but seeing Sunny’s face once she picked you up from the airport made it all worth it. 

She had to treat you like a wounded animal, cooking your favorite meals, taking you for walks around the pastures, massages when the back pain flared up again and when nothing helped just sitting with you through the agony. 

Sunny is your childhood Bestfriend, you were born on the same day just 4 years apart, you have the same interests and the same dislikes. Your dad always called you Sunny and Moon. Two Inseparable forces. 

The time with Sunny and the change of scenery was healing. You went to yoga with her, took trips to Costco, she took you to the local aquarium, the butterfly garden and to the beach.  

When the time came to fly back home you were sad but Sunny promised to visit once it’s time. 

(Flashback over)

It was a week ago that your plane touched down in Texas, it felt so strange being back in the town you so hastily left. 

Once you landed Joel was all you could think about, is he okay, does he look different, did he move, did he find someone new or is he still waiting for you?

You’ve seen the countless messages he sent you over the months, yet you couldn’t find the courage to answer him you would’ve felt like a liar. You felt terrible for not holding up your end of the bargain.

After sleeping in the motel for a week you finally, especially after talking to your Dad, feel empowered enough to go see Joel again. 

You had stopped once on the drive towards Joel’s house, due to raging nausea, you are incredibly nervous sitting in the parked car in front of his home. 

It still looks exactly the same as when you disappeared, nothing changed about it. 

It takes a few more minutes before you get out of the car. You have to take a couple deep breaths and wipe your shaking sweaty palms off on your long black stretchy skirt that you decided to wear combined a black ribbed tank top. 

The outfit looks good and is the most comfortable for you in this state.

Your knees are weak on the steps up to the house, the fluttering in your belly gets continuously worse the closer you get to the front door and when you knock on the door you’re close to passing out. 

The seconds you have to wait feel like hours. In reality it’s only seconds and when the door opens time seems to stand still, there he is Joel Miller in all his glory. 

His eyes scan your face in frantic disbelief and his mouth makes him look like a fish fresh outta water. 

You try to take control of the situation “H…hi Joel.” It’s simple but you’re just as stunned. 

You can see his eyes turn glassy “No Joel, no tears come on, you gonna make me cry too.” You try to say it in a cheerful way but the words end in a quiet whisper. 

“Y…you- you’re back? Am I….dreamin?” He stammers clearly unconvinced. You nod gently and reach with your hand for his face, when your warm soft palm touches his scruffy cheek his eyes fall shut and the tears start rolling down his cheeks. 

His lips are trembling, as if your touch hurts him. “Joel, I…I’m so sorry.” At that he opens his eyes again and to your surprise he does not look mad, though he’d have all right to be. 

With his eyes still locked onto your face he asks “How…how long have ya been back?”

You turn away slightly and gesture behind you towards the car parked in front of the driveway. “I've been back for about a week, sleeping in that ranch motel and I was just at Dad’s grave when I thought about coming here.” When you turn back to face him his eyes are no longer on your face, but instead somewhere else. 

Joel’s eyes are stuck on your midsection. 

Oh yeah, the bump, from the front it’s not that noticeable but as soon as you turn boom there it is the unmistakable swell. 

That’s what scared you the most, how would he react to the pregnancy. 

“Y…you- you’re pregnant? How…I mean ya didn’t say anythin bout that back then?” He questions in almost trance.

“Maybe we should go inside to talk, hmm? My feet kinda hurt.” You laugh which pulls him out of his frozen state.

“Jeez of course, come in let’s sit down Moon.” He gestures to come into the house you used to share and once you cross the threshold the familiar smell engulfs you, a mix of vanilla and sandalwood.

Everything mostly still looks the same, once you reach the living room you immediately note that all the pictures are still exactly where they always hung on the wall. And when you look at the dining table, the one you sat at that night it’s still the same but what’s placed on top makes your breath hitch. 

Blue Chrysanthemums, the same as on his grave. 

When you turn you realize Joel’s been watching you “Did you put the flowers on his grave?” 

“Yeah, that was me” while he nervously scratches his neck “I hope ya liked them.”

You huff “Joel I loved them they are my favorite you know that. So you've been going to his grave?”

He hesitates for a moment but then responds “Every week since ya left Moon. Just spend a bit talkin to the ol’ men. Ya know he was my Bestfriend.” 

You nod “I’m sorry you couldn’t grieve cuz you had to take care of me. I know you were close and Joel-“ you reach for his face again, gently patting his cheek “- you meant soooo much to him, you know how I told you he’d basically chew my ear off telling me all about his super cool boss every night.” You smile sweetly at him trying to soothe the pain he must’ve felt at losing your father, his Bestfriend and then ultimately you as well.

The two of you sit down on the couch, which is now possible unlike 5 months ago when just looking at it made you sick, Joel sits down with a respectable distance from you. 

“So….you must have a million questions, shot?” You encourage him. “How far along, are ya?” 

“25 weeks to be specific, so only three more weeks and I’m officially 7 months.” You answer with a smile. 

A moment later “So ya were pregnant when you left, did ya know or..?” He questions.

“No, I didn’t know when I left. I didn’t think it would take at the first try. I chalked the whole throwing up thing up to the grief, you know?” 

He nods “Yeah, I get what ya mean…and how did you figure it out?”

“I didn’t. Sunny did, she thought something was off and had to drag me to the doctor. Did some tests and well I was 8 weeks already.” 

(Flashback beginning )

Sunny plopped down beside you on the couch 

“Ok we need to talk this is not normal anymore Moon.” 

You stared at her in question “ Why what’s wrong?” 

“Seriously.?? Let’s look at the facts: your periods have been missing for almost 3 months, you puke allllll the time, you eat the weirdest food combinations I’ve ever seen and….no offense but your tits have blown up, look at them.” As she points at your chest.

“Ok fuck you Sunny if you like looking at my tits you could’ve just told me and whats with my eating habits??”

“Baby you literally dipped pickles in Orange Sorbet for breakfast…you don’t see anything wrong with that, huh?” She laughs 

“Well I…I just really craved that”

“No baby, the little Miller fetus inside you craved that.” 

“Okkkkk then let’s go to the doctors office to see if you are correct or just imagining things.” As you flip her off while laughing. 

When the little white blob showed up on the screen, Sunny started yelling, of course she had to be right.

(Flashback over)

“Ya did all of it alone? I’m sorry Moon Girl.”

“Oh no, Sunny was there for each visit and she documented the whole process so you could have a chance at sorta having those memories too. You’re gonna be a Daddy Joel Miller” 

Tears well up in his eyes again “C…can I, ya know..?” While his eyes go to your belly.

You understand what he wants “Of course Joel, though you might not feel a whole lot…I think she’s asleep, which I can’t blame her for after the stressful ride over here.” You laugh gently. 

Joel’s gasp makes you look up 

“Y-y-yo…you said “she” it’s a girl, we’re having a little babygirl?” The tears slip down his cheeks again but this time he’s beaming with happiness as it happens. 

You take his outstretched shaking hand and place it on the top of your stomach. 

“Yeah a little Moon Babygirl, now imagine how Sunny freaked out when we got told, some of her cheerful screaming is probably caught in the video she took.” 

Joel’s crying intensifies so you motion for him to get closer and when his thigh presses against yours you pull him in for a side hug. His unoccupied arm slides around your lower back, hand resting on your hip, while his face slots right into your neck. 

“Sorry Baby I…I’m a mess.” He mumbles against the side of your neck.

“Shhh Joel, it’s ok, I got you. I got you Joel.” while stroking the back of his head. You give him the time to let it all out. 

Suddenly he perks up and pulls out your arms. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask 

“I…I think she kicked me, our baby kicked me..” he whispers. 

“Guess she knows it’s her Daddy needing some comfort, she’s done it for me too.” 

“How.?” 

“Whenever I couldn’t bare it anymore, she started kicking me as a distraction.” You continue “I believe she’s a gift from him, that sounds weird..” Joel just shakes his head no… “a purpose, something to keep going for you know?” 

“I know what ya mean Baby.” 

“Not that you were not enough but I..I - I just..” 

“It’s alrigh darlin, I understand you.” 

He gets up out of nowhere “I got something for ya, jus wait a minute sweetheart.”

As he heads up the stairs. 

When he comes back down he orders “Close ya eyes Moon.” 

“What, why?”

“Come on jus do it, trust me.”

You can feel him somewhere in front of you but you don’t know where exactly. 

“Open up.”

And there he is on his knees holding a small box up to you in it a beautiful engagement ring but instead of a normal shaped diamond it’s a moon shaped one. As if he had it made specifically for you.

You are completely stunned by the way he just wiped it out. 

J…j- Joel I..I don’t know what to say.” 

He jus shakes his head and looks at you softly “Moon ya don’t have to say anythin, I jus wanted you to have it.” 

You’re in sheer disbelief and only shake your head frantically. 

“m’ sorry that was too much I..I-“ but you cut him off

“Shut up I just needed a minute to process, yes Joel, yes I do.” You smile 

“W..what’d ya mean?” 

“Yes I want to Marry you Joel, not immediately but someday, ok? Put it on me.” You say as you hold out your hand 

Now Joel’s the one stunned but after collecting  himself he does just as you told him, he slides it on your left Ringfinger.

Once he’s done it you get up to admire the ring in the sunlight, you walk out onto the porch and hold your hand up to the Sun. 

You can hear his heavy steps coming up to you from behind, then you feel his muscular arms slide around your middle, his hands come to rest on the bump and his chin on your shoulder. 

You turn in his hold and place your palms on his broad chest. “I have to explain so much about why I left you and..and-“ 

This time he cut you off “I don’t care bout that right now, m’ jus happy to have ya back Moon. Can I kiss ya?” 

“Of course you can kiss me Joel.” That’s all the encouragement he needs before pressing his lips against yours and then again and again.

Suddenly he ask’s you something you did not expect “Ya got a name for Her in mind?” 

You pretend to think about the answer but then reply with confidence “I really like the name Matilda. What do you think of that?” 

Joel smiles amused “That’s a real pretty name for our Moon baby, darlin.“

You feel more content than ever before and you can feel him watching from above being happy as well to see you back in Joel’s arms. 

It’s them 🌌🌠:

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

Npt: @joelmillerisapunk @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @studioghibelli @joelslegalwhre @thundermartini @almostfoxglove @sizzlingcloudmentality @vivian-pascal @strang3lov3 @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @joelsgreys @janaispunk @iamasaddie @the-mandawhor1an @joelalorian @ace-turned-confused @clawdee @penvisions @rivnedell (honestly I’m pretty randomly tagging sorry) 🌠

[froggyfics]

The Deadliest Poisons Are The Sweetest - 3

You remember the little boy and his rabbit.

(09/15/23) Note: If you have read this chapter before this date, please note that I have combined chapters 1 and 2 together. This may seem confusing, but I have decided that as a creative approach, I would like the chapters to be longer. This used to be chapter 4, now it is chapter 3.

Y'all, let me know if you prefer fics with fewer, but longer chapters, or fics with lots, but shorter chapters.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome! 

Word Count: 3,309

He plucks off a red carnation from a bush and places it into your hands. The flower is so beautiful that you cannot help but gawk at it. 

“My mother had these planted many years ago, before my birth,” Damian explains. “Do you know what red carnations symbolize?”

You timidly shake your head, embarrassed at your lack of flower symbolism knowledge. You wonder if all upper-class women already knew the answer to his question. If they were in the garden with the two of you, they would probably shout out the answer before it left Damian’s lips. 

“They symbolize deep love and affection,” he continues. “She planted them for my father.”

You squirm at his explanation, unsure of how to react. Should you feign innocence? It was a well-known, yet rarely spoken about secret within the realm that Prince Damian was born out of wedlock, but no one could fathom speaking about the matter in public. It would certainly be considered treasonous to do so. After all, even implying that the royal family was anything less than perfect was worthy of prison.

Damian laughs heartily at your reaction. “Please, I know what you must be thinking. I am well aware that I do not come from…the most honorable of circumstances.”

You cannot help but laugh in response. “That matters not,” you reply. “It is your character that I care about.”

He hums in response, and silence befalls you two. It is a much more comfortable silence than when you arrived in the capital. This time, you are alone with him instead of being surrounded by a throng of people. 

Well, technically. While your family and his become acquainted with one another indoors, you are walking next to Damian in the gardens, each with your respective chaperone trailing a few yards behind. You turn to see Alice viewing the extraordinary plants around her, some of which she had never seen before. Damian’s chaperone, a high-ranking general in R’as army, trails along indifferently.  

You turn back around and to your surprise, you find Damian observing you intensely. 

“There must be something on my face for you to look upon me like that,” you shyly utter.

Damian broods for a moment before responding. “I look at you in the hopes that you remember me.”

