#i have no idea if any of this makes any sense but just the way the roles in the traditonal sense were all fucked up was wild

[sturionic]

Donald Trump Is Not Joking About Annexing Canada: A Fucking Timeline

December 3, 2024: Trump's quip about Canada becoming 51st state was a joke, says minister who was there (CBC News 🇨🇦) <- This is when it could have feasibly been a joke

January 7, 2025: Donald Trump is quoted in a press conference directly stating his intentions to annex Canada (New York Times, timestamp 0:45 🇺🇸) <- This is where Americans should have stopped telling Canadians it's just a joke

REPORTER 1: Are you also considering military force to annex and acquire Canada? DONALD TRUMP: No. Economic force.

February 7, 2025: Trudeau says Trump threat to annex Canada 'is a real thing' (BBC 🇬🇧) <- This is where the Commonwealth starts to take it seriously

Trudeau suggested Trump has floated the idea of taking over Canada and making it the "51st state" because he wants to access the country's critical minerals. "Mr Trump has it in mind that the easiest way to do it is absorbing our country and it is a real thing," the prime minister said.

February 9, 2025: "Trump's national security adviser: 'I don't think there's any plans to invade Canada'" (NBC News 🇺🇸) <- CANADIANS NOTICE THAT THIS IS NOT A VERY STRONG DENIAL OF POSSIBLE MILITARY FORCE

February 10, 2025: Trump Confirms He’s Serious About Wanting Canada As 51st State (Forbes 🇺🇸)

Fox News host Bret Baier asked Trump whether Trudeau was right in telling business leaders the U.S. president’s threat to absorb Canada is a “real thing,” to which Trump agreed with Trudeau and responded, “Yes it is.”

February 12, 2025: ‘Trump effect’: How US tariffs, ’51st state’ threats are shaking up Canada (Al Jazeera 🇶🇦) <- This is where the rest of the fucking world outside America starts to take it seriously

February 18 2025: CBC releases podcast episode: "What if the U.S. invaded Canada?" (CBC's Front Burner 🇨🇦)

March 4, 2025: Canada Eyeing NATO Ally's Nukes To Deter Trump 'Threat': Candidate (Newsweek 🇺🇸), British nuclear weapons can protect Canada against Trump, says Trudeau party candidate (The Telegraph 🇬🇧)

“I would be working urgently with [European Nato allies] to build a closer security relationship… in a time when the United States can be a threat,” said [Canada's] ex-foreign minister and finance minister at the final Liberal leadership debate last week.

March 4, 2025: Prime Minister Trudeau: "What he wants is to see a total collapse of the Canadian economy, because that’ll make it easier to annex us” (CTV News 🇨🇦)

March 7, 2025: BC Premier David Eby: “We know the president in back rooms with Canadian officials has said he wants to redraw the border" (Global News 🇨🇦)

Eby: "If this president wants to annex Canada, he should save his breath to cool his soup, it is never going to happen.”

March 7, 2025: How Trump’s ‘51st State’ Canada Talk Came to Be Seen as Deadly Serious (New York Times 🇺🇸) <- This is where American news media starts to treat this as maybe possibly not a joke

March 9, 2025: U.S. Congress bill aims to prevent funding of invasion of Canada (CTV News 🇨🇦) <- This is where you should understand that military force is ON THE TABLE

March 11, 2025: Canadian opinion of U.S. falls sharply; 63% take Trump's threats 'very seriously' (National Post 🇨🇦)

March 13, 2025 (TODAY): Trump threatens to acquire Canada, Greenland while next to NATO chief (Global News 🇨🇦)

“To be honest with you, Canada only works as a state...This would be the most incredible country visually,” [Trump] said. “If you look at a map, they drew an artificial line right through it, between Canada and the U.S., just a straight artificial line. Somebody did it a long time ago, many many decades ago, and it makes no sense.” -Donald Trump

And hey, just for fun, let's contrast that with another quote:

First of all, I would like to emphasize that the wall that has emerged in recent years between Russia and Ukraine, between the parts of what is essentially the same historical and spiritual space, to my mind is our great common misfortune and tragedy...I am confident that true sovereignty of Ukraine is possible only in partnership with Russia. -Vladimir Fucking Putin, the year before launching an attack on Ukraine, which everyone also said he was joking about and definitely wouldn't do (2021 essay, Kremlin official website 🇷🇺)

I know you're overwhelmed, Americans, but please stop saying this is a joke. Canadians are anticipating an invasion, possibly within the year. This is not a fucking drill.

[yanderedrabbles]

This is a thought I’ve had ever since i read your yandere outlaws story: what if you (try to) run away with one of the outlaws…could you even do that…. Would the poor guy even survive if you two get caught

Which of the yandere outlaws would run away with you?

CW: noncon, violence, knife play

You can't exactly ask the boss to run away with you. He's got responsibilities, authority. His men rely on him. If he wasn't the boss though? Yeah, in that case his loyalty would stretch very far at all.

The gunslingers absolutely would. But is it really a good idea? Without the boss around, there's no one keeping them in check. How much tighter will their grip be, with no one to scold them for the bruises?

They're the type to make you earn their help, and then force you to keep paying off that favour for the rest of your life.

"Mighty dangerous thing you're askin' pretty."

"How you gonna compensate us for our trouble?"

The wrangler absolutely wouldn't. Which is a real pity, since he's probably the only one with the skills to evade tracking. But he's also loyal to a fault.

"I wish I could beauty, but there are some debts that can never be repaid."

The kid, hmm. Yes. Maybe. It depends on how much time they give him. The outlaws know he's still soft, so I don't think they'll leave him alone with you for too long. He's young and guilty. You can definitely manipulate him.

"I'll...I'll do it. Just don't tell anyone, 'kay?"

The second in command, the man who claims to love you. You'd think all it would take is batting your pretty eyes and asking him to take you away from all this. And you'd be partly right. If it was any other gang, he'd be gone with you by morning.

But despite all their flaws, these outlaws are his brothers. He owes the boss his loyalty.

He's also a practical man. He knows it will be considered a betrayal. And the boss isn't one to let that slide. Even if he did make it out with you, he'd spend his whole life looking over his shoulder. And what kind of life is that?

"No. You belong here. Nowhere else."

But let's ignore all of that and assume you do manage to run away. How will the outlaws react to you and the traitor?

The boss will shoot them. It doesn't matter who. And then he'll bend you over the nearest thing and fuck some sense into you. Rough this time. Not holding back. You've proven kindness is wasted on you. Anal probably, dry and unprepped.

You realise for the first time exactly how thin his patience is. How cold and terrifying his anger. He'll be clipped and curt the entire time. "Move it." "C'mere." "Suck it." No sweet pet names this time, no treating you like his little girl. You want that softness? You're going to have to earn it back.

The gunslingers will make a game of it. Say whoever finds you gets to have you all week. They'll kill the traitor slow. Maybe leave him out for the ants and coyotes. And then they'll tell the boss you need to be punished.

They're the kind of bastards who'll slap a knife against your pussy just to see you shiver, scrape the tip against your inner thighs. Never drawing blood but always getting oh so close. 

Double penetration too, until you're too cock drunk and hurt to even think about running.

The wrangler is the one who can track you down the fastest and also the first one to figure out if you're plotting something. He won't tell the others. He'll just follow you and come out of the dark like a ghost. Shotgun levelled right at your heart. He won't kill the traitor, but the cold glint in his eyes shows you exactly how close he is to doing it.

When he gets you home, he'll make you sleep in his bed. So if anyone mentions your absence, he can say you were with him.

He won't be angry with you. Instead, he'll just hold you. His chin on the crown of your head as you sob into his chest.

"I'm sorry beauty. But there really is no way out. Wherever you run, I will always find you."

If it's the boy who finds you, it's a toss up. He might let you go, might remember how much you cried that first day. He might still be a good person at heart.

Or, he might see this as his opportunity to finally earn the rest of your body. That's what the gunslingers said, remember? If he wants to fuck you, he needs to earn it. And what better way than to bring you home?

The second in command almost never gets angry, but this time? He doesn't even bother with a gun. He kills the traitor with a knife. Rips his throat out and leaves him to bleed out on the desert sand.

He's explosive. Grabs you by the jaw and throws you against the wall. Kisses you before you can fall, ripping your clothes off with one hand. He's the worst of them all when it comes down to it. His anger making him twice as cruel and thrice as callous.

He fucks you with the other man's blood still splattered across his face.

"You wanna be like that? Don't like it when I'm nice? Fine."

He'll fuck you dry, his hand around your throat the entire time. His lips just the tiniest bit away from yours, just watching the fear and the tears. Revelling in them. When you're done, he shoves you down on the bed.

"Open your fucking mouth."

He'll make you suck the blood and come off his cock, pulling your hair so hard it gives you a migraine.

He'll grab your jaw so hard the bones ache, and yank you up to his lips.

"I'll fucking kill you next time."

You believe him. 

[lunarian-22]

Moreover, "generative" AI isn't actually GENERATING anything at all, other than a word game. The math behind it (for written content) has to do with seeing how accurately it can predict the next word in a sentence. It's essentially going, "If you start me off with this set of words and some basic parameters, can I put together a sentence that makes sense?"

Nothing about the content being correct in any way at all, but just a big ol' dice-roller about whether the words and sentences it strings together make sense to humans. It has no overall thesis, it's not coming up with ideas, it's not even trying to answer your questions correctly. It's just scraping data from BILLIONS of sources on the web (aka stealing the content of people who actually DID THE WORK) and shaking them up in a cup and seeing if it can pull out something that fits the word-sudoku for as long a string as it can. It does not understand what it's putting out there.

It does not comprehend what you're asking of it. It does not have any understanding of the thing you're using it for, it doesn't know who Brad in IT is, or who your customer is, or what the product or process is that it's writing emails and one-pagers and technical documentation for. I've heard of cases where this has been the applied use of "generative" AI, and a human being who actually HAD the qualifications went back through it and found that less than 10% of the content was actually usable. Think about that. Something that was SUPPOSED to be a shortcut (and cut out human labor) actually wasted a TON of time, effort, and energy (not to mention the environmental impact of AI-crunching infrastructure) to produce something that was almost completely unusable when they could have spent all those resources on actually getting it done right. Which they still had to do in the end.

AI is theft at best, and overall a complete scam.

I’m starting to sound like a nutcase at work because upper management keeps trying to implement AI programs and AI assistants and Chat GPT and my middle-of-the-road, don’t-infodump, don’t-engage response has been “I don’t like AI”, “I prefer to remain in control of my own tasks”, “I’d rather make my own mistakes”, and “I don’t trust any machine smarter than a toaster”

[adverbally]

Now My Bedsheets Smell Like You

Written for the @stmarchmm prompts “fake dating/courting” and “scenting” | wc: 1,645 | rated: E | cw: sexual content | tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, mating cycles/in heat, intersex omegas, getting together, scenting, first time, vaginal sex

———

Steve splashes another handful of water into his face, scrubbing at the dried sweat along his hairline. He’s still flushed, pupils still blown wide, but maybe Eddie won’t notice. Maybe Steve can sneak out before Eddie even gets up.

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, after all. It had been Nancy’s idea for the two of them to pretend to court. Steve’s family name made him an Omega of high standing, and being seen with him could only improve Eddie’s reputation. It would only be until the end of summer, until everyone in Hawkins could accept that Eddie was innocent and let him go about his business without constant harassment.

Steve couldn’t blame Nancy, either. He was the idiot who had agreed to the plan. What could be so bad about spending more time with his new friend? Steve would make sure nobody bothered Eddie and keep an eye on his progress as he healed from his injuries. A little more touching in public, a little more scenting, sleeping over at Eddie’s occasionally, none of it was a hardship.

Until this morning, when Steve woke up in Eddie’s bed with the Alpha clinging to him, surrounding Steve with his smoky-sweet scent.

Steve knew Eddie smelled amazing. He’d spent many an evening curled up in his nest with the shirt he’d worn to hang out with Eddie that day, breathing in the mix of their scents— cardamom and vanilla layered with Steve’s sage and citrus. But to wake up with a nose full of Alpha, so warm and thick that it drowned out Steve’s own scent and made him lightheaded?

Well, that’s why Steve is hiding in Eddie’s bathroom now, half-drowning himself in the sink in the hopes that the cold water will bring him back to his senses. He should shower, probably, scrub any trace of Eddie from his skin so he can think clearly, get out of the trailer and breathe in the fresh summer morning instead of wanting Eddie so bad—

A knock on the bathroom door. “Steve? You okay?”

God, why does Eddie have to sound good, too, all raspy and deep with sleep? It makes something clench in Steve’s gut, makes him want to whine and lick the spicy sweetness directly from Eddie’s scent glands until Eddie gives in and fucks Steve cross-eyed…

Oh. Steve isn’t just regular horny, he realizes like a slap in the face. He’s going into heat. Eddie smells so damn good that he’s causing Steve’s hormones to riot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s next knock is more insistent.

“Don’t come in,” he blurts, burying his face in the nearest hand towel.

“Uh… okay?”

Steve sighs and braces himself on the edge of the sink. “Sorry, I know it’s early but I have to go.”

He can hear Eddie’s bare feet shuffling on the carpet in the hallway. “Was it— did I do something?”

Eddie’s voice sounds small, scared, and Steve made him feel that way. His heart breaks a little. “No. No, Eddie, of course not.” He needs to see him, touch him, reassure his Alpha. Before he can think better of it, Steve throws the door open and launches himself into Eddie’s arms.

“Oh. Oh, oh my god, Steve, you—” Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, lips grazing the swollen scent gland there until Steve shudders beneath the touch. “You smell so good,” he mumbles into warm skin.

Steve’s head swims at the feel of Eddie’s body pressed up against his, but he tries to stay focused. “I think you triggered my heat. So unless you want me to jump you in about ten seconds, I need to—”

“You don’t want me to help?”

When Steve meets Eddie’s gaze, all he finds is genuine confusion. “You want to?”

Eddie bites his lip. “I haven’t been pretending. The fake courting thing, I’ve been… I wanted to do it for real, so I treated it like it was real. And I know you’re not in charge of how your body reacts to stuff, but if this heat means you’re interested, too—”

Their lips crash together with too much teeth but Steve doesn’t care when Eddie is groaning and licking into his mouth like a starving man. His Alpha tastes as good as he smells, a little more peppery but complemented by the vanilla that bursts on Steve’s tongue.