You smile fondly at the memory. “Of course, I remember. How could I forget the little prince and his rabbit?”

You remember nodding your head at your father, not entirely listening to his words. You were too entranced by your surroundings. Never had you ever seen walls so tall, bricks so sturdy, and rooms so ornate.

“King R’as and I fought alongside each other many years ago,” he explained. “You should forever be grateful towards him. In return for fighting loyally by his side, he granted me earldom.”

He grabbed your shoulder and proceeded to kneel to face you directly. “I must leave you with the servants to attend a meeting with the king. Be good, my child. Do not dishonor our family name.”

“Yes, Father!”

He smiled at you and kissed you on the forehead before handing you off the servant that stood on the side. 

“Let us find you something to eat,” the kind servant said. 

She escorted you to the bustling kitchen and sat you down on a small wooden stool. You were surprised at how many people were employed in the kitchen alone. The amount of kitchen staff here at the castle equated to how many people were employed in your family’s entire home and stables!

You were given a measly bowl of oats, but it still satisfied your rumbling stomach. The servant left you to your own devices to perform her own duties. Surely, there were more important tasks on her mind than to care for a child. However, that meant you were left unsupervised to explore the castle. 

There were an unnecessary number of rooms to explore. You were amazed at the grandeur of it all. The imagination you had as a child ran wild, conjuring up scenarios of how you would live leisurely at a place like this. There would never be a problem that could not be fixed within a snap of your fingers. Chores would never have to cross your mind. You would have everything you could ever desire and more.

One after another, you hurriedly explored each room, forgetting the promise you made to your father. Who cared about family honor when you there was so much to see? 

You were able to easily flit from room to room. Innumerable servants passed you by without a glance, hurriedly completing their tasks. No one cared to look after a whimsical child when they risked corporal punishment for not completing their daily chores. 

A skip, a hop, and a jump later, your heart suddenly clenched. Your feet skidded to a sudden stop and your ears perked up. There were the rumblings of an angry individual coming from just around the corner. 

How could anyone be angry living in a place like this, you naively thought. 

You steadily inched across the hall. The voice increased in volume the closer and closer you approached. 

“ – to be a king!” You overheard a snippet of the conversation as you pressed your ear to the wooden doorframe.

“I have had enough of this sniveling. What would your grandfather say if he saw you like this? He would surely be disappointed in not only you, but in me. I have obviously failed as a mother if you cannot keep it together over something so insignificant.”

You pulled your head away from the doorframe quickly. It did not sound like the sort of conversation that you should have eavesdropped on. You scurried away from the door and hid just in the nick of time around the corner when the door thumped open. Footsteps stomped away from the room until all that could be heard were tiny sniffles, almost undiscernible. 

Forget anger, how could anyone be sad living in a place like this?

Curiosity overtook your body, and you could not stop your feet from approaching the now open door. Peeking inside, you saw the silhouette of a young child on the edge of a bed, with their back towards you.

It was obvious from their trembling body that they were crying, but it was also equally obvious that they were attempting to quiet their own whimpers. Your mind battled itself – should you comfort this person, or should you walk away? 

The memory of your father from earlier that day pierced your mind suddenly. You cringed at the sudden realization that you disobeyed your father, and that he would be displeased with your current behavior. 

You slowly started to back away from the entrance of the room, but you never were one to have life go your way. The soles of your shoes scuffed against the stone floor and created an echo within the hallway.

A gasp was heard from the inside of the room, and you knew you were caught. You winced as you raised your head to meet the eyes of the person whose privacy you intruded on. 

Watery green eyes met your own. His cheeks were wet with his tears, and his nose was blushed red. His mouth trembled in an effort to contain his tears, but one trickled down before he could stop it. He angrily wiped his face with his sleeve before returning to face you.

“What is it that you want?” he sneered, embarrassed that someone else had seen him cry. 

Your mouth opened, but no words could escape. There was so much to be said in that moment, but in your foolishness, you chose silence. You remembered what your siblings would do to comfort you whenever you were scolded by your mother. They would stroke your hair, wipe your tears, rub your back, and whisper declarations of love into your ear, all while you wailed your misfortunes onto them. They listened and your heart had no choice to calm itself after their comforting presence. 

Words could not be conjured in your head, so instead, you inched further into the room. The green-eyed boy watched in irritation when you rounded the bed to sit next to him. He huffed and looked away from you, but remained on the bed. 

You remained mute for what seemed like an eternity before you spoke. “Do you want to talk –” 

“No, I do not,” he sharply interrupted. 

The sharpness of his tone made you tremble. It felt as if you had been scolded by your tutors or perhaps your parents. It shocked you to no end that someone as young as him could hold such authority within his voice.

Silence enveloped the room once again. All that could be heard was his slight sniffles before you huffed in annoyance. Your siblings made this look so easy, but comforting someone was looking to be quite difficult!

He did not wish to speak to you, so how else could you possibly comfort him?

The bed creaked as you stood slowly. You turned to face him and stood closely to him. Your proximity to him broke his attention and he finally gazed upon you once more. This time however, confusion marked his face rather than anger. His knees nearly touched your upper thighs.

Your arms were firmly at your side, but you soon raised them around his shoulders. They dropped behind him, and you pulled him in closer. His head now laid beneath your sternum.

It was certainly an awkward hug. The angle itself was odd, but what made it even odder was the fact that the young boy did not reciprocate. His arms stiffly remained on the bed, unmoving. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion – were you mistaken? Were others not as receptive to hugs as you were?

It grew more embarrassing for each second that passed. You began to feel extremely hot and realized that perhaps, this was a situation that you were simply unable to solve. Your hands were tightly bound to your wrists to secure the hug, but they began to slip as you moved to remove yourself from the boy.

That is, until his arms began to move as well. Slowly but surely, they snaked around your waist, and kept you attached to him. 

You grinned at your achievement. Yes, the hug was possibly the worst one you had ever received, but at least it was reciprocated. 

One hand remained on his back, but the other slowly slid up towards his head. He gulped when your fingers tangle in his hair, stroking his head ever so gently. His sniffles disappeared, and his breathing evened out. His grip around your waist grew tighter and he held you closer. 

He took a deep breath in and spoke much more softly. “My rabbit passed away this morning.”

You tsked in response. “I am terribly sorry. What was the name of your rabbit?”

He paused. “His name was Rabbit.”

You had to stifle the laugh that gurgled in your throat. His head shot upwards, and he frowned at you, but his eyes smiled. 

“A fitting name for – erm – a rabbit,” you responded.

“Yes, well, he was a rabbit, so it made sense.”

You hummed in response. “How did Rabbit pass away?”

He rubbed his head on your belly. “I…am not sure. He was fine this morning. And then by the afternoon, he was…” He trailed off, unable to continue. “You must think I am weak. I am to be king one day and here I am weeping over a rabbit,” he dryly laughed. 

You were silent for a moment. The future king? It did not cross your mind to think of who you were comforting. All that crossed your mind was that you saw someone who was in desperate need of affection. Your hands suddenly became clammy at the realization that you were not comforting a normal child. This was Prince Damian! 

You ripped yourself from his grip abruptly and stepped back. The little boy appeared bewildered at your sudden movements.

“Prince Damian,” you whispered. Your immediately bent your head and knees in respect, holding your dress out to the sides in a clumsy curtsy. “I sincerely apologize – I should not have –” You glanced at the open door in horror.  Despite your good intentions, this interaction was beyond inappropriate between a royal family member and a low-level aristocrat. 

Damian stood up, his hand outreached towards you. “Please, there is no need for –” 

You took a step towards the door. Your father’s stern warning rang once more in your head. “Once again, terribly sorry about Rabbit. Also, I should not have intruded on your Highness’ privacy.”

“No, there was no intrusion!” His arms stretched towards you, but you fluttered away out the open door and down the hallway. You could hear the pattering of footsteps behind you, but continued your fast pace. His footsteps eventually slowed to a stop.

Your mind flashed back to just how intimate the two of you were mere moments ago. Suddenly, it seemed impossible to run away. Your feet turned to bricks. It was wrong, so wrong, but his watery green eyes flashed in your vision, and you just had to properly say goodbye. It was impossible to leave the castle otherwise. 

The little prince had a despondent look on his face as he stared at his shoes glumly. His slumped posture revealed his melancholy. You could not in good conscience leave him so abruptly.  

Damian’s head whipped towards you when you squeaked out your name and your father’s. 

“Perhaps, I will come to the capital again to see you, your Highness. Though, I must return to my father now. He will be very displeased with me if he finds out how I have been misbehaving.”

Damian nodded his head, a small smile etched onto his face. “Yes, perhaps. I look forward to that day, and hope that it comes sooner rather than later.”

“I keep the memory of that day near and dear to my heart.”

You flush at the thought of Damian remembering you from all those years ago. “Your Highness, I am not sure –”

“Damian,” he interrupts. “Call me Damian. Or Husband. You are to be my wife, so we should remove these formalities between us.”

“D – Damian.” His name rolls off your tongue like butter. “Husband.” You are unsure of what name you like more. “You sound so firm in your decision to marry me. I must know – why? Why me? I have no major titles. No social standing. As your mother pointed out at my arrival, I have no money.” Your hands move rapidly in the air to emphasize your confusion. The carnation Damian gave you dangerously teeters between your thumb and index finger.

Damian calls your name softly and grabs your shoulders, so that you face him. “Why does my desire for you come as a surprise?”

“Well, because of what I just said!” you sputter. “Money, status, titles! All of it!”

“Has it not crossed your mind that I do not need any of what you have mentioned? I am perfectly content with what I have been born with.”

“That still does not explain anything. When the royal messenger delivered us the news that you accepted my proposal, I sincerely thought it was a joke! A cruel joke, but a joke nonetheless.”

“T’is no joke! Out of all the maidens in the realm, I want to marry you. I chose you.”

Your mouth gapes open at his revelation. His disclosure sounded like one of those oral stories that your grandmother would tell you when you were younger. Those stories about the rich prince and the poor girl who fall in love and overcome all struggles. But those were merely fairytales, and this is reality. 

Damian rubs his face with hand in frustration before dropping it back down to his side. His gaze softens at your expression. “Look, I understand this situation was unexpected. Honestly, my decision surprised even myself.” He moves to grab your hands.

You gasp as his hands engulf yours. His fingers intertwine with your own, radiating so much warmth. His display of affection directly causes your heart to skip a beat. The carnation’s stem becomes crushed between your hand and his.

“The day we met…is one of the fondest memories of my childhood. I have never forgotten the kindness you showed me that day.” He rubs the top of your knuckles with his thumbs. “When talks of my marriage began to arise, it was expected that I would marry a princess. I was never opposed to the idea of marriage, but I amopposed to marrying a stranger.”

The green and yellow in his eyes are nearly replaced with all black. His teeth clench and his jaw tightens in anger. “So much of my life is controlled. But I refuse to let my grandfather and mother choose the person I will be spending the rest of my life with. I cannot do it. This is why your presence in the capital was immediately required. I did not wish to be persuaded otherwise.” He takes a deep breath in and loudly exhales. He relaxes his shoulders to allow the stress to leave his body. Genuine kindness emanates from his eyes and into your own. “And that is why when I heard you were interested, I jumped at the opportunity. I have never forgotten you. Why find another bride when I already have a fondness for you?”

“Oh, Damian.” Your heart soars at his proclamation. He stands before you in the body of a man, but you can see through the cracks. He is still the little boy who grieved deeply for his pet rabbit. He is still the little boy who deeply craved affection, but could not show he wanted it. He is still the little boy you ached for long after you left the capital as a child. It was a girlhood crush, but the remnants of that fire remain. Your hand grazes his cheek, and he nuzzles into it. It finds its way from his cheek to his ear, and then to the back of his head. His black hair tangles in your fingers and you find yourself transported back in time to when you first met him. His hair feels the same as it did all those years –

“Ahem!” Alice abruptly proclaims. Your hand quickly untangles from his hair at the sound of her disapproval. Although you are to be wed to him soon, Damian was not yet your husband. Physical affection could not be tolerated until then. 

She attempts to glare at you, but you could see her quivering lips. She does her absolute best to hide her smile until she cannot any longer. Her tense lips turn upwards into a smile, and you chuckle at her reaction. Damian’s guardian, the general, remains indifferent except for the tiniest sparkle in his eyes. 

You take a step backwards to place some distance away from Damian. Although you are no longer touching him, he looks at you so intimately that it feels like you are embracing one another. 

“I suppose we must keep our hands to ourselves,” you quip.

“I suppose so,” he muses. You two begin your walk through the garden again. This time though, there is heat between your bodies despite the distance. 

The red carnation Damian bestowed upon you remains in your hands. You twist and twist and twist the flower around. 

Deep love and affection. The symbolism behind the flower makes you blush. Your mind wanders off into a daydream. Your daydream is almost like a vision. You see yourself planting flowers for Damian within this very garden, just like his mother did for his father. The thought makes your heart bloom.

[auspicioustidings]

Having a notification from ao3 and being delighted to see a long comment on an old longform fic only to find out its a fucking critique? I WRITE FOR FUN AND FOR FREE THANKS FOR RUINING MY MORNING :)

As a general rule you can always tell me if something in my writing is offensive or if wording could be changed to make it more inclusive, but I am so wildly uninterested in being critiqued. You can for sure bounce ideas around with me, give me what ifs or the like. But I'm not a professional author, I'm never going to be a professional author and as such do not need or want criticism constructive or otherwise unless it is directly tied to intersectionality/inclusively.

Example: anon in my inbox the other day highlighting I had used "flushed for Gaz" I appreciated and I changed the wording. Totally acceptable comment to make and welcomed. Ao3 commenter telling me the characterization is all over the place and they thought two thirds of the story was bad? Not acceptable, I never asked for critique and you are not feeding, fucking or financing me so do not get any say. Stop cosplaying as a literary critic, you're on a fanfiction website.

[dee-writes-anime]

The Simple Kind of Love, The Love that is Effortless

FEATURING Megumi Fushiguro x Asexual Reader

SUMMARY Some Megumi x asexual reader headcanons requested by a sweet anon.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of sex, CHARACTER IS AGED UP, talk about fertility (both nonconventional and conventional), not edited (I'm running on hopes, dreams, and zero hours of sleep), good luck!

AUTHORS NOTE please remember that these are my own headcannons, you do not have to agree with them in any way, shape, or form, but you do have control over your response. Friendly debates and constructive criticism are welcome, hate and rude comments are not, thank you and enjoy! <3

Honestly, when I first watched Jujutsu Kaisen, I headcannoned that Megumi was asexual for a while.

Even if Megumi isn't asexual, he said it himself in the show, "as long as one's character is unshakable.." so I doubt he would mind much when considering a partner who isn't interested in sexual intimacy.

I like to think of gumi as very introspective and thoughtful, he feels things deeper than most, and because of that I don't see him ever treating an S/O negatively in general, let alone over something substituable like sex.

Megumi is someone who deeply respects others’ boundaries, especially those of a partner. Upon learning that you’re sex-repulsed or on the asexual spectrum, his first instinct would be to listen and understand. He would never pressure you into anything you're uncomfortable with.

He doesn’t need sex to feel validated in a relationship and is more focused on emotional connection, trust, and mutual respect. If you explain your feelings, he’d support you without judgment and adapt to your needs.

Megumi isn’t the type of person to view sex as a necessary part of a relationship. While he may have some curiosity about physical intimacy, he values emotional closeness more. What matters to him is the bond you share, not physical desires.

Remember those abandonment issues I mentioned last time? Yeah, I feel like he treasures an emotional connection a lot more than a physical one because of that.

The closer he is with someone, the less likely they are to leave him.... right?

Tying in my earlier claims of him being on the asexual spectrum, I feel like Megumi would almost be relieved to not have to worry about pressuring himself to open up in such a vulnerable way. Not that he doesn't trust you, simply because he would be nervous to be put in a situation where his body was so vulnerable and out of control.

Megumi would be comfortable finding other ways to express intimacy and affection. He would prioritize physical closeness through non-sexual acts, like cuddling, holding hands, or simply spending quality time together.

I mentioned last time that he wasn't much of a PDAer, but I feel like with an S/O who is on the asexual spectrum, he would feel more called to entertaining pinkies in public. (what a stinkin' cutie)

He might enjoy quiet moments, like sitting close while reading, cooking together, or just lying next to each other. The intimacy for him comes from knowing you’re both safe and comfortable, not necessarily from physical acts of passion.

Megumi is naturally patient and would never push for anything that makes you uncomfortable. Even if he had moments of curiosity or desire, he would always prioritize your feelings and boundaries.

He’d appreciate clear communication from you, no beating around the bush (especially when something he does makes you uncomfortable), and in return, he’d always be open about how he’s feeling, but with the understanding that your comfort is paramount.

As someone who has grown up with a complicated family dynamic, Megumi likely doesn’t place much value on traditional expectations like marriage or having children. His focus is on the present and on the relationships he builds.

He would be perfectly okay with not having children, as he’s more concerned with your happiness and well-being than conforming to societal expectations. If you express that you don’t want children, he’d accept it without hesitation, likely sharing some relief given his complex feelings about family life.

I think that Megumi might have not even wanted kids before he knew about your feelings on the matter. Megumi would struggle a lot and get caught up in his head about being a deadbeat like his dad and it would eventually drive him up the wall.

I feel he would be relieved to have you both on the same page.

Speaking of pages, he would enjoy bonding over shared interests or spending quiet time together rather than relying on physical intimacy to feel close. (like reading!)

To circle back to conception, If you ever wanted to consider non-traditional methods of having a family, like adoption or simply being each other’s family without children, Megumi would be open to it. He doesn’t need biological children to feel fulfilled and is happy as long as you are both on the same page.

The idea of having a small, close-knit family with you—whether that includes children or not—is more important to him than meeting societal expectations about reproduction.

Megumi would be protective of your boundaries in other settings too, such as with friends or family who might not understand your asexuality. He wouldn’t let anyone make you feel uncomfortable or pressured and would always have your back.

If anyone questioned your relationship or why things might be different, he’d calmly but firmly shut them down, making sure you feel secure and validated in your decisions.

What he treasures most is the emotional bond you share, and he’d always focus on nurturing that rather than worrying about aspects of the relationship that don’t come naturally to either of you.

[ep-the-penguin]

[Child of the Endless]

 └─── Headcanons──➤

[Published: Wednesday, November 23, 2022]

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F. Reader

Word count: 3k+

Warnings: Light spoilers for the comic, a bit of a slow burn, implied child abuse/neglect (not with Morpheus), slight yandere themes/tendencies, also soft Morpheus (is that even a warning?), maybe a tiny bit of OOC Morpheus (who knows, you decide)

Notes: This is longer than I intend this to be, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Also, who else loves the idea of a darker version of Morpheus loving you platonically?

Eh? ...anyone...? Don't leave me hanging here... (༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)

Any comments, theories, and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated and very much welcomed! Especially since this was my first time writing headcanons...

I also would appreciate it if you REBLOGGED my work instead of liking them. It helps not only me but others' works to be put more in the top spots of the tags algorithm, so our works can get seen by as many people as possible. Thank you for understanding!

╔═ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ════════════╗

What it's like being Morpheus's, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams, adopted human daughter (unwillingly, mind you)... [Part I]

╚════════════ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ═╝

⋅✦⋅ Dream isn't a being known to be friendly or open by nature, appearing cold, abrasive, and oftentimes self-obsessed. To most people and even his own subjects, he's a distant and somewhat intimidating guy, and they are right in a way. Even with his past relationships and the passion he had felt for each of them, it's so very rare for him to get attached to someone or simply show any kindness to anyone in general. Especially if we're talking about Dream before his one-hundred-year capture.

⋅✦⋅ After what became of his only son, Orpheus (and Calliope leaving their marriage because of this), he became colder and more reserved than he previously was. Of course, the pain he felt when each of his relationships had ended had hurt him, but practically losing a child (given his son was now just a head and disowned Dream as his father long ago), it's a pain that words can not even express. And because of this, Morpheus couldn't imagine seeing himself getting attached to someone ever again, let alone someone that, dare say, could bring about something he thought lost long ago…

⋅✦⋅ However, all of that drastically changes when he meets you. An ordinary human girl, of all beings.

⋅✦⋅ Your meeting with the Dream Lord could either go one of two ways. The first was that your father was working as a caretaker for Alex Burgess, and he didn't want to leave you alone with a sitter, so he decided to bring you with him to Fawney Rig in Wych Cross. There, you would hear rumors that Alex Burgess's Father captured the devil, and it resides in the basement. Sometimes you'd catch the guards carelessly talking about the supposed 'Dracula' they're being paid to watch over, intriguing you immensely. Not long after being in the mansion, you made a plan to sneak into the basement, where you were met with a pale naked man in a glass dome. His eyes were the first thing you noticed, they shined and burned like distant stars, slowly dissolving into a pale icy blue color the longer you stared at them.

⋅✦⋅ Or, after Morpheus had successfully retrieved all of his tools, he found himself sitting at Waterlow Park in North London, pondering on what his purpose was outside his function. The Lord of Dreams felt empty whilst he fed the pigeons and ducks with a loaf of fresh bread he brought with him. You were just a simple passerby, wanting to take a break from school work and the 'drama' that always occurs in your household between your parents, and that's when you randomly came across a man dressed in all-black moping. You raised a brow at the sight, curious about his sullen expression, but then saw him feeding the birds with the bread he had, which made you point out that he wasn't supposed to feed them bread, since it's bad for them. With that, you sat on the bench and began to talk to him, which earned you a weird look from him.

⋅✦⋅ You, for some reason, had immediately grabbed the Dream Lord's attention unlike any other being had before. There wasn't anything particularly special about you, just an average teenage girl. Because of this fact, it left Morpheus entirely confused, yet somewhat intrigued. Trapped inside his glass confinement, he watched with a careful gaze as you slowly approached him, looking around the place as you started to question him. Albeit you were a bit hesitant, more so confused if anything. At first, he had tried ignoring you and your questions just as he did with Roderick and his son. However, he couldn't ignore the genuine concern when you looked at him, someone who was but a stranger to you. It was the first time in his captivity that someone showed him any kind of concern for his well-being, someone who showed him kindness, even if it was small. In the park, Morpheus was less on guard now that he was free and more powerful than he was before, but instead of fully ignoring you and the questions you would ask him, he would answer vaguely, which ended up frustrating you, and to his surprise, he found your reactions quite amusing (he also found your little pouts adorable, not that he'll ever admit it, out loud anyway-).

⋅✦⋅ After your first visit to him, he found himself surprised by the gentle warm feeling slowly swelling in his chest. With imprisoned Morpheus, he was wary of you and your intentions, knowing that humans were all selfish creatures, and eventually you would ask him for something, just like his captors. But the more time you spent with him in the basement, talking to him even though he never answered, slowly softened his wariness of you. The more he thought about it, the more he understood that you being there with him was a great risk you were taking, not only for you but your father. You always set a timer on your wristwatch, and immediately leave once it went off, not before sending your goodbyes to him. With pigeon feeding Morpheus, he was curious about your random interaction with him and became more so at the thought of speaking to you again (even if you were the one doing most of the talking).

⋅✦⋅ Not before long, with each visit from you, the warmth within his chest seemed to grow bigger until he became extremely fond of you. At first, he tried to deny his care for you, then resenting you for unearthing a piece of him he had previously believed didn't exist as an Endless being (not that lasted very long. With one look at your face, that anger immediately demolishes into nothing but a distant memory). In truth, even with his previous relationships, he wasn't used to loving anything, and when he (not so) surprisingly found himself doing so, he firmly believed that he would eventually lose them in the end. Everyone that he had loved, that was supposed to love him back, had either one way or another abandoned or forsaken him, and it left him with a deep ache in his heart. However, with each visit from you, he realized this feeling, this fondness for you was the best for him. That you were the best of him, that caring for you was what made him painfully, yet so wonderfully human. Along with this, you had brought him hope, something he thought he had lost long ago. After everything he has been through, with his relationships and the tragedy that befell his son eons ago (and also his imprisonment), he never thought himself to be able to undoubtedly care for someone again, let alone a human child of all beings. You had quickly made your way into his Endless heart, without even knowing it.

⋅✦⋅ You became a constant figure in the Dream Lord's life, and he couldn't stop himself from seeing you. Not that he could in his imprisonment (nor did he ever want to). You were a very curious child, always showing how much you cared for him and his well-being, eyes shining brightly whenever you would talk to him as if his presence brought you happiness. And during this whole thing, Morpheus found himself unconsciously smiling more around you, staring at you with a soft look in his starry/icy blue gaze.

⋅✦⋅ With imprisoned Morpheus, he remained silent but would listen intently to you ramble about whatever topic you had in your mind, making subtle movements and being sure you knew he was listening to you. One particular memory was engraved in his mind where his stoic demeanor shifted and you had seen a smile gracing his lips. At first, you appeared slightly shocked, but then, your entire face lit up at the sight of his smile, however small it was. He remembered so vividly how excited you had gotten, how proud you were to achieve making him smile, and promising that you'll make him smile again, but even bigger. Morpheus wanted to see that expression on you again, the pure joy you had, and it was all because of him simply letting out a smile. When he was left alone in the basement once more, he was quite taken aback at the thought that he was the one to make you beam so brightly.