“Yeah?” Eddie breathes when he pulls back. He cradles Steve’s face in his blessedly cool hands, running his thumbs across Steve’s feverish cheeks. “I’ll take care of you, I just need you to say—”

“Yes, Eddie, please,” Steve gasps, rolling his hips against Eddie’s so he can feel Steve’s cock, hard and needy. He’s wet, too, wetter than he can ever remember being. He wishes Eddie would just push him up against the vanity and fuck him right there.

Like he’s reading Steve’s mind, Eddie guides him back into the bathroom and steals another kiss. “Okay, baby, how do you want me?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate to hook his fingers in the waistband of Eddie’s boxers and yank them down to his knees. He does the same to his own underwear and leans over the sink, catching Eddie’s dumbfounded expression in the mirror. “Here, just like this.”

Eddie catches on quickly, crowding Steve against the counter and sliding two fingers through the slick between Steve’s legs. “Fuck, sweetheart. Is all this for me?”

“Uh-huh,” he confirms, nudging his hips back into the pressure of Eddie’s fingertips circling his hole. Steve can’t hold back a gasp when they breach him with an easy glide.

“Can’t wait to taste you,” Eddie murmurs in his ear. His lips trail down Steve’s neck, leaving little nips and kitten licks along the way until he reaches his scent gland. “Gonna be so sweet, so good for me.”

Another finger slips into Steve’s pussy alongside the other two. The fullness is just right, enhanced by the promise of more to come when Eddie finally gets his cock in him. Steve can’t wait much longer. “Eddie, c’mon, fuck me!” he pleads.

“Give me a minute, Stevie, I don’t wanna hurt you. Gotta make sure you can take me.” Eddie nips at Steve’s neck as he scissors his fingers apart.

Steve keens at the stretch, clenching down when he imagines how much better it will feel once Eddie fucks him, knots him. “I can take it, I can take it,” he babbles. “Please, let me take it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie hisses to himself, his free hand dropping from Steve’s waist to squeeze the base of his cock. “Baby, I don’t know how long I can last.”

“I don’t care, we can go again. Ed, I need you, please—” His begging suddenly turns into a disappointed whine when Eddie’s fingers leave him, only to be replaced by an involuntary chirp as Eddie notches the head of his cock at Steve’s entrance.

“Okay, okay, oh, fuuuuck.” Eddie buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, gulping in breaths like the Omega’s scent is the only thing keeping him sane as he sinks into the tight heat of Steve’s pussy.

It makes Steve burn with jealousy, the fact that Eddie can smell him but not the other way around. He fumbles behind him to grab one of Eddie’s hands, drags it to his nose and huffs the sweet warmth of his scent straight from his wrist like a drug he can’t get enough of.

“Steve, oh my god, how are you even real?” Eddie’s hips jerk against his ass, grinding into him helplessly. There’s no real rhythm to his movements yet, caught up as he is in the whirlwind of heat pheromones, but it’s everything Steve wants at the moment.

“Alpha, smell like mine,” he purrs against Eddie’s pulse point. The skin is thin at the inside of his wrist, practically begging for Steve to bite until he draws blood and tastes cardamom and vanilla on his tongue.

“You, too,” Eddie groans, sucking hard at Steve’s scent gland as his thrusts find a steady cadence that knocks Steve’s hips against the edge of the sink. “Mine.”

It should be embarrassing how quickly Steve’s orgasm creeps up on him but Eddie is thick and hot in his cunt, and Steve’s cock is grinding against the countertop, and Eddie’s scent is right there in his face and in the stale air of the Munsons’ trailer and—

Steve can’t even choke out a warning before he’s coming, clamping down on Eddie’s cock and clutching his wrist for dear life as he makes a mess of the sink.

Based on Eddie’s strangled growl, he’s not far behind. “Ohjesusfuck, Stevie, I’m gonna—”

His knot catches painfully on Steve’s rim, just this side of too big, but Steve shoves back against him until it breaches him with a wet noise and a curse from Eddie. He can feel each spurt of the Alpha’s come filling him up, Eddie’s hands shaking against Steve’s hip and mouth, his hips grinding deeper and deeper where they’re locked together.

It’s good, so good that Steve’s knees go weak and Eddie has to hold him up as they both tremble through the aftershocks. It’s even better when Eddie starts whispering to him, sweet nothings like, “So good for me, honey. Felt so good, made me pop my knot so fuckin’ fast. Just a few more minutes and then once my knot goes down, we can go back to bed, nap some more before the next wave.”

Steve just purrs, content to be surrounded by— and full of— Eddie’s spicy-sweet smell. His Omega is satisfied for now, finally settled on Eddie’s knot, and the urgency bubbling in his veins calms. For once, Steve is looking forward to the rest of his heat, knowing he’ll be cared for by an Alpha with calloused hands and a soft heart and a scent that feels like a warm hug.

[sstan-hoe]

𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — congressman!bucky barnes × journalist!fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — interviewing congressman James Buchanan Barnes didn't seem like a big deal, if he wasn't known for getting the journalists fired...but with you...he had other ideas...

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — SMUT: p in v, unprotected, fingerings, sir kink, kind dark, kinda not, not aftercare cuz I didn't write it, bucky barnes, yeah that's a warning, did I forget anything?

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — okay, yeah, I jumped in that train, but how could I not? We can all agree I'm fucking rusty, idk what this is, I didn't even know how to end it? Where is my writing talent, like look at this? well, feedback is appreciated but ehh yeah I understand if not haha, also no beta, English is not my first language, yk all that stuff

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the chaos that would follow in the next two hours. It was your first major interview, before all you did was write a few articles and do research. Therefore, you were even more anxious with the task you got from your boss.

Disappointing her was not an option but you knew how difficult today would be, in preparation for this moment you watched many interviews with the congressman. You observed actions of journalists he would criticise or how he would react to certain questions.

This way you were able to tell yourself it would be a great interview. All while hoping your boss was not searching for a reason to fire you and this was her way of getting rid of you.

You had set questions, which couldn’t be changed and some you weren’t even allowed to ask. So, a waterproof plan, right? Well congressman Barnes wasn’t known for his flawless interviews or his friendly answers.

No, he was rude and harsh. Many journalists before you had lost their job or swore to never interview him again – or more like weren’t allowed to come back. His answers were short and often left no room for arguments. If a reporter even messed up a tiny bit, he would immediately call them out on it.

Walking into the tall building felt like you would crumble under the pressure, everything was so massive and intimidating. Well, a place fit for a man like James Buchanan Barnes.

They checked your ID and instructions. Simply what to do and not to do, nothing new. Still, it felt like you committed a crime, after all the secruity never left you alone, which made sense as they wanted to make sure Barnes was safe.

Although, he could protect himself with that metal arm of his – also something you were under no circumstances allowed to ask about. The last one who did, has never surfaced again.

“You can sit there, he will be with you in five minutes,” a man with broad shoulders and blonde hair told you. He looked like the typical American golden boy, he did seem a bit scary, but you would bet he was a true sweetheart.

“Okay,” you answered, though he probably didn’t even hear you as he walked right out of the door again. It gave you a chance to take in the room, it wasn’t like the usual interview rooms you saw on TV, no it seemed more private and secured.

In hopes to be perfect, you set everything up. Everything had to align, the papers, the pen and water of course. You could not give him any reason to snap at you.

Just as you finished, the man of the hour stepped in with five secruity men. Barnes entrance came with an unstoppable aura, like everyone would cower under his presence and most of the time they did.

He glared at you, as if you had just called him an asshole – which you didn’t. You tried your best not to show him how much it bothered you, so you just smiled brightly at him.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes, I’m really honoured that you agreed to this interview,” you politely said once he sat down. “You’re welcome,” he answered, voice a lot deeper than you thought and awfully sexy. How could he be single? Also, a question no one was allowed to ask, but it was unusual for a congressman to have no partner…right?

He nodded at his men, and instantly they cleared out which confused you. “Aren’t they supposed to protect you?” you questioned, already regretting it.

“Yes, they are right in front of the door and the room has cameras everywhere,” he explained, voice monotone. Lightly he tilted his head, he gave every reporter three strikes – not telling them of course – and once they hit them, he would make them leave.

After knowing who would interview him, he did his research, and you were the first one he barley found any information on. You weren’t known yet, which was probably the reason they send you.

However it made him curious, the articles you had written so far were good – some even better than the ones of his previous reporters. Besides you were a lot prettier than them.

“Oh, yeah…that makes sense,” you nodded in agreement, trying to hide the fact that you still found it weird. “Okay, then we should start. I will ask you questions, and you answer them however you want, and-,” “I know how to answer questions doll,” he cut you off in a sharp tone, eyes quite dark.

Great, this was going fucking great, you told yourself, “I know, of course, I just…I’m used to doing it this way,” you tried your best to explain, keeping a smile on your lips. In response Barnes lifted his eyebrow, “you’re used to making the person oppisite of you look stupid?”

Couldn’t there be a fire, or an attack or anything? Anything that would make you end this interview, “no, no I’m not. We will just start, first question: not everyone is happy that you won the election, is there a way you want to proof yourself to them?”

“No, I won’t do anything. Everyone has their opinion, and they should keep it, I proofed myself enough, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here,” he answered, leaning back against his chair. You knew he had good answers but damn.

“Sounds good, I mean there was never a congressman everyone liked,” you agreed, writing his answer down. “Yes, thank you,” he said with sarcasm and only then you realised what you had actually said, with wide eyes you began apologizing, “I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just you know slang,” that what bullshit, it wasn’t slang you only needed an explanation.

“Slang?” he repeated, he knew you were nervous – everyone was – but he didn’t expect to enjoy it this much. You pressed your lips together, nodding along, “yes.”

“Next question,” you put a bright smile back on your face, “your term is rather young, but in this time, you already accomplished a lot, what are you most proud of?” For a moment there was a silence, it gave you a chance to take a closer look at Barnes.

Suddenly he had a small smirk on his lips instead of the normal stoic expression, you’d never seen him act any different in recent interviews. Maybe it was a good sign, maybe he wouldn’t end your carrier right after today.

“That every woman has the right of an abortion without fear,” he stated, crossing his fingers on his lap. You had no arguments there, it was truly remarkable.

Quickly you scribbled his answer down and checking the question off your list. “The other journalist had a recorder, are you not professional enough for that?” And there he was again, the friendly congressman everyone knew. It sounded almost as if he was taunting you.

“I am, just because I don’t fit your standard does not mean I’m unprofessional,” you snapped, then instantly clamping a hand over your mouth as you realised how you just spoke to the congressman.

Said person didn’t care, now he fully smirked with satisfaction, “so you actually can speak louder than a little mouse.” Oh, he looked so proud of himself for say that.

His words came unexpected, from your research you knew that he had a sharp tongue, but this was entirely new. From his answer you gathered he did it on purpose, but why would he want you to be rude? You could be reaching, but maybe your boss did want to get rid of you and asked him for help…okay that was crazy.

“Moving on,” you ignored his words, shaking your head a little as an idea popped in your head, if he could be an asshole so could you. “Many people wonder what happened with your arm, were you in the army or maybe an accident?”

“Come again?” he almost growled, features becoming dark and almost scary. Body moving a little forward, even though a small part of you was scared, you were extremely turned on.

You didn’t know what to say, should you really repeat it? Fuck it, yes. “What happened to your arm?” eyes staying on his, noticing how he flexed said arm.

“Becoming quite bold, are we? I remember this being a question you’re not allowed to ask,” he lifted his chin as if challenging you. This was exactly what he wanted, to see if you were really as shy as he read and he was positively surprised.

“I told you I’m not like the others,” suddenly you forgot who you were talking to, forgot how he was one of the most important and powerful people in the world.

Then he stood up, his huge body towering over you. Bucky rested his hands on either side of your chair, face dangerously close to yours. It was as if he could feel how nervous you became.

“No, you’re not…,” he whispered, hands taking yours and guiding you to stand up. As if in trance you followed him, looking up at him with big eyes.

“You’re far more beautiful,” he continued, letting his hands glide up your body to your face. Was this actually happening? No, you had to be dreaming, there was no other explanation.

You had no words, you were speechless, and your mind was running wild. Is that why he chose you? Because he wanted a quick fuck? As if he couldn’t get anyone, he wanted but you would surely not cave and lose your job – wait would you lose it if you did not sleep with him?

“This is unprofessional,” you stated, trying to move your chair a little further away from him. However, your words only made the man smirk with a devilish glint in his eyes.

“Who is to say we should not do this? There is no one with more power than me doll,” he whispered, closer than he was before. He would be lying if he said he didn’t do his research on you and if he would deny how captive, you held him.

Your work stood out, you really seemed to care the people you interviewed and wanted to give the audience a look behind the curtains. Every other reporter he had before was full of themselves, proud to be interviewing the congressman and only getting what was necessary.

His agenda may or may not have been unprofessional. But who could blame him? You were the prettiest girl he had ever seen, it was remarkable, and he wanted you.

“I’m not sleeping with you, I’m not some girl you can use to get off,” you continued, trying to stand up but Bucky gripped your waist instead. Was this truly your life? Of course, James Barnes was a walking god, but this felt like a situation right out of a romance book.

He chuckled at that, he loved how you played hard to get. “Sure,” he nodded before pulling you flush against his hard chest, reflexively your hands flew against his broad shoulders.

“Prove me wrong,” he challenged you, then pressed his lips against yours, tongue gliding along your upper lip. Caught up in the moment you accepted his tongue into your mouth, his kiss was hot and filled with hunger.

It felt like he was swallowing you and you hated to admit how damn good he felt. Not only his aura was screaming dominance but also actions did as he lightly bit into your bottom lip to keep your mouth open.

You moved into him, hands wrapping around his neck. With a heavy breath Bucky broke the kiss, wearing a satisfied smirk, “you seem to quite enjoy this doll.”

In response you rolled your eyes, “it is highly unprofessional, you should know this,” you tried to keep your voice hard, in order to convince yourself to not fall further into his schemes.

Again, he didn’t take you seriously instead he placed hot kisses along your collarbone, and you couldn’t help but let out a whine by the way his slight stubble was rubbing against your skin. It was rough yet set you on fire.

“Does that normaly work for you?” he questioned in between kisses, suddenly you sensed pressure just above your pulse. The congressman was marking you up, like you were his possession.

“What?” you asked confused, eyes fighting to stay open as you gripped onto his hair. In response he shook his head, continuing his way down your cleavage. Meanwhile he let his hand slide up to the collar of your blouse and without hesitation ripped it open.

His actions pulled you from your bliss, gasping loudly, “I just bought this one!” “Please, I will buy you a new one if you’re so attached,” he rolled his eyes, slipping your blouse off and revealing your black lace bra.

God, you looked amazing, if Bucky wasn’t on a time limit, he would take the time to worship your tits properly.

“No, no, no, I told you this is wrong!” you let go of him and put your hands on his chest to keep a distance. You couldn’t let this go any further than it already had, but the man in front of you was so hard to resist.

“Doll, if it’s wrong than why does it feel like the right thing to do?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, resting his hands once again on your waist, however now you felt the contrast of his warm flesh hand and cold metal hand.

Letting his metal hand move down to your thigh, he lifted your leg to pull you closer to him. The way he manoeuvred your body made you feel his hard erection.

You whimpered in order to supress a moan slipping from your lips, “Mr. Barnes,” you argued. He knew exactly what he was doing, “I like the way you say my name, so be honest…if you’re so against this, then why are you reacting this way, mhm?”

“Come on doll, tell me,” his lips ghosted over yours before he hosted you up completely. “Sir…please,” you tried again, voice cracking as you tried to stabilize yourself.

He chuckled walking towards his desk, laying you down on the hard wood. “That’s what I thought,” he grinned, kissing down your stomach to your heated core. You thought you would explode, the congressman was about to pleasure you, the same man who you were scared would fire you.

“Let’s see if I really don’t have any effect on you doll,” you got goosebumps from the way his hot breath hit your skin. Bucky opened your trousers, pulling them down your legs.

He hooked his fingers around your panties, revealing how right he was. “Look at that, you’re fucking wet for the congressman,” he sounded taunting, but you would bet he was satisfied with himself.

However, his words only made this moment feel even dirtier than it already was. You propped yourself up on your elbows and suddenly realised you were completely naked yet the man in front of you wasn’t.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair how you’re still fully dressed?” you questioned with raised brows, not knowing you could muster up this much confidence at the moment.

“Do you think this is any way to speak to me?” his tone became dark, throwing your panties across the room. With one sentence he destroyed your confidence, “I’m sorry sir,” you instantly apologized which played right into Bucky’s cards.

Smirking he shrugged of his blazer, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt a little. It gave you a view onto his god-like chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he told you, pulling his tie over his head and stuffed it into your mouth. While it was extremely hot you felt a slight disappointment, “aww, don’t worry doll, you’ll get the chance to scream as loud as you need but not today.”

“Sadly, we’re on a tight schedule, so I will have to eat you out another time,” he said it like it was the most casual thing there was while you almost choked, there would be a second time?

His fingers traced along your cunt, spreading your juice over your skin, “feel how wet you are for me? And here you were saying that you didn’t want this,” he tsked, pushing his middle and pointer finger into your pulsing core.

You bit down on his tie, suppressing a moan and muffling his last name. Even in this situation you were too scared to say his first name.

“Squeezing my fingers huh, doll?” Bucky pulled his fingers from you and smeared his cock with your wetness. Then he undid his pants, letting his hard member free. Your gaze fell down to his cock, his leaking tip hitting his stomach.

You’d never thought you would say this, but he looked too pretty, and thicker than anyone you had before. “You’re so pretty,” you mumbled, your mind wasn’t function properly, so it didn’t even surprise you as those words left your mouth.

Bucky could barley make out what you were saying, he had an idea though and turned him on even more. With no warning he thrusted his cock inside your aching pussy, not caring if it hurt.

This time you couldn’t contain any sounds, you screamed loudly, clawing onto the wooden desk. “Feel me stretching you doll?” he smirked, pulling out but leaving his tip inside, just barley to tease you. Then he pushed in, with a hard pace he pummelled in and out of you.

You couldn’t help but clench around him, wrapping your lags around his hips which made him grin, “don’t want me leaving ya?”

Shaking your head you tried to keep the grip as tight as possible, he felt like heaven, he filled you perfectly and hit your sweet, sensitive spot in all the right ways.

His metal hand came down to rub circles on your clit, putting pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves to drive you closer to your high. Given the fact he was still stronger than you, he had no problems moving with you pressing your legs against him.

In fact, it only made him enjoy it more. Your eyes rolled in the back I’d your head as you felt a shot if ecstasy crash through your nerves. Bucky was admiring how fucked out you looked, trying to hold onto one single though; him.

“I can feel you getting tighter doll, be a good girl and come...then you can milk my cock of every last drop,” he leaned down, whispering into your ear, flesh hand coming up to your throat to keep you in position.

“I can’t-“ you whimpered, it was too much, never before had you felt this much pleasure, never before was anyone able to make you come with his cock.

“You will, slut,” the congressman growled, demanded. This was exactly the man you feared just moments ago. Now you felt different, now you wanted to make him proud.

“Yes, sir,” you caved, letting everything happen, let the tight knot in your stomach explode. You tried holding onto his wrist, but your grip slipped.

With satisfaction Bucky fucked you through your orgasm, know it would push you even further into submission. He bit his lip, trying not to let out a strangled groan at the way you gripped him like a vice.

Seeing you have you climax made him sure to follow you suit, roads of white cum painted your swollen walls. It took everything in him to keep moving, to make you would get every last drop of him. “I could get used to being interviewed by you, doll,” he grunted, slightly tighting his hold on your throat.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, too overwhelmed with the situation. What had he done to you? Why did he give you an amazing orgasm ? What would happen now?

It was too much running through your brain, you just needed a nap, just for five minutes.... “Oh, doll, this was just the beginning.”

told ya, shit ending

[gracie-eilish]

Hi! I have a request but the beginning is slightly suggestive. It’s kinda like a post smut fluff type thing?

Maybe something where reader and Billie have been friends for years, and the night prior they end up doing the deed. and the beginning is that in the morning after they yk.. reader assumes Billie wants her to leave and that it was a mistake but Billie asks her to stay and assures her it wasn’t a mistake and that she wants to be more than friends

I really don’t know if this even makes any sense at all, but I figured no harm in asking, right?

best/girl friend

warning: allusion to smut but not actual smut, nudity

i meant to post this last night but i had to get up for work at 3:30 (terrible awful horrible ik) this morning so i fell asleep early. anyways by the time ur reading this im probably taking my post work nap:) enjoy!

The air between you was thick, electric, still crackling with the remnants of what had just happened. The room smelled like her—warm, familiar, safe—and yet, everything felt different now. Your skin tingled where she had touched you, and as you lay there, heart pounding, you realized you had no idea what to do next.

Billie was quiet beside you, her chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm. Your eyes traced the slope of her bare shoulder, the curve of her collarbone, the way her fingers absentmindedly played with the sheets. She looked deep in thought, almost lost in it, and for the first time all night, you felt unsure.

You swallowed. “So…”

Billie blinked, turning her head to look at you. “So,” she echoed, her voice softer than usual.

A small silence settled between you, not quite awkward but something close to it. You fidgeted with the edge of the sheet, trying to find the right words, but everything felt too big, too complicated.

“I—” You started, but Billie beat you to it.

“Was that… okay?” she asked, her brows knitting together slightly, her voice quiet.

You exhaled a soft laugh. “I think ‘okay’ is an understatement.”

That earned you a small smile, but it faded just as quickly. Billie bit her lip, glancing away like she was warring with something in her head.

You reached for her hand instinctively, running your thumb over her knuckles. “Billie, what’s wrong?”

She hesitated. “I just…” She sighed, shaking her head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

A pang hit your chest, but you forced yourself to nod. “I know.”

She turned back to you, her eyes scanning your face like she was afraid of what she’d find there. “Do you regret it?”

You barely let her finish before you shook my head. “No,” you said firmly. “Do you?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, as if debating whether to be honest. Finally, she exhaled. “No,” she admitted, almost like it surprised her. “I don’t.”

Something in your chest loosened at that.

Billie let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “God, this is weird.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Her eyes softened. “No?”

“No,” you murmured. “It’s just me.”

She exhaled slowly, like she was taking that in, like she was letting it settle.

A moment passed before she whispered, “Yeah. Just you.”

And there was something in the way she said it that made your stomach flip.

Another beat of silence, then Billie suddenly moved, rolling onto her back. The loss of her warmth made something ache inside you, but you ignored it. You figured this was your cue to leave. That’s what she always did, after all—no lingering, no overcomplicating things.

So you shifted, preparing to slide out from beneath the sheets, reaching for your clothes.

You barely made it an inch before fingers wrapped gently around your wrist.

“Stay.”

Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but it made your breath hitch.

Slowly, you turned to face her. She wasn’t looking at you like you were a mistake. She wasn’t looking at you like you were just another name in a long list of people she’d leave behind.

She looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world.

Her blue eyes—so big, so bright—held something raw, something you’d never seen before. Her heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in the space between you.

“Please,” she whispered, voice barely holding together.

Billie never said please like this.

You swallowed, the weight of her gaze pressing against your chest. “Are you sure?”

She let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “I think I knew before I even kissed you,” she admitted. “I just… I don’t want this to be like all the other times.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tight. “It’s not.”

She let out a shaky breath, something vulnerable flashing across her face before she murmured,

“Come here.”

And you did.

You let her pull you back into the warmth of her body, let her press her lips to your forehead, let her arms wrap around you like she was trying to convince herself you was real.

A few beats passed before she spoke again, her voice a little sheepish. “You should shower, though. I—I mean, we—” She cut herself off, groaning and hiding her face in your hair. “I just mean you’ll feel better.”

You laughed softly. “Are you saying I smell?”

She pulled back, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips while she giggled. “Nooo!!! You’ll just feel all fresh and clean and.. better.”

You giggled with her as she chuckled, sitting up and stretching before nodding toward the bathroom. “C’mon,” she murmured. “I’ll help.”

You let her guide you inside, your legs still a little weak beneath you. She turned on the water, testing the temperature before turning back to you. There was a flicker of hesitation in her expression, almost like she was nervous again.

You arched a brow. “You sure you’re not just trying to see me naked again?”

Billie scoffed, though her cheeks turned pink. “Shut up,” she mumbled, before carefully helping you into the shower.

The hot water felt like heaven against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the way Billie touched you. She moved slowly, running a soapy washcloth over your arms, your shoulders, your back. Her fingers skimmed over you so gently it almost made you shiver.

“You okay?” she asked softly, searching your face. You nodded.

“Didn’t think you were the type to take care of your hookups,” You murmured teasingly.

Billie let out a quiet laugh, though her cheeks turned pink. “I’m not,” she admitted. Then, more softly, “You’re not a hookup.”

Your chest tightened.

She rinsed you off with gentle hands, tilting your chin up so the water could wash away the shampoo. Her thumb brushed your jaw, lingering there, her gaze locked on yours.

“You’re so pretty,” she whispered.

Your breath caught.

“So are you,” you murmured back.

She bit her lip, as if trying to hold back a smile, before giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

Back in the bedroom, Billie handed you a pair of her pajamas—soft, oversized, drowning you in her scent. You slipped them on, and before you could do or say anything else, she grabbed a brush and settled behind you on the bed.

She worked through your damp hair carefully, as if she was afraid of hurting you. The rhythmic strokes of the brush were soothing, almost hypnotic.

You hesitated before whispering, “What does this mean?”

Her hand stilled for a moment. Then she set the brush down and moved to sit in front of you. Her eyes met yours, searching. “I don’t know,” she admitted honestly. “I just know I don’t want you to go.”

Your heart clenched. “Okay,” you murmured.

She let out a slow breath, as if she had been holding it, then reached for your hand. “Can you stay?”

You squeezed her fingers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Billie pulled you back into bed, the weight of her arms around you careful, deliberate. You fit against her like you had been made for this, like this was where you were always supposed to be.

She was holding you like you were something fragile, like she couldn’t believe you were real.

Her fingers traced soft circles onto your back, her breath warm against your temple. “Your heart is racing,” she murmured.

You smiled against her skin. “So is yours.”

She exhaled a quiet laugh, nuzzling into your hair. “Yeah,” she admitted. “Guess you do that to me.”

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your heart flipping at the sight of her—flushed cheeks, sleepy eyes, lips slightly parted. She looked wrecked, but not in the way you had seen before. Not just physically. She looked like she had fallen, and fallen hard.

And maybe you had too.

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re kinda screwed, huh?” you teased.

Billie grinned, ducking her head. “Shut up,” she mumbled, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her.

You laughed softly, leaning in, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of her mouth. She sighed into it, her arms tightening around you.

She was a goner.

And so were you.

[scoupsakakitty]

Hi, I'm crazy about your work. I was wondering what about the idea of a seventeen 14-member reader, where she is very popular among other male (and not only) idols?

Secret Love | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

The moment Y/N stepped into the venue for the award show, she immediately felt the eyes on her. It wasn’t anything new. As the 14th member of Seventeen, she was already a well-known figure in the industry, but somehow, the attention she received went beyond just being an idol.

Seated at their table, Seventeen was casually chatting when Joshua scrolled through his phone and let out a small laugh.

“Another compilation video,” he said, turning the phone toward Y/N. The screen showed a montage of various male idols staring at her during award shows, variety shows, and even candid backstage moments. Dramatic music played over slowed-down clips of Taehyun from TXT smiling at her, Hyunjin from Stray Kids gazing at her dreamily, and even Jungkook from BTS subtly watching her during a live broadcast.

Y/N groaned. “You guys act like it’s not completely exaggerated.”

“No, but some of these clips are real,” Seungkwan pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “Like this one—look at this! Sunghoon from ENHYPEN literally admitted he’s a fan of yours.”

Mingyu smirked. “Can’t blame them.”

“That's not the point,” Jeonghan cut in, crossing his arms. “The point is, people keep thinking they have a chance with Y/N.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “And whose fault is that? Maybe if you guys weren’t so overprotective, I’d actually get to talk to people.”

Hoshi scoffed. “Please. Like we’d let you fall into the hands of some lovestruck rookie who doesn’t know how to act normal around you.”

Y/N chuckled lightly, but deep down, she appreciated their protectiveness. They were like brothers to her, always watching her back and making sure she didn’t fall into any unnecessary drama. She knew they meant well, even if it sometimes felt a little over the top.