⋅✦⋅ With free Morpheus, he'd quietly listen to you talk, and would sometimes ask questions, and he couldn't help but feel pride swelling in his chest whenever your eyes would brighten up at his very simple questions. You'd become more lively, your smile widening with joy, and he noticed this particularly happened whenever the conversation was about your hobbies or the thing you found yourself enjoying recently. While you excitedly spoke, Morpheus quietly observed your expression, wondering when was the last time he had made someone this happy, had someone smile up at him with the brightest of smiles, eyes nearly glimmering with stars that were almost similar to his.

⋅✦⋅ As much as he cared for you, he was still careful to not get too attached to you. However, (surprise, surprise) that didn't end up happening. When Morpheus began to regard you as his child, seeing you as his daughter, he knew he had to quickly sever his connection with you, however great the ache in his chest hurt to just consider the idea. For he knew getting close to any human was a dangerous thing, not only for himself and his realm but for you. If he didn't, he'd have to watch you grow into the fine young woman he knew you would become, slowly growing older and older until his sister Death finally arrived and took you away to the Sunless lands. Or, the universe would see his affection for you as some sort of crime and end up punishing you, an innocent child, for his selfishness of not wanting to be alone once more. He didn't think he could live with the pain of losing another child again, having to be forced to watch you wither and die just like every other human that has ever existed before you.

⋅✦⋅ With free Morpheus, he could sever your relationship instantly, yet found himself hesitating when he was in your presence, waiting for the 'right time' to do it. Imprisoned Morpheus however didn't have that luxury. Instead, he forced himself to build up walls around his heart, for he knew the moment he was finally free, he had to immediately leave you and wanted to lessen that pain. He recognized that if he didn't do this, the pain would be too much for him to bear.

⋅✦⋅ However, all of that changed, depending on which path fate decided for you and the Dream Lord to have.

⋅✦⋅ With imprisoned Morpheus, he instantly knew there was something wrong when you entered the basement with the lack of your usual bright greeting. Not even a smile was being shown his way. You quietly took a seat in front of him like you usually did, and that's when he noticed an old book in your hands. When he glanced at you in question, he found that you were avoiding his gaze, which confused him but more so worried him, especially when you finally did meet his gaze, you looked completely lost, guilty even.

⋅✦⋅ You apologized that you didn't realize it sooner, apologized for the wrongdoings that Roderick and his son did to him, and most importantly, that you were sorry for being so blind. Morpheus sat there, completely stunned by your little speech, but more so when your tearful gaze turned into determination as you declared that you were going to get him out of there. Morpheus felt his starry eyes water, his hope of being free, of going back home to his kingdom that had once seemed so far from his reach was now so very close, and that was all because of you. And you, a child that possessed such a rare and beautiful heart didn't ask anything in return, just for him to set things right for everyone. He slowly placed his hand on the glass, watching with a tender look as you placed your smaller one on the glass, smiling up at him.

⋅✦⋅ With free Morpheus, you two were walking through the park, the Dream Lord silently cherishing his last visit with you. You then suddenly pushed him aside, causing him to stumble for a very brief second. He heard you let out a noise of pain and saw you on the ground, along with a male and his bicycle on the ground beside you. The sight of you hurt, blood seeping from your now scrap and dirty hands caused something dangerous to take hold of him. That feeling grew, even more, when he saw the man that had slammed into you with his bike reach out to help you up. If looks could kill, the mortal that dared hurt you would have been dead right where he stood. And if his glare wasn't bad enough, his voice was.

⋅✦⋅ It was so cold, so full of barely contained wrath as he commanded the man to not touch you. Not only did this leave the cyclist and the people around you frozen in place, but it also left you feeling afraid of Morpheus, being unable to recognize the man in front of you. Without another word, he quickly yet gently picked you up (bridal style) and carried you out of there. You were surprised by his actions but mostly embarrassed as you tried hiding your face in his chest, from the eyes of the people there. You asked him about it, but he didn't say anything, bringing you to a quiet area where he carefully tended to your wounds.

⋅✦⋅ Morpheus knew then and there that he couldn't leave you, your love for him was far too precious to abandon. He made a promise to himself that very day that he was going to love you for all eternity, that he would do better, for you deserved that and much, much more.

⋅✦⋅ Whenever you had to leave him, to avoid getting caught by the guards or to head back home and start on your homework (or how you would put it, to avoid your parents arguing about your whereabouts), it left him feeling immensely saddened by it. However, you would always playfully tease him, asking if he was sad, which would either have him send you a pointed look or quietly scoff, denying such a claim of being sad, even though you both knew it to be untrue. You'd reassured him that you would always come back, and you did

⋅✦⋅ Until one day after growing completely attached to you, you suddenly stopped appearing.

⋅✦⋅ At first, he thought you were late since it wasn't the first time it had happened, which you'd apologize for it. But as time continued to pass, with no sign of you coming, Morpheus began to grow worried.

⋅✦⋅ Even if you were late, you never missed a meeting with him. What could have possibly happened to cause you to miss it? But Morpheus, with the hope you gave to him, allowed himself to calm down, believing that you'll show up the next day. He knew you wouldn't just stop out of nowhere, especially if we're talking about imprisoned Morpheus. Yet that didn't stop the ache from building deep within his chest at the thought of something bad that could be happening to you.

⋅✦⋅ One day turned into two, then three, then four, and by the time he knew it, it had been a week since he last saw you. His concern grew to the point where he was nearly distracted from his duties, mind clouded by endless thoughts of you.

⋅✦⋅ With imprisoned Morpheus, he'd silently sit in his glass confinement, his thoughts always circling back to you, to your silly little rambles, your quiet and adorable laughs, your precious smiles. He was so used to being alone in the basement (alone in general, let's be honest here), sitting in the silence he had forced upon himself. However, the longer you were away, it started to become torture for him. And this can be said for free Morpheus. He'd quietly sit on the same bench you two always sat on, mindlessly watching the people there as his thoughts would go to you. Sometimes his raven Matthew popped in because Lucienne, his librarian, sent the male bird to check up on him.

⋅✦⋅ Perhaps you had simply grown bored of him, finally finding someone willing to spend time with you and listen to your conversations. Someone better, someone who wasn't him. It wouldn't be the first time. If we're talking about imprisoned Morpheus, he would feel even worse as those thoughts plagued his mind. Why would someone, let alone a human child, want to spend your time with him, someone who's trapped in a glass prison and doesn't say anything in response to you and your questions? Or maybe you have possibly changed your mind about freeing him. You didn't owe him anything, you only stumbled upon him through your own merits. That last thought alone sent him down a deep, almost dark spiral.

⋅✦⋅ Morpheus had tried finding you through your dreams (even if his powers in the basement were very weakened), yet he couldn't find you. By this point, the Dream Lord was beginning to become quite desperate to see you again, if only it was for a second. He never felt like this before in his entire existence, as if his Endless being needed you by his side for him to continue onward.

⋅✦⋅ When you were, one way or another, back in his life once more (and imprisoned Morpheus no longer in his glass confinement), there was a heavy weight lifted off his chest, as if he was allowed to finally breathe again. Upon seeing your face, nothing can ever compare to the enormous joy he felt, and at that very moment, Morpheus would make certain that you would never leave his sight again. Your unexpected absence from him for the first time since knowing each other made him understand that he simply couldn't live without you, his precious child. He couldn't bear the pain of you being far from him, where he couldn't find you or make sure that you were safe. You are far too important to the Endless.

⋅✦⋅ After that whole incident, the Dream Lord began to send his raven Matthew to watch over your waking life, sometimes even watching you through his companion's eyes (much to the raven's annoyance). When you went to sleep, Dream would personally watch over your dreams, making sure no nightmare dared to enter the beautiful dreams he carefully crafted especially for you.

⋅✦⋅ Too many times the Dream Lord found himself being affected by the thoughts of you one day leaving him as everyone he had ever loved did, disowning him as his own son had done eons ago. It all had hurt him at that time (though, he'd never admit it), but just the thought of losing you, of you hating and abandoning him, causes him a great deal of pain at just the mere thought. He couldn't possibly imagine going through that again, knowing that there would be nothing left of him…

───────────

Would anyone be down for a more detailed version of the two different meeting scenarios? Separately, of course. I think it's a pretty neat idea, considering I would have more freedom to further expand the relationship between Dream and the Reader in the different meetings, whichever fate has decided for them to have.

But what do you guys think? I would absolutely love to know!

Until next time my dear readers!

[not-poignant]

Out of curiosity, when did the, 'fanfic doesn't need to adhere to canon, everything is valid and good, don't give concrit unless specifically asked for' attitude become the norm? Genuine question.

I was active in fandom back in the LJ days, when sporkings and comms viciously mocking Mary Sues were the norm, but then I sort fell out of fandom spaces for the past (checks notes) fifteen years holy shit. The current attitude seems diametrically opposed to what I remember fandom being like (kinda shitty, it was 'cool' to be an asshole back then), and I'm just curious as to when and how the shift happened. I mean, I assume it was a gradual thing, but is there anything in particular that stick out to you?

(Also, because tone doesn't convey very well through ask, and I don't want to leave you with a poor impression-- this is by no means a defence of the 2000s attitudes, nor an aspersion on the current ones. I'm genuinely only curious about the evolution from one to the other; I hope that comes across.)

Hi anon!

TL;DR because my response got LONG -> Anon this existed before Livejournal as an attitude, in fact modern fandom was literally born out of being not canon compliant (*waves aggressively to Spirk shippers*) and this existed on Livejorunal too and there have always been big pockets of fandom that really frowned on sporking even there, like that was not cool when I was on LJ, unless you were a certain age, or in certain spaces in fandom.

But also AO3 was its kind of final death knell re: making it cool to bully 13-16 yo writers (who were largely the victims of sporking) and killing dreams, which was born out of meta happening on LJ and in other places about like... not trying to make people miserable for writing a free fic out of the love in their heart that someone else didn't like or think was good enough.

Anyway, the longer version of this under the read more!

(For everyone else, welcome to some of the uglier aspects of 00s fandom!)

So there was actually criticism around all the stuff you mention 15-20 years ago as well. I was also on Livejournal during that time and there was a pretty big proportion of people in certain fandoms who recognised even then that like... setting up communities to mock say, Mary Sue writers, was actually a pretty weirdly cruel thing to do to people who were providing free labour and the literal only 'payment' they could get in a kind of energy exchange was people just not being complete dickheads to them.

So things were already changing, especially in many LJ communities and awards communities. There were a lot of big debates over whether concrit should be asked for, and a growing movement of authors who said they welcomed constructive criticism for example, instead of assuming it should automatically apply. There was also a lot of meta around the function of fanfiction and whether it should even be 'good' by published standards if the author was just doing it for themselves, and for fun (esp if they were just going to get punished for it by folks who were elitist, judgemental, grammar purists etc.)

Things really changed around the time of AO3 (2009-2010 - literally around 14~ years ago, you may have just missed the big change anon!), Strikethrough and the Dreamwidth exodus. There was a massive swing away from leaving concrit unless the author specifically asked for it, and fandom became a lot more generally able to recognise that a lot of labour goes into fanart and fanfiction and that paying with public criticism is shitty actually. Also people were just more able to recognise that like most fanfiction writers aren't trying to become professional writers and many don't want to be.

(I would actually say things changed around the time of fanfiction.net too - rude comments there were definitely noticed and could create some pretty forward 'hey why are you doing this on something you literally don't have to read' responses from fellow readers - idk what fic sites you were on. The small indie fic sites where you could often only comment via email for example, definitely drew a lot more critical attention than sites that tended to have public comments).

The 'fanfic doesn't need to adhere to canon' literally exists since the very first Spirk slash fic in modern fanfiction in the last few decades. Literally, as soon as you write Kirk/Spock, you're not adhering to canon. Our fanfiction 'ancestors' literally paved the way for a legacy which is about not adhering to canon in order to see the world/s and thing/s you want to see, be entertained by, by turned on by, or enjoy, from the very beginning. You may not have been in slash circles anon, but the foundation of queer same sex fanfic is in many ways the foundation of fandom. But yeah, this is literally where fanfiction started! As soon as you're shipping characters that aren't canon for fun (or for whatever reason), you're making it pretty clear that you want stories different to canon, and you have to change things to often keep those characters in-character.

So yeah! That's been there for decades. Idk what circles you were in on that front! While it was fairly common for a while to criticise characters for being OOC (Out of Character), imho, a lot of folks started to recognise that they literally weren't paying for what they were criticising, and they could just walk away and potentially not like...blast the fanfic. Some folks started to recognise more that people were writing with ESL, or were teenagers (some 40 yos in fandom realised they were mocking literal 15 year olds in their proto-podcasts and websites and realised actually that's just...mean? Really mean? Not the way to nurture new generations of fanfiction writers. Definitely in no way encouraging), or were writing for themselves, or writing for like one other person, or writing for fun, or writing for free, or writing for personal reasons etc.

'Don't Like Don't Read' wasn't just about political stuff, it was also about just walking away if you feel the urge to slam a fanfic in the comments.

I've been in fandom for around 2.5 decades anon, and there were so many spaces that were not actually as shitty or mean-spirited as the ones you were in? Or ones that at least had a lot of different thoughts etc. Like, sporking (mocking/bullying badfics and sometimes the folks who wrote them) was disapproved of by a lot of people in fandom even while sporking was at the height of its popularity (the Fanlore page goes into more detail about this). It might have just been the fandoms you were in, or the people you were hanging out with (and that might have been dependent on your age or just if you were around people who wanted to be 'cool' back then - in the same way that being an 'anti' is cool among certain crowds today. It's possible to spend years in certain crowds and never get an image of broader fandom for example - we can all end up in spaces like that! I know I have.)

When I started writing fanfiction (which no one will EVER find lmao), generally giving positive comments was normal. Constructive criticism was actually pretty rare and there were already fanfiction aggregate sites that generally disapproved of it in their Rules of Conduct. People were encouraging and polite. And this was around 20 years ago on Livejournal and private indie fanfiction websites.

I would actually say there was never exactly an evolution from 'one to the other' because like thousands of people in fandom already believed this and argued in defense of supporting fanfiction and transformative works via accepting that people are labouring for free and that not everyone wants to become a 'better writer' etc. - the meta was there on Livejournal in the 00s. There were communities where sporking was seen as hip/fun, and communities where it was literally banned or at the very least, super frowned upon.

There were meta fandom communities where sporking was the subject of discussion and you know eventually in a lot of those meta communities, that's where a lot of folks decided actually that calling out the fanfiction of 16 yos as 'cringe' or 'badly done' maybe said more about us as human beings and what we wanted fandom to be, than it did about the actual fanfic itself. By the time AO3 came around, people built it with this in mind.

To this day on AO3 it's mostly considered appropriate to say you want concrit in your author's notes, and to otherwise assume as a reader it's never welcome if it's unsolicited. That started during the LJ era. And it was talked about at great length. There's obviously going to be people who disagree! But for the most part I'm a big believer in compassion and 'not everyone is here for the same reason' and 'they literally gave this to us for free and it's meant to be fun' (like yourself! What we do/think/argue 10 years ago on LJ is sometimes different to what we do 10 years later lol, I used to be against trigger warnings pre-AO3! Times change a lot :D )

So yeah, this was definitely something that was around before you and I came to fandom, and it was something that continued to grow as an attitude during, until finally it kind of won out on AO3. But yeah fandom as we know it was born in people literally not being canon compliant to make some gay dreams come true (Spirk shippers bless them all), at a time when there was no representation.

Even in the earliest days of fandom where comments could only happen via email, one of the earliest phrases authors used were things like 'flames will be used to roast marshmallows.' For those reading who don't know, flames are hate comments, critical 'this fic is bad because' comments etc. Except you emailed them directly to the author, because there was no place for comments on a fic.

And this started because authors in part got death threats for writing gay stuff.

So you know, from the very beginning, authors in fanfic have by and large had a very low tolerance for criticism / hate over something they're doing for free and making no profit out of, when they're changing/altering the canon as they please to create representation (or hotness lmao), that is literally a labour of love in a world of very little representation. From there, things have just grown. The whole 'flames will not be tolerated' existed even before Livejournal did.

Honestly there are still people who love sporking and you could probably find groups and Discords dedicated to that even now (actually you literally can, there's a Dreamwidth group for it), it's kind of wild but it started to get cool again. Just like 90s clothing :D (Which is also wild because I can just take that crap out of my closet and wear it again).

But yeah it also sounds like you may have been in some pretty crappy pockets of fandom! When I was on LJ in the 00s I avoided those places and still got to experience fandom across multiple fandoms (mostly NCIS, Captive Prince, HP, Profiler, The X-Files and some others) and communities.

I was super active in some fandom communities and saw a lot of meta happening, and my view during the early and late 00s was that sporking was largely pretty frowned upon after a very brief (like 3-6 month) era where it was cool for only some folks, and then everyone (including some - but not all - of those folks) was like 'heyyyyyyy hang on a minute.' It was something that the bullies did, and enjoyed, and otherwise folks kind of stayed away from it, especially once they learned people were becoming too scared to write fics, which is the inevitable outcome of mocking/bullying folks and fics that have been made purely out of love for something.

Like, publicly making a spectacle out of what a 13 yo (they were often teens - and it's kind of sad how many 40 yo women were doing the sporking :/ ) wrote out of love, just for fun/clout was not considered cool by everyone even back then, because like, a lot of us saw that as killing new generations of fandom (some folks who sporked considered it a win if a fic or account got deleted, this is not based behaviour), not actually creating good writing, internalised misogyny (Mary Sue hatred and self insert hatred), etc. It's hard to explain because I do really think we were in different corners of fandom at the time, but I don't know anyone personally from my time on Livejournal who actually liked sporking as an idea or enjoyed it or enjoyed listening to it or reading articles mocking fic.

I knew about it from very lively 'is this okay' 'actually no it's not even if it's just for fun this is trying to hurt people and saying 'it's just the fic' is not going to be the bandaid a teenager needs to understand why older folks (generally) in fandom are mocking them for being new at a skill' discussions on LJ in meta fandom communities. So this is how much I could be in fandom and not be a part of it and also have like a wildly different experience to your LJ experience!

I think if I'd been a teenager during that era it would have seemed a lot more appealing (in the same way that many teens are antis now before they grow out of it), and fuck it if I was a more bitter person who was just around people who liked to make fun of what other people created, perhaps I would have enjoyed it too, I can see a lot of reasons why a person would fall into that in LJ -> but I was an adult on LJ trying not to be mean to people or what they were creating, so yeah I was maybe just in very different spaces! (Don't get me wrong, I have my giant fucking character flaws, but I was very scared of people hating me so like I didn't want to do things that would make that happen, lol, and also I was scared to put up fic myself during the era of active sporking. I know for myself that sporkers didn't just scare away writers of 'badfic' - they...intimidated a LOT of people).

Before AO3 I was on FF.net, posting fics on LJ, posting on Schnoogle, gossamer, and a couple of other archives. So I don't think my experience was that 'narrow,' I just think I wasn't around like... anime at that time or other places where it might have been happening. I also avoided like...Draco/Malfoy where CC drama was happening and I know sporking was popular in that specific arena / pairing for a while as well (er, as well as anything to do with Mary Sues).

So yeah! That's about where that is. Generally gatekeeping fandom is just seen as not a great thing to do to people, and that creates other kind of beliefs that are generally upheld as being more inviting/nurturing. After all, if someone truly wants to get better at writing, they can ask, or do courses, but as we all know, everyone has to write some bad stuff to get good at it, but not everyone wants to be good. Folks are in fandom for different reasons. I'm rambling now so I'm going to finish my lunch! :D

[tswaney17]

It's a Match - Part 1

Happy birthday to the incredible @impossiblescissorspeachpaper!! I hope you have the loveliest of birthdays baby. I'm so blessed to call you one of my close friends. You're such an incredible person. 💕 Enjoy your special day, my love.

This fic is inspired by a conversation between myself, @ultadverb, @offtorivendell, @impossiblescissorspeachpaper, and @duskwhisperer. Thank you all for allowing me to take this idea and run with it. Also, apologies because this is barely edited. I was a hot mess all over this fic and it shows. 😅

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: language, NSFW

Word Count: 9,759

Read the full fic on AO3 here. Snippet under the cut.

Azriel was lounging on the couch in Cassian’s apartment regretting every decision that led him to this moment. Because just a few minutes ago, he accidentally let slip that he downloaded The Cauldron, a dating app, a month ago and his brother and Mor had not stopped pestering him about it since the words passed through his slightly buzzed lips.

“Come on, Az,” Mor whined, hanging over his shoulder and shooting him those puppy-dog eyes he had trouble resisting. “Open it up. Let’s see who you’re chatting with.”

That’s where the problem lay. Azriel wasn’t chatting with anyone because he never actually swiped right on anybody. It wasn’t that he didn’t find anyone particularly attractive—there were plenty of pretty girls on the app—it was just that he wanted something more than a physical relationship. He was thirty now; had a good career and his own place, made good money, and was freely able to spend it on anything without worrying about paying his bills. His life was in a good spot.

But he never really dated. Yes, he got women and fucked them well, Az wasn’t self-conscious enough to not know he was an attractive man, but those one-night stands just weren’t cutting it for him anymore. He wanted a genuine connection with someone; somebody he could build a relationship with.

Like what Rhys had found in his new girlfriend, Feyre. He’d met her once or twice, but it was obvious his brother was completely in love with the woman. Head over heels kind of in love. He was happy for him, truly. But sometimes, when he listened to his brother speak about the light of his life, he got this envious feeling inside; because he wanted that too.

He supposed that this dating app in general was probably not the best place to find that, but he was at a loss on where to find women that were looking for more than riding dick. Az sighed, running a brutally scarred hand through his dark hair, the strands flopping onto his forehead. “I’m not chatting with anyone,” he admitted, taking another swig of his beer.

Read More

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

While I have moved these fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.

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Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!

[halfagone]

*with the same caution as someone who has been alerted to the fact that they've woken up in the middle of a minefield*

What might the other things be, so that I and others know to avoid those things? Logically, there's the new one of feeding the story to AI. There's also stealing the work and making demands of authors, but I am a recovering lurker and I'd like to make sure I do not horribly misstep.

Hello!! I know I've definitely seen you around before, and I would like to say thank you for actually asking! It may seem daunting but a lot of the time we really do appreciate and acknowledge the effort to try and do the polite thing.

First off, you are absolutely right about AI, stealing works, making demands. You've hit that right off the bat. I will say, since you mentioned that you are/were a lurker: if you're wondering if you did something to offend an author before, or you realize after reading this post that you have, please don't beat yourself up for it too much. I've known people who moved on from just a reader to a writer and then learned/realized that some of the comments they used to leave weren't the most polite. It sucks to realize, but we all gotta learn somehow! The most important thing is that you grow and don't repeat the same mistakes.

(Please keep in mind throughout all this post that none of this is directed at you specifically, but a general audience. This is not to callout specific people, but a general reminder that these things CAN and DO bother authors.)

Some things may differ from author to author, but some of the most common ones to remember are:

Do Not Leave Constructive Criticism Unless EXPLICITLY ALLOWED

In some cases, the author may have a tag or a comment in their notes saying something like "Constructive Criticism Welcome!" But that is not the same thing as, "Let me know what you think!" Or "Feel free to tell me what you liked about the chapter in the comments!" We're doing this for free, most of us aren't looking to make this a career, and we're doing it to have and share some fun! It is not our fault if you do not like the direction the plot is taking; it is not our fault if you do not like the verb tense. You can always click the back button and save yourself the trouble of reading something you were fundamentally never going to like.

Here's something to keep in mind: there's this book series that I absolutely adore, and I don't say that about too many First-Person pieces of literature. It's a great book, but the editor was not. Super thorough. You know how I mentioned that it was in First-Person? More than once there was a missing quotation mark for dialogue, and when a story is in First-Person, that gets confusing pretty fast. And this is a book I paid for. You are getting this for free.

Do Not Correct Grammar and/or Spelling Mistakes

On a personal note, I do not mind if you tell me I made a spelling mistake. I've had someone point out that I spelled 'bated' as 'baited' and I was cool with that. It's one of those words where I know the difference but only get it right the first try 50% of the time. You know, like breath and breathe. However! Not everyone will feel the same. If you want to point something out, then you can ask the author. UNLESS! The author previously, openly specified that they are not interested, and even if they are, I would probably recommend not making the whole comment about that.

Grammar, on the other hand, is a hard no from me. I had someone give me a mini grammar lesson at the start of a comment using examples that weren't even relevant to the chapter they were on. To this day, I don't know if I had made an actual mistake or not, although I presume that I must have since they felt the need to mention it. But the most ironic thing of all is that the grammar they were correcting me on was beyond my control, because Google Docs keeps autocorrecting those words the exact same way. Only more recently have I managed to keep it from happening (although it still does on occasion) and that was more brute force than a change in settings.

It wasn't human error, just a computer program mistake. And it's more common than you might think! The other day Google Docs corrected my 'beat' into 'ebay' for some reason. Shit happens, it's not always our faults.

Respect One-Shots For What They Are: ONE CHAPTER

I cannot tell you how many friends I have that have gotten so many rude comments about this one in particular. I've gotten a number of them too, but not nearly as much as some of the others.

When we say that it's a one-shot, please just accept that it's a one-shot. Could more be added to it? Maybe. Would you like to see more? Yes? That's great! But sometimes that one chapter is all we have and all we want to have for this plotline. If you want to read more, you can write it.

There are situations where an author mentions a possible sequel, or talks about possible other ideas to write more with the original concept. I know I've done the same thing with a number of one-shots, and I knew to expect people requesting for more chapters.

But that's the key difference here. Requesting is not the same thing as demanding. There is a difference between saying, "I loved this story, I would totally read a continuation if you ever wrote one." Or "This fic was so good! I liked this and this and this, and I'd love to see more from it if you ever get the chance." And saying, "Part 2 please?" Or "Where is my second chapter????"

You can see the difference, right? You didn't even tell the author you liked the fic. You just came up to the chef, slammed your empty plate down, and demanded, "More." It's not as flattering as you think it is.

As for asking or requesting for more ideas from the audience, let's move onto:

Popular Fanon Is NOT CANON and Please Stop Acting Like It Is

This is one of those requests where I am willing to beg on my metaphorical hands and knees. This is an issue I have only seen in DP and DPxDC thus far, and that's because we have so much fanon and fanlore that it's just about everywhere you go in the fandom. On one hand, that's awesome!! We're exploring the worldbuilding opportunities and sometimes that means some favorite tropes or headcanons emerge from it. But that doesn't mean you should expect to see it every time.

Here are some examples: Danny is not Ghost King in every fic. Danny is not even eligible for Ghost King in every fic. Jason does not have Pit Madness in every fic. Danny cannot 'cure' Jason's Pit Madness in every fic. Jason is not liminal in every fic. Jazz is not liminal in every fic. Dan does not get redeemed in every fic. Danny does not have a Protection Obsession in every fic.

I have written 69 Danny Phantom fanfics, and not a single one of them gives Danny a Protection Obsession, but you would be surprised by how many people automatically assumed he did, just because it's popular fanon. I have written more than one fic where Danny was eligible to be Ghost King and people assumed he already was King, despite all evidence that he wasn't yet and didn't intend to be.

I understand these are popular headcanons and tropes. I understand people enjoy them a lot! But it does not mean they are relevant to every fic out there and for you to act like it is just leads us to believe you have poor reading comprehension. ESPECIALLY when we have EXPLICITLY STATED that it's not going to happen.

This leads onto the next subject:

Please Stop Asking Us to Include Specific Characters

I get it. You want to see your faves interact. Who doesn't? But I am crying screaming throwing up and asking you not to demand a character appear. It's one thing to be curious about how a character might react or interact in a situation, and it's another thing to go: "Where is So-and-So? This would be totally different if they were here-" And that's why you'll never see them in this fic! Problem solved. And we can do that, by the way. No one can stop us from declaring someone dead off-screen.

I cannot tell you how many people have demanded that Ellie appear, or Jazz appear, or Dan appear (for some reason? Which goes back to- please stop expecting every author to give him a redemption arc, I quite like him as an ostentatious bastard of a man). I have had more people ask where Ellie and Jazz are than Sam and Tucker combined and those two were more the main characters than Ellie and Jazz ever were.

These characters have lives of their own! Please do not expect for them to leave everything at the drop of a hat. Sometimes their appearances will just further complicate the plot so they aren't included ahead of time because of that. This is not a 'plot hole' on our parts. For you to indicate that it is somehow shows a gross disrespect for our planning skills and writing abilities.

Most of all,

Please Just Respect the Author's Direction

Would you like for things to go another way? Maybe true, but we wrote the fic this way for a reason and please respect that. It might not make sense right now, but there's a very likely chance it's building up to something! And if it bothers you that much, then no one is stopping you from hitting that back button and moving onto another fic that's more to your liking. All the power to you.

But we are not going to change our entire plans for our fic because one person or a few people didn't like it. If I were to change all my plans now for certain fics, then it would be unrecognizable and make no sense, because I had built all the puzzle pieces to paint the exact picture I wanted it to. And maybe to you it's ugly, but it's art to me, and art I worked very hard on.

A General Consensus

Everything is based on respect. If you don't have the words to describe how you feel, then please don't feel pressured to make an elaborate comment about it. I adore keyboard smashes, and heart spams, and even comments going, "You made my cry, fuck you 😭❤️". We appreciate the effort you do make, and we understand all too well when you don't have the spoons and energy to write something longer.

If at any point you wonder, "Can an author take this the wrong way?" A good rule of thumb would be to remove it from the conversation entirely, or rephrase it in a way that makes your point clearer. We cannot always decipher your tone through text, and sarcasm doesn't come across as clearly as you might expect. Unless the authors know you, they can read something very differently than how you intended it to be.

I have readers who comment regularly, who I've chatted with in comment sections. I'd say I know their tone and humor well, in some cases, so when they make certain remarks, I know how to read it. Not everyone will have that luxury.

I know this might seem like a lot, but these are some very real frustrations I've struggled with for a long time. Please don't be discouraged if this feels overwhelming all at once. You've already put in some effort by trying to find out what you can do to be more thoughtful to authors! And that's the kind of effort that doesn't go unnoticed. <3

[lebunnysdream]

Hello~ Welcome to my Fantasyland!

I'm just a twenty-something looking for an outlet for all my inappropriate and wildest dreams, without having to keep a diary 🤭. Maybe you'll enjoy some of this hot and gushiness that be my thoughts. 😈 Continue at your own risk...

Here you can find short stories and thoughts about:

✨ smut and fluff, minimal romance

✨ nsfw

✨ monsterfcker

✨ dubcon

✨ ageplay/agegaps

✨ r@peplay/cnc (*remember consent is important irl)

✨ somno

✨ viølence

✨ ect (I'll add the TW in the post and hashtags) ✨

But not about:

❌ breeding

❌ fanfics

❌ gaslighting

❌ manipulation (sometimes this is hawt but I don't know how to write this in, so for now...)

Generally my stories will be in first or second person pov but I might explore with others. They will mainly be Male Monster x Female Human but I can try other genders/species. I'm always open to constructive criticism and feedback for writing style and techniques, so feel free to comment! However, hate will not be tolerated because it messes up the mood.

I intend on posting at night a majority of the time so you have option of night or morning spice. Though, on occasion, I might post during the day for those feeling a little risqué.

‼️ Disclaimer ‼️

These stories are an outlet for my wildest fantasies and are not meant for minors. They will be nasty; they will be wild; they will be absurd. That's the point. If not interested and an adult then kindly ignore or remove from your feed.

Anyone who interacts with my posts that is clearly underage will be blocked. And those who message me without their age in bio will be politely ignored.

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ , ɴᴏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — secrets long kept revealed between bodies dancing together .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 3.3k

another night, another mission accomplished.

holed up in your hotel room somewhere in switzerland, you and marc finally rest. at least try to. you've known marc for some time now, you've been friends since you joined the military the same year.

he was quite the man to befriend that time but you wouldn't give up on him... you figured that's why he gave in and just let you in his life, because you wouldn't give up on him even if he pushed you away or ignored you. you would just keep coming back.

marc once called you 'an extremely stupid idiot', stressing the word extremely, when you wordlessly joined him on becoming a mercenary.

in the beginning, he often asked you why you'd give up your perfectly fine position in the army for a job that took care of people regardless of whether or not they were good or bad. your answer? 'i don't want you to have to do things alone anymore.' because that's the kind of man marc spector looked like to you: a man used to the life of solidarity and isolation.

you had no desire to change who he was, it was the reason you were so drawn to him back when you two were soldiers, so withdrawn from social gatherings whenever your barracks would hang out for some well deserved TGIFS, marc always stayed behind. or when he does join in every once in a while, he'd always drink by himself on the farthest end of the table.

but you were fine with him like that. your comrades would often call you foolish for even trying but you don't care. you still don't.

you'd take a seat next to him silently, enjoying your own drink and occasionally making or attempting to make small talk with him. it took him a while to warm up to you, nearly a year in service when one friday night as your group once more were enjoying their beers, marc had answered one of your silly questions you tended to ask whenever you would sit next to him.

"which animal do you think would suit you? personally i think you'd get along well with a dog. you're an active guy so you'd probably like doing walks or jogs at the park with one. hm, you'd probably pick a labrador or k9. dobermans would suit you too y'know? you'd both have that dark and intimidating look. or would you rather a cat? since you're like... a social recluse you'd like an introverted animal as well? i mean, it's plausible. i heard a cat's purr helps heal like aches in the body and they generally improve one's mood. yeah, a cat works too. might make you less grumpy—"

"a goldfish." you finally turned around to face him, your eyes wide and disbelieving because did the marc spector finally speak to you? yes, yes he did. and his answer wasn't even included in your previous rambling. "a goldfish..?" you had asked, like you weren't quite sure you heard him right.

he nods at you after glancing in your way for a brief moment. "yeah." you grinned widely at that even if it was only a one word response. "really? how come?" he sighed, putting his drink down, watching the condensation drip down the side of his glass.

"my little brother used to draw this one-finned goldfish when we were kids." this was the first time marc shared personal information with you, well, to be honest this was the first time he actually spoke to you.

"you have a younger brother?" you asked. he stayed silent this time, reverting back to his usual stoic facade. but you can see the way his jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitting, creasing the skin in between.

by then you had figured out that the topic of his younger brother was a sore spot, like a fresh wound, open and profusely bleeding.

normal people would stop talking after seeing the person they're talking to becomes unresponsive to anything you say but not you. not you. you just kept talking as always, listing off the pros and cons of owning a goldfish.

"what are you thinking about?"

marc moves behind you from where you stood by the large mirrors that showcased the nightlife of the small village. where it was, you don't really remember.

you only hum as response, not taking your eyes off the view below. it's not until he rests his hand on your hip, the small touch setting sparks on your skin as it fills you with warmth do you finally turn your head to face him. "it's nothing," you reassure him but you're still somewhat distracted, still reminiscing. "just... thinking."

he raises a curious brow at that, standing next to you as he takes in the city lights as well, much like you did before except now your eyes are on him. you watch his side profile, brows set in its usual straight line, eyes still dark yet it shines with the reflection of the bright lights and his lips pursed. he's relaxed though, you can tell from the way his shoulders lose its usual tenseness and his breathing is even, steady. he's not posed to fight, still alert but at ease nonetheless.

"you sure?" he asks, a small smirk on his face when he notices you staring. you avert your gaze this time, a faint cherry shade on your cheeks. "i'm sure."

on this job you two took, you were only meant to intimidate the archeologists on the dig site in egypt when your partner for the job had shot one of the hostages. that was the first strike.

marc and you had secretly plotted to help them escape. you set a getaway car from what was already on the site, ready to get you all to safety and away but when you had thought you were at a safe distance, bullets ricochet off the car's body until one manages to hit one of its tires and sending you all toppling out of the vehicle in various directions.

unfortunately, you had remained trapped inside it, the seatbelt you had strapped keeping you locked in place in the turned car, hanging you upside down. sticky liquid oozed from an open wound on your head, vision swimming and muddled as you attempted to look around and assess the damage. well, tried to.

you're pretty sure you have a concussion and you probably broke some of your ribs too making it hard for you to breathe through the smoke and sand.

you can't find marc, can't hear him either as gunshots after gunshots echo in the desert, the screams and pleas of the archeologists you were helping escape ring in your ears. he caught up with you and was killing off every single soul you tried to save. only now do you pray he doesn't find you trapped in the car.

your consciousness begins to fade in and out as the desert becomes quiet once again, like the sand has swallowed all that made noise. the oil leaks from somewhere in the car, and you can barely see the flames licking the side of the vehicle. you hear your door being ripped from its hinges, tossed aside somewhere but you're so exhausted, adrenaline wearing off as fatigue settles in your bones.

you barely catch a glimpse of a white figure carrying you to safety, all your weary self saw are two pairs of glowing eyes, like the moon hanging high in the sky above you before you finally lose consciousness.

marc saved you that night in the desert, told you about the deal he made with the egyptian god khonshu and how he accepted becoming his avatar and be his fist of vengeance, protecting the travelers of the night. but of course he couldn't say all that without revealing to you his past, his brokenness.

he told you about the death of his younger sibling roro, the abuse he faced from his mother after that and steven. his alter, his dissociative identity disorder. you knew it all. the only person marc had spilled everything to. you. and much like your time together in the military, you continued top accept him as he is, embraced all the parts of him, good and bad because you can never stand the thought of marc going through everything alone anymore.

you stayed much to his surprise. he'd expected you to up and leave him after you've recovered but you stayed even after that. that's when marc had finally realized you'd be by his side no matter what.

even if you can't see the 7 foot tall skeleton bird that loomed over marc constantly, he always snitches to you what khonshu says just to piss him off and make you laugh. you still helped marc with his vigilantism, though no longer fighting next to him as much as you used to much to your dismay. instead, you were the one who formed networks, did all the social and background work.

you'd be the one to book flights and hotels for you two, under the pretense of a married couple like your fake passport says to avoid suspicion.

you weren't his wife. that much was true. after that night in the desert, he told you that he was seeing a woman, layla el-fouly. you recognized the last name from one of the men that died in the hands of your supposed partner.

you chalk it up to guilt, keeping quiet about it and only congratulating him for that. you even teased him about cheating on you since you're no longer the only woman he was spending time with. he laughed and told you that you were irreplaceable. but not in the sense your heart wanted.

you loved marc a long time ago. maybe it started when you had finally managed to crack him open a little bit that one friday night, maybe it was when he saved you in the desert. all you knew was that you loved him.

you loved him and you'll never be with him. not when layla was now in the picture. he became happier, though obviously never told her what he told you back then, marc kept her in the dark about his past.

you've only met her once in person. that was during their wedding. to say that a part of you died the moment you saw them kiss was an understatement. it left a part of your soul empty, consumed by a void of jealousy and b yearning. you desperately wished that was you in a pretty dress standing next to him as you both said your vows, kissing him until he was left breathless.

you were introduced to her as his best friend. best friend. never did you think that those words would bother you so much when you once took pride in your position in marc's life.

"layla, this is my best friend, y/n. i've known her since i joined the army and we've worked together since then." you stretch a friendly hand out for her to shake, a smile on your lips as you greeted her. "it's lovely to finally meet you y/n! marc won't shut up about you."

the statement makes your heart skip a beat but you tell yourself to calm down, he doesn't mean it that way. "you too layla. marc shows me all the pictures you two take whenever i see him, you two make such a cute couple."

lies. in your mind, they won't last. not unless marc ever tells her about what had happened, his did and the abused he faced as a child, she'll be forever be in the dark or accidentally trigger him in one way or another.

after their first dance as a married couple, marc made a beeline for you, taking your hand in his larger ones as he led you to the dance floor. you danced together as you rest your head on his shoulder, one hand sprawled on your lower back as you gently swayed to the music, your other hands intertwined as he leads you both.

"so..." you started, "marriage. wow. that's like super next level huh?" you can feel his chest rumble with quiet laughter, his hold on your hand tightening. "yeah. super next level indeed. i never- i didn't think i'd ever get married but i guess life still manages to surprise me."

it makes you snort out a chuckle, to which you hastily cover with a cough, not that either of you minded. "you and me both marc. didn't peg you as a husband material."

another lie. you had definitely imagined a life together, much like the one he'll be sharing with layla.

you two continued to dance in silence after that, enjoying the music as you swayed together. only you wished you weren't just his guest, rather the woman he married. layla will never know how much you envy her.

"how's layla?" your question breaks the silence between you as you continue to look down at the city lights below. "she's... fine. we're fine." now that makes you look back at him, an inquisitive look in your eyes. the last sentence was... unnecessary.

you had simply wondered about layla's well-being, not the state of their marriage but now you're beginning to doubt his statement about their relationship being fine. "fess up marc, what's wrong?"

hands on your hips, an eyebrow raised, like a mother waiting for his child to confess. he releases a sigh, head hanging low as he crosses his arms over his chests, like he's protecting himself. something marc does when he's uncomfortable.

"she still doesn't know?" his jaw clenches, like that time you asked about his brother, and that's when you knew you hit the jackpot. "layla needs to know marc. it's better she hears from you rather than finding out about it in a way that's out of your control."

he grunts, he knows you're right, knows he should let his wife know about his condition, him being moon knight and everything he's kept a secret so far. but he can't, he wanted something normal and away from everything he knows. layla was his tiny bubble of obliviousness and to tell her about himself was to burst that bubble and he wasn't ready. he thinks he'll never be prepared to.

instead, he leans his head on your shoulder as your hands naturally find their way to his hair like second nature, raking your fingers through the slicked back curls, letting a few of them come undone and fall over his forehead. "don't wanna." was his only answer and that was the end of it. you don't push it much further, instead choosing to relish his closeness, his breathing brushing against the skin of your exposed shoulder.

you two should be strategizing about your plan for tomorrow, to steal the scarab that leads to ammit's tomb from arthur harrow in the tiny village here in switzerland before he ends up releasing her in the world and cause the deaths of millions not doing whatever it is that you were doing. cuddling? that's not something you two had done since his wedding, respecting the new boundary that was drawn between you. another barrier you'll never be able to cross.

unexpectedly, marc takes hold of one of your hands, the other finding its way around your back until it rests there. there was no music to guide you two, only your heartbeats as he sways you two, the same way he did on his wedding night.

"does layla ever hate me sometimes?" you questioned not too long after but you don't give him enough time to reply when you continue. "she knows i work with you, go to places with you and everything... makes me wonder if there was a part of her that curses me out for spending more time with you than you do with her."

you feel the faint brush of his lips on the exposed skin of your shoulder as he speaks in a hushed whisper, eliciting a hum from you, 'let's not talk about her right now.' he begs, so you remain quiet, simply dancing with him under the dim lights of your hotel room.

your heart speaks and you shush it, not wanting to ruin this tiny moment you have with marc. who knows when you'll get him this close again?

your mouth parts and your voice echoes in your ears before you can stop yourself, the words already hanging over the palpable tension between you two.

"i love you."

he freezes in his steps and about to raise his head from its spot on your shoulder until your grip on his hand tightens, his movements halting.

"since when?" he asked, his tongue heavy in his mouth. "since way back then." came your vague response, never specifying because even you don't know when it was exactly that you had fallen in love with him, before you knew it, you were already in too deep with your feelings for you to be able to swim back out. "i'm sorry for confessing so suddenly. i just— i needed to tell you before it consumes me whole."

you lead this time, continuing your paused dance. he follows soon enough, recovering from the shock of the knowledge that his best friend had just confessed her love to him. "you don't have to say anything marc. i know my place in your life and i would never want to jeopardize that. i guess i've held on it for so long it only felt right that you knew."

silence hangs over you like a tumultuous storm, the thunder being the rapid pounding of your heart against its confines. "why didn't you say something before..." he trails off, unable to finish his question. before i married layla. "i didn't know you'd look for her either marc. i planned to but i couldn't. not when it meant hurting an innocent woman too."

a shaky sigh leaves your lips as you finish, tears stinging the back of your eyes as you try to keep your composure, not wanting marc to see how hurt you are after all these years. how much it hurt that he didn't choose you.

"i love you." you repeat, this time as a finality. finally choosing to let go of the feelings you've held on to for years, unable to be anything more than a friend. "i love you marc spector."

you mean it this time as you sway gently to nothing, in your tiny hotel room somewhere in switzerland. your confession looms over you the same way khonshu does over marc. a daunting shadow you'll never be able to ignore. it hurts, saying those three words out loud but at the same time, freeing.

like a heavy burden off your chest only to leave a part of your heart with it, an empty chasm where his name should rest replaces it. you promised, you told yourself not to but marc spector completed you. he made you whole unlike any other as he holds you in this soft dance.

how bittersweet, the two times you've danced with marc leaving new wounds over old scars. how liberating the pain felt but how utterly empty it left you. being second doesn't feel the same.

"i'm sorry but i fell in love tonight, i didn't mean to fall in love tonight."

marc looks at you this time, an unreadable emotion swimming in those dark pools of chocolate and soil. "you're looking like you fell in love tonight." you teased with a watery smile, lips wobbling as you do so. marc opens his mouth, his voice barely audible, if not for your closeness you wouldn't be able to hear him at all.

"can we pretend that we're in love?"

[uminoirukaevents]

General rules

The main focus of events run by the UminoIrukaEvents Tumblr account is Umino Iruka from the series Naruto and therefore the main focus of any creations for its events should be Umino Iruka.

You are welcome to create any type of work not limited to fanfiction or fanart, such as metas, headcanons, cosplay, crafts, moodboards, AMVs, emoji, stickers, icon sets etc. 

Your works need to be newly made for the event and you may not use AI to generate said work.

There is no length or quality requirement for the events unless stated in the event rules.

Your creations should be inspired by one or more event prompts. 

You are welcome to create any type of content be it gen or ship, SFW, NSFW or DARK - however your works must be tagged appropriately and include warnings where these apply. If you post on Tumblr any non SFW content needs to be hidden under a cut (whether you choose to use Tumblr’s built in rating system is up to you). A tagging guideline will be posted before the start of the first event.

Events will run on Tumblr and with an accompanying collection on Ao3 for you to use if you would like to.

Depending on the event type there may be additional rules/expectations such as mentioning the prompt the work goes along with when posting, respecting the posting date if the prompts are tied to a specific day, filling out the prompts you have completed on your bingo board in a Google Form or similar. Such rules/expectations will be included in a separate post for each event. The main purpose for additional rules is to keep the event organized and so that Mod can reblog your works throughout the event and include your works in the event master post.

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Last, but most importantly, no ship, character, content or creator bashing in any form.

General guidelines

If your Tumblr post is long please consider putting it under a cut as a courtesy.  

If you decide to comment on a participant’s work or otherwise interact with a participant do not offer criticism or constructive criticism unless they have requested so.

[froggyfics]

For Your Pleasure - 1

The invaders arrive.

Y'all...this series is wild.

18+ only! I do not consent for this content to be viewed by minors. Please take heed of the warnings listed, though they are not entirely comprehensive. Do not continue reading if you are uncomfortable with the content. This story and its contents are 100% fictional, and are not affiliated with Marvel Comics.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Pairing: viking!dark! Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Warnings: violence, bloodshed, nonconsensual touching

Word Count: 1,351

You never thought you could see so much blood. If it were not for the rain, it would have settled into your pores and stained you. However, you knew that whether it was raining or not, you would be changed. The blood could be washed out, but your mind was forever scarred.

Njal’s head remains in the water. The open wound on his neck still spills blood into the water, tainting it pink. 

You want to look away from the horror of seeing his dead body, but at the same time you don’t want to. Looking away would be a disservice to Njal. You want to remember. Remembering meant that you were alive. And being alive meant that you could curse him and his band of murderers. 

Your jaw clenches in anger when he steps directly on Njal’s head to cross the stream. The sound of his foot colliding with the back of Njal’s head reverberates in the air. 

“Hush now, Frida.” You hug her sideways, and rub her arm comfortingly. She continues to shake violently due to the fright and cold. The heat generated by rubbing your hand against her arm is pointless, but you can’t stop. You must do something – anything – even if it’s meaningless to distract you from the chaos. 

He stomps on the puddle directly in front of you and Frida. The mud splatters on the hem of your dress. Frida’s whimpers only increase in volume, but you hold her steady. As long as you look down, as long as you remain silent, perhaps he will spare you. 

The fear overcomes Frida. She yanks herself out of your grasp and desperately attempts to run. Her feet lodge in the mud several times, which exasperates how pathetic she looks trying to escape.

“Frida, no!” you call out. 

It’s already too late. You watch in horror as he reaches behind his back to grab an arrow from his quiver. He aligns the arrow on his arrow rest and the nocking point. He pulls the white string back and the arrow swooshes through the air.

You look away, defeated. You’re not as brave as you thought you were. Her scream pierces your eardrums.

You are the one now violently shaking. Except, no one is here to comfort, or at least try to comfort you. You’re not sure where your family is. You all split up the moment they landed on your shores. They may be dead or they be alive. Regardless, they aren’t coming to save you. 

“They always run,” he sighs. “Pointless, truly.”

You say nothing. You’re not even sure if he’s speaking to you or to someone else. 

He grabs your chin roughly to look at him. It hurts. You feel as though your jaw will break in his metal arm. 

“Will you run?”

You shake your head immediately. 

He smiles at you, but it frightens you even further. His white teeth are covered with blood. You’re not sure if it’s his own or…

You’ve heard of the Jarl of Brooklyn before. His violent reputation crossed continents and seas. But Brooklyn always seemed so far away. Even when a nearby village was pillaged by him a few months past, it never occurred to you that he would come here, to your humble settlement.

“I have grains,” you offer. “They’re – they’re stored on my property.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, do you now?”

“Yes!” you breathe a sigh of relief. He sounds entranced by your offer. Maybe if you willingly appease him, he’ll let you live. He’ll let your family live. “I can take you to my home. Please.”

He looks you over and you almost are embarrassed by the way you look until you remind yourself of the circumstances. 

“Alright, take me to your home.” He’s still smiling. You’re sure that you’ll have nightmare of his face for the rest of your days.

You trudge through the thick mud, slipping every so often, only to be held up by his hand around your neck. Though it may seem like you’re guiding him, he’s the one in control of the situation. His hand rests on the back of your neck, reminding you every step home that there is truly no escaping him.

You recognize the fallen villagers. Every single one that you pass. Njal was your neighbor, always helping your father during harvest season. Hilda made the most beautiful, beaded jewelry for you and your sister at a discount. Gertrud taught you to swim. 

And Frida was…a child. A stupid, rambunctious, annoying one. You were always irritated at her presence – her high energy conflicted with yours. She always wanted to follow you around the village like a thorn in your side. Now more than ever, you want to hear her ramblings in your ear. You wish she was right next to you, bothering you, asking you question after question. If only you knew to be grateful that pesky Frida was the worst of your troubles.

As you approach your home with your warden right behind you, you encounter several more intruders. You can’t help but scowl as they pillage your neighbors’ homes and grope the women without shame. You pass by Helga and Leif’s home. Even though the door is closed, you can hear Helga’s screams. There’s nothing you can do.

You guide the strange man to your family’s home, opening the wooden door shakily. 

“There,” you point at the barrels near the hearth, but the man is not listening to you. 

You catch him observing every part of your house. Dread fills your body as it becomes clear that the man wants more than just grains.

“Please, just take the grains. We have nothing left to offer you.” 

It’s a lie. You have several pounds of dried meat in the smokehouse, and barrels full of milk and skyr are hidden underneath the table benches. But offering the man your family’s grain supply will certainly lead to a hungry winter, so you do your best to keep up the rouse.

His frightening eyes meet yours, and his face stretches to a bloody smile. 

“I’m sure you have more to offer than some grains.”

Were you that bad of a liar? You gulp as you wrack your brain to figure out a solution that won’t leave your family destitute for the winter.

“Berries. Fresh ones. We’ve just picked lingonberries and strawberries.” You walk to a barrel next the grains. “Right here.” You pat the barrel filled with berries. 

“I’m sure you have more to offer than some berries.”

The blue-eyed man stands an arm’s length away, but inches towards you.

You step backwards to avoid his grasp. “Skyr!” you gasp when his arm nearly grabs your own. “We have skyr as well.”

“I’m sure you have more to offer than some skyr.”

Goodness, this man intends to starve your family!

“Please, this is all that we have!”

You continue walking backwards, circling the hearth while he follows you. Every two steps you take is equivalent to one of his. You pick up your pace and so does he.

As if you didn’t learn a lesson from Frida, you attempt to run yourself. Your feet jump and you change the direction of your body in midair towards the closed door. The moment you land on your feet he plants his foot in between your legs. 

You land on the ground with a thud. The air is knocked out of your body, but there’s no time to catch your breath. He flips you onto your back and sits on your stomach. He unsheathes his knife from his waist. The blade is dark red, the blood upon it has already dried. He lowers the tip of it to your clavicle and sharply moves downward. The cold air nips your newly exposed chest.

His weight makes it difficult for you to take a deep breath in, so you can barely him through your gasping when he starts to speak.

“I’m sure you have more to offer,” he says, all while smiling with blood in teeth, mud in his hair, and sadism in his eyes. 

[possumsandprose]

Elriel Day 1

This story doesn't contain any of the spoilers I posted (I figured since it was so close, spoiling it would be pointless), but I hope you all enjoy! I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please comment or drop me an ask. This is my first time writing something like this, so constructive criticism is definitely welcomed.

Word count: 1.5K

TW: depression, mentions of Az's abuse as a child

Azriel was running late. He knew he should have left sooner, but then Cassian had started pestering him about why he was in such a hurry to leave training and now Elain would be waiting. He sighed. At least he would still get to see her today, he thought, it would definitely be the highlight of his week. It had all started when he had accidentally come across her at his favourite cafe, and she had stopped to talk with him. They had ended up talking for an hour, before Elain sadly had to leave to meet an elderly fae whose garden she was now caring for. But before she had gone, she had blushingly asked if he wanted to meet up again. He knew it was a risk, given that Rhys could easily have gotten wind of it and had his hide, but he couldn't say no to Elain's doe brown eyes watching him hopefully. So, they agreed to start meeting in the garden. Ever since then, for the past 3 months, they had been conducting secret meetings in Elain's gardens, where they would walk and talk about whatever they wished. They had grown close over that time, Elain opening up to him about things he was pretty sure she'd never told anyone else. In return, he had told her secrets from his life, of which he had many. Though nothing about his childhood. Perhaps soon he would delve into it, but he wasn't sure how she'd take it. He landed next to the large fountain in the middle, and Elain was sitting nearby, carefully pruning the roses.

 "Azriel!" She squealed in delight, jumping up and hugging him.

He hugged her back, revelling in the fact that he could touch her here and now, even if it was forbidden. They began to walk, Elain speaking about her life, and her gardens, and the new recipes she was trying. She spoke about Nyx, whom she often babysat, and how he was growing, and had even begun to start gliding on his little wings. Az talked of his trips, of the interesting places he had visited, and she listened with rapt attention.

"Can I ask you something?" she said, and he detected a slight sense of nervousness in her voice.

 "Anything, my lady," he replied, wondering what she would say. They had broached sensitive topics before, and he guessed they were about to now, but he wasn't sure what warranted the fear on her scent.

 "Do you...do you ever feel like you miss the sunshine, even when you're standing right out in it? Do you ever feel trapped, even when flying in the open sky? Do you ever wonder what purpose there is for being alive, even when you are surrounded by people who love you?" He had not been expecting this, and was beginning to formulate an answer, but Elain wasn't finished.

 "I love my life here, I truly do, and I have so many things to be grateful for. But...I feel trapped. Trapped by the expectations of my sisters, by the rules put in place in the life I was never allowed a say in, by the mating bond I never asked for but seemed forced to accept, and by my own insecurities. Sometimes I wonder what my purpose is, if all I'll ever do is tend to my little gardens for the rest of my immortal life. I love my family very much, but I have always been the odd one out. My sisters are happily mated, Nesta to the general of armies, while she herself trains female warriors and wields the power of Death itself, and Feyre to the most powerful High Lord in history, blessed by the magic of all 7, and she's already started a family. And I...I cannot fight. I have magic, but no idea how to use it. I cannot wield a sword, I cannot lead an army, I cannot govern a land, I cannot even be a good spouse, for it seems my only option is a male I do not love."

 Tears were starting to pour down her cheeks now, and Az sat down and hugged her while she continued speaking after burying her head in his chest.

"I know all of you will love me no matter what, but I wish I could do something to make myself worthwhile. My skills are trivial and useless, and even though Nesta has offered to train me, I have no desire to do so. But it seems...it seems if I want to fit in, that's all there is."

Elain finished her speech, and was now fully sobbing into his chest, her small body shaking against him. He knew that it had taken a lot of courage for her to share this with him, and the fact she shared something so personal with him touched him deeply.

"I know how you feel. When I was a boy, all I ever knew was darkness, the darkness of the cellar, and the pain inflicted by my father and stepbrothers. I prayed to the Mother and whatever gods would listen that they would grant me light, sunshine, a way out. When the shadows began whispering to me, shortly after my hands were burned, I realized this could be my way out. Whatever deities rest above the clouds had bestowed me with good fortune, and finally I would be free. But it was not as I had imagined. When my father dragged me out, he threw me into the Illyrian camps, a bastard born nobody who couldn't even fly and had magic he didn't know how to use. But Rhys' mother took me in, and she was kind to me. Under her care, I learned how to wield what power I had been given, and I met Rhys and Cassian, my true family. But even then, still I was different. As a high fae, Rhys had magic, but he was the only one besides me. I felt perpetually out of place, and often I still do.

“But you know, over my 5 centuries on this earth, I've learned that it's okay to be different. To defy expectations. To life your own life. You don't have to be the woman your sisters expect you to be if you don't want to. You don't have to mate yourself to Lucien if you don't love him. You most certainly don't need to be a fighter or anything like it in order to be worth something. Everyone has different strengths, and personally I think the fact that you're different makes you more interesting. Your skills aren't useless-after all, behind every single warrior is someone who keeps them healthy, and the fact that you can cook, clean, and garden gives you a set of tools I'm pretty sure no Illyrian male has ever possessed."

That got a small giggle out of her, and her tears had stopped. She was looking up at him, and though her eyes were red and puffy, she had a small smile on her face, and Az didn't think she'd ever looked more beautiful.

"Your sisters are wonderful, amazing females, but you are not your sisters, nor are you supposed to be. You can be a wonderful, amazing female in your own way, and I think you already are. And you are always deserving of love, no matter what path of life you choose to take." Elain hugged him tightly as he finished, and he hugged her back, kissing the top of her head, wings cocooning them together, shielding them from the outside world.

 "Thank you. Your words, your story...it means a great deal that you trust me enough to share it with me. And for what it's worth, I care for you a great deal. I know it can't have been easy for you, even as an adult, but if you ever feel like no one cares...I will always care for you. No matter what. You've become my best friend, my confidant, my support, and it means everything to me. In a time where I had no one and nothing, you were there, and for that I can never truly express my gratitude."

 But she didn't have to. And they both knew it, the bond between them that had formed over the course of their meetings, the one that Rhys had tried so hard to stop, it had grown unbreakable, and it would be impossible to hide for much longer. Through the course of their secret meetings, and through the shy glances and restricted touches that passed between them when they were together in the presence of family, they had found each other, perhaps not mates, but with a different kind of bond. And for them, that was enough.

A/N: We don't really know much about Elain, so I kind of projected the beliefs of some people in this fandom (that in order to be an interesting fantasy heroine you have to be some sort of war queen, which personally I think is a way overused trope in YA fantasy, so whenever SJM finally cranks out ACOTAR 5, I really hope she doesn't take Elain down the same route) as her own thoughts about herself, however as this is a very much pro-Elain blog I agree with Az here. Being different is a good thing, and having different hobbies and skillsets than others is often more interesting.

Taglist: @elriel-month

[human-still-developing]

Beta Reading: A Guide

Hey everyone!

I'm Hics, your neighbourhood writer, editor and professional procrastinator <3 I realised my writing advice series has gone a little cold so I thought I might freshen it up with a quick guide on beta-reading!!!!

Now before we begin, I thought I might just state up front that BETA READING IS NOT THE SAME AS PROFESSIONAL EDITING...if you're looking for tips on the later, I do have a few guides on constructive criticism but am planning on doing one up for editing as well!

So lets jump straight into beta reading!

What's a Beta Reader?

In the publishing world, we usually roughly categorise our readers into two groups. 'Alpha' readers are generally your experienced reader who will look over unpolished/first drafts of a work to give opinions on direction, concepts and story progression. This allows an author to shift/refine their outlook over their own work before coming up with a polished piece of writing that they can present to an audience/publisher. 'Beta' readers are responsible for reading a POLISHED piece of work to give opinions on reader appeal, outreach to intended audience and provide a moral boost to the writer :) Their role is less to critique the impact/intent of a piece of writing and more to give a well-crafted opinion on how the writing holds on its own.

Often in more casual settings the roles of the above two readers can overlap!

What is the role of a Beta Reader?

If you are considering becoming a beta reader or looking for one, here is some of the key information a beta reader should provide:

A good understanding of the audience your work is suited for/ an idea of how well your work reaches to your target audience! (e.g. is your slow-burn fan-fiction really centred around the relationship or does it go off on a tangent?)

Feedback on places you can improve/edit your work (e.g. does your slipstream metafiction have too many recurring motifs for the audience to relate to?)

Some of the best features of your work/writing style!

Your beta-reader is often the last stop before your writing train reaches the big, wide world! At this point, you're all ready for your work to be released and they're just here to top up your supplies and give you a pat on the back before you set free <3

How do I become a good Beta Reader?

Read! The more exposure you have of writing and its genres (even ones that you don't usually beta for), the more tailored and specific your advice will be :)

Choose works to read in a form/style you are comfortable in! Don't read over someone's ancient greek play if you haven't heard of the Iliad :) Even though having a wide variety of skills and experiences are useful for a beta-reader, it is important that you provide relevant and valid advice to your writer!

Give personal and specific feedback! Something that I try and include in my beta reading are some of my favourite quotes from the text that really emulate that writer's message. Not only does this help the writer realise the most poignant parts of their writing, it also gives them a moral boost!

How do I choose a beta reader for my work?

Find someone who has experience in the type of writing you do! If you're writing fan-fiction for example, don't get a beta-reader who has never read/watched the original text before!

Pick an unbiased friend/person who you know will not be afraid to provide you with feedback/opinions AND will also not tear apart your work.

Trust your gut instinct. Often you already have an idea of who will provide the best advice for your writing!

So there it is folks, a quick and messy guide to beta-reading! Questions and comments are most welcome; my ask box and DMs are always open <3 If you're interested in beta-reading/looking for a beta-reader, hit me up and I'd love to help/scout around with you! I also do a bit of beta-reading here and there too (more editing outside of tumblr but I'd love to read your work) <3

Happy reading!

<3 Hics