Just then, a staff member approached their table. “Hey, Y/N, someone from another group was asking about you.”

DK leaned forward immediately. “Who?”

The staff hesitated. “Um, someone from ATEEZ? I think it was Yunho? He wanted to know if he could get your number.”

Vernon and Woozi exchanged glances before answering at the same time. “No.”

Y/N facepalmed as the rest of Seventeen burst into laughter.

“I swear,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I can’t even breathe without people asking for my number.”

She appreciated the way they looked out for her, but sometimes it felt like she couldn’t do anything without someone keeping an eye on her.

As they continued to chat, Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to a time before all the chaos. A time when she’d found a little bit of normalcy in the middle of it all.

“Actually,” she began, her voice suddenly quieter, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you guys.”

Everyone stopped talking and turned to her, sensing the shift in her tone.

“I’ve... been seeing someone,” she confessed, feeling the weight of the words on her tongue.

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before answering. “Jungkook. From BTS.”

The table went silent. Seungcheol was the first to break the silence, his eyes wide. “Wait, Jungkook from BTS? Are you serious?”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Yeah. We went on a few dates before he enlisted. It was… nice. Real, even. But now, with him gone, things are different.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened in disbelief, and he leaned forward with a playful grin. “Wait, wait, wait… Jungkook? My Jungkook?” He shook his head, acting dramatically hurt. “Not even he told me about this? I’m hurt, Y/N. We’ve been through so much together, and you—you kept it from me?”

Y/N chuckled nervously, a little guilty. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, Mingyu. I was trying to keep it lowkey.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Yeah, but we’re talking about Jungkook here. You didn’t even tell me?” He crossed his arms, feigning offense. “Are you sure you’re not hiding something more, like, secret dates or romantic gestures?” He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, though her face flushed slightly. “Well, kind of, yeah,” she admitted, feeling the warmth in her cheeks. “We did go on a few dates before he left for the military. It was... nice. Real, even.”

The members were in awe, some laughing while others were still processing. Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, his expression a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “Oh my god, Y/N, so those rumors about you two were actually true?”

Y/N sighed, nodding. “Yeah. It wasn’t anything huge, but... I guess it’s a little hard to keep things like that a secret, especially with all the attention we get. But it was just us, you know? No cameras, no fans. Just normal.”

“Wow,” Hoshi said, still processing the new information. “You went on dates with Jungkook? And no one knew?”

Y/N shrugged lightly. “Yeah. I didn’t want to make it into a big deal.”

Mingyu smiled, clearly teasing her. “Well, now that it’s out in the open, I guess I’ll just have to tell everyone. ‘Hey, my friend’s been dating Jungkook from BTS.’” He grinned at her. “I’m kidding. But seriously, that’s amazing.”

Y/N smiled warmly, appreciating their reactions, but there was a sense of relief that washed over her. For the first time in a while, she wasn’t hiding anything. They were her family, and she knew they’d understand, no matter how surprising it was.

“And,” she added, “we’re still in touch. He’s going to be on a short break soon, and he said he wants to meet up. So, yeah, we’re not completely out of touch.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened even more. “Wait, he wants to see you? Man, Y/N, that’s... I guess that’s the real deal then!”

Y/N chuckled. “It’s not like that. It’s just… we both want to see how things go once he’s back.”

Just then, Woozi, who had been quiet up until now, raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his face. “So, that’s why all the armys are losing their minds over Golden,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice. “I mean, all they’ve been asking is about who he sang that album for. Guess we finally know, huh?”

The table went silent for a moment, before everyone burst into laughter. Y/N felt her face heat up again, but she couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Seriously?” she asked, shaking her head in mock disbelief. “I swear, I’m just friends with him.”

Joshua chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, we’ve heard that one before.”

“I mean, at least now you know who that song’s really about,” Seungkwan added with a wink, clearly enjoying the moment.

Y/N rolled her eyes but was secretly relieved that, despite the teasing, she could finally be open with her friends. “I can’t believe you guys are still talking about this.”

“We can’t help it,” Mingyu said with a grin. “It’s Jungkook, Y/N. Who wouldn’t be curious?”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little overwhelmed but grateful. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The members nodded, a mix of surprise and admiration in their expressions.

“We’ll always have your back, Y/N,” Joshua said with a reassuring smile. “But if anyone else tries to get your number, I’m personally taking care of it.”

Y/N smiled, grateful for them. “I know. And I appreciate it, I really do.”

But at least now, she could finally share a piece of her personal life with them.

[froggiewrites]

give me any more crumbs of vampire law and I'll start a revolution in your name. and if you do something for vampire sanji.......... then I'll just have to give you my first newborn

Anon, this request has been turning over in my head since you sent it. The reason it took me so long is genuinely because I got so excited I had too many ideas! There's so many different ways someone can react to undeath, and all of them are so fun to explore. I hope you enjoy this, I had an absolute blast writing it.

A Human's Touch

Pairing: Vampire!Sanji x Hunter!Reader

NSFW

Summary: You've never hesitated in your path before, but your latest quarry attracts you far more than you want to admit. Warnings: AFAB!Reader (gender neutral pronouns used), Mild Angst, Blood Drinking, Biting, Oral (Reader Receiving), Vaginal Sex Word Count: 4.8k

Your quarry tonight appears to be in his early twenties. He’s handsome. Most of them are, really, but there’s something different about him. He’s not just attractive in the way most monsters are, in that dangerous and sharp way that pulls you in. When he smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges, he’s almost…cute. Approachable.

It almost makes him look alive.

You clench your teeth, reminding yourself again and again that he isn’t human. It’s the ones that can pass as normal that are the most dangerous. The ones you feel sorry for, the ones some naive part of you wants to save. There is no saving these monsters. What you do is the closest thing they’ll get to absolution, to peace. It’s not natural for the dead to walk among the living.

You make your way to the bar next to him, flagging down the bartender. You know very well how to play the part of an easy victim: the vacant eyes, the wide smile. This time you act as if you’re already a few drinks in, having taken a quick swig of whiskey from your flask in the parking lot to ensure you smell right. Vampires have an excellent sense of it, you’ve learned, and you don’t want to risk tipping him off.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, and you know you’ve got him.

His smile is like the sun. “I’ve never seen you around here before, angel. What’s your name?”

You open your mouth to tell him the one that matches the fake ID you just flashed at the bartender, the one your car is registered to, the one you’ve been living under recently, but instead you make possibly the biggest misstep you’ve ever made on a hunt. You tell him your real name.

His eyes soften a bit at the sound of your voice, something in them growing fond. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the creature fell in love with you at first sight. How sad that would be. “It’s a beautiful name. It fits you.” You’ve heard that same empty compliment a thousand times from things like him, wearing the faces of beautiful men and women who thought they could reel you in. It shouldn’t move you. But your heart, the wretched traitor, it skips a beat anyway. It believes he means it.

“Thank you,” you murmur, cheeks warming despite yourself. “Do I get to know yours?”

“Sanji. It’s a pleasure.” He reaches for your hand, bringing your fingers to his lips. The brush of them against your skin is so gentle you can almost forget the sharp canines behind them. “Do you have company tonight?”

You lean forward a little, purposefully flashing a bit of skin to draw his eyes to your neck and chest. It works flawlessly. “I don’t know, Sanji. Do I?”

He grins. “You can have anything you want from me, sweetheart.”

He’s going to regret that.

It’s a quick ride back to his place. You generally prefer not to follow vampires back to their lairs (it’s bad for one’s health, generally, to fight a monster on their own turf), but the carpet in your motel room is white, and you don’t want to have to spend hours scrubbing your own blood out of it. You’re hoping that he’ll feel more comfortable in his own home, relaxed enough to make mistakes, to underestimate you as they usually do. You rely on it. Even the strongest human is nothing compared to the weakest monster.

“Make yourself at home,” he offers, after holding the door open for you. A small measure of politeness you aren’t used to. Usually they don’t show that kind of grace to their prey.

“Thank you.” You give him what you’re sure is a heart-stopping smile, one that’s well practiced. He reacts accordingly, smiling back widely, a bit of red coming to his cheeks. You stop short for a moment, entranced by the sight. You didn’t know they could blush. You don’t know a lot about them other than how to kill them. Before you know it, you’re leaning forward slightly, hand reaching for his cheek, desperate to know if they’ll be warm beneath your fingertips. You come to your senses about halfway, hand hanging limply in the air as you both stare at it. It’s your turn to blush as you wretch it back to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s alright.” This smile is gentler, kinder. “I’m not one to deny the warm touch of another, or the connection it brings. You don’t have to hold back with me, dear.” You don’t miss the depth of sadness in his eyes, the longing. He wants what he can’t have, what his kind can never provide him. There’s no such connection amongst the dead, amongst predators like them. They aren’t family, aren’t friends. They can’t even really be allies. They’re competition. The most a vampire can be to another is an intrusion on the other’s hunting grounds.

For some reason, you take his hand in yours, leading him back with you. His eyelashes flutter for a moment when you make contact, as though he’s savoring the feeling. His hands are ice, but instead of the normal revulsion the feeling brings you, you feel sorry for him. How awful it must be, cursed to an eternity without the warmth you once took for granted. A foolish thought, but you’re having many of those tonight. The greatest mercy you can give him doesn’t require the pity that’s clouding your mind, or the warmth that spreads in your belly at the sight of him unbuttoning his shirt.

He’s sculpted perfectly, of course. As if you needed another reason to be distracted. You take a deep breath, focusing as best you can. You slide the stake out of your boot (thank god he didn’t ask you to take them off earlier) and pounce as quickly as you can, praying your aim is true. Before you feel the wood plunging into his chest, you feel a hand on your wrist, grip firm but not bruising. Your back is against the bed, your stake is somewhere out of your reach, and there is a vampire on top of you, tying your hands to the headboard with his tie.

When he looks down at you, he has the gall to look genuinely hurt. “I was hoping you would give up on that.”

You can’t help but laugh in his face. “What? You expected me to let you go around preying on the innocent because…why exactly? Because you’re handsome and kind of sad? That’s par for the course, Sanji.” You ignore the fact that you’re still calling him his name now that you’ve dropped your innocent act, that you’re still acknowledging him as a man instead of a monster. It’s better for your pride not to think too much about that.

“Because there’s a connection here, but I guess I should have known you wouldn’t admit it. Prideful things, hunters. Some of you are worse than things like me.” He finishes his knot, taking a moment to admire his handiwork, before he looks down at you. His eyes linger on your neck for just a moment, and you know he’s thinking of how you’ll taste, of the feeling of the life draining out of you. For some reason, he pulls away, standing up and brushing himself off. He picks up your stake with two fingers, holding it away from him and looking at it with a crinkled nose (which is adorable, though you’d die before admitting it). “Did you carve this yourself? It’s nice craftsmanship, though it’s sad to think of such beautiful hands doing such rough work.”

“Worse than thinking about them being used to kill?”

He hums. “No, I guess not.” He drops your stake into the trashcan near the door. You hear the quiet thunk of it hitting the bottom, and you know there’s no way in hell you’re ever getting that back. A bummer. You’d spent weeks carving that. “It’s still a shame, though.”

“What, that I wasn’t an easy kill?” You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, taunting him. He doesn’t fall for the bait, instead turning away from you with a sigh.

“That the world’s made you into a killer.” He walks toward the window for a moment, closing his eyes to bask in the moonlight. “It shouldn’t be your job to keep monsters in check.”

You tell yourself this is a ploy, that he’s just saying what you want to hear, but something about him seems so horribly genuine. He sounds truly disappointed with the world for taking away your freedom, for placing this burden on you. No one’s ever empathized with your plight like this before. “Well, a lot of things that shouldn’t be are. The world’s not a great place. Someone has to try to make it better.”

His lips quirk up into a soft smile at that. “It’s admirable that you want to do that. You remind me of someone.” For a moment he’s lost in a memory, one that might be centuries old. To the man he used to be, to the people who used to love him. Then it’s gone, grief weighing down his shoulders once again. “But I still think the world is worse off when good people sacrifice themselves and their happiness to try to offset the evils they fight.”

“Well, I won’t have to sacrifice my happiness forever. Maybe I’ll retire.” It’s a lie, of course. The only retirement you’ll get is a set of fangs to the throat, a quick end to the misery.

He chuckles. “You’re a bad liar, too. You really are like him.” He shakes his head, dismissing the nostalgia, instead focusing on the task at hand. “How can I convince you to let me live?”

You purse your lips. “You aren’t living. That’s a large part of the problem.”

He sighs. “How can I convince you to let me keep existing?”

None of them have ever asked you before. “If I say no, will you kill me?”

He looks horrified at the thought. “What? No!”

You blink. “What?”

“Why would I kill you?”

“You’re a vampire, and I’m trying to slay you. This always ends with one of us dead. What, are you new to this?”

“No, I–God. If I can’t convince you to let me go, I’ll just…leave. Go somewhere you can’t find me. And then call someone to come and let you out in a few hours.”

“Call who?”

“I don’t know, the cops?”

“And they find me with several fake IDs and a shotgun in the back of my car? I’ll get arrested.”

He closes his eyes in thought. “Do you have any friends?”

No, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I’m not giving a vampire my friends’ numbers.”

“Do you have your phone on you?” He slides a hand into your pocket, pulling out your phone as you weakly try to wiggle away. He turns it toward you as you try to look away. You aren’t fast enough, and you can hear the telltale sound of it unlocking. Fuck.

He goes through it for a moment, a frown settling on his handsome face. “You…don’t have any contacts?”

“That’s not true!”

“I don’t know who Guns (Legal) and Guns (Less Legal) are, but I imagine they’re not exactly close friends. You really have given up your life for this, haven’t you?” The look in his eyes isn’t pity. It’s far worse. It’s mourning, plain and simple. Grieving the life you could have lived, and the fact that you’ve chosen not to live it of your own free will.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say weakly. “I chose this.”

“I know.”

You maintain eye contact a moment before he looks away, standing and walking away from you. “I could untie you now.”

“I’d kill you.” You don’t know if that’s true anymore.

“Maybe I’d let you.” He places your phone on the dresser before opening the bathroom to look for something. You can see shards of glass on the floor, hear the crunch of them beneath his dress shoes. “But maybe you won’t. Maybe we can just have a conversation, two people who know things no one should have to.”

You bite your tongue at his referral to himself as a person. He’s far more human than any other vampire you’ve met. Maybe even more than some of the humans, if you’re being honest. You’re not particularly prone to honesty these days. “A conversation, huh?”

“Just a peaceful little talk.” He looms over you, reaching towards your wrists. You can see what he grabbed in the bathroom: a bottle of lotion, just in case you had chafed your wrists struggling against the restraint. A small, thoughtful thing. You think he must have been kind in life. “I’ll answer any question you have, and hopefully you’ll be open to answering some of mine.”

You could use this as a way to get information, but you don’t want him to think you’re going to turn it against him. You should, but something in you stops you from leaping off the bed and rushing for your weapon, instead allowing him to gently apply the lotion to your skin. You give him a wry grin. “Alright then. How do you style your hair so perfectly if you can’t see yourself in the mirror?”

He sighs humorlessly, eyes focused on his task. "That's a myth, my dear. As many things people like you think you know are."

"If it's a myth, why do you try to avoid them so badly?" You look pointedly to the mirror above the dresser he's covered with a blanket, not to mention the broken shards that remain of the ones in the bathroom. He looks you in the eye now, and your breath is taken away by a self loathing deeper and more violent than any hate you've ever known. For a moment, the gentle and mild mannered man is gone, replaced with something far closer to the tortured soul you’ve come to expect on your hunts.

"When I was alive, I hated monsters. I was made by one, and I was convinced I would become one someday." He laughs, a soft, empty sound. "I made a friend promise me...promise me if he ever saw me start to walk that path, he'd kill me."

He stands up, beginning to pace in a path he has clearly worn into the carpet beneath his feet. "When I woke up after the change, I knew right away what I was. What I could do. Who I could hurt. And do you want to know what I did?" He stops in front of you, eyes wide and frantic. "I ran. I ran as far as my feet could take me, then a little further than that. All of my talk, my spirit, everything I promised...it was all nothing. Empty words. Because in the end, I was just too scared to die."

You pity him. God, you’re weak. None of your quarries have ever broken down by this, admitted to fear. You thought they were incapable of that sort of animal weakness. Your voice is soft when you speak next, gentle. “It’s only natural to be afraid. It’s only–” You cut yourself off, voice catching.

“Only human?” He finishes for you, his words dripping with bitterness. “I tried telling myself that, but I think I can finally be honest. I’m just a coward.”

“I don’t think a coward would untie one of the only people in the world that could kill him, Sanji. I don’t think a coward would spare me when killing me would be so much easier.”

He cringes. “I don’t–Killing people isn’t easy. And it shouldn’t be.”

You pause. “You–you don’t kill people?” A vampire pacifist. Now you’ve really seen everything.

“I don’t murder. I’ve defended myself, sure, but I try not to hurt anyone.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe it’s just something else I’m scared of.”

“I don’t think that’s it. I think a lot more things like you kill out of fear than spare people for it. Maybe you’re just…a good guy.” An insane thing to say, and an even more insane thing to believe. But you do, really. When you look into his eyes they aren’t the empty black pits you’ve seen in so many other bloodsuckers. When you look into his eyes, you truly think you see his soul. You have no idea how he kept it after the horrible, gruesome fate he’s been forced into, but it’s there. You half expect there to be a beating heart beneath his chest.

He looks up at you, shock evident. “Do you really mean that?”

“Somehow, yes.” You shift forward a bit, leaning toward him, taking the sight of him in. The shining blue eyes, his blond hair reflecting the moonlight from the window and the shitty too-bright fluorescents of his apartment, the pallor of his skin. He almost looks like an angel, cast out from heaven. Forced to wade among the muck and grime of humanity, a world he was never meant for.

“I want to be,” he mutters.

“Good?”

“A guy. Human. Not...” He can’t even bring himself to say it, gritting his teeth when he tries to force out the word before giving up. “You know.”

You can feel your eyes soften as you look at him. “I really wish I could help you with that.” And you mean it, really. You wish you could save him.

“Maybe you could.”

“Hm?” Your eyes flick up, and you see something shining in his eyes that you don’t quite recognize.

“You could help me feel alive again, even if only for a while.” He approaches you slowly, no threat in his stance. “Make me feel like my heart’s beating again.”

“And how would I do that, exactly?” This is the strangest way you’ve ever been hit on.

“Just…feel something. Touch me, please. Treat me like anything other than a monster.” He’s in front of you now, kneeling, his eyes pleading.

“What?”

“I’d prefer you love me, but I’ll take anything. Hate, fear, whatever you’ll offer. Please, I just need something.” He’s on his hands and knees in front of you, eyes wet and glossy. “I can’t be alone anymore. I can’t take this.”

There are tears streaking down his face. You've never seen a monster cry before. Something inside you, something soft and weak that you thought you had buried, whispers that you still haven't. That the thing on his knees in front of you, begging for you, is only a man, bearing his tender parts to you and begging for you to be gentle with them. You don’t know if you’re capable of being gentle anymore.

Your hands move on their own, resting on his cheeks, your thumbs brushing at the tear tracks making their way down his face. He sniffles quietly, as though he still needs to breathe. You almost laugh at the absurdity at it all. You’ve killed dozens of monsters, saw yourself as a hero, a defender of humanity, and all it took to take you down is one pathetic man on his knees. You won’t be angry with him later when his teeth brush your throat, when they tear through your skin and take everything you have. You’re letting it happen, here and now, and you can’t be angry with him for acting within his nature. “I…I can help you. Just for a little bit.”

He looks at you like you’re his salvation. “Thank you, angel. You have no idea what this means to something like me.”

“Someone,” you correct softly, instinctively. You can’t take the word back once you say it, not when you see the look on his face. His hand rises to cover yours, cradling you closer, savoring the feeling.

He inhales, taking in the scent of you, before diving in. His lips brush against yours, softer than they have any right to be. They’re a bit cold, as you’re sure all of him must be, but you can’t bring yourself to mind. He’s slow as he rises, overtaking you and pinning you down. Giving you ample opportunity to run, to come to your senses. You don’t.

The first thrust of his hips makes you gasp, which allows him to slide his tongue into your mouth. He savors the taste of you, exploring every inch as he ruts into you, the friction from the fabric between you making your movements sloppier as you get distracted. Your hands are everywhere: in his hair, running down his chest, grabbing at his ass. Every inch of him is perfect, almost frustratingly so. Some part of you is hoping to find some flaw, something to break the illusion that he’s just a lonely man, but you find nothing. Even the brush of his fangs against your lips doesn’t do anything to stop the lust clouding your mind. Instead of revulsion, the feeling of him nicking your bottom lip to suck on is disturbingly hot. You can’t even tell if you’re actually bleeding; even just the idea of him taking something from you, savoring you, makes you clench around nothing.

You grow so lightheaded your vision almost blacks out before he pulls back. “Sorry,” he pants. “Forgot you need air.”

That traitorous part of you thinks that would have been a nice way to go, all things considered. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he’s not at all trying to hide how he stares at your tits under your shirt. “Is it a little hot in here?” You coyly reach your hands down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, watching his eyes follow your movements. You can see his pupils grow wider, his gaze grow hungrier, with every single inch.

He tries to speak, you think, but the only sound that leaves him is a ravenous growl. His hands reach for your waistband, removing your pants and underwear in a single smooth motion. You tense, preparing yourself for him to plunge in instantly, but instead you feel his nose brush against your skin, his beautiful clear eyes staring up at you in permission. You close yours, overwhelmed by it all. His teeth graze against your thigh. You can feel him smile when you make a small squeak of surprise, can feel his cold breath quicken. His voice is thick with excitement when he speaks. “Will you give in to me?”

You should say no. You should run from here as fast as your legs can carry you. But he looks so pathetic, so desperate, and really, he needs this, doesn’t he? Why shouldn’t you help him? “Yes,” you murmur, breathy and strained. “Yes, take me, Sanji.”

And so he does. You expect the bite first, but Sanji is determined to give you your pleasure before he takes his. His tongue is against you before you’re ready, and you can feel him shiver with excitement when your thighs close in surprise around his head. His nose brushes your clit, causing you to squeeze harder, and this time he openly moans against you. His tongue explores you eagerly, ceaselessly, and you can feel him respond to every little twitch and quiver you make. He listens for every little moan, every hitch of your breath, every single noise leading him closer to finding exactly how to make you climax. His fingers grab at your ass, pulling you closer, practically drowning himself in you.

As he continues, his fingers find your clit, working in tandem with his tongue to bring you over the edge. The pressure keeps building, every muscle in your body growing tense, your thighs threatening to crush his skull, before finally the dam bursts, and you let out a screaming moan that you’re sure the neighbors can hear. He works you through it, tongue continuing to lap greedily at you, savoring every taste. Only once your thighs have relaxed and your back has once again hit the bed does he pull away, gathering your remaining slick with his fingers and popping them into his mouth. His eyes practically roll into the back of his head as he deeply inhales, overwhelmed by the pure essence of you.

“Darling,” he whispers, voice thick with want, “You’re the most delicious meal I’ve ever had.” With that, his teeth plunge into your thigh, the act as gentle as such violence can be. You only feel the sting for a moment before you’re overtaken by a rush of euphoria. The post-orgasmic bliss is nothing compared to this. Every part of you relaxes, even parts you didn’t think could. It feels as though your muscles are unwinding themselves, as though the fibers that make you up are unraveling and falling to pieces in Sanji’s hands. Your body isn’t you anymore, but you can’t bring yourself to be upset over it. This is the kind of peace you’ve been searching for for years, the kind your purpose and drive never gave you. This is the kind of joy that makes you unafraid to die.

You whimper when his teeth leave you, your hands reaching for him, trying to pull him back to you. Surely he needs to drink a little more, even if just for a second. Just another moment of bliss is all you need.

He doesn’t follow your guidance, instead rising to kiss you softly. There’s less heat now, the flames having calmed to a gentle and loving warmth that envelops you from the inside out. “Thank you, angel,” he murmurs. “Let me give you your final reward.”

He nuzzles into your neck, his teeth not grazing you for even a moment. You don’t know when he shed his pants and shirt, but you come back to yourself for just long enough to admire his fully naked and vulnerable form as he’s lining himself up with your entrance. He’s beautiful, every inch of him, with a few inches in particular catching your current attention. You don’t even have time to imagine how lovely the stretch will feel before he slowly and carefully pushes forward, inserting just the tip before stopping.

You immediately whine, clawing at his shoulders, begging wordlessly for him to keep moving. He tuts softly, kissing your cheeks, and you realize you’ve been crying. “Patience, love.”

You have none, uttering a sound that’s close enough to a childish no! for him to get the message. He chuckles, clearly endeared by your vulnerable state, before slowly sliding the rest of the way in, inch by delicious inch. When he’s fully sheathed, he takes a shuddering breath, pressing himself deeper into your neck and taking a long inhale. His hands wander before settling against your back, pulling you toward him possessively. “This is what I need,” he whispers against your skin. “You. You make me feel alive. You make me feel human. You make me feel connected.”

He snaps his hips far faster than you were expecting, stealing your breath away. He quickly corrects himself, setting a slow and steady pace, but you’ve already seen how his self control is slipping.

“Need you,” he murmurs. “Not just now. Not just tonight. Please, stay. Please.”

You don’t know what to say, so instead of answering you simply pull him closer, moaning into his ear as he steadily brings you both to the edge. You lose yourself in the feeling, in him. The slapping of skin echoes through the room, along with his quiet grunts and your increasing cries. As the tension in your body grows almost unbearable, you can feel his hips starting to stutter, his pace starting to falter. With one final, beautiful push, you both come undone as he collapses on top of you, the feeling of you clenching around him proving to be too much. He pulls you impossibly closer, even though there’s no real distance to be crossed. Every bit of your skin is touching his, and you can feel his weight pressing you into the mattress. You aren’t going anywhere. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to.

“Please,” he quietly pleads again, voice breaking. “Please stay.”

“I will,” you whisper back. His arms tighten around you again, as if you’ll slip through his fingertips if he loses his grip for a moment. Maybe you will. Maybe you’ll grab your stake from his trash and drive off into the sunset, accepting your one and only failed mission, running back to the life that lets you run away. But maybe tonight you’ll stay in the first gentle embrace you’ve felt in years, lured in by the irrational feeling of safety it brings you. The gentle circles he rubs on your back and the feeling of his ear pressed against your chest, listening to your heart, almost make you feel alive.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[parvulous-writings]

Could I request dating headcanons for Viktor, Jayce, Vander, Silco, and Ekko with gn s/o? - Fluff anon P S. Please delete the first one because I forgot to put my name 🤣

Warnings: None, I don't think! Just fluff :3

Notes: Thank you, once again, fluff anon!! Was very fun getting to write a couple of these, as I've not written for a few of them before! :3 My requests are currently open! My request post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! 

Viktor

- Viktor doesn’t always “have time” for personal affections outside of the laboratory - he tries his best, but he gets so focused and stuck into his work that everything else fades away. His work, some weeks quite literally, is his life. He spends days on end there, hardly going home, all in the pursuit of progress. That is, until you slowly start showing him that, yes, there is time for those small affections. Small talk, stolen laughter as he works. It’s a very slow process, but eventually, he does begin to relent, and show some of these affections back. - He loves when you join him in the lab - even if you’re unable or unwilling to help him with his tasks, he likes having you there. He appreciates the company. With Jayce coming around the lab less and less, even for a man of Viktor’s minimal social need, it’s a struggle. He’s feeling the loneliness, which is something he never thought he’d been affected by. Having you there, even if you’re doing something entirely different to him, makes him feel so much better, so much less alone. - When not spending time in the lab, he likes to go on walks through the academy and it’s gardens with you. Sure, you both have to take it a bit slow, but it helps him clear his head - and a walk is the perfect opportunity to have a nice, proper conversation with you. A time to catch up - like what you’ve been doing outside of your many visits to him, or how your other friends and family may be doing. Despite being a very work-oriented man, he does take an interest in your life, too - such is the way of someone so in love such as he. - He struggles to show the affection that he feels for you, sometimes. He knows that most show it through physical means - hugs, kisses, and the like - but he’s not typically a very touchy man. He likes to be approached first. If you initiate a kiss, or a hug, he will gladly reciprocate - but he struggles to know when, or how, to initiate these himself. He instead shows his affection through his creations - little side-projects that he works on when he’s dealing with a mental block with his main projects. Some of them are little trinkets - ornaments for the mantle, or fancy looking mechanisms akin to a complex child’s ornament. Others are to help you around the home. Things for cleaning, or for reaching hard to get spots. 

Jayce

- In a similar sense to Viktor, Jayce sometimes struggles in juggling all of his responsibilities, and his time is very often split between you, working with Viktor (which is becoming less and less of an occurrence) and his time with the council and the political figures within. Some days it’s hard to have a conversation with him that lasts for more than 5 minutes, because the poor man just gets so overwhelmed with his attention being pulled in every direction known to man. - In terms of quality time, he likes spending it in his chambers - or yours. Doesn’t overly matter. What matters is that you’re both shut away from the prying eyes of the world, responsibilities left outside the door, and work shoved into a distant corner of both of your minds. He likes to put his head in your lap and let your fingers run through his hair - it’s a feeling that often lulls him into near-sleep. A state that is very much needed and appreciated, with how stressed he gets, he often finds it difficult to actually relax or get any sleep that helps him feel rested. - Although he tries to keep the majority of his work life and love  life separate, there are times when an idea just… Hits him. He has to get it out, has to tell someone just to get those words out of his brain and into existence. Most of the time, this person is now you - even if you have absolutely no clue what half of the words he’s saying are, just smile, nod, and ask a couple of basic questions so his brain can turn it’s gears and work out the kinks he can think of. You just need to help him get the ball rolling - once he’s got those ideas down in rudimentary note form, he can take them to the lab, and he and Viktor can get the real work started. (He usually forgets that most of the time it’s Viktor who ends up doing the majority of the work). - He likes sleeping near to you - in fact quite early on in your relationship, he refuses to sleep without you at least in the room with him. This went on for… A very long time, and still hasn’t completely gone away. He particularly likes hugging you in his sleep; whether he’s the big or little spoon, it doesn’t matter to him (it changes mainly based on how good or bad his day has been), so long as he’s able to feel his skin against yours, he’s a happy man. A very happy man, indeed. - If you want this man to do something - and do it very willingly, with a massive grin on his face - give him some food. If you bribe him with food - particularly cakes, and perhaps some nice savoury items - he’s at your every whim, your every beck and call.

Vander

- Vander is a very affectionate man; he loves calling you by anything other than your name, loves physical displays of affection, and just… Being very domestic. He may be called the ‘Hound of the Underground’, but most of the time he’s little more than a dog who longs for affection - his more hound-like, violent days are long behind him, now. After all, he’s a father of four, he’s got an example to set. And he feels that the domestic life, despite his unfamiliarity with it, is the life he can best do that in. - Vander loves cooking with you. Or, well, trying to cook. 9/10 something goes wrong somehow; someone will spill something, a dish will overcook despite having been in the oven under the recommended cooking time.Though, a lot of the time, that can be attributed to… Little helpers, trying their hand at cooking. Vander doesn’t usually mind all that much - unless they try to  actively force themselves into the situation after he’s already said no - as he can normally whip up an edible meal quite quickly. The last 1/10 times is when the kids are all tucked up and asleep, and he’s taking his sweet time teaching you how to cook some of their (and his) favourite meals. - He always has a chair reserved for you in The Last Drop. Well, two, actually - so you have options on where you can sit. There’s one at the end of the bar, so you can be close to him as he works, and you can keep an eye on him as he serves. Then there’s also another one in a secluded corner booth, where you can still see one another, but you’re a little more on your own in case you don’t really want to be bothered by anyone else. He’ll nip over there every so often to make sure you don’t feel too lonely, and to top up your drink for you. More often than not he also brings a snack over too - just in case. He can’t have you going hungry, now, can he? - He likes it when you help him close up for the night - he tells you every time that you don’t need to, it’s alright, he can handle it, but secretly, he loves the fact that you’re able or eager to pitch in with him. Hell, even if you’re just sitting on the bar, talking to him, he’s a happy man.

Silco

- Silco spoils you in some ways, but not all. Yes, he has his claws in every nook and cranny of Zaun, and you have lived without want since you started dating him, but he never wants you to slip into overindulgence - mainly when it comes to material belongings. He doesn’t want you to end up taking anything for granted. There’s always that possibility, in the back of his mind, that everything may be stolen away at any moment. You need to be prepared for that. - He likes being in your presence. You could be doing entirely different things in the same room, and he’d be happy. He isn’t a massive fan of being left on his own, normally. The only real exception to that rule is when he’s majorly pissed off with something or someone, and even then your presence can usually lull him back to a sense of calm. He doesn’t have a particular ‘happy place’ unless you count being by your side. For a man who is normally so dour, he’s sweet to you. - If you ever have an opinion on an issue that he’s trying to fix - be that economy related, or general public relations - he’s happy to listen to you. He’ll take your views into account, though he may push back and debate with you over things, always trying to look at the bigger picture or the long game. Though he is often ever so tempted to make decisions based on your quality of life and joy, he is very aware that he can’t do so - not if he wants the nation under his rule to live on. - He tries his best, for the most part, to keep you and the unsavoury business of his job separate. He wasn’t sure if he could bear the idea of you getting tangled up in it all - and there was no way at all that he would want to subject you to any of the gory sights he had had to witness over the years. While he made sure you were at least aware of the goings on around the Undercity, the thought of you getting caught up in it - especially caught up in the gang activity - made his blood run cold. He wanted you to be aware of what life could be, if worst came to worst, of course, but he would never let you actually live it so long as he was alive. 

Ekko

- Ekko is BIG on physical touch. Whenever you’re within arms reach, he has to have a hand on you - not in a gropey way, but more… That he likes having the knowledge that you’re there, close to him. His hand will be on your shoulder, or the small of your back, or holding your hand. He especially loves holding your hand; he can twirl you around, pull you in for a hug or kiss, or even do something as mundane as swinging your hands back and forth a little bit as the pair of you walk together. There’s something so special to him about physical contact - and this leeches over into hugs as well. He loves hugging you to nap or sleep; it brings him a sense of calmness and security. He doesn’t care where, or in what position you sleep in, so long as he’s able to feel you he’s fine with it. - He likes sharing his clothes with you; no matter the weather. You’re cold? His jacket will warm you right up. Oh, you’re hot? Here, have his shirt, it’s a lighter colour it won’t attract as much heat. Seeing you wear his clothing is something that sparks a little bit of joy in his heart - he LOVES it. And if you let him wear some of your clothes? The cycle will be complete, and he will not let you go - you already have a special place in his heart, and it will be entirely solidified if you let him have some of your clothes. - He likes walking with you. Be it around the grounds of your communal home, or in the Lanes. It’s a brilliant way to bond, he thinks. You can talk, or stay quiet, it doesn’t matter. And if you struggle a bit with the parkour that sometimes needs to be done to traverse the undercity? Not to worry, Ekko will teach you. When he’s not being pursued, he’s a very patient teacher - he’ll tell you what point to jump from and how to land so you don’t hurt your ankles or knees - and so you don’t fall off. Once you’ve at least got a steady foot, he’ll take you to all his favourite spots, to all the best views of both the undercity, and topside. - Eventually, Ekko may ask you if you want to help with the massive memorial mural in the centre of the communal hideout - nothing major, just touchups of the paint where it’s started to fade or flake away. It’s important to him to keep it vibrant, so that people won’t forget all those who have been lost over the years. After a few visits, he lets you know that you can add anyone you’ve lost to Silco or the enforcers, if you so wish. He doesn’t force the idea upon you, but he just quietly tells you, that if you’re comfortable enough, if you want to, you can. He’d even help you, if you wanted. He wants you to be as comfortable as is possible - even when confronting grief. 

[nevarrhoe]

mea culpa (m.m) - 2

SUMMARY: "mea culpa" (exclamation - noun/legal term)

used as an acknowledgement of one's fault or error.

↪ in which matt murdock accidentally falls in love with the district attorney's daughter.

warnings: smut, angst, swearing, fem! reader

masterlist

It was a little hard to stop thinking about Matthew Murdock over the next few days. 

Nevermind the fact he’d left hickeys all over your neck - it was the fact he was texting you every few hours with absolutely indescribable fantasies that made it difficult to think about anything else. Your blood would run cold every time your phone buzzed, just on the off chance that one of your friends, or god forbid your father, see your phone screen. It put you on edge in the best way. This entire thing was already beyond fucked up for more than one reason and yet, you wanted more. So much more. 

Can’t wait to taste you again. 

Can’t wait to hear you scream my name again. 

Hope you haven’t been thinking about anyone else. 

And it was funny, really, because Matt was a perfectly respectable man from the outside. Quiet, unassuming, a dry sense of humour - you never would have taken him of all people to be the one to make you feel so fucking alive. It wasn’t just how good he was in bed, but rather the thrill of it all. Nothing got your motor running like a situation’s potential to disappoint your father but hey. That was for your therapist to deal with. 

Of course, your father had asked several questions about where you’d disappeared too after the gala on Friday. He was more concerned about it had looked for him, and to have his daughter run out on a big charity event. Your mother had been less worried about that part, and more about her vintage Chanel suit. You’d settled both their worries by a) telling your father you’d had stomach problems (because who was gonna ask about that?) and b) promising to send the Chanel off to a dry cleaner. 

It was on a slow Monday afternoon - exactly three days after you’d met him - that Matt sent you a not so dirty text. It was so casual, in fact, that it caught you more off guard than any of the filth he’d sent you over the weekend. 

Wanna grab lunch? 

“Are you okay, honey?”

You blinked, eyes shooting up to your best friend. Okay, maybe not a best friend - those were hard to come by in high-society. She was your most tolerable friend. It had been her idea to get martinis for lunch. Your idea of fun wasn’t exactly sitting around with five rich girls and their daddy’s credit cards but it wasn’t like you had work to do, right? 

Part of you so badly wanted to tell them about the escapade over the weekend - about how much better an older guy was than all their ridiculous, frat-house boyfriends, and how good he’d made you feel. But did you trust them? Not with your damn life. And for risk of being cut out of your father’s will, you figured it was something to keep to yourself. 

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “I gotta ditch. My dad needs me to get something from his office.”

Grabbing your jacket - a tan Chanel parka, naturally - you slid out of the booth and straight out of the restaurant. Matt’s number was dialed into your phone before you even hit the street. 

“Matthew, hi!” you greeted him. “I’m down for lunch.”

“Perfect,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Wanna come by my office?”

“Sure. Want me to grab takeout?”

“It’s okay. I already have lunch here.”

“Okay. Text me the address.”

–

The Nelson & Murdock office wasn’t too far from where you’d been. Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t exactly your stomping ground but your Uber had dropped you off right outside, and you had a taser in your bag. Not to mention the years of Krav Maga and karate that you’d done in high school and college. You could have been a damn vigilante if you wanted to. 

It was the shorter, Nelson half of Nelson and Murdock that saw you first. He seemed taken aback at first - maybe by your expensive appearance, but also maybe because every other person in the room was a middle-aged man there for free legal advice. By the looks of your Chanel bag and red-soled shoes, he figured you probably didn’t need any legal advice for free. Especially not from him. It seemed much more apparent that you had the likes of Jeri Hogarth in your pocket should you need any legal assistance. 

“Hello. Hi.” Foggy greeted you with wide eyes. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh, no,” you turned around to face him, sticking out your hand. “You’re Nelson, right?”

“I am Nelson,” he replied, shocked look still not faltering. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m a friend of Matt’s,” you explained. “I don’t suppose he’s around?”

Speak of the devil. Your conversation was cut short by Murdock’s entrance. He looked hot in a suave sort of way; tie loosened around his neck, top button undone and sleeves rolled up. It was the first time you’d seen him since you’d left his apartment early on Saturday morning and frankly, you didn’t know how to act. Most of the men you slept with didn’t invite you to their offices for lunch - hell, most of them didn’t have offices. 

“Hey, Murdock,” you gave him a small wave.

“Hey - come in,” Matt shot you a grin, ushering over to his own office in the corner. 

It was neater than you’d thought it would be; there was a laptop perched on his desk, with a braille translator and a stack of legal files. They were probably the same legal files your dad had, just..the other side of the story. After all, Nelson and Murdock were known for looking out for the little guy. That was much more admirable than daddy dearest and his famously corrupt evidence. 

“Your shirt fits better today,” you commented, shrugging off your jacket. “That’s a real shame.”

“Is that a comment about my arms or the way I dress?”

“I think you know that it’s about your arms.”

You pushed aside the files, hopping up onto Matt’s desk. He had you caged in within a second, broad hands gripping your hips and guiding you up into a kiss. It was a little softer than the ones you’d shared on Friday night - there was less heat; a causal air to it. You didn’t think it was possible to miss the lips of a man you’d fucked exactly once. 

“So,” you murmured against him. “You said you had lunch here.”

“I do,” Matt gave you a shit-eating grin. “You.”

“Matthew!” you hissed, hitting his shoulder. “Did you seriously invite me over here just for a fuck?”

“Not exactly!” he quickly replied, raising his hands in surrender. “I wanted to check in with you and see how you were.”

“Oh, okay,” you raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “I’m not too bad. I was having lunch with some of my friends when you texted-���

Matt suddenly attached his lips to your neck, teeth gently nipping on the same mark he’d left a few days ago. You didn’t mean to let out a moan, but how could you not? 

“Matthew!” you exclaimed again. 

“No, go on!” he stopped for a second. “I’m listening. You were having lunch with your friends and…”

“And you texted and I was bored, so I left and - Jesus fucking Christ, that feels so good.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “You left your friends to see me?”

“I would leave my dying Aunt Betty’s bedside to see you,” you said. Without a second thought, you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him back towards you. “Enough catching up. I’m good to have lunch now.”

He gave you a grin and a few moments later, his hands found your way under your ass. Matt shoved aside the pile of legal papers and moved you further onto the desk, lips back on your neck and working a thousand times harder than they had before. Instinctively, you tangled a hand in his hair and just let him have at it. 

The build-up wasn’t as tense as it had been the first time you fucked, but that was because Matt knew you better now. He pretty much had you memorised; the ticklish spot on your neck, the most sensitive spot on your hips, the way you liked his nails to dig into your back just enough to hurt. That was just a testament to him. Who else would remember that? Who else would take the time to learn what you liked after just once? 

“Not that I don’t enjoy this,” Matt paused for a second. “But my lunch break isn’t that long. If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna have to be quick.”

“You’re real cheap, Matthew Murdock,” you scowled. “Do you invite all girls over here for a fuck disguised as lunch and then rush them?”

“No, not all of them,” he shot back. “Some are more breakfast kinda gals-”

“- oh shut the fuck up.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him back into a kiss. Matt couldn’t help but smile against you - at how badly you wanted him, how you chastised him but still didn’t stop him. 

It was in that moment that you thanked every deity there was that you’d chosen to wear a skirt that day. But frankly, you wouldn’t have given a fuck if Matt had ripped your Versace mini-skirt to shreds. He would have been okay with that too, especially if it meant you have to borrow a shirt of his to leave in. 

Still, Matthew Murdock was nothing if not respectable - at least enough so not to destroy your designer clothes. Instead, he simply pushed it up, large hands making their way to your ass cheeks and giving one of them a light slap. You froze when he did - how many clients were out there in the waiting room right now? Even with the blinds closed and the door shut, how many of them could hear what was going on? 

“Problem?” Matt paused. 

“There are people out there who could hear us-”

“- not with the air conditioning on. Foggy always has it going. Don’t worry.”

You scowled. “How do you know that?”

“Just do.”

Matt wasted no time in resuming his activities. Grabbing you by the hips again, he lifted you with ease and spun you around so that he was the one on the desk, and you were in his lap. The friction of his hard-on in his trousers against your core was almost unbearable and he could tell you were desperate by the way your grip on him suddenly tightened. 

“Look at you,” he grinned. There was something about the way his voice dropped four octaves every time he was about to fuck you. “You’re calling me sloppy but you’re gagging for it, aren’t you?”

You let out a small grumble, shaking your head. “I thought you didn’t have time to tease?”

“You’re lucky that I don’t have time to do a lot of the things I want to do to you, sweetheart,” he said. “Everyone out there would be able to hear me fucking you if I didn’t have to be back in twenty minutes.”

“Matthew,” you growled. “I don’t care how long you have - if you’re not inside me in the next thirty seconds, I’m going somewhere else.”

“I didn’t think there would be many men around at this time willing.”

You let out a derivative snort, acrylic nails dragging down his neck and hand settling ever so gently on his throat. “You think I don’t have plenty of offers? You’re not the only man who can make me scream.”

It was almost like your words awakened something in Matt. In a flash, he’d pulled you off the desk and positioned you against it; there was the sound of his belt and a second later, his dick was inside you. Rock hard and beautiful, and the perfect length to have you clenching around him in mere fucking seconds. 

He wasted no time in pounding into you from behind, one hand tangling his fingers with yours on the desk and the other wrapped around your throat. You had complete and utter trust in him and maybe that was why you placed your own hand over his and encouraged him to squeeze harder. 

Matt’s movements were rapid and consistent: time was of the essence after all, and there was no way in hell he was going back to work until you came. 

It didn’t take much, to be honest. Not when you had his gruff voice muttering things in your ear. It was hard not to make noise then - Matt moved his hand from your throat accordingly, clutching it over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans. What an ass. Not to mention that it only made you even fucking louder. 

“Do they make you feel this good?” he teased. “Do they?”

He managed to hit the right spot over and over and it wasn’t long before you felt that knot in your stomach. It was a plunge; like a plane falling out of the sky, anything that caused a sharp drop in your gut. The room was practically spinning around you as you came undone, red acrylics digging into the skin of Matt’s arm for some kind of relief. 

“There we go, sweetheart,” Matt murmured. He softened his pace, slowing down for a minute to revel in his own high. “Good girl.”

He released his hand from your mouth, chest heaving against your back for a minute as you both came down from your respective orgasms. A broad arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. Matthew Murdock was a gentleman, even when he was rearranging your guts. 

You slowly turned around to face him, pulling him into another desperate kiss. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Matt softly asked. 

“Yeah, I am,” you ran a hand down his chest, faltering for a second. “Why? You gonna take me out for dinner?”

“Yeah, but an actual meal. It’s not a euphemism, I promise,” he gave you a grin. 

You returned the gesture for a minute, a wide smile on your face - but then it faltered. “Matthew, I would love for you to take me on a date, and I adore spending time with you but…”

“But what?”

“My dad,” you groaned, dropping your head into his shoulder. “If anyone catches me with you, I’m done for - as hot as that is.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle. “Okay, fine. What if we just hang out at my apartment and get take out? You can dress like a slob and no-one will see us.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” your smile quickly returned. “But I am not dressing like a slob. I wear Chanel or I wear nothing.”

“I would much prefer it if you wore nothing.”

[a2006love]

if you think of giving up: told in a short story.

"park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me" but it's not about your loved ones in your dr. it's not about shifting. it's not even about an alternate version of life. it's about you. yes, you. the one here and now. the one with the awareness.

it's about the dreams you've left behind, the quiet betrayals, the tiny funerals you didn't even realize you were attending. you tell yourself you don’t need them. you tell yourself you've grown up. that was then, and now it's different. you think about the way you once held them so close, entertaining them all day till you succumb to sleep, and you pretend the memory doesn’t make something inside you coil with longing—but then, just as you're lost in those thoughts, you're pulled back into reality. where you're standing at a fair, and a child comes up to you and tugs at your sleeve.

"do you know where my mom is?"

you turn, and there’s a little kid, red-eyed, breath hitching in their chest. their face is messy with tears, and their tiny hands are trembling. you kneel, instinctively, lowering to their level, and you soften your voice, in an attempt to make them feel safe.

"you're okay, i'll help you, we'll find her, i promise."

but they only cry harder. their words come out in a way that's impossible to untangle. they're just a kid after all, panic swallows them whole and they can't explain what's going on, where they lost her, what exactly happened that made them lose her, and to top it all off they don't even have the words for it, they only know what it feels like, the way fear spreads itself in their chest, the way the world suddenly seems too big and too loud and too much.

and you—you have no idea what to do. you don't know how to fix this. you don't know the kid, at least, not really. the situation seems bigger than either of you, but you do know that you won't leave them here, that you will take their hand and hold it tight, that you will put them on your shoulders and search through every inch of this place until you find their mom.

except—they stop crying. and they lift their head to look at you, really look at you, with something in their expression, something you can't quite understand, like they know something, and that makes your stomach drop before they even open their mouth.

"you left me here."

the words don't make sense. they confuse you and ring in your head like a thousand church bells, and then the sound disappears. everything else is still moving, the ferris wheel is still spinning, the rainbow lights are still flashing, the music is still playing—but you don't hear any of it anymore.

"what?" you whisper, but you already know the answer.

they squeeze your hand tighter, like they're afraid once they repeat themselves you'll let go and leave again. their lips are shaking, and their voice is much more quieter now, but it cuts through you like a sharp and sudden scream.

"you left me here."

and suddenly, you remember. you remember the way you used to dream. the way you swore you'd never let go of the things that made your heart feel so big, the way you promised yourself you wouldn't become this—this version of you that makes these sensible choices, that trades joy for survival and tells themselves it's just what 'growing up' means, and it's just 'the way life is.'

the kid is still looking at you, waiting for you to say something, do something, anything. and in that moment, you realize—it's not just any kid standing in front of you. it's you. the part of you that you've buried, the part that's still waiting for answers, for someone to care enough. that kid is the version of you you left behind, the one you've been avoiding all this time.

go help them. don't look at me or anyone else. go help them. they asked you. not me, not anybody around. they saw you in this suffocating crowd and felt the safest with you, so they approached you, they wouldn't choose anyone else in this world.

either you take them by the hand, or they're going to keep following you around, pulling at your sleeve, each time harder than the last, sobbing so loudly it bangs in your eardrums, waking you up in the middle of the night with questions you're too tired to answer.

and i want you to think of your choice to ignore them as saying "i promise we'll find her" and then leading them into the fair, distracting them by pointing out other kids playing and shouting "hey! this looks fun!", buying them cotton candy, hoping it'll make them forget about the ache in their chest.

and maybe, for a while, it works. maybe they smile, maybe they even laugh, maybe you convince yourself that they've forgotten what they were crying about.

but the knot is still in their throat. the tears haven't dried. the softness of their mother's hands still lingers on their cheeks. and it won't ever leave.

they'll pretend to forget, but you won't. they'll let go of your hand, but you'll still feel the tightness of their grip, years later, in your happiest moments, in every mirror, in dreams where you catch a glimpse of them just before you wake up to face reality.

and you'll always come back to them. so choose, now, to do something about it, and that choice better be to help them find their mom. (home.)

[physalian]

The thing about this is—and I’ve said it before—putting your characters in a situation where them not knowing what to do can be just as compelling and even easier to write than if you try to skate by on “idk this looks cool” for a character who should be an expert in their field.

I am not an experienced battle tactician, and I write fantasy and scifi, and I also hate blocking and choreographing big fight scenes with a lot of elements.

A few things I’ve done instead of a straight up A vs B battle are below. Character cannot rely on their otherwise expertise in this situation because doing things the right and smart way is…

Too expensive (money, resources, or time)

Too risky with unplanned collateral around them

Too dangerous

They’ve been caught completely unawares

They’re impaired in some way (drunk, drugged, blinded, deafened, anesthetized)

They’re majorly emotionally compromised by some other event and not thinking straight

I have a character who is a living weapon and a veteran of warfare. I am not either of these things. The mechanics of the war he fought relied heavily on being insanely reckless with his health, and half-hoping he’d never make it back from any one mission. Due to magic, if he went and lost a limb on the battlefield, a mage could just make him a new one. He was very, very hard to kill.

The current plot takes place after the fact, when that magic is unavailable. When he gets caught in Situations, all his training relies on tactics he can no longer use, so he’s constantly having to improvise, on top of being traumatized. Therefore, his dumb mistakes and erratic behavior are perfectly in-character for him and make sense for his powers and the world when he can’t spam the insta-kill button without serious consequences like he used to.

But, obviously, not everyone is writing that type of character.

In my other series, I have so far one big battle scene fought entirely by immortal vampires who have been ambushed in their own castle. This battle is an uncoordinated mess, but (I think) it works for a few reasons:

This is a post-war setting and many vampires in this fight have no actual battle experience and just are not prepared for this. They haven’t trained in a coordinated effort in any capacity, as no one ever believed they’d have to.

They left a massive hole in their defenses open that no one would ever think to exploit and the initial surprise attack sends the competent leaders of this resistance scrambling to get their orders heard and keep people from scattering

Because of this surprise, the competent leaders quickly get spread thin trying to patch leaks in the metaphorical dam, and, without phones or radio, lines of proximity communication get cut instantly, and no one has any idea where anyone else is, all now with suddenly different and critical priorities like fires, vulnerable mortals, and a zombie horde scaling their wall.

Basically, I’ve put my characters into a situation that they were horrifically unprepared for, so the emphasis of the story focuses less on actual tactics and more on the creativity and ingenuity of individual characters backed into a corner.

—

Both of these work really well for the stories that I’ve set out to tell, because I know my strengths and duct-taping a scene together with two real, competent armies going at each other just isn’t in my wheelhouse. You don’t have to write the big coordinated battle scene just because it’s popular in your genre. You can set up the stakes and elements in your favor to remove the need to study complex strategies if the situation the characters are in demands all that pre-planning or expected knowledge just isn’t useful or isn’t possible.

In both of these books, should the day come when I do need to have a coordinated campaign war effort, I already have my secret weapon: In both books, neither hero side ever has the numbers for a proper battle, they always have to rely on guerilla warfare, ambushes, and pretty dirty tricks.

Which are a whole lot easier to plan and visualize as a lone writer than studying battlefield mechanics at the scale of tens of thousands with infantry, cavalry, archers, and heavy weapons.

Make it easy on yourself and, well, write what you know.

the problem with knowing things about battle tactics is that an ever-increasing subset of popular media becomes impossible to enjoy properly because you have to sit there like 'wow Captain Protagonist good to know all those dead people on your own side are a direct result of your total lack of anything resembling brains'

[mikkomacko]

responding to the call…

can we see reader’s reaction to Nico doing skin on skin time with his newborn twin babies?🥹

Ok I am gonna drop the name of the twins rn but keep in mind they might change because I don’t know how attached to them I am lol

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

You’re exhausted.

Sore almost everywhere on your body, even in places you had no idea could be sore. It’s only been a few hours since the twins were born and you feel sticky with dried sweat, drained to the core but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Even though you’ve been told to sleep when the babies do, to rest up for the journey home from the hospital tomorrow, you can’t sleep.

You don’t want to miss a minute of Bella and Luna’s lives.

Or a minute of Nico meeting them.

He’s been quiet since the moment they handed you two pink swaddles, more quiet than you’re used to him being. He just…watches them with this look on his face you can’t quite place.

It’s like he can’t believe they’re here, in front of him for the first time after nine months of feeling them kick, of satisfying every craving they sent your way, of baby proofing ever corner of the house, of Nico wrapping his arms around you and lifting your ballooned belly even for just two minutes. Two minutes he got to carry them for you because two babies in one belly was hard.

And he’s got those big, sturdy arms, made like they were meant to hold and comfort your girls.

Just as they do now.

You blink slowly, stirred from your nap by the sound of Nico getting up from the hospital chair. He’s quiet as he moves, but in the dark and still room, you can still hear him. Now that they’re here, it’s like you’ve got a sixth sense for any movement around them, like your body is ready to jump up and get to them at the slightest disturbance.

Nico must have it too, because they girls have barely made tiny noises of complaint before he’s standing over their bedside, his back to you as he looks over the two of them tucked together in one bed. Neither of you wanted to separate them, not after they’ve been side by side for months and only in the world for a few measly hours.

You can’t imagine ever separating them actually.

Staying still, you watch Nico’s arms move, careful but sure as he reaches into the crib. One of the babies let out a lone cry, quickly shushed and soothed by Nico. In the light of the muted hospital tv, Nico swiftly tugs his shirt over his head, draping it over his left shoulder and you fight back a sleepy grin.

He’s been waiting so long to do this, read every article and dad book about bonding with newborns. He never said it, but you knew he was worried about creating the same gap his father created with him.

Despite his shy behavior all day, he looks perfectly at ease as he leans over the bed and manages to scoop both babies up in one arm, immediately shushing them with little bounces when they complain.

Something raw and sensitive inside your chest throbs as he turns, carefully peering down at them snuggled together in his left arm and he makes his way back to the chair on soft feet. He don’t look to you, too caught up in looking at them and you can’t blame him.

They’re the most beautiful little things you’ve ever seen.

He lowers himself into the chair, and you calculatedly turn your head to keep watching him. He’s unwrapped them from their swaddles and clothing, tiny pink bodies clad in just little diaper.

As if he’s been doing it for years, Nico maneuvers the girls until they’re lying on either side of his chest, curled into him on their bellies like they’re trying to fuse together with him. You’d imagine it’s how warm he is, how comfortable that exact spot on his chest always is. You know that all too well.

Steadying them with a large hand splayed over both their backs, Nico shrugs off his discarded shirt and lays it over them like a blanket, completely wrapping them up in his scent.

Maybe you lied, you think, maybe he’s the most perfect thing you ever seen. Hair falling over his forehead, chin tilted down to look at them sleeping on his chest as he takes calming breathes.

Startlingly, you realize you’re crying and you sniffle, quickly swiping at your cheeks with the hospital bed blanket but the damage is done. Nico looks to you, a closed lip smile spreading across his face.

“S’perfect,” you whisper, voice cracking just a bit and he chuckles through his nose, but at least he doesn’t comment on your roller coaster emotions. “They look like they belong right there.”

He nods, dark eyelashes touching the apples of his cheeks as he looks back down at them. “Yeah, they do.” He agrees, spreading a hand over each of their backs.

Then, as if he’s worried you don’t believe him, he continues in a quiet, soothing voice. “They’re warm, but they can’t regulate themselves yet ya know? They’re just too small still.

“But they learn if you hold them like this. They’ll match your breathing and your heart rate and body temperature too.”

It’s sweet, him reciting the information to you. Even if you already knew it and even if he doesn’t have to explain himself. He’s reassuring you and him, proving to himself that he knows what he’s doing.

“Yeah,” you murmur wetly. “And they’re safe there. It must be so scary, leaving all they’ve ever known.”

Nico hums. “They know us, baby. At least you but now…”

“Now they’ll know their daddy.”

He smiles, all dimples and moony eyes. “Yeah they’ll know their daddy. And they’ll know that I’ve got them.”

[northopalshore]

So me and my gf met really young and haven't been together for so long and I know it is unrealistic to think that she's the one but astrology and destiny matrix call us soulmates all the time and even tho I know soulmates doesn't need to mean the one I end up with so I wonder, what are signs that you met the one young or in synastry or composite chart, what are indicators that they are "the one"?

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ For this question, it is a bit difficult to answer. Although there are many possible "the one"/ true love indicators in synastry & composite, I'd still say that the future is vast and we never really know until we get there for the most part. Still, here are:

"The One" placements

in romantic synastry & composite astrology

:¨ ·.· ¨:⠀Juno persona chart masterlist, Union persona chart masterlist

`· . ୨୧⠀Note that overall synastry & magnetism aspects outside of these are also necessary, but these placements are more like additional driving forces which can make you feel like you belong together or are literally a match made in heaven. Still, try not to be fully dependent on these aspects alone. Most of the context here will be in relation to marriage/long-term commitment.

⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.☾⋆

♀ Personal planets in the 6th house (preferably Sun, Moon, Venus, Mars & Jupiter)

Shows that a couple is always together, and may continue to be together in the long-term. Quite common within married couples.

♀ Personal planets in the 7th house

Having a tie to them both romantically & contractually.

♀ Ascendant conjunct Juno/ Briede(19029) /Groom(5129)

Your partner embodies a lot of what you are attracted to in the long-term, the type of partner you want to have in your life.

♀ Boda (1487) conjunct Venus /Neptune

It can give you both a sense of completion where romance fills the room everytime you're with them. You reflect each other's ideal marriage life.

♀ Boda (1487) conjunct Boda (1487)

Having the same ideals when it comes to marriage, i.e on the same page. It can act as a booster for those already in love with their partner.

♀ Boda (1487) conjunct North node

In some way shape or form, this person will change your

♀ Moon conjunct/Trine North Node

Life with them feels natural. This is a very valuable synastry aspect in my opinion because your partner is able to understand your sense of destiny or see you for you. You will both feel like you were fated to meet.

♀ Vertex conjunct Boda (1487)

Can mean fated marriage, or at the very least they help form your idea around marriage

♀ Alma ( 390) conjunct Jupiter/Venus/North Node/Boda/Juno/Briede/Groom

This is more of a soulmate placement, but it can also contribute to feeling like you belong with your partner.

♀ Boda (1487) conjunct Jupiter

Marriage or commitment can feel natural with them, or it will make you feel like you're over the moon. It can often indicate a happy marriage with your lover too.

♀ Juno conjunct Jupiter

Jupiter is also a common form of commitment or the "husband" in most cases, but I think it works with any sexual orientation. A common indicator or marriage or at least feeling like you're just each other's type. It makes you more willing to commit.

♀ Juno conjunct Juno/Saturn

Being each other's type is one thing, but this is a placement that can show you being tied to this person through an invisible bond that only grows stronger with time.

♀ Sun conjunct Juno/ Briede (19029) / Groom (5129)

The sun often embodies the very traits that Juno/Briede/ Groom is attracted to (whether they realize it or not) and thus may feel strongly attached to the Sun person.

♀ Venus conjunct Juno

This placement can make both parties feel very naturally drawn to each other, both make great romantic partners and share the same ideals when it comes to love & expression of art. Can indicate long-term compatibility between the two of you.

♀ Vertex conjunct Briede (19029)/Groom (19029)

This is quite self explanatory. A fated marriage. At the very least, again with this placement you partner will change help solidify your desires in a spouse (or as a spouse).

♀ Vertex conjunct Juno

A contractual lover, often can indicate a long-term relationship & has that soulmate flair between you and your partner. This relationship has the ability to both stand the test of time but at the same time help solidify your view around marriage.

♀ Vertex conjunct Venus

Fated romance, love interests, feeling like this love is meant to be.

⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆⋆°.☾⋆.☾⋆

For those of you reading this & haven't met their long-term significant other (and is seeking them), you'll never truly know the next cluster of people that may walk into your life until you meet them. So keep an open mind about your future love interests & set aside that tunnel vision. The love that is mean for you will come when it's time.

Try not to attach a face to the "love of your life". As much as you may love them and they you, it's not your purpose to have them consume your every waking hour. You still have much to do, & much to learn don't you? Love will never be separated from man no matter what happens. We always yearn for it no matter what form it takes. It's just not healthy to plague yourself with their image, trust me I've been there.

"The one" to me, translates into an amalgamation of different details that somehow fit right beside you no matter how wonky it may look at first. Don't blame it on the stars, let the stars guide you.

Hope this helps ♡

@northopalshore

[mittenkisses]

The Valentine's ask was perfect! Ace laughing at the reader is so incredibly (read: annoyingly) him, I love it!

Could I ask for another? This time, maybe with the really popular boys? Vil, Cater, Kalim, and whoever you think fits! They seem like the kind of people to get lots of gifts for Valentine's and are used to getting attention on the holiday, so I bet it'd be a shock to them that someone they like just. Never Got That

(ngl I kinda see Cater using this as an excuse to give the reader the sweets he won't eat, since he doesn't like sweets)

valentine's day gifts

ft : cater, leona, vil, kalim

a/n : not sure if leona really fits in the "popular" category but i figured that being royalty he'd fit in with this prompt

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ 🐚

cater, surprisingly or not, isn't too into the idea of valentine's day. he likes the cutesy photo ops, but beyond that he isn't very hyped about it. he never really gave gifts on valentine's, hoping it would deter people from giving him anything, but it never worked. he was always overloaded with candies that he'd have to choke down or pawn off onto his sisters. so...not really his favourite, but when he finds out you haven't celebrated much, he's thrilled, especially if you like sweets. he'll overload you with gifts, snapping pictures of your reactions to treasure forever. some of his presents are things he got and didn't want, but you don't need to know that.

leona gets lots of expensive, high-quality stuff from home, and he tells you to just take whatever you want, because he's not gonna eat any of it. you'd better be quick, though, before ruggie takes it all. he's not the type to go out of his way and get you anything, in fact, he thinks the entire holiday is stupid. a day dedicated to showing your love is pointless, in his eyes, because if you really loved them you'd show it every day. he pretends there isn't anyone he'd want to give gifts to anyway, but the way he grabs you and makes you cuddle with him all day says otherwise.

kalim loves valentine's day, of course, like he loves all the other holidays. a chance to celebrate will never be passed up by him. he's just so shocked when you say you've never gotten anything—he has to change that right away! tell him what you want, he'll have it for you immediately! seriously, please tell him something, or else you'll probably end up with two tons of gifts delivered to your doorstep. he can't help it! he wants you to be happy and feel loved! you might slip him a cheesy line—the only gift i need is you!—which makes him giggle and blush.

vil is very strict on his candy-eating habits, so he generally doesn't make use of any of the things he's given. you might be sensing a pattern here. he'll give you some of his candies, but not all! only eat a little, not too much, it's very unhealthy! still, if you want to sneak a little bit more when you think he's not looking, he won't say anything about it. he says he doesn't care much for the holiday, but he still goes out of his way to buy you anything you want.

[monstersflashlight]

Monster smash (part 3)

A/N: Hi lovelies! I finally decided how this one is going to play out and who is going to be the main romantic partner (or partners) in this story. So now you can see it’s minotaur x dragon x lizard-woman x human, I’m all for a good poly relationship and I want to explore this one with y’all, hope you are on board, too. You can read part 1 here and part 2 here. Enjoy!

Minotaur x dragon x lizard-woman x fem!reader || sfw

“You are all monsters…” You let out in a whisper, all of their faces impassive as they stare down at you. You blink slowly, still trying to process.

“Yes, we are, honey. I thought you knew, you were so excited to be here I just assumed…” The lady from the grocery store, the fucking scary demon in front of you, is being so careful and cute and it’s making your head hurt. She’s so nice, but looks so scary… Your brain can’t fully comprehend what is all that about.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” the big orc says, blinking slowly at her as she hits his arm.

He lets out a high yelp and that, of all things, breaks you. You let out a manic laughter, your whole body moving with the force of it, tears rolling down your eyes as you feel like you are descending into madness.

And then the tears turn into sobbing, and you are almost convinced you are insane. Totally insane, and everyone is looking at you like you are, indeed, insane. The grocery lady offers you some tissues, and you take them, your breathing labored between sobs. You feel a hand on your back, rubbing soft circles, and when you turn to the side and see your dragon neighbor, you can’t even react accordingly. You stare at them, their big body looming over you as they pass you another tissue.

“Are you okay?” Their voice is soft but with a hint of fire under it (get it? Fire because they’re a dragon). You shake your head, but your sobs stop, only lonely tears running down your cheeks at that point.

You are sitting on the floor, with a dragon consoling you and a bunch of monsters staring you like you are the weird one. Which… maybe you are. In that particular group, you are the weird one. That realization leaves you feeling a bit better, taking a deep breath and wiping away the few tears still clinging to your eyelashes.

“I think I’m going to go,” you whisper, shaking your head and avoiding your best friend’s eyes.

“Let me walk you home,” your minotaur landlord says, his voice soft as he helps you to your feet. You let him, your body and mind too tired to fight him or anyone else. You need to sleep, to process… You might be in shock.

You walk alongside him when the dragon yells: “Wait for me! I’m leaving, too!”

They rush behind you two, a big smile on their face. You have to bite your lip to avoid chuckling. They are fucking cute in their dragon form, even cutter than their human one, and you might have a bit of a crush on them. You had it before when you only knew about their human characteristics and now… Now you think they are even more special. And you lowkey dig that.

You are definitely in shock.

They stop at the door, and you watch in fascination as they turn to their human selves. You think your mouth is open, but you can’t get it to close as you watch them change completely in front of you.

The walk home is silent, their presence making your heart a bit faster, but not in fear exactly. You feel some kind of anticipation, as if the idea of them being monsters is not as weird as you thought. You think about all the weird quirks you’ve seen before. The dragon hoard, the weird way in which your landlord always played with his septum, now replicated with the big ring you knew his minotaur form had. It all makes sense in a weird way.

All but one thing… your best friend lying to you.

They stop in front of your door, both of them staring at you as if you are going to start crying again at any second, but you don’t. Your brain feels weirdly calm as you say your goodbyes and watch them walk down the hall. The dragon sends a wink your way, and you smile at them. Your landlord only grunts on his way down the stairs, and you can’t stop yourself from checking his ass.

You walk into your apartment with your head pounding and your body feeling weird. You have to sit down and process what’s going to happen next… But you have no idea.

“The best way to deal with shit is going to sleep,” you say out loud, laughing at yourself as you get out of your silly costume and fall face first onto your mattress.

Your dreams are plagued with monsters and heat, and you wake up with a jolt. You rush through your morning routine as if the world wasn’t upside down. As if you didn’t discover the existence of monsters less than 24h. The wonders of capitalism, your life might be in shambles, but you have to get dressed and go to work either way. And that’s exactly what you have to do.

You are almost out the door when you saw the tiny piece of paper slipped under your door that reads: Meet me for tea?

You know who wrote that, she wrote those exact words a thousand times before, and you always said yes. But now… Now you aren’t sure if you want to meet her. You aren’t sure if she deserves you to meet her. She lied to you, and you are still mad about it. You talked about everything and anything, you shared your deepest, darkest secrets with her, and you thought she did the same with you… But she didn’t. And it hurts. It hurts so bad you want to scream. But instead you take the piece of paper and break it into dozens of tiny pieces.

You exit your door at the same time her door opens. She stares at you, and you stare at her. It’s so weird to see her back in her human form. She sees the mess of tiny papers on the floor and she sighs, letting out a soft: “Darling, please…”

“Don’t call me darling,” you tell her, an accusatory finger pointed in her direction.

“I can explain everything, please. Just one cup of tea. And then I’ll leave you alone,” the plea in her tone makes your insides turn, your resolution melting as her eyes flash yellow in front of you.

Ugh, you the that she’s your weakness. You didn’t have enough crushing on your best friend, but on top of that she had to be a lizard-woman… How the fuck was your life like that?

“Ugh, fine.”

You hope you don’t regret it